The Prize Rules Ch. 02

She looked at him curiously, but a moment later, she reached out and he took her hand in his and turned it over.

"Here," he said with a smile, "This is the place where you held a thin line for a moment, paying it out as the fish pulled back. It was a very deep cut, no?"

She stared at him for a moment before she nodded slowly, "How did you – "

He held out his left hand and pointed with his right index finger, "You and I look very different, Eden, though you look much better than I do. But we are the same in a way. I have been a young fisherman too and I had to learn from the same mistakes. It is something which everyone is warned about and yet, until it happens to us, we never believe that it might happen."

She nodded then, and then she took his hand and closed hers over it for a long moment before they laughed a little nervously and went back to eating their breakfasts.

He had to leave her for a time after that to prepare the course for the next day's sailing. The course was usually the same, but there were often little variances from one trip to the next as groups of passengers sometimes asked for a stop of four hours or so at one island or another. The captain tried to accommodate these requests, knowing that he had a little leeway in his timing of the trip overall, though the result was that sometimes the navigator was a little busy working through the tides and the schedule.

They met that evening out on the deck; Eden dressed in slacks and a shirt, while Hans-Joachim showed up wearing pants and a sweater. Together, they looked to be dressed a little casually for an ocean liner back in the days when the chance to travel also meant that one dressed a little better than one might at home.

They didn't care.

Eden wondered why she felt a little cold later on as they stood near the bow.

"The sea breeze grows cooler at night, obviously," Hans-Joachim said, "If you stand in it long enough, you will feel the cold. I ... I can offer a little bit of warmth, if you like."

Eden turned and moved to hug him a little bit and he put his arms around her. They stood like that for a time, sometimes talking quietly and sometimes only smiling at each other before it grew to be too cool for Eden and they parted at the door to her cabin for the night.

Eden sat on her bed, wondering about a lot of things, such as her luck to have met Hans-Joachim. But at the same time, she was aware that her journey would take her onward and she'd tried for too long and hard to give that up over someone – even someone as wonderful as Hans-Joachim seemed to be.

For his part, Hans-Joachim stood for a time at the stern of the ship, looking out over the phosphorescent wake, smoking a cigarette. He knew what he was feeling the beginnings of, and he asked himself if he was crazy.

He decided that he must be – at least a little.

But he liked it.

He reminded himself that he was not there to romance anyone. He was serving his assignment. None of this was the least bit important to the Kriegsmarine.

He took the last puff from his smoke and tossed it into the disturbed water which churned there below him. He knew what this was, and he had no room for it in his life right now.

Heaven help him, he thought, he was growing feelings for a young woman who would soon be working for the opposition, though the rising tension had not made it such just yet. It would happen, though. He knew it.

Eden would be training and then working for the Royal Navy for a time. He felt a degree of comfort when he thought that women were not allowed in active combat roles. But that comfort evaporated as he had his next thought.

At some point, her time there would be finished and then she'd go back to her home – and as much of a miracle worker as she seemed to be to him to have gotten to this point, he doubted that she had some magic way to get across the ocean in perfect safety.

He had a fair idea of what his superiors had planned for the island nation of Britain. To bring that island to its knees would require attacks on its shipping.

God help her, he thought as he began to try to think of ways in which to warn her.

As he lay on his bed later, he thought that once it was begun, the only protection for someone travelling on the water would be the Prize Rules, a part of the Declaration of Paris dating back to 1856 as well as the Hague Conventions of 1899 and 1907. They regulated the taking of prize vessels during wartime, and the more recent updates took submarine warfare into account, something which Hans-Joachim knew that he would become intimately familiar with once this assignment had run its course. It was the service where he was headed, after all.

As they applied to the actions of submarines, he already knew the applicable sections by heart.

Part IV, Art. 22 of the Treaty for the Limitation and Reduction of Naval Armaments stated:

"1 - In their action with regard to merchant ships, submarines must conform to the rules of international law to which surface vessels are subject.

2 - In particular, except in the case of persistent refusal to stop on being duly summoned, or of active resistance to visit or search, a warship, whether surface vessel or submarine, may not sink or render incapable of navigation a merchant vessel without having first placed passengers, crew and ship's papers in a place of safety. For this purpose the ship's boats are not regarded as a place of safety unless the safety of the passengers and crew is assured, in the existing sea and weather conditions, by the proximity of land, or the presence of another vessel which is in a position to take them on board."

The last clause was there because submarines are not vessels which can take passengers, since there is no room for them.

Hans-Joachim found little there to make him feel better for Eden. The sea was a large and mostly empty thing, subject to all manner of conditions which could impede visibility and correct identification. Mistakes could be made. He'd even heard of submarines which were sunk by torpedoes sent in error by the trigger-happy captains of other submarines of the same nation, and he guessed that it was a situation a little akin to 'buck fever' in hunters.

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The next day was spent by the new friends in much the same manner as the one before. But at the end of it, in front of Eden's door, there had been a goodnight kiss passed between them. As they parted, both of them knew what would likely happen between a pair of people on a ship who felt such strong attraction to each other and could only spent a finite time together.

Both of them were also aware that, once they'd reached their destination of New York, they'd more than likely never see each other again. Letters were out of the question for Ullmann. He was building a career and he rather doubted that letters from and to a young woman in Britain would escape the notice of the party censors for very long.

Hans-Joachim Ullmann knew that he was rather attractive to women and he was no beginner at romancing them. He never gave it much thought, but a fair bit of it came from being in a naval service where one's days were filled with males and the interactions between them. When one had an actual chance to meet and spend any time with a woman, one knew without needing to think about it that time was short.

His sort of life was murder to most conventional relationships. His almost constant posting and re-posting to different places made it almost impossible to get to know a girl fairly well and build a proper love out of it, though he knew of some of his contemporaries who did.

Loves like that as his level involved a lot of frenzied train travel for just an evening spent with one's girl. Between those, the relationships burned up a lot of paper and ink writing letters which kept the postal services busy.

Eden was also aware that this was probably not the sort of thing which could be maintained very much beyond their arrival at New York, though she planned to ask Hans-Joachim for an address at the shipping line where she might write to him afterward.

She thought about them now – here and on this ship at the moment and she wondered a little at what was possible.

No one knew her here and it had felt so good to be in his arms. She was only nineteen, but she wasn't completely inexperienced. She'd never allowed herself much of anything in her relationships with men – certainly not after finding herself so driven in her ambitions. She saw things like that as little more than traps which could bring her down and place her in the role that she wanted no part of – that of her mother.

While she'd been alive, Eden's mother had been happy being a wife and mother, but Eden herself thought that she saw that her mother was content never to think of something else for herself. She had no such place of comfort in her breast; a life like that was not for her – at least not for a long time.

And she was still in a place within herself where she wondered about her attraction to a young German navigator of all people. She smiled to herself at the irony.

What sort of love could anyone make out of that? With a man who sailed the Caribbean, calling at every other 'little rock' as he'd put it?

The way that he looked and the charm that he put out, quite without meaning to, she thought ...

He probably had women all over the place.

Still, she thought, he didn't seem to be the type.

She kept her little smile on as she drifted off, thinking about his kiss.

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1945 Atlantic Ocean

The weather had gotten a lot warmer the farther south that they sailed.

Not being used to more than the odd really warm day once in a while in the summer and certainly nothing such as what she felt now, the little girl wilted, though the woman told her that she'd get used to it; that this was just a bit of stalled warm air with no wind which they were passing through.

The woman used the heat and her daughter's almost constant complaints about it as a pretext to introducing the girl to the swimming pool so that she could begin to teach her how to swim.

"I like swimming," the girl had said that morning, "I like it a lot now, but why are we always in the pool?"

The woman looked down as she held the girl up. She could see that she was getting a little tired from using muscles which seldom received this much use in quite this way. She decided that it was enough for one day, understanding what was really being said.

"Because when we are not here, you complain about how hot you feel," she smiled.

"Something for you to think about just a little bit is that we will be staying for a while when we get to where we are going. One way or another, little frog, I will make you into an island girl, and island girls must know how to swim. I have never met even one who couldn't."

"Why do I need to be an island girl?" the kid asked a little precociously, "What is that, anyway?"

"A girl who knows how to live where I come from and the other islands there. We learn to take everything in our stride. You'll understand better once we get there."

"Do you think of me as your mother?" the woman asked after a moment.

When the girl nodded, she smiled, "Then the answer is that your mother is one, and I come from a long line of island girls. Think of it as a family tradition - something that we all are and always have been.

I promise you - because I already know you so well - as soon as you get into the water there and only look down, you will want to stay in and explore what you see. You cannot do that unless you begin to become a strong swimmer. So, I am teaching you."

"What will I see?" The girl asked.

"Many things, like ... oh, starfish, for one thing and you can only ask me so many times to go and get one for you."

The girl looked confused, "Star ... fish?"

The woman nodded, "And shells, loads and loads of the prettiest shells - all there for a little island girl to pick up. I'll even make a necklace out of them for you. But I won't let you swim very far at all because you're too young, though I will want to see you try a little.

Because I know of a few beaches and shores ..." she smiled very conspiratorially as she leaned down and whispered, "where nobody goes. We can have our pick of the very best treasures."

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The woman watched the girl like a hawk, trying to judge just how much sun was on the border of being too much for a little girl born close to the shore of the Baltic Sea and not the Caribbean and she ignored the complaints over the zinc oxide cream that she applied now and then.

But she was pleased to see the beginnings of a deep tan with no sign of an accompanying burn and there had been some surprises out of it for them.

The girl brought her flute to the pool one day and after a session in the water, they'd found themselves a couple of deck lounges under an umbrella. The girl had begun to play against the backdrop of the noisy pool and within five minutes or so, there was an audience listening.

Though what the girl had been playing was only simple melodies which she'd already learned and then just some tootling, the woman received compliments on her pretty daughter's talent.

The woman smiled and thanked the well-wishers, though in her heart, she was a little surprised.

The girl had long black hair now cut just like her own, but other than that, she didn't think that there was any resemblance to be seen between them. She didn't mind at all; she just didn't get why they'd made the assumption. Then again, she guessed, they were often seen together and it might be possible for a stranger to think that way.

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Back in their cabin, even with both of the portholes opened wide; the air was a little sweltering. The woman didn't mind it at all, being used to it and feeling more at home then.

But the girl minded it and wanted to stay in the shower, even if all that she was allowed was more of a dribble of cool water than a real shower. But eventually, the woman drew her out, telling her that she couldn't stay there all night.

"So the man in the story," the girl began, "he is my father?"

It wasn't strictly correct, the woman thought as she dried the girl's hair yet again, but she nodded a little in the darkness.

The girl tilted her head as she thought about it, "Who was Eden then? You said that she was Chinese, so that's like you are. You told me so. Did you know her?"

"You're jumping ahead and it's too hot to tell you more this late in one evening," the woman smiled softly, though she really wanted to grin," You'd best try to get some sleep."

Late that night, her daughter had finally fallen asleep after her hair had been tied back.

Since it was just them and the cabin lights were turned off, the woman had agreed that they'd sleep on top of the sheets and wear nothing.

She thought it was a little funny that they came from different places and cultures, but one thing they had in common was that nakedness wasn't held in horror by either of them. Between her and her little girl, neither one cared; the baths having long ago removed any feelings of awkwardness. Now they ... well, they belonged to each other in many ways and in there somewhere, there was a comforting familiarity which they both enjoyed.

The moment when the girl had noticed that they shared at least the colour of their hair and their eyes had been a surprisingly bittersweet one for them both. It hadn't been much more than just the moment and the following one where the girl had observed that at last she felt as though she belonged somewhere and with someone.

Mòlì was on her back with her head propped up a little bit and by the little moonlight that the angle would allow to creep in through the open portholes, she could see her daughter sleeping.

She knew by then how much they'd been able to make of their time together and how it was affecting them both, since though she'd obviously seen and known many girls of Katryn's age over her lifetime, she now realised with a pleasant start that she'd never seen a more beautiful little girl in her life, and to her, that meant that she was coming to feel so much like any mother would.

The woman felt a droplet of sweat slip out from under her armpit to slide tickling a little down her ribs and around to her back.

She had no idea about the logic of this, but her daughter had drifted off at last and then gotten into one of her slightly restless periods as she'd lain all the way over to one side of the double bed.

But as she'd drifted in the uneasy sleep which comes to a person who is not really acclimatised to the warmth of the tropics, Katryn had moved and shifted and moved some more, asleep, though wandering for a spot which felt right. Mòlì knew that if the girl found a place like that, it was when she'd finally slip into a deeper sleep, though watching it happen was a little amazing to her as well as somewhat astounding. It was almost a little like watching a migration.

The result was that Katryn was now lying with her head on Mòlì 's chest of all places, causing them both to be warmer, not cooler.

It didn't matter to Mòlì as she looked down on that little sleeping head while she softly stroked it with the side of her thumb.

They were now the beginning of a family, biding their time until the last member could join them. The little girl knew little to nothing about just how much that last member loved and missed her.

That part of the story was upcoming and the woman knew that there would more than likely be a few tears in it for her little one before it had all been told.

But one of the most important parts had already come to fruition. A woman and a little girl who shared no genes between them had formed their bond. And while it might not be true in the strictest sense ...

The little girl asleep on her mother's breast was no longer an orphan.

Now she only needed for time to pass until she also had her father.

The woman watched as the brown eyes opened a little and the small voice began, "How ... did I get here? I was over ... "

One little arm half-rose and then fell, never getting even near to pointing.

"Shh, I watched you get restless as you slept and before I knew it, you were here," Mòlì smiled. "It's sweaty with a little furnace like you here, but I didn't want you to wake up. You only just got to sleep.

Do you want to move, Katryn?"

The girl shook her head just a tiny bit as she settled her head onto one soft breast, far too weary to actually summon the will to move away.

Katryn did manage to say one more thing in her soft and sleepy voice and it caused Mòlì to blink furiously in the dark, her eyes brimming in an instant.

Her silent, happy tears ran down slowly long afterwards - even after the girl's breathing had settled back to deep and even breaths.

Two short words, and one of them kept coming back to the woman there in the dark, and she thought of what it meant to them both.

"No, Mama."