Free The Prisoner's Dilemma by Sean Stuart O'Connor Page A

voice.
    â€˜Captain Zweig?’
    â€˜Yes, who’s that?’
    â€˜My name is Schwerin, sir. I come with information about a lady.’
    â€˜Up here. Brunner, let him through.’
    Schwerin nodded to the quartermaster as he came aboard.
    â€˜I thought you might be interested, sir,’ he said as he reached Zweig, ‘I am on friendly terms with the Kant household, well, with one young lady’s maid in particular.’ Zweig waited in silence for the man to continue. ‘I understand there has been some hesitation. But the lady in question has now decided to see foreign lands. I thought you would wish to know.’
    Zweig looked at the man’s smirking face with dislike and then moved to gaze over his shoulder to where half a dozen of the crew were moving the arm of a derrick, hoisting on board some particularly large barrels.
    â€˜Take great care with those barrels!’ he called out in a fierce whisper. ‘Brunner, tell the men to be more careful. They are not to be dropped at any cost. Not if you wish for a share of the voyage. And you …’ he dropped his voice as he turned back to Schwerin and passed him a coin, ‘…on your way now. And not a word of this ladies’ gossip to anyone.’
    * * * 
    By the next morning the work was complete. The ship stood ready to depart as a bitter wind hurtled across the dockside, shrieking in the rigging of a hundred or more vessels that fretted and leapt at their moorings like so many head of cattle before the slaughterhouse gate. Sleet slashed down from the north, and the mouth of the river was shrouded in a mist so dank that it chilled the blood. The misery in the weather, however, was as nothing compared to the blackness that had descended on the little party that approached the quayside. At its centre was Sophie Kant, holding her father’s arm as she leant on him for support.
    To her horror she saw the ship’s crew lined up on the deck, dressed in their best uniforms and with flowers in their hats as if for a wedding. Their honest sailors’ faces seemed to beam at the prospect of their captain’s happiness. From his position aft, Zweig had seen the party arrive and he now came towards them in delight.
    â€˜Welcome. Welcome to the Schwarzsturmvogel,’ he called down. ‘Sophie, how wonderful it is to see you, you have made me very, very happy. And you have never looked more fine than you do today. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for agreeing to come on our voyage. Herr Kant, Frau Kant, you will be worried for her, of that I do not doubt. But you have my word that I shall bring her home safe and happy. I shall protect her with my life, you may rely on that, with my life I say.’
    Sophie looked again at the sailors and their flowers.
    So, they know, she thought, and if they know then the whole world will know. Now, more than ever before, she realised that she should never have come – how could she have relented? Even if she returned and somehow managed to reject Zweig she would always be the woman that had sailed away with him, unmarried and unaccompanied. Her shoulders sagged at the thought and she gave a deep groan. Bitterly, she saw the future: if she returnedthen she would have no reputation left to her - or rather, she would have the very worst of reputations. And if she did not? Then she would have died, and died alone.
    As the full enormity of the step she was taking fell on her, her courage finally failed. She sank again onto her father’s arm and the tears that she’d been holding back for so long now poured out unchecked. The little family gathered around and it was only when Immanuel stroked her arm and murmured that he would see her again in as little as two months that her resolve stiffened. She gave a small nod of her head to a waiting sailor. He picked up her cases and, without a backward glance, she walked up the gangplank towards the