In the dim light of the carriage lamp a finger traced the journey as the train whistled along. The only way any creature could know of the locomotive's progress was by its headlamps and the steady chug of the valves and vents – all its windows were blacked out, as if against an unforeseen, invisible foe.

De Ruyter laid aside the map. The seats were a little hard, but it was more than enough for a girl of her stature to lie down and sleep.

The cruiser took off her grey coat and threw it over herself as she tried to find warmth in the rattling, dingy train carriage.

She snuggled into the soft coat and closed her eyes. It again felt strange to be alone, strange to be sleeping while moving at eighty kilometres an hour, and strangest of all, to be the only Royal Netherlands Navy girl in all of Europe barring her homeland. Indeed, it made her slightly uncomfortable to think that she might be the only shipgirl travelling by train at this time of night.

All alone. The two words rang endlessly in her head, over and over. With a lurch in her stomach and increasing fear settling in her heart she fell down, down, down…

She wanted to cry. What was she doing this far away from home? Why, why was she doing this? For a shipgirl known as respected as a quiet, reserved but warm-hearted person why had she not stayed in the comfort of the naval base?

A tear dropped on the seat. No, she thought to herself, I will not cry. I promised the Admiral…

But the tears continued. No promise could stop them, and slowly they fell onto the upholstered seat, soaking her cheek. She couldn't imagine the Admiral now…

Admiral? Admiral, where are you? I need you, Admiral… Help me…

The prayer echoed in her mind, drowning out all else, as she slipped from the shore of wakefulness and drifted out onto the sea of slumber.


"Ah, so you're awake again."

De Ruyter opened her eyes. She could still feel the warm streaks on her face from where the tears had fallen.

"What's the matter, De Ruyter? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, bestevaer, it's nothing, nothing at all," She rose slowly from the hemp covers and once again breathed in the heady sea breeze.

The Dutch admiral sat nearby, a dusty green bottle and the remains of several biscuits scattered around him. "I've just finished dinner, I'm afraid," he said with a smile. "Are you hungry? I'm sure I still have some more in the hold-"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"More for me then, I guess." The admiral chuckled and held up the green bottle, which he then drank deeply from. He belched contentedly, and then rose.

"Today we are making port," the admiral said, as he took the wheel. "We're going to Vlissingen."

"Your home, yes?" De Ruyter said.

"You've read about me, then? Ah, those writers don't know how to give an old man his peace… yes, my home."

De Ruyter walked to the admiral's side and stared out at the cresting waves and the sparkling sea, the fresh salty wind at their backs as the neatly-trimmed three-masted pinnace sliced through the waters at an even clip.

Gulls heralded their approach as the familiar yellow and verdant green of the coast came into sight. Fishing cutters dotted the mouth of the Scheldt and all along the topmasts De Ruyter could see the blue, white and red pennants flying in the wind.

The most remarkable thing about their entry into Vlissingen was the lack of fanfare that De Ruyter expected for such a hero of the Dutch. But then again, it was all true to the man's reputation. His dress lacked the gold braid and gleaming buttons and medals she was so accustomed to seeing.

They touched down at the quayside. A plank was dropped onto the deck, and the humble admiral helped De Ruyter off.

While the admiral talked to one of the harbour men that stood at the shore always awaiting arrivals, she looked around. Here was Vlissingen in the days of the old Dutch Republic – a thriving, bustling port of industrious merchants and flourishing trade.

Children of all fair complexions played games in the streets while grimy workmen passed fine gentlemen of honour without demur. The handsome halls and residences of the harbour stood tall among the skyline, each a monument to the wealth and glory of the Republic.

De Ruyter drank in this scene of the revived past as the workers got to work and the admiral returned to her side.

The citizens seemed not to notice her presence as they walked through the streets. The famous admiral only drew excited children to his side. The local ladies curtsied to him, which he would respond with a simple bow.

"Here we are," he said, as they approached the courtyard of a stable. The stable boys bowed to the admiral in respect and before long they were clattering along the streets in a horse-drawn cart, riding along the waterfront.

"Hup! There now!" They stopped by a simple two-storey whitewashed house.

"Michiel! There you are!" From out of the house strode a severe-looking woman in a black dress. At first De Ruyter thought that, despite all the odds, that this must be her admiral's mother.

"My lovely wife," he said, dispelling all prevailing thoughts De Ruyter had. "Ah, Anna!" He clambered down from the cart and took his wife by the hand.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. But then her voice softened. "I was worried about you, my dear…"

"Do not fear, Anna my dear, I will always return to you," he replied, kissing her hand.

"And who might this be?" she asked, looking at De Ruyter curiously.

"A guest! A daughter of a dear friend of mine, to be precise."

"Well, will she stay for supper?" Anna smiled at De Ruyter, who curtsied the best she could. "It has been rather lonely of late… without you around, of course."

"Dearest Anna, did I not swear my life to you? I would know if I had been so foolish not to do so before I left for the fleet."

"In any case, dear, we shall have one more to add to our table of two. Come along, what is your name?" she asked of the shipgirl.

"Ruyter, madam."

"Ruyter, is it? Do come inside…"


The fire crackled merrily as the admiral stoked the pit. De Ruyter sat in one armchair with hot coffee in hand, while the admiral sat in the only other chair.

"I must say that you show rather good manners for someone of the future," he remarked.

"You knew, sir?"

"Of course! These are dreams, God's work to bring people like us together from across time. I know not of what awaits my children and my grandchildren in the future, but I know it is in good hands if people like you are there to protect it…"

"Thank you, sir."

"Speaking of the future, you mentioned something before about your mission. What was it about, again?"

De Ruyter blushed slightly and hurriedly took a sip of the coffee. It was wonderfully fragrant and full of flavour, having been mixed with various spices.

"I don't want to trouble your conscience with it, bestevaer," she hastily replied.

"But it seems to trouble you so much. Is it fear? Are you afraid?"

"Afraid, bestevaer? I…" Here De Ruyter stopped, as the ghosts of her thoughts rose around her, casting doubt into her heart. They floated around her, like malevolent spectres and geists, obscuring all hope and reason.

You'll never make it…

So far away from friends and comrades…

So far away from the Admiral….

"Enough!"

The hero admiral had risen from his chair with the exclamation. In an instant the shadows disappeared, banished from his awesome presence.

"You do not need to make excuses before me," he said gently, his voice full of radiant power. "I too know of your fears, De Ruyter."

"Bestevaer…" Tears again.

The admiral knelt by her armchair and wiped away the forming tears, albeit with a little force. "There, there, my dear, what good is crying over such trivial worries?"

She sniffed a little, and took the hero's hand into hers. "You're right, bestevaer. That was childish of me…"

"Do not fear, De Ruyter, of your own thoughts…"

"I won't…"

The sound of tramping boots above the rattle of rifles and the train.

"I won't… let you down…"

The door slid open with some force as a pair of helmeted guards barged into the compartment. One of them yelled at De Ruyter in an unintelligible language as she rose slowly from the seat.

"I'm sorry… I don't understand…"

"Papers! Show papers!" One yelled in heavily-accented English as the other levelled his rifle at her. The shipgirl sat where she was, completely unperturbed by the threat.

The conductor arrived. He too was just as confused as De Ruyter about this treatment, and was soon shouting in German at the guards, who ignored him.

In the meantime De Ruyter got her papers out of her coat pocket and handed them to the waiting guard. Unable to read the language, he said something to the other and he walked out of the compartment.

The second guard returned, amid the conductor's continued protesting, with a uniformed officer bearing distinctive green shoulder boards – Soviet Border Guards.

The officer took De Ruyter's papers and scrutinized them. His eyes widened and bulged at the various stamps and seals. Eventually he turned to the simmering conductor and asked him a question in halting German.

The conductor replied in a resentful tone, and then edged past the guards down the corridor.

"You," he said to De Ruyter in difficult English, "come with us."

But before she could rise to take her coat or the officers hand, a gentleman in a dull-brown suit and tie cut it. He looked not much older than the guards but was definitely younger than the pudgy officer.

He spoke to the officer in fluent Russian, his voice calm and level. One of the guards tried to push him away, but the border officer quickly snapped out an order and in an instant the guards trooped off the train.

"And you are?" the officer asked the gentleman.

"Jan Marijnen, Dutch consul for China," the gentleman replied calmly.

"Consul, you say? Your official papers, then."

"Right here."

"Let me see." A brief, expert scan of the document. "That seems to be in order. What is your relation to this person?"

"I am escorting her to China with me."

"I see." He turned to look at De Ruyter. "Do you know this man?"

She hesitated. She had never seen, nor heard of him, before, but she knew that she would need help in the coming days. With resurging confidence she nodded.

"Hmmm." The officer, still slightly sceptical, turned back to the young consul. "You are a little young to be consul, no?"

"It's my first major appointment." The consul laughed.

The officer broke into a smile. "I know the burden." But his expression was stern again in a second. "Regardless of who you are, however, I must make a note of this person's arrival into our borders. You understand, of course, if I must report this to my superiors?"

"I understand completely."

"Good! Very few that pass here do. On your authority and responsibility you are now in custody of this person. I shall not trouble you with the presence of a guard, but keep in mind that your movements through the country shall be watched."

The consul nodded, and the officer saluted and trooped off the train. The whistle blew a long note, and before long the train was underway again.

The young consul with the neatly-trimmed moustache bowed to De Ruyter and made to leave, but the shipgirl caught onto his sleeve.

"Please, stay."

"As you wish, miss."

He sat down on the opposite seat, looking curiously at De Ruyter.

"You may not know who I am, sir, but-"

"Apologies miss, but I think it's clear who you are."

"You… knew, then? All along?"

"No, no, the department would never tell me about something like this." He reached into his suit pocket and drew out a small stub pipe. "Do you mind?"

De Ruyter shook her head, and the consul promptly had the pipe lit in another few seconds. He breathed long and deeply, and exhaled a faint, sweet-smelling cloud.

"Egyptian special," he remarked, tapping his pipe. "Very rare nowadays. So, as to how I know." He grinned broadly at De Ruyter, who blushed under the kindly gaze of the young official.

"How could it not be you? Your deeds are sung by every child of my quarter, and your picture is in the papers always. But what puzzles me is what you are doing so far away from home…"

"I have a mission, sir."

"So you do. That much can be guessed, De Ruyter. But what is this mission? Are you able to confide with me?"

De Ruyter shook her head.

"But can you at least tell me where you are bound? This is not something you can hide from the Soviets."

"The Far East, sir."

The consul closed his eyes, dissatisfaction and understanding lining his brow. "I see. Well, now that introductions are out of the way, I think we shall have to get to know each other a bit more these next days."

"How so, sir?"

"Well, it is not very easy to get to Nippon now. You of all people should know the threats the seas now present to us. So it makes good sense for you to be travelling by train."

De Ruyter nodded in agreement. It was true. What hope would she have to venture alone into the Atlantic, Indian, and Pacific oceans, against so many unknown Abyssal fleets?

"In any case, you'll have to take the same route as me. That is, through the Trans-Siberian."

"The Trans-Siberian, sir?"

"Yes. The longest railway in the world. About two weeks of travel if we're lucky, a month if we're not…"

A month? On a train? De Ruyter closed her eyes, despairing at the thought of being so far away from the water.

As if to soother her worries and dispel her despair, she found herself again on the deck of the pinnace, the wind firmly at her back, the gulls keening, and her famous namesake by her side.

"What have you to worry, De Ruyter?"

"Sir, I-"

"Why would you need to worry? For if God and I am with you, what have you the need to fear?"

"I'm sorry, bestevaer…"

"All is right in your world, De Ruyter. I will always be at your side."

De Ruyter opened her eyes. The consul was refilling his pipe, unconcerned with the world at large. Perhaps, as her spirit was bolstered by the strength and courage of her namesake, it would be best to follow that example.