The four hurried to the stables where they found Lucien's team in the middle of a wash-down.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the stable hand. "I didn't know you required them."

Blake's driver, who was busy washing and polishing Blake's coach, spoke. "It was my fault, sirs; I thought we'd have at least until after the dinner hour."

"It's all right, Green. Take your ease," Blake said to the driver and then to Lucien, "We can ride, can't we?"

Lucien glanced at Bronte and Sam. "We can—but they can't."

Bronte and Sam simultaneously crossed their arms over their chests, glaring at Lucien defiantly.

"Oh, fine!" Lucien said abruptly as he started back toward the house.

"Where are you going?" Blake asked, with a perplexed look.

"To get my bag," Lucien answered stiffly as he continued on.

Bronte and Sam looked at each other and smiled.

A short time later they had four horses saddled and were trotting easily along towards the captain's home. Blake and Lucien rode in front, trying to keep the pace easy for the two stubborn pirates, periodically glancing back to check the wounded pair. Though they followed without complaint, Bronte on a beautiful bay mare and Sam on a shining black, their jaws were clenched in identical grimaces.

Lucien straightened in his saddle atop a large gray and shook his head at Blake.

Blake gave a pat to his chestnut and chuckled. "The Heyden's have always had a strong constitution," he said with pride. "And well," he glanced back at Bronte, "that's some woman."

Lucien silently agreed.

Despite the relegated pace they quickly approached the modest seaside home of Captain Dewberry. The home was boxy and plain, painted a dull ash, which Lucien thought, suited the captain perfectly.

They tied their mounts, Bronte and Sam stoically accepting help dismounting, and were soon being shown into the captain's parlor by a prudish-looking young woman.

The captain sat in a stuffed leather chair in a simple but comfortably furnished room before a small fire.

Lucien wondered that Dewberry could be cold; the room felt over-warm to him.

He might've read Lucien's thoughts for Dewberry said at once, "At my age there always seems to be a chill in my bones. Now, what brings you pounding on my door?"

Lucien looked at him with concern, "Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?"

"No, no, I'm all right. Who are your companions and what is your business?"

Lucien briefly made introductions, stuttering when he came to Bronte. Finally, he just shrugged. "And this is Bronte."

The old man did a double take since Bronte was dressed in men's clothes, but before he could ask anything Lucien spoke again. "Do you remember that French poetry I gave you in Port Royal?"

"Of course I do! A more disgusting piece of literature's never been written. I've never seen such filth," the captain spat.

Lucien cleared his throat and asked bashfully, "You wouldn't happen to still have it, would you?"

"And what would you want with it?" Captain Dewberry pursed his lips.

"It has something in it, a message, I need," Lucien said.

"Humph," was all the old man responded.

"Please, Captain Dewberry, do you have it? We really do need it," Bronte asked, not unkindly.

The man looked at her again curiously. Finally, he sighed. "I have it." And then, turning his head away to avoid looking at them, he pulled it from the cushion in the very chair he sat and held it out.

Sam quickly turned away, probably to hide his grin. Lucien bit the inside of his cheek and carefully avoided any look of surprise or accusation as he reached for it.

The old man turned a shade of pink. When Lucien grasped it the man held firmly and gave it a shake. "Don't be spreading any stories about me reading this book. I only kept it with me to keep my poor granddaughter from running across it accidentally."

"Of course. In fact, the less said about it the better," Lucien agreed as he gingerly extracted it from the man's gnarled hands.

"It's full of holes!" the captain called after them as they politely took their leave.

They climbed into their saddles before Lucien flipped it open. It was the right one, and it was full of holes. They agreed to return to Lucien's to look it over more thoroughly.

They made the trip back quicker, anticipation making them hurry their mounts. Even so the sun was setting over the rolling emerald landscape when they arrived.

Bronte, Blake, and Sam took the book into Lucien's parlor and examined it while Lucien went to procure them a meal. When he returned, Bronte and Sam were busily examining a chart with a magnifying lens. Dozens of candles lit the finely scrawled letters and numbers. Bronte was copying down sequences of numbers as Sam squinted through the glass reading them to her.

Blake looked up as Lucien entered the room. "We think we've figured it out—pretty simple, really."

Lucien set the tray down, and they all took a piece of bread and cheese as he poured spiced wine.

"Blake translated the missing letters. They appear to be the names of ships paired with departure dates and destinations. The ones with valuable cargoes have them listed. He really did go through a lot of work to make this," Bronte explained.

"They are listed chronologically, I expect so they could flip through a page at a time and seize the next ship due," Blake added.

"But why go through all the trouble of encoding it? Why not just write it down?" Lucien asked.

"Maybe to reassure his informants it'd remain secret? They didn't know he planned to kill them, so he'd have had to reassure them somehow," Sam suggested. "And he wouldn't want anyone else to have the information."

"Do you recognize any of the ships, Lucien?" Bronte asked, pointing to the parchment.

He looked over the short list compiled even as Blake decoded more of them.

"Yes, several in fact. Many are my father's. Who could've given him the information?"

"Does your father keep a list of them and their routes?" Sam asked.

"Of course. Do you think someone stole it?"

"See if you can find it," Bronte said as she pulled up a chair to rest her leg.

Lucien left immediately to search his father's office. He returned forthwith, carrying the list in question. Together they looked at it and compared it with the ones from the book.

"Most of these are in this book. Someone at least got a copy of it." Bronte frowned.

"This is curious," Lucien said. "A lot of the original dates of departure have been changed recently, marked with the initials H.M. and the new dates are those in the book."

"To make it more convenient for the pirates?" Blake wondered, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "Do you think your father was involved?"

"Never. He wouldn't sabotage his own business—he spent too much of his life building it."

"But doesn't he get money from his underwriters when a cargo is stolen? What if he made an arrangement with the Frenchman to get a percentage of what it sold for? Double dipping, so to speak?" Blake suggested.

"No," Bronte agreed with Lucien, "Rousse said his accomplice would soon own the Bellemare business, not that he already did."

Lucien looked at her gratefully. He may be at odds with his father but he didn't think him a criminal.

"Didn't you tell me your father took a partner? What's his name?" Bronte asked.

"Masterson. Hortence Masterson!" Lucien exclaimed.

"That was the name the Frenchman was about to say!" Bronte said.

"He's a corporeal man; I doubt he could've moved fast enough to escape so quickly. And didn't you say you thought the killer was a blonde?" Lucien shook his head slightly.

Bronte nodded. "Perhaps he wasn't the killer, Rousse must've left plenty wanting revenge in his wake, but Masterson's still done something fishy, and I think these changes he initialed prove it. Is he on the island?"

"He is. But before I go accuse the man of treason, I'm going to the authorities." Lucien stood and the others followed.

"If we're stopping by the prison I want to look in on Bart!" Sam grinned.

Lucien turned to Bronte. "Stay here. You could be recognized—I'm going to the sheriff."

"I'm going," Bronte said stubbornly.

"Why don't you and Lucien stay, and Sam and I will go. It would be better if you're not involved, Lucien, in case they think you're being vindictive," Blake offered.

Lucien scowled, but he also knew that was probably the only way Bronte would stay.

The four reluctantly agreed to the suggestion, though Sam looked doubtful at the arrangement of going off alone with his half-brother.

***

As they exited Bronte brooded, determined to be angry about being left behind. Unfortunately, she fell asleep, spoiling her intentions.

She woke when Sam and Blake returned, loudly discussing what had happened.

"Well, did you find him?" Bronte asked, shaking the sleep from her eyes.

Sam nodded. "Sitting all too comfortably in his new house."

"We had it right. Every bit. Masterson was due to get a double profit from every plundered ship and then buy Lucien's father out when the losses became too high for the underwriters to cover," Blake added.

"Did he admit to it, then? Just like that?" Lucien said with surprise.

"At first he denied it, but when the sheriff said an investigation would reveal the truth, he suddenly changed his mind. We took our leave when he asked to speak alone with his daughter, before they took him to the prison," Blake said.

"I still think we should have stayed, to console her I mean," Sam said earnestly to his brother.

"You don't even know what she looked like! She was wearing a black veil!" Blake scoffed. "For all you know she might've looked like her blowfish of a father!"

Sam smiled at the joke, pretending to think this over.

Bronte could see that something in their relationship had changed. Sam seemed to be adapting easily to having a brother.

"What happened to Bart?" Lucien asked.

"He's locked up good and tight," Blake assured. "They had to gag him because he wouldn't stop screaming 'they'd deserved what they got'."

"Who?" Bronte asked.

"Everyone but him, apparently," Sam joked.

Bronte wondered how Bart had become so jaded.

"One more thing," Blake added. "The governor was there—the charge being treason—and he asked what sort of reward I might accept. I told him of a certain ship at bay, stolen by Masterson's co-conspirator." Blake brought out papers granting ownership of the Huntress. "So, who do these go to?"

Lucien took them.

Bronte nodded her understanding. How could she begrudge him that, when he'd helped them so much?

He handed the papers to her.

She took them, a perplexed expression on her face.

"I told you, I'm a man of my word," Lucien said.

"I don't understand," Bronte said.

"She's all yours."