Dogger gave Taylor a stirrup, and offered his hand, to help her get down from the horse.

The house was all in dark, as she and Dance approached the front door. The inspector struck it with a thunderous fist, muscles bulging even through the heavy coat of his uniform.

A short moment later the door cracked open to reveal a tired maid. She didn’t look surprised by late night callers, but she did serve the household of a doctor.

“Is Dr. Livesey in?” Dance demanded.

The woman shook her head quietly, “No, sir. He had come home this afternoon, but he has gone up to the hall to dine, with the squire, sir.”

“The hall, boys.” Dance instructed his men, and the two of them remounted the horses. Dogger pulling Taylor in a little tighter, this time.

The distance was shorter than before, and it took almost no time for them to lead up the leafless and moonlit avenue, to where a white line of hall buildings looked out onto a great assortment of gardens.

There, Dance and Taylor dismounted, and went to the door.

The servant who greeted them, immediately led them down a passageway and into a great library. All the walls lined with bookcases, with busts looking down from above them. Two men were sitting in the middle, smoking comfortably.

The two were seating in front of a bright fire. The one that Taylor did not recognise, she assumed was the squire. He was a tall man, over six feet high, with shoulders that felt like they were just as broad. If it were the case, she could not guess who would win between him and the inspector by her side, if they were to wrestle or do something similarly muscular.

“Come in, Mr. Dance.” The squire spotted them, nodding with a stately air.

“Good evening, Dance.” The doctor looked up from a book, before making a querying look, “And good evening to you, Taylor. What brings you here?”

The inspector stood up straight, and gave out his story in small short barks. As if on parade, he told the facts of the night’s case, as the two other gentlemen leaned further and further forward. They forgot the smoke of their pipes as they were brought inwards.

“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “You are a very noble fellow. As for riding down that black, atrocious creature, I regard it as an act of virtue, sir. Like stamping upon a cockroach. And you, lad. Mr. Hawkins. You are a trump, no doubt about it.”

“Some ale for Mr. Dance.” The doctor instructed, and Trelawney rang the bell for service. “So, Taylor, you have the thing that they were after, have you?”

She opened the sack, and pulled out the oilskin packet. She held it out to the doctor, “I think so, sir.”

The doctor turned it over, looking eager to open it, before quietly putting it into the pocket of his coat. “Squire, when Mr. Dance has had his ale, he must be off on his Majesty’s service, of course. However, I mean to keep Taylor Hawkins here, to sleep at my house. With your permission, I propose we should have up the cold pie, and let him sup.”

“Aye.” Said the squire, “Hawkins has earned better than cold pie.”

The maid received her orders for ale and pigeon pie when she arrived, bringing them in and putting them onto a sidetable.

Taylor dug in, suddenly finding herself starving after all the events of the night. As she ate, the squire and the doctor showered the inspector in compliments, until he finished his drink and took his leave.

Almost as soon as the man had left, the doctor turned his eyes to Trelawney, “And now, squire.”

“And now, Livesey.”

The doctor smiled, “You have heard of this Flint, I suppose?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Heard of him!?” Trelawney cried, “Heard of him, you say? He was the blood thirstiest buccaneer that ever did sail! Blackbeard was nought but a child compared to the black-hearted Flint.”

Taylor looked up at him, her curiosity peaking.

The squire continued, “The Spaniards were so afraid of the man, no - the beast - that they had orders not to approach his ship. I’ve seen his sails, by mine own eyes. Off the coast of Trinidad, and the captain I sailed under at the time turned right around, and headed back to the Port of Spain.”

“I have heard of him, myself.” The doctor said dryly, “But the point is, he had money?”

“Money! Haven’t you heard the story? What were these villainous folk after, but money? And what do they care for, but money? What would the risk their sickened hides for, but money?”

“What I want to know,” The doctor replied calmly, “Is this… Supposing that I have here, in my pocket, some clue to where Flint placed his fortune, will that amount to much?”

“By God… Apologies.” The squire nodded towards Taylor, “Amount. It will amount to this, sir. If we have the clue you speak of, I would fit a ship in Bristol dock, and take you and Hawkins along, and give a whole year to the searching.”

The doctor laid out the bundle in front of him, and looked across, “Taylor? Do you mind if we open this, now?”

With her shrug, the doctor found that the bundle was sewn together. He had to fetch scissors to cut the stitches, revealing that it contained two things. A book, and a sealed paper.

Turning to the book first, the three of them gather around as the doctor opened it. On the first page there were only some scraps of writing, as if for practice. One fragment was the same as the tattoo that she had seen on the Captain.

“Not much to see there.” Dr. Livesey said before turning the page.

The next few pages were filled with a curious series of entries. There were some dates, in line with a sum of money. As if it were an accounting book, but instead of anything amounting to an explanation of the sum, there were a number of crosses.

On the 12th of June, 1745, a sum of seventy pounds was accounted to six crosses. On the 26th of June, there was an entry where three crosses were joined by 62° 17’ 20“, 19° 2’ 40”.

The record lasted over twenty years, the amount of time between the entries growing larger as time went on. At the end, a grand total appeared, sketched out with a few wrong additions, with the words appended, ‘Bones, his pile.’

“I cannot make head nor tails of this.” Said Dr. Livesey.

The squire shook his head, “The thing is as clear as noonday. This is the hound’s account book. These crosses stand for the names of ships or towns that they sank or plundered. A counting of attacks. The sums are the scoundrel’s share, and where he feared any ambiguity, he added a note to something clearer. Those coordinates point to where you’ll find some unhappy vessel sunk.”

“Ah!” The doctor understood, “Right. And the amounts increase, you see, as he rose in rank.”

There was little else to be had in the book, apart from a few bearings of places noted in the blank leaves towards the end of the book, and a table for conversion between various currencies.

“A thrifty man. Not one to be cheated.”

Turning to the paper, they found it sealed in several places, with a thimble by way of a seal. The doctor took great efforts to open the seals with care, and as it opened, it revealed a map.

The paper showed an island, marked with latitude and longitude. The soundings were labelled, and there were names for hills, bays and inlets. Every particular necessary to bring a ship to safe anchorage upon its shores.

The island was about nine miles long, and five across. Perhaps shaped like a standing dragon, with a fire in its belly. It had two land-locked harbours, and a hill in the centre, that had been marked as ‘the Spyglass’.

There were several additions of a later date, including three red-inked crosses. Two on the north part of the island, and one in the southwest. It was beside that one, that in the same red ink, a neater hand than the Captain’s had written, ‘Bulk of treasure.’

On the back of the map, was written:

> “Tall tree, Spyglass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. of N.N.E.”

> “Red Island, E.S.E. and by E.”

> “Ten feet.”

> “The bar silver is in the northe cache. Find it by trend of east hummock, ten fathoms sou of black crag with face.”

> “Arms are easy found, by sand hill, N. of nor inlet cape, bearing E. and a quarter N.”

> “J.F.”

Taylor found the entire short thing to be incomprehensible, but her two companions were lit with excitement.

“Livesey, you will give up this wretched practice. Tomorrow, I start for Bristol.” The squire stated, “In three weeks time, three… Two… Ten days! In ten days we’ll have the best ship, sir, and the choicest crew in England.”

“I will ply as ship’s doctor.” Livesey nodded, “Set Hawkins as a cabin boy. You’ll be a famous cabin boy, Hawkins.”

“We’ll take Redruth, Joyce and Hunter. We’ll have favourable winds, quick passage, and not the least difficult in finding the spot.”

“Trelawney.” Cautioned the doctor, “I will go with you, and I’ll go bail for it, and so will Taylor. There is only one man I am afraid of.”

“Who? Name the dog, sir!”

“You.” Dr. Livesey said dryly, “You cannot hold your tongue. We are not the only men who know of this paper. These fellows who attacked the Nightingale tonight, are bound in deed to try for this. We must none of us go alone, until we get to sea. Taylor and I shall stick together, you must take Joyce and Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and none of us may breathe a word of what we’ve found.”

“I shall be as silent as the grave.” The squire said.