It was entirely unfair, Trixie Belden decided, that some people didn't seem to have any trouble at all learning to walk on dry land again after being at sea for six months. And by some people, she meant the captain, or as some liked to call him, the Scourge of the Sea, Daniel T. Mangan.

"Easy does it," he told her, bracing her with a strong arm around her shoulders. "You'll be fine in a few minutes. Or hours," he added when she lurched unsteadily and nearly stepped off the wooden sidewalk of the main street of the small port town.

"If any of the men see this, I'll be forced to kill them," she informed him, gritting her teeth against the rolling sensation that was conspiring to keep her from gaining her balance. "And then you'll have to look for a new crew. Is Sanditon a large enough town for that?"

She couldn't be certain, since she couldn't actually raise her line of sight higher than her own shoes, but if she knew Captain Mangan at all, she knew that he was rolling his eyes.

"The crew have other women besides you on their mind," he informed her mildly, and she blushed at the implication.

"Oh," she stammered. "Right." And then, quite unexpectedly, she felt a pang of regret. As the only woman aboard a sailing vessel, she'd held a unique position. Once the men had learned that she could hold her own in physical labour and that she didn't expect to be catered to, they'd made her a part of their family. Their rude joke, terrible sea shanty-singing family. But apparently now that they were in port for the first time in months she was yesterday's news.

"There's an upside here," Dan whispered in her ear, pulling her even more tightly against him.

She shivered, as she always did when the dark, intense man turned his full attention on her.

"And what might that be?" she asked, though from the way his hand was gripping her hip, she already had a fair idea of what the answer might be.

"It means that we've a night of no responsibilities," he said, tugging her more quickly down the street. "No fights to break up." As if he couldn't stop himself, he pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead. "No din of twenty snoring men." His hand was no longer precisely on her waist but it didn't matter, because they were stumbling through a low, wooden door and the noise of the street fell away, leaving her alone, blessedly alone, with the man of her dreams.

"You'll be wanting a room, then?" an amused voice inquired, and Trixie flushed beet red.

"For Mr. and Mrs. Smythe," Dan said, his eyes still locked on Trixie's. And as she read the love and passion that she knew was a reflection of her own, Trixie decided that she couldn't care less that the inn keeper most likely thought that she was a woman of loose virtue.

"Up the stairs, second door on the left," the amused voice continued, but Trixie heard the words as if from a distance. Which, she realized, was almost correct, as Dan had already somehow manoeuvred them halfway up the rickety, creaking staircase without her even realizing it.

Residual land-sickness, she told herself. That had to be it. It certainly couldn't be the fact that she was completely overwhelmed, as always, by the handsome man who held her heart.

"Second door on the left," Trixie whispered when Dan stopped just after the first door.

"Too far," he told her, pressing her against the wall and trailing hot, wet kisses down the side of her neck.

She knew that she ought to protest, but the idea of being able to steal a kiss when there were no crew members vying for attention was more heady than she'd realized.

And it didn't hurt that Captain Daniel T. Mangan was skilled in many areas other than his reputed career of pirate.

"Oh!" she gasped, jumping when he rucked up the hem of her full skirt, his hot hands coming dangerously close to—

"Cap'n Man— er… Cap'n Smythe!"

If Trixie were the crying sort, she decided, there would have been no better time than that moment to indulge in a show of hysterics. As it was, she turned and glared at the man who'd had the gall to interrupt them, hoping that the force of her anger would send him back to wherever he'd come.

"Esau?" she exclaimed when her eyes had adjusted enough to the dim lighting in the corridor to identify him. "Esau, what is it?"

The First Mate flicked his gaze nervously between the captain and the woman. "Er…"

Dan sighed. "Very well." Handing Trixie the key to the room, he drew her close one last time, planting a kiss on her lips that left no doubt as to what he had planned for them. "I'll be fast," he told her.

Esau snorted, earning an irate glare from Trixie and a scowl from the captain.

"Mind in the gutter," Trixie muttered, narrowing her eyes at the man who, in some ways, had taken the place of her father while she'd been at sea. He'd looked out for her and given her sage advice when she'd needed it. Her real father, she suspected, might not have approved of his off-colour jokes and willingness to throw her together with the infamous captain.

But that was neither here nor there.

What was important was that Esau obviously had something of import to tell Dan. And, even more importantly, he didn't appear to want to do so in front of Trixie.

"Out with it," she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. "You know as well as I do that there are no secrets on our ship."

He hesitated, glancing between the two of them again.

"Just tell us," Dan sighed, taking the key back from Trixie and opening their room. "We'll sit down and you can let us know what was so important that you needed to interrupt our first night of privacy."

Esau's face reddened. "I am sorry 'bout that," he said, glancing sheepishly at Trixie. "But…"

"Just come in," Trixie sighed, and led the way into the small room. It was barely larger than the cabin she and Dan shared on the Straight Arrow, but there was definitely something to be said for a room in which the furniture didn't need to be nailed to the floor.

When they were comfortably arranged, Trixie perching on the bed, Dan leaning against the wall, and Esau taking the one chair, Esau cleared his throat. "Ye know that I came ashore an hour or two afore the rest of ye," he began.

"Yes," Dan interrupted. "Of course. I asked you to gather what intelligence you could before the rowdy crew came ashore and disturbed the town to the point of uselessness."

Esau stared at his superior, as if hoping that Dan would be able to draw the rest of the information directly from his mind and save them all the trouble of him articulating it.

"And?" Dan questioned when it appeared that Esau was finished.

"And I may have come across some information which might be of interest to ye."

While Trixie glared and fidgeted, literally sitting on her hands to keep from usurping Dan's authority and throttling the information out of Esau, Dan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The point, Esau?" he pressed.

Once again, Esau hesitated.

"Oh, for the love of mackerel!" Trixie exclaimed, no longer able to keep quiet or still. Jumping up from the edge of the bed, she moved to stand directly in front of the first mate, grasping both of his shoulders and giving him a shake. "What is it? Is the country at war? Is the Navy after Dan?" She stopped, her eyes wide, as a new thought occurred to her. "My brothers! Do you have news of my brothers? Are they safe?" she asked, shaking the poor man until his long, greyish-white hair bobbed.

"Trixie." Dan grasped her trembling hands and removed them from Esau's shoulders.

"Not yer brothers," Esau assured her, sounding miserable.

"Then what on earth—"

"Cap'n Gingerbeard."

Trixie's heart leapt to her throat at the mention of a name she hadn't heard in months.

"Oh, no," she whispered, feeling a lick of panic. "Is he after us? He promised—"

"Nay," Esau said, wringing his hat in his hands. "Nay, he isn't after ye."

"Then what?" she demanded, her temper sparking once again. "Did he get in trouble when we got away from him?" she wondered. "Is that it? Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"Aye, that he be," Esau said wearily. Turning to look at Dan, he said, "The Ten Acres is missing. In the Pool."

"The Pool?" Trixie questioned, frowning. "I've never heard of that. Is it… bad?" she asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Aye," Esau answered soberly. "It be worse than bad. It be a pocket of sea with more storms than it can rightly account for." He paused. "And it be the favourite pickins fer a number of pirates."

Trixie sat down roughly on the edge of the bed, but this time Dan's arms were around her.

"We'll find him," Dan promised, knowing what she needed to hear. "We'll find the Ten Acres and bring her home."

Trixie nodded, her blonde curls bouncing against Dan's shoulder, appreciating the fact that not only had he understood her need to do something to help Jim, he had included her in the effort.

It wasn't every pirate who was man enough to accept her wildly independent streak.

"That's what I was a'feared of," Esau said, ignoring the tender moment the couple was sharing. "We'll be puttin' out to sea early in the 'morn, then?"

Before Trixie could emphatically agree, Dan shook his head. "No. We'll need to double our provisions," he explained, cutting off Trixie's gasp of indignation. "It won't do us much good to rescue Gingerbeard and his crew if we can't feed them."

"Right. Right." It was times like these that Trixie was grateful for Dan's calm and methodical approach to, well, everything. Extra provisions wouldn't have occurred to her until her stomach was turning itself inside out with hunger. And even then she probably wouldn't have cared. Not if it meant they'd managed to rescue Jim. But she couldn't expect the rest of the crew to make the same sacrifices that she didn't even have to think twice about. She only hoped that a delayed start wouldn't be the difference between finding Jim, and not finding him.

But no.

They would find him, just as he'd found her when he thought that she'd been taken on the Straight Arrow against her will. Of course, she thought guiltily, he almost certainly would have preferred that she'd been an unwilling passenger and that she'd have been hoping for a rescue. His rescue, in particular. She sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. It wasn't that she wanted an easy, well-ordered life. Her adventures on the Straight Arrow had begun precisely because she'd been trying to avoid that sort of life. But sailing off to rescue a man she'd once thought herself in love with, accompanied by the man she was most certainly in love with, was a little more complicated than even she preferred. Her mind churned, going over the scant information Esau had provided.

"Isn't the Navy sending help?" Trixie asked, latching on to what had been bothering her subconsciously. She looked to Esau for an answer, only to find that she and Dan were alone in the room.

"He's gone to make some arrangements," Dan explained, and she felt a stab of guilt. If Dan didn't feel the need to stay with her, he would have been with Esau, taking care of the Straight Arrow and its crew. Instead, they were both cooped up in an inn, accomplishing nothing.

"We need to—" she said as she scrambled from the bed, only to find herself tugged back to her original position.

"We don't need to do anything," Dan said. "Not tonight."

When she opened her mouth to argue, he placed a single finger on her lips. It was an action that would have annoyed her to no end if anyone else had attempted it, but because Dan so rarely asked her to be quiet, she was surprised into complying.

"Esau is taking care of everything that can possibly be done this evening, and he doesn't need my help."

"Well, couldn't we—"

"Trixie, if you think that I want to scour the town looking for the crew…" He shook his head. "Let them have this night. We'll make contact with them in the morning. Since they most likely won't be getting another night in port for a few weeks, I think it best if we leave them to it, don't you?"

Trixie flushed, realizing why Dan was so set on giving the crew members their privacy. There would be resentment at best, mutiny at worst, if they weren't allowed this opportunity to blow off steam, so to speak.

"Right," she agreed, taking a deep breath. Right. She could do this. She could be patient. She didn't have to like it, but she could do it. If she could just get through the night, in the morning they would be busy gathering the crew and outfitting the ship. She could manage one night, even if it seemed interminable at the moment. Even if Jim might at that very moment be in terrible danger, either from the elements or pirates. She could manage one night, even if she couldn't actually fall asleep. After all, there would be plenty of time to sleep once they were back aboard the Straight Arrow. Plenty of time to—

"Not nearly enough time," Dan murmured, and Trixie was forcibly brought back to reality.

"Not nearly enough time for what?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. What was Dan worried about? Hadn't he said that they'd have plenty of time to organize their early departure? Was there a new problem that he told her about yet? What else could possibly go wrong?

"Not nearly enough time for us to do everything I had planned for us tonight," he whispered in her ear, dragging his lips across her skin in a sensual pattern that brought every one of her other thought processes to a screeching halt.

"Oh," she breathed, and relaxed against him, sliding her arms up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Well, we have time for some of those things, don't we?" she asked.

He chuckled, and Trixie felt the reverberations through her entire body. "We'll make do," he promised. "We'll make do."

Life aboard a ship had not yet turned Trixie into a morning person, and the next morning came all too soon. Waking to a series of well-placed kisses, however, helped to soften the blow of beginning the day earlier than she would have preferred. And though she would probably never like early mornings, she found herself looking forward to the foggy haze of sleepy attention from the captain that heralded the start of each day. But there was something special about this morning, she thought vaguely, a prickle of awareness penetrating her cocoon of comfort. Something important.

She gasped, sitting bolt upright and sending Dan back to his side of the bed. "Jim!" she exclaimed. "The Ten Acres!"

Dan sighed and rolled to lie on his back, his chest left exposed by the sheet tangled around his hips. "Not quite the reaction I was aiming for," he informed her wryly, and Trixie had the grace to blush.

"Relax," he urged, sitting up and pressing his lips to the hollow spot at the base of her neck. "We have plenty of time to organize everything we need to do today."

Trixie smiled to herself. "Plenty of time?" she inquired, calculating just how much longer they could get away with staying in bed.

"Well, maybe not plenty of time," he admitted reluctantly, and it was Trixie's turn to sigh. "We'll order food and other provisions this morning," he told her, "to be delivered this afternoon. In a few hours we can start rounding up the crew."

"A few hours?" Trixie questioned. The crew consisted of men who were accustomed to a life at sea and to waking before dawn. "Why—"

"Because most of them are only turning in about now," Dan told her, his amusement evident. "No sense in dealing with a sleep-deprived crew if we don't have to. We've a long journey ahead of us," he said, leaning against the headboard and tugging Trixie along with him. She tucked herself comfortably against him, relishing their last few minutes of privacy before they would need to tackle the day. As much as she wanted them to get on with Jim's rescue already, she felt a pang knowing that she and Dan wouldn't have much in the way of privacy for the foreseeable future. And while she had the motivation of coming to the aid of a childhood friend to offset her disappointment, Dan was complying only because he knew that she needed to do this. To Dan, Jim was still Captain Gingerbeard—with whom he had, at best, an uneasy alliance.

"You're a good man," she told him, needing him to know how much she appreciated what he was doing.

"And probably a foolish one, too," he muttered, but didn't protest when she threw her arms around him in an impulsive hug.

"There may be more to this than meets the eye," he warned her, pressing his lips to her hair. "Captain Gingerbeard has been sailing for years and he's no fool. For him to be in that part of the sea at this time of year…" He shook his head. "Something isn't right."

Trixie bit her lip as she took in Dan's serious expression. His words didn't come as a surprise to her—she'd known instinctively that there was something more going on than a simple case of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If only she had the slightest inkling of what that something could be.

Life, Trixie decided, was completely unfair. She'd spent her shore leave lurching from one piece of furniture to the next and feeling as if the bed in the inn was rocking and rolling in the gentle waves of the sea. And now that she was finally back aboard the Straight Arrow, the vessel had the temerity to pitch and roll as if she hadn't spent six months living and labouring on this ship.

"Fickle mistress," Trixie muttered, and more than one of the crew members smiled as she clutched the railing. "Oh, shut it, Hawkins," she clipped, her voice short with frustration. "At least I'm not the one who thought it would be a brilliant idea to woo the innkeeper's daughter by serenading her."

Hawkins flushed.

"At five in the morning."

Hawkins scuffed his feet. "In me defence, I didn't realize it were quite so late." He paused, frowning. "Er… early?"

Trixie shook her head. "For future reference, there really isn't any good time for you to serenade someone," she informed him, wincing as she recalled his terrible rendition of a bawdy tavern song. Was pitch deafness a requirement for sailing on the Straight Arrow, she wondered? It almost had to be, she decided, because surely most people could carry a tune. Why no one aboard the Straight Arrow could was beyond her, but she knew that there was no point in complaining—it only made the men sing louder.

"Yeah, well… well…" Hawkins scowled as he struggled to come up with a sufficiently biting retort.

"Give it some time," Dan advised, clapping him on his shoulder. "You'll come up with a scathing comeback while ye stow the dried goods."

Hawkins nodded, accepting his defeat.

"Ye really ought not to tease them in the Captain's presence," Dan whispered in her ear. "Some of them still worry I'll punish them."

Trixie snorted. "Not likely. Aren't you the one who started the rumour that I like when they try out their off-colour jokes on me?"

Dan grinned, tucking her under his arm as he supervised the provisioning of the ship. "It just so happens that I like the way you blush."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Trixie jibed, squirming just free enough to elbow him in the ribs. "Shall I remind you of the time you drank too much of Esau's special ale, and ended up christening—"

"I thought we agreed never to mention that," Dan muttered, his eyes shifting to his crew. "Bad for morale if the men know I can't handle liquor better than they."

Trixie's grin was wide and unapologetic. "And there's the blush I was going for," she crowed, remarking on the reddened tint of his dark complexion.

"You're an evil, evil woman," he growled, but Trixie knew that he loved their verbal sparring as much as she did.

"I know," she said happily. The ship rolled again, and she flung out a hand to grasp the worn wooden rail. "I'll get my sea legs back soon, right?" she asked through gritted teeth, ignoring the slightest upturning of Dan's lips.

"Of course you will," he assured her. "Eventually," he added in a muted mutter, and Trixie couldn't be certain if her groan was because of her queasy stomach or because she had no idea when she'd be back to normal.

In any case, it was Dan's fault.

Somehow.

"Cap'n Mangan!"

Trixie forgot her sea legs (or lack thereof) at the sound of the panting, anxious voice. The men aboard the Straight Arrow didn't generally get out of breath—they were all hardened seafarers. The man was either ill, or nervous.

"Yes, Wilkins?" Dan prompted, but the man merely handed him a piece of rough paper. "What is this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the sailor. Wilkins was a fairly new addition to the crew, but he'd been with them nearly a year. He really ought to know better than to dance around a direct question.

"I don't right know, sir," he admitted. "Ye see, I never did learn me letters…"

Trixie patted his arm. "There's no shame in it," she told him briskly. "But why—"

"I found it in me trousers. When I woke up this morn," he said, blushing and glancing at Trixie out of the corner of his eye.

"I see. And how did you know it was intended for me?" Dan asked.

Trixie glanced at the paper he held in his hand and saw that it was, indeed, addressed to the captain of the Straight Arrow.

"I thought we were in port under false identities," Trixie whispered.

"We were," Dan said grimly.

Trixie grimaced. This couldn't be good. Dan did important work under the guise of being the captain of a pirating vessel. If someone knew that the Straight Arrow was in port, it could affect them in several different ways. Other pirates were always a concern, as they were more than happy to take out the competition. And if someone had figured out that Dan was really aiding the British government by stealing important information from French vessels… Well, that would spell disaster.

"Read it," she urged, unable to control her curiosity one second longer. No matter how bad whatever the letter contained was, it was better to know what it was, and what they were up against.

"Thank you, Wilkins," Dan said, his attention on the missive. "You may go."

Wilkins bobbed his head. "Yes sir," he said, his relief evident. He spun and walked the other direction as quickly as he could, as if worried that the captain would rescind his freedom.

"Let's go below deck," Dan said abruptly, folding the paper and concealing it in a pocket of his trousers. "Esau, y'er in charge," he called in a loud voice, and was answered by a grunt of acknowledgement from most of the crew.

Trixie followed him down the narrow staircase leading to the captain's berth, her sea legs forgotten in her eagerness to learn the contents of the letter. "What does it say?" she demanded as soon as they were both in the small but tidy berth.

Dan unfolded the paper and spread it carefully on the desk, leaning on his forearms as he studied it. Trixie attempted to read over his shoulder, but the writing was so messy and faded that she had a hard time making any of it out.

"It looks like a list," she observed, tracing her finger down the margin of the paper. There were only a few lines of writing, and each contained only a few words.

"It is," Dan agreed, and straightened. "It's a list of captains and their ships."

He pointed to the first name. "Captain Jacobs. Not a name you'd recognize, but a pirate that's been around for going on twenty years. Subtle, that one. Keeps a low profile, doesn't make waves."

Trixie blinked. "There are pirates like that?" she asked incredulously. It seemed to go against the grain of everything that a pirate was, in her opinion. Of course, the only pirate she actually knew wasn't really a pirate at all…

"Never mind," she muttered, and ignored Dan's half-smile. "Who's the next person?"

"Captain Roberts," Dan read. "He sails the Plague."

Trixie shuddered. "Sounds pleasant."

"You have no idea," Dan said softly. "Roberts is…" he paused. "Not a pleasant man. All things considered, I'd take the actual plague over going up against his Plague."

It was an admission that Trixie hadn't expected; Dan always seemed able to handle any situation that came his way, tackling it with the calm assurance that he would prevail.

"Oh, skill-wise I'd put the crew of the Straight Arrow up against the Plague any day," he clarified. "It would just be ugly."

Trixie nodded, understanding. It was odd, she thought, that the code of ethics and fair play pirates lived by was so generally respected that pirates who didn't adhere to it were scorned. It just went to prove that people were more complex than she often gave them credit for.

"And who's the last name?" Trixie asked, squinting at the chicken scratches that Dan seemed to have no difficulty deciphering.

He frowned, staring at the name.

Trixie tried to wait patiently, but it was only a few seconds before she nudged him with the toe of her practical black boots. "Well?"

"Captain Lucien Bouchard," he finally said, still staring at the paper.

"And is he a friend of Roberts?" Trixie asked, trying to figure out what was bothering Dan.

"No," he answered, frowning. "He isn't. In fact…" He tapped the paper. "He isn't a pirate at all. He's a captain in the French Navy."

Trixie slid into a chair at the table, her eyes glued to the paper. "That's a very odd list," she said thoughtfully.

Dan nodded. "It is."

They both continued to study the list, though each had already committed the three names to memory.

"There's a piece missing," Trixie said abruptly, lurching to her feet, the paper clutched in her hand.

"Missing?" Dan questioned. "What do you mean? I didn't notice any tears on the paper…"

"Not a piece of the paper, a piece of the puzzle," Trixie specified. "I think whoever wrote this list is just as important as the names on it," she said, her voice ringing with conviction.

"That's a good point," Dan agreed. "I'll talk to Wilkins and see if we can't get at least a description of the people whose company he was in last night."

Trixie nodded. "That's a good start. Anyone could have paid a lady to slip the note in his pocket, though." She began pacing the small room, her movements growing more confident as she attempted to make sense of the note. "The question is, is someone trying to help us? Or trying to confuse us?"

"How would these names help us?" Dan countered. "They don't seem to have any connection."

"Two pirates and a French captain," Trixie mused. "What do they have in common?" She made another turn around the room. "Well, I suppose all three sail ships that I'd be happy to never run into," she said, answering her own question.

"Oh, I don't know," Dan said easily. "I think I'd be interested in meeting Captain Bouchard. You never know what interesting things he might have aboard."

Trixie grinned at the reminder of Dan's clandestine work for the British government in retrieving confidential papers from French vessels. Her smile disappeared, though, as her attention returned to the names on the paper. Unlikely as it seemed, she somehow knew that the names were connected to the Ten Acres, and that they wouldn't be able to rescue Jim until she'd figured out how.