Balin, pipe in mouth, watched the ships gently sway on the dark waters of the port, the creaking of ropes and moorings filling the air. He reflected on the past—when he was still young and ambitious—but the peace he felt while gazing at the sea quickly vanished when he recognized a familiar face. A pirate—the same one he had stolen a journal from years ago in a London tavern—was approaching, his gaze filled with rage.

  "You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?" the pirate snarled, tossing a copy of Balin’s failed novel at his feet.

  "You… I—I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention… I… I didn’t mean to," Balin stammered nervously.

  "You didn’t just steal from me. You published the journal in your damn novel," the pirate accused.

  "What novel?" Balin asked, trying to appear surprised.

  "Don’t py dumb," the pirate snapped. "The Legend of the Uncharted Isnd—where you revealed every secret written in that journal, you filthy thief."

  "No, that’s not how it happened. I just borrowed it for inspiration," Balin said. "But you have to believe me—I was pnning to return it to you. Besides, I wrote it under a pseudonym. How do you know it was me?"

  "You’re a cynical piece of garbage," the pirate spat. "That novel could only have been written by you. You got me into trouble, and it won’t be long before they come after you."

  "I don’t think so. It was fiction… and it wasn’t even famous. If you were expecting royalties, I’m sorry to disappoint you."

  "Give me back my journal. Now," the pirate demanded.

  Balin bit his lip before answering nervously, "Your journal… I have it, but many pages were missing—and some were damaged during a storm."

  "You scurvy little cur—by thunder, I'll gut you—!" the pirate bellowed, fists trembling with fury.

  The old sea wolf, enraged, drew a rge pistol from his belt and aimed it at Balin. Seeing the weapon, Balin raised his hands in terror.

  "Please, don’t kill me… please," he begged.

  "Write your next novel from hell," the pirate growled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  But at that very moment, his expression twisted in pain. He clutched his chest and colpsed to the ground—dead from a heart attack. Balin, stunned, stared at the lifeless body. But without wasting another second, he turned and ran toward his house.

  Meanwhile, from the shadows, Machias Wilbur watched. When Balin fled the scene, the elf approached the pirate's corpse, picked up the book, and ran toward the fort.

  After sweating profusely along the steep path leading to the fortress, he finally arrived and was granted entry to the courtyard, to pass into the governor's chambers. Once, Gustave Hawk had been a ruthless pirate who raided Spanish ships and settlements before eventually entering the service of the British crown after receiving a letter of marque. After several services to the king in one of his endless colonial wars, he was finally rewarded with the title of governor of Is Negra, an encve that had been taken from the Spanish. It may not have been what he had hoped for, but it gave him the satisfaction of wielding power and imposing his will.

  After climbing a set of stairs, Wilbur arrived at the governor's quarters, finally reaching Hawk's bedroom, which was guarded by a soldier dressed in a red coat who remained on watch.When Wilbur introduced himself, he requested to be allowed inside. As the elf was the governor's personal secretary, there was no issue in letting him pass. Wilbur tiptoed toward the pirate's bed and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  "Excellency... Excellency.”

  Hawk stirred for a moment, opened one eye, and upon seeing Wilbur's face, sat up, shouting:

  "What the hell? What time is it to wake me up?"

  "My apologies, Excellency, but there's a problem," Wilbur said.

  Hawk, wearing his sleeping cap, settled back on the pillow, sat up, and crossed his arms to listen.

  "Teddy the One-Handed is here," Wilbur announced.

  The pirate looked at the elf, pursed his lips, and the tips of his mustache twitched in surprise.

  "But Teddy's dead," he said.

  "That's what we thought—until a few minutes ago, when I saw him talking to Balin Van Buuren."

  "With Balin...? The failed writer?"

  "Yes. Apparently, he came to confront him about a novel he wrote based on a journal he stole. He published it under a pseudonym, I assume to avoid dragging the failure of his name."

  Hawk stared at the elf with wide eyes.

  "A novel based on the journal?" he asked, astonished.

  Wilbur showed him the book, and Hawk snatched it away to read the spine: The Legend of the Uncharted Isnd.

  With a sudden movement, he threw it aside and jumped out of bed, still in his nightgown, to head to his study. He smmed the door open with one forceful blow, startling the drowsy guard.

  "What's happening?" Wilbur asked, following him.

  "God damn it... I knew this would come back to us like a curse sooner or ter..."

  Hawk entered his study and began pacing like a caged lion, muttering words that Wilbur couldn't quite understand.

  "Can you tell me what's going on?" Wilbur asked.

  "That damn pirate has ruined us all," the Hawk said. "Many years ago, Teddy got a journal from a sailor that showed how to reach a pce with a fabulous treasure. It contained things like navigation charts, keys... all that. But due to a situation, Teddy disappeared and I never heard from him again... until now."

  "Well, Teddy is lying at the dock. After his altercation with Balin, he died."

  Hawk stopped dead in his tracks and grabbed Wilbur by the pels.

  "I want that Balin here. Have him brought for questioning."

  Wilbur left the room to give the orders, while Hawk chewed on the nail of his right thumb. Then, he spat it out and yelled for wine to be brought to him.

  ******

  Balin, upon arriving home, headed to an old chest, which was stored in a corner of his study. He hurriedly opened it and began frantically pulling out its contents until he found the journal, a notebook with worn leather covers and yellow pages. As he picked it up, a few pages were left behind in the bottom of the chest. He then paced around the house, wondering what to do with it. He stopped and looked out the window toward the sea, and saw a ship with its sails raised. A bad feeling swept over him. Quickly, he rushed to his desk, grabbed a pistol, and prepared to leave. When he opened the door, he ran into Cody, who had his fist raised, as if about to knock.

  "What are you doing here?" Balin asked, visibly nervous.

  "My aunt sent me to deliver a message," the boy started to say.

  Balin peeked both ways down the hall and pulled the boy inside. The boy looked at him, confused.

  "Listen, Cody, take this to your aunt," he ordered, handing him the journal.

  "What is this?... What's going on?"

  "Don't ask and do as I ask. Where's Sammy?"

  "With Sally at the tavern... by the way..."

  Balin grabbed the boy by the sleeve and led him toward the kitchen, pushing him out through the back door.

  "Run, go, and do what I asked," he insisted. "If I don't come for it by midnight, burn it."

  Balin smmed the door and stood trembling in the corner. A noise snapped him back to his senses, and he began to tiptoe toward the front door, holding the gun. When he reached the living room, he found the door wide open. He rushed to close it and started to peer into the shadows with his gun, his hand trembling.

  "Cody," he said. "Is that you?"

  A coin flew into the corner and hit the wall. Balin turned, terrified, and in doing so, fired at the ceiling. At that moment, he felt himself being tackled, tied up, gagged, and covered with a sack.Within seconds, the Germans had subdued him, secured him, and dragged him down one of the cliffs toward the base, where there was a narrow pebble beach with a boat and an armed man waiting. They shoved Balin into the boat like a mere sack of potatoes and pushed it into the sea to start rowing toward the ship waiting for them.