The schooner Redoubtable had been in rougher seas, but never before had its crew had such short notice to prepare for them. There had been no rain, no thunder or lightning, nor even any clouds to suggest bad weather. Suddenly, the wind had increased to gale force from the starboard side and the seas had almost caused the ship to broach before Redoubtable could be turned to face the waves head on.

It was a stout ship with an excellent crew, however, and after hours of exhaustive toil the hard-fought battle was won against the walls of water pounding them. Now, everything was once again calm and the crew had been ordered to make rounds to survey for any damage the schooner might have taken.

Captain Philip Paquin, partly watching the crew and partly examining the sea, now had time to wonder exactly what it was his ship had just survived. It was unlike any weather he had ever before experienced. Hopefully he would never encounter any like it ever again. Thank goodness, he thought, for a well-trained and disciplined crew.

While he was musing thus, his attention was pulled back to matters at hand as he overheard one of his crew.

"Hullo, what's this? Bless me if it isn't a cape or something. Such a pretty thing, too."

"What's that you have there, Mr. Farthing?"

The seaman looked up at the Captain and held the cloak aloft. "Excuse me, sir! Seems to be some type of cape that was caught on one of the railings. Looks as though it might belong to a young lass, sir!"

"Bring it up, Mr. Farthing."

"At once, sir!" Mr. Farthing rapidly ascended the steps to the Captain and handed him the cloak.

Taking the cloak, Captain Paquin quickly looked it over, wondering what to make of this development. He looked up at the seaman, awaiting his next instructions. "You say this was caught on the railing?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Most strange, I'm thinking. Was it just laid across the rail, or was it tied in some manner?"

The seaman looked back at the rail as he thought of exactly how the cloak had been positioned. He held out his hand. "If I may, sir?"

The Captain nodded and returned the cloak to its discoverer. The seaman extended his right arm and positioned the cloak on it so that it was draped with half falling off one side of his arm and half falling off the other. "It was like this, Captain. It wasn't tied on."

Captain Paquin looked at it for a moment, and then again at the railing. "I'm thinking it must have gotten there after most of the wind died down, then, or it would have blown right on off... Most strange." He reached for the cloak, which the seaman rapidly surrendered. "Thank you, Mr. Farthing. That'll be all."

"Aye, sir!"

With the cloak once again in his possession, the captain unhurriedly examined it in great detail. It was a young woman's cloak, no doubt, and beautifully made. The material was one he wasn't familiar with. There were very unusual markings woven into the cloth, none of which he could identify. This was a puzzle.

Furthermore, Redoubtable was more than fifty leagues from the closest shore, too far for the cloak to have come from there. Plus, he had the oddest feeling when he held it, almost as if it wanted to communicate with him! Not a puzzle, then, so much as a mystery.

The captain had seen the cloak's inside pockets. He had not looked in them, however. A well-bred gentleman, Philip wasn't comfortable rummaging through the pockets in a lady's garment. He considered various options for a few minutes, finally deciding to consult with the ship's doctor.

"Mr. Smythe!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Have the crew continue inspections. Also, have a runner find Doctor Windsor and have him join me in my cabin. You have command."

"Aye, Captain. I have command." Mr. Smythe turned to the nearest seaman. "You, there..."

Philip heard no more as he went below, cloak in hand. Arrived in his cabin before the doctor, Philip spread the cloak out on the table he normally used for examining charts and writing in the ship's log. He was standing there staring at the cloak when the ship's doctor arrived and tapped on the door.

"Come in, Henry, and welcome to a mystery. It seems we have a woman's cloak that somehow ended up on the starboard railing some time during the night. I'd like you to take a look at it."

Dr. Henry Windsor entered the cabin and shut the door behind him. He was a bit strained this morning, having spent the last few hours patching up bits and parts of sailors who had contacted various components of the ship during the unexpected storm. Usually a jocular man, he was somewhat nonplussed just now. "Philip, it's been a difficult morning, so please don't..."

Henry spotted the cloak and he forced his fatigued brain to replay Philip's words. "What do you mean, it ended up on the starboard railing?" He slung his left arm out in a rough semi-circle. "From where? We're leagues and leagues to sea aren't we?"

Understanding Henry's confusion, Philip decided to plunge on anyway. He was quite jubilant because, from his perspective as Captain, things could be much worse. For instance, they could be resting on the ocean's bottom instead of its surface. That was one really wicked squall they had just come through.

"Yes we are, and I meant just what I said, Henry." Philip picked up an edge of the cloak and bounced it in his hand, feeling its weight. "Though this is surprisingly light material, I still can't envision how the cloak reached here from land." He shook his head. "No, I can't believe that possibility, even with the tremendous winds we endured last night."

Another thought occurred to him. "I wonder if it didn't come from another ship we passed in the dark, but didn't see? Yes, I think that's the only possible explanation that could make sense."

Philip paused for a moment, remembering his reason for summoning the doctor. "But I didn't request you to join me so that we could guess as to how it got here or where it came from." He pointed to the designs visible in the cloak's material. "Look here. These markings are unlike any I can remember."

Running his hand over the cloak, Philip looked at it with admiration. "I've seen clothing made by the very best tailors, Henry... None equals the material or workmanship we see here."

With his interest now engaged, the doctor picked up the cloak and gave it the same careful attention the Captain had earlier. Grumping about the lack of light in the room, he walked over to hold the cloak up in front of the room's windows. "I have to agree, Philip... I've never seen finer workmanship, either."

Peering intently at several of the symbols in the cloth, Henry mumbled something too low for Philip to hear. Looking up, he grinned at his friend. "I hate to admit to you when I don't know something, but these symbols have me stumped. They're all completely unfamiliar to me." Turning the cloak over, he noticed the pockets sewn within the interior. "What about these pockets on the inside? Have you checked to see if they have anything in them?"

"No, I haven't. In truth, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that. The way I was raised, a gentleman doesn't go searching through pockets in a lady's clothing. Even if one has her permission... Which we don't have here."

The doctor contained his smile, knowing of Philip's very carefully orchestrated upbringing. He was, indeed, an officer and a gentleman. "You're right, of course. Fortunately, I'm not a gentleman and have no qualms about a little detective work, even if it involves investigating the contents of a lady's pockets. Furthermore, I don't think we'll solve this mystery if we don't have more information to go on than we do now."

Henry moved from in front of the window and laid the cloak once again on the writing table. He had the cloak's inside facing up. "We must see if there is anything in one of the pockets that might give us a clue as to the owner's identity. I will, in a most gentlemanly way, check them one at a time. There may be nothing to help us; but then again, there may be something of invaluable aid. Are you game?"

Philip tugged on his lower lip, thinking through the situation. Finally, he reluctantly nodded his head and said, "Go ahead, Henry. You're right, of course. We've learned nothing by looking at the cloak... And there indeed may be some item in one of the pockets that will provide information."

"We're agreed. I'll start at the topmost pocket and work my way down. I won't stop to examine any of the contents until all are on the table. All right, then..." Henry reached into the cloak's top inside pocket and removed Annabel's wand, which he laid on the table. "What's this?"

He stared at the long, slender piece of wood as a dozen thoughts came to mind, each crazier than the one before. Massaging his temples with the fingers of his two hands, he closed his eyes and mumbled, almost too low to hear. "I really don't need this. But, why not? A wind from nowhere, a cloak out of thin air. I wonder if, in reality, I'm simply hallucinating from too little sleep?"

Opening his eyes, he looked at the wand once again before looking up at his comrade. "An additional mystery already, Philip. I must say, I'm not sure what to make of it, but if I were a superstitious man I'd maintain this looks suspiciously like a witch's wand." He set his hands in his lap, interlacing the fingers as he began tapping the thumbs together. "If it is, then what's next? I swear, Philip, if I reach into the next pocket and remove a bat... Well, I'll solemnly promise to follow your example and never again go snooping through a lady's pockets!"

Appreciating his friend's humor, Philip took a moment to respond, for most of his attention was focused on the wand. "Henry, I have to agree with you about what that looks like." He let out a small chuckle. "Let's face it though, man of science... it can't be. You and I both are educated men and know there is no such thing as witches." He reached out and tentatively touched the wand.

That was odd... "Then again, do you remember that lesson they teach everyone at the beginning of first form? The one about how it isn't possible to prove conclusively that something doesn't exist?" Philip sat back in his chair. "I don't have any bad feelings about this thing, whatever it is. In fact, and don't think me crazy for saying this, I have this odd sensation that it's trying to communicate with me. And no, don't ask me how, because I can't explain it."

Hearing that last part, Henry forgot about the cloak and its contents momentarily as he turned his attention to his friend. "Communicate with you? Surely you jest." Before saying anything else, he stopped to think about what Philip had said.

Slowly rubbing his chin with the fingers of his left hand, Henry decided to have a bit of fun with his long-time friend. "This truly concerns me Philip. Here you are, the Captain of this vessel, with all of our fates in your hands and you think a stick is trying to communicate with you. Oh, my, my, my."

Warming to his subject, he thought of the perfect way to chide his friend. "You know, Philip, as the ship's surgeon, it's my responsibility to determine the physical and mental fitness of each crew member, including you. After that last statement of yours, I have to question your mental fitness. Yes, indeed, I believe you may be having manifestations of some type. This might be a good time to break out my new scalpels and bleed you a bit."

Knowing that Henry was kidding, Philip ignored that last statement, except to say, "No, Henry, and keep your knives and other instruments of torture put away. I am glad to see your spirits are improving, however, even if it is at my expense." He became very serious as he continued. "I didn't imagine it. There was something... as I said, I can't explain it. For now, let's move on and examine the other pockets, shall we?"

With an exaggeratedly deep sigh, Henry let it go. "Very well." From the next pocket down, he removed a small writing journal about the size of a playing card in width and breadth. It contained 40 or 50 sheets of paper so thin one would almost think they couldn't exist.

There was also a writing instrument in the pocket, with a very odd ink holder that was easily opened and yet completely sealed when closed. Henry picked it up and gazed at it with admiration. "This is a beautiful piece of workmanship, Philip. I've never seen surgical instruments so perfectly crafted."

Giving Henry time to admire the ink holder, Philip picked up the journal and stared uncomprehending at the first page. Its writing was strange and unfamiliar to him.

He turned the journal so that Henry could see the page. "Henry, this doesn't resemble any writing I've ever seen, and yet it looks somehow familiar. What do you think?" As he asked this question, Philip, without knowing why, moved the wand where it just touched the page in the journal. Astoundingly, the words reformed so that he could read them.

"So, Henry, it looks as though one part of the mystery is solved. Annabel Tooke, eh? I wonder who she is and where we can find her? Perhaps it might be time to request Mr. Devareaux to join us." When the doctor nodded in agreement, Philip signaled the steward outside his door. "Give Mr. Devareaux my compliments and ask that he join the Captain and ship's doctor in the Captain's cabin at his earliest possible convenience."

With the steward sent on his errand, Philip turned to Henry. "If you hadn't also seen the writing on that page transform just then... well, I might actually have been tempted to let you bleed me after all."

Henry nodded slowly, his earlier jocularity dissipated. Closing his eyes, he reached up to massage the bridge of his nose between left thumb and index finger. Henry stayed that way for a few moments, deep in thought. Slowly releasing a sigh, he opened both eyes to gravely regard his friend. "Maybe I should bleed both of us, anyway."