Chapter I
It was a cold and drizzly morning in March 2005 and the lazy little Yorkshire village of Copmanthorpe on the outskirts of the historic walled city of York was beginning its day. Molly Coolridge was just finishing her second cup of tea when her doorbell sounded and she went to the door to take delivery of an unexpected postal package.
Inquisitive interest caused her to make an instant examination of the large brown padded envelope, turning it over in her hands and wondering at its thickness before reading aloud the return address of a notable law firm from Shambles Lane in York.
Taking a yearning look at her wet and dreary-looking flower garden and silently wishing spring would hurry up, she sighed and went back inside the little two-storey stone cottage she had called home for almost 40 years. Setting down the package on the kitchen table, she went to a drawer and found a pair of scissors. Cutting through the scotch tape and bubble wrap, she dumped out the contents onto the table.
She was surprised to find an official-looking sealed envelope from the same law firm, and eagerly tore it open. A short, none-too-friendly covering letter hastily explained that her deceased husband’s old Aunt Clara had died leaving her these papers; at the bottom was an illegible signature from a lawyer named Smith.
“Lawyers and doctors,” she mumbled in agitation, “I don’t know why they can’t write so you can understand it!”
Staring at the collection of papers, she recognized some pages to be from Clara’s will and others appeared to be old with age. But it was the old leather-bound diary that really took her attention. She picked it up and examined it, opening it to a random page. It looked very difficult to read so she reluctantly closed it and put it back down on the table. I really suppose I should look at these papers first, she thought, pushing the diary aside and picking up the pages of the will.
Over the next few days a most fascinating mystery began to unfold and, with great difficulty, Molly kept it all a secret from her son, Ben, a school teacher who lived with her. Why she kept it a secret she wasn’t all that sure at first, but on finally opening the diary she was shocked to discover that it was written in the old Coolridge family code, a secret code which was not unfamiliar to her. Now she knew she had her work cut out for her and wanted to know more before involving him.
Stretching her memory back through the years when she was a schoolgirl courting Ben’s father, William Coolridge, he had taken to writing notes and letters using the code to prevent her mother and others from reading them. The code had been difficult to learn at first but once she had the pattern of it, it became easier and quite fun to use. He had sworn her to secrecy in those days saying it had been in their family for a very long time … a cipher he called it. Now, slowly as it came back to her, she realized how grateful she was to Bill for having confided in her. Who could have known that she would have needed this information so many years distant?
So it was that Molly began the loving and painstaking task of deciphering her husband’s code once again, discovering a captivating message and eagerly searching out the diary’s secret.
On the third day after the package’s arrival, as she sat two-finger typing the transcription of the diary, a sudden chill of exhilaration ran through her body.
“These are the actual thoughts and words of Ben’s long dead ancestor, the legendary Captain Coolridge,” she whispered aloud. “He seems to have been on a government mission to the West Coast of Canada. Oh my, it certainly reads like an exciting novel!” She looked back up to the top of the page and began to read aloud.
I, Captain Nathaniel Coolridge, Commander of the Bullhorn, a British Naval gunboat, standing well out to sea off the West Coast of Vancouver Island watched distant activity with my long glass, surrounding a Spanish merchant vessel anchored close to shore.
After the success of their gold medal performance with 
