Captain Haig sighed and reached for his keys. Perspiration rolled down the side of Gray’s face, and he fought back waves of nausea. Even the clattering of the keys was painful as Haig jerked the lock from the door and opened the hold.

Gray stepped inside the mostly empty hold. It reeked of camphor, and his footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the cavernous space. He raised a ship lantern, but it revealed only a dozen crates stacked against the far side of the hold. Gray grabbed a crowbar from the wall and strode to the nearest crate to pry off the lid. There could be anything in here. Guns, bullets, dynamite. Or, given Luke’s propensities, maybe incendiary literature intended to stoke the rebellion more effectively than dynamite could ever do.

Nails squeaked as he pried them free, then jerked the lid off the crate to reveal dozens of mason jars filled with some sort of pale substance. The plain glass jar he lifted was cool in his palm, and there was no label to identify what was inside.

He twisted off the lid and sniffed. Applesauce? The pieces started to click into place. He looked up at Captain Haig.

“What is it?” he asked, praying his suspicion was correct.

“Applesauce,” Haig replied. “Or at least what the Magruders were hoping to pass off to the world as applesauce.”

Relief rushed through Gray so fast, he almost felt dizzy. It was the plan Luke had told Gray about when he visited the prison. Gray didn’t want anything to do with Luke’s juvenile plot to embarrass the Magruders, but Captain Haig was obviously on board with it.

“You’re too old for this sort of thing,” Gray said with a reluctant smile at Haig.

A gleam flashed in the captain’s eyes, but in truth, Haig was the sort who never seemed to age. He was probably seventy, but his heart beat with the mischief of a daredevil. “You have to admit, it’s a wickedly clever plan.”

“It’s a ridiculous prank.”

Haig shrugged. “Maybe. My odds of pulling it off without Luke’s help aren’t so good. I don’t have the connections he did, but you do.”

Gray shook his head. “Don’t try to involve me in this. I’ve already told Luke I won’t have anything to do with it. In fact, I want this dreck off my ship. Dump it overboard.”

Otis stepped forward, both palms held out in appeal. “Don’t be hasty.”

Gray swiveled to gape at him. “Were you involved in this too?”

“Only a little.” But the look on Otis’s face made Gray suspect it was a lot more.

“How little?”

“I took the applesauce to chemists for analysis,” Otis said. “Luke set up the connection with the magazines up north. We planned to launch the takedown next month.”