SEÑOR ZORRO’S DARING.
There was a moment of horrified silence, during which nothing was
heard save the soft lap of the sea against the shore and the labored
breathing of the terrified pirates. And then Barbados swore a great
oath and looked toward the summit of the cliff once more.
“’Tis that cursed Señor Zorro, the land pirate!” he shrieked. “Spit
upon him! After him, dogs! Bring me his heart on the end of a cutlass
blade! Or fetch him alive, if you can, that we may have the keen
pleasure of killing him slowly.”
Some of the pirates already were struggling to get up the narrow path
that led to the top of the cliff, slipping and falling back as the soft
soil and gravel rolled beneath their feet.
Sanchez started with them, eager for combat. Barbados, however,
lingered behind, seeing to the loot and his fair prisoner. He was very
busy about it, for he was not eager to join the others and run chances
of matching blades with Señor Zorro again.
Barbados remembered well how he had felt during the fight in the house
of Don Diego in Reina de Los Angeles, when he had realized fully that
Don Diego was merely playing with him and could have silenced him
forever when he willed.
The pirates reached the summit finally, but could see nothing there
save a few clumps of brush and a few stunted trees that looked
grotesque in the bright light of the moon. They examined the shadows
carefully, but located no man. Yet from the near distance came a
ringing, a mocking laugh.
They would have pursued, but Barbados hailed them from below, ordering
them down to the beach again. The boats were putting in from the ship.
Down to the strand they tumbled, getting ready to store away their
loot. They did not bother about the dead pirate, since he was an
ordinary fellow who did not count. They guzzled more wine, ran down
into the surf to help drag the boats ashore, greeted their fellows,
laughed and shouted and jested and cursed in raucous tones.
Barbados turned to where the Señorita Lolita was sitting with her back
against the cliff wall, her tiny wrists lashed behind her. She raised
her face and looked at him bravely, her black eyes snapping, her lips
curled in scorn.
“This Señor Zorro, I have been given to understand, has some concern in
you,” Barbados said.
“If he has, Señor Pirate, it is time for you to feel afraid,” she
replied.
“Think you that I fear the fellow? Ha!”
“He is no fellow! He is a _caballero_ with the best of blood flowing
in his veins, if you can understand what that means――you, who have the
blood of swine in yours!”
“By my naked blade!” Barbados swore. “Were you not to be saved for a
great man, I’d punish you well for that remark, proud one! Pride of
blood, eh? Ha! ’Tis a thing you will be willing to forget, and eager,
within a moon’s time. When this man of whom I speak――”
“Is it necessary to speak at all to me?” the little _señorita_ wanted
to know.
Barbados snorted his anger and disgust. For a moment he turned away to
issue a volley of commands to the men who were loading the boats. He
berated Sanchez for being slow. He glanced up the face of the cliff
once more, as though expecting Señor Zorro to come rushing down, deadly
sword in hand. Presently he called two of his men to him.
“Take the wench to one of the boats!” he commanded. “Keep her wrists
lashed. Make certain that she does not hurl herself into the sea. These
high-born wenches have some queer ideas and are not to be trusted at a
time such as this.”
The two men grasped her roughly and forced her to her feet. The
_señorita_ gave a little cry, more because of her injured dignity than
from pain or fear. Barbados whirled toward them again, anger in his
face.
“Easy with the wench!” he commanded. “She is a proper and valuable
share of the loot. If she is delivered in good condition then do we
share greater in the other things.”
Down to the edge of the hissing surf they went, Señorita Lolita Pulido
forced along between them. She still held her head proudly, but the
light of the dying fire reflected in her face showed a trace of
glistening tears that could not be choked back. Still, she had some
hope. Don Diego was near at hand! He already had demonstrated his
presence. And he would not entirely desert her while he lived. He could
be expected to play Señor Zorro now to the end of the chapter.
They lifted her, carried her between them, and put her down into one
of the boats. She sat at one side of a middle seat, a wide thwart. Her
bound wrists were over the side, and by turning slightly she could
see the tossing water less than two feet below her, for the craft was
heavily loaded.
The pirates tumbled into the boat and picked up the oars. One thrust
her cruelly against the side. Barbados himself sprang in last of all
and ordered his men to give way. The other boats prepared for the start
also.
On the summit of the cliff Don Diego Vega crouched and watched them.
But he was not the easy-going, fashionable, nonchalant Don Diego now.
His eyes were narrowed and piercing. His lips were set in a thin,
straight line. Don Diego had vanished, and in his place was Señor
Zorro, the Fox, the man who had ridden up and down El Camino Real to
avenge the wrongs of _frailes_ and natives. And Señor Zorro would know
how to deal with this grievous wrong, which touched him personally.
The pirate craft was anchored close inshore. It would not take long for
the boats to reach her. The moon was sinking and soon would be gone.
There would be but a brief period of darkness before the dawn came
stealing across the land to the sea.
His _caballero_ friends were far behind him, he knew. And they would
make for the trading schooner anchored a few miles away, perhaps,
instead of coming here. And Señorita Lolita Pulido was in the hands of
the pirates, and expected to be rescued.
Señor Zorro realized these things even as he watched the pirates
preparing to launch their boats. It did not take him long to make a
decision. He crawled backward a short distance, sprang to his feet, and
ran to the edge of the cliff in a little cove a few yards away, a spot
the pirates could not see from their boats.
He made certain that his sword was fast in its scabbard. He tightened
his belt. He went to the edge and glanced down at the hissing sea a
score of feet below, where it rolled and eddied in a deep pool close to
the rocks.
Back he went again. And suddenly he darted forward, took off at the
very edge, and curved gracefully through the moonlight in a perfect
dive.
He struck the water and disappeared, but in a moment he was at the
surface and swimming away from the treacherous shore. And he found that
it was treacherous and the tide an enemy. It pulled at him to drag him
down. He fought and struggled against it, and finally won to safety.
The boats were just starting from the land. Señor Zorro, low in the
water, swam as though in a contest for a prize, straight toward the
nearest of the boats, which was the one in which the _señorita_ was
sitting a captive.
Señorita Lolita was struggling now to be brave. The pirates were
singing their ribald songs and indulging in questionable jests. They
swore as they tugged at the oars, cursed the heavy load of loot, and
blasphemed because of the work they were forced to do.
The _señorita_, remembering her proud blood, had tried to maintain her
courage, but now she felt it ebbing swiftly. There seemed to be no
hope. She could not believe that Don Diego could come to her rescue
in the face of such terrible odds. Once she gulped and felt herself
near to tears. She leaned backward to keep as far as possible from the
pirate sitting beside her. The stench of his body and breath was almost
more than she could endure.
Now they were halfway to the pirate ship. Lolita had arrived at a
decision. She would be no prey for pirates if she could find at hand
the means for taking her own life. She remembered what Barbados had
said about her being the prize of some great man, and wondered at
it a bit. But suppressed terror occupied her mind and kept her from
wondering much. Again she leaned backward, and her bound hands almost
touched the water over the side.
The pirates, nearing exhaustion, were rowing slowly now, sweeping their
long oars in unison but without their usual force. And suddenly the
Señorita Lolita flinched, and almost cried aloud, then struggled to
overcome the shock she had felt. Her hands had been touched.
At first she thought it was some monster of the sea, and then that a
cold wave had washed them. But the touch came again, and she knew it
for what it was――the touch of another hand.
Another touch――and her cheeks flamed scarlet. The _señorita_ had had
her hands kissed before, and she knew a kiss when she felt it.
She turned her head slowly, leaning outward, and glanced down. And her
heart almost stood still.
For Señor Zorro was there, his face showing just at the surface of the
water! Don Diego, her husband-to-be, was there, swimming alongside,
smiling up at her, within a few feet of the pirates who bent their
backs and rowed and never thought to look down.
Fear clutched at the _señorita’s_ heart for an instant――fear for
him――yet admiration for his daring, too. Her blood seemed suddenly hot
instead of cold. The touch of his lips had been enough to do that.
He dared not speak, of course, though the pirates were shouting and
singing. But his lips moved and formed voiceless words, and the
_señorita_ understood.
“Courage! I’ll be near!” he mouthed.
She nodded her head slightly in token that she understood. And Don
Diego Vega smiled yet again and sank slowly out of sight beneath the
waves.
The boats were almost to the vessel now. The bright moon shipped a last
ray across the tumbling sea and sank to rest. On the deck of the pirate
craft torches flared suddenly to guide the boats.
They reached the side. Rough hands lifted the _señorita_ and forced
her to the deck above. Swearing, sweating men commenced handing up the
loot. Barbados howled his commands and curses, Sanchez echoing them. To
one side the _señorita_ was held by the two men who had guarded her on
the shore, awaiting disposition by the pirate chief.
“With speed, dogs!” Barbados shrieked. “We must be away before the
dawn!”
The entire crew was working amidships, getting in the plunder and the
boats. They gave no thought to bow or stern.
And up the anchor chain and into the bow crept a dripping figure, with
a cry for vengeance in his heart――and the sword of Zorro at his side!
[Illustration: The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part II]