THE GOBLET.
Señorita Lolita Pulido, after a time, was conducted by Barbados to a
tiny cabin below decks. It was no more than eight feet square, and
had a bunk along one side of it. Certainly, it was no place for a
delicately-reared lady of gentle blood.
It was far from being clean, in the first instance. Vermin that meant
nothing to pirates caused the _señorita_ to shudder and almost scream.
Even as she entered, two huge rats scampered through a hole in the
cabin floor, rushed down into the bowels of the ship.
“’Tis no palace,” Barbados admitted. “I’ll leave the torch so you may
have light until the day dawns, which will not be long. The torch will
keep the rats away. The smoke will drift through that open porthole.
You will be safe here. There are no weapons, and even such a small
and dainty tender human being as yourself cannot squeeze through that
porthole and drop into the open sea!”
The _señorita_ had no reply for him. She tilted her chin again, tried
to hum a little song, and glanced around the tiny place. Barbados grew
surly.
“Too good to speak to me, are you, proud one?” he sneered. “You may
have another tune to chant before many days, after you have met the man
for whom you were stolen. Is there anything you want or need?”
The _señorita’s_ face flushed, but she faced him bravely. “I want your
absence――and deeply feel the need of it!” she replied.
“By my naked blade! Were it not that you are to be handed over to
another, I’d take it upon myself to tame you!” Barbados declared. “Ha!
Deliver me from proud wenches with their noses in the air!”
He fastened the smoking torch to a wall, went out and slammed the door
behind him, and Señorita Lolita heard a heavy bar being dropped into
place. For a moment she stood in the middle of the cabin, her hands
clutching spasmodically at her breast, and then she went over to the
bunk, inspected it, and finally crawled upon it and sat cross-legged,
staring at the opposite wall.
The ship was old, the floor worn and full of holes, and the walls
had cracks in them. From one side came a stench, as though supplies
had been stored in the space adjoining, and had spoiled. Through the
porthole she could see the black night.
The horror of her situation was heavily upon her now. She seemed to
fully realize her predicament for the first time. She remembered again
how she had seen her father cut down, and her home in flames. She
wondered how it fared with her parents, and she wondered, too, what was
to be in the future.
The only ray of hope was that Don Diego was near, that Señor Zorro had
promised to give her aid, and that his sword would protect her. And yet
how could he――one man against scores of scoundrels? Don Diego, even
as Señor Zorro, was only human, after all. Yet she hoped that, at the
climax, he would reveal himself. He was a _caballero_, and he would
know what to do in an emergency. Better that Señor Zorro drive his
blade through her heart than for her to live stained!
She heard a tumult on the deck, a great noise, the sounds of clanking
chains, and knew from the feel of the ship that she was under sail.
Above her head feet pattered on the deck. The great voice of Barbados
and the echoing one of Sanchez came to her as from a long distance. The
rushing wind pulled the smoke of the torch through the open porthole.
The _señorita_ sighed and leaned her head against the wall of the
cabin. Tears trickled from her eyes and started coursing down her
cheeks, but she wiped them away swiftly. None of these pirates should
see her cry! Never would they be able to say that one of the blood of
the Pulidos had shown fear!
She closed her eyes for an instant, as though that would shut out the
horror of her thoughts, but found that it did not. It seemed to her
that she heard a faint hiss, but she supposed that it was the wind or
the water.
She opened her eyes again――and almost shrieked in alarm. Four inches in
front of her face the point of a sword had slipped through a tiny crack
in the wall, coming from the space adjoining!
The _señorita_ recoiled a space, but watched the blade as though
fascinated by it. Inch by inch it slipped through the wall, until
two-thirds of its length was inside the cabin. And again she restrained
a cry, but this time a cry of joy. On the blade, marked with some black
substance, was a big Z!
So Señor Zorro even now was near! He was on the other side of the
partition, only a couple of feet from her! She bent her head forward as
the blade was slowly withdrawn, put her lips close to the tiny crack in
the wall.
“Diego!” she whispered.
“Not Diego, but Señor Zorro, _señorita_, at your service,” came back a
low tone.
“Thank the saints!” she breathed. “But, what can you do? You must be
careful!”
“Think you I would allow them to carry you away, and not follow?” he
asked.
“If they find you――”
“Do you put such small value, _señorita_, upon my ability to care for
myself?”
“Diego! Zorro!” she whispered. “To you I am not backward in confessing
it――I am so afraid!”
“Then will I sing for you, beloved!”
“Zorro! Dare not to do it! They may hear!”
“Let them hear a decent song for once in their wicked lives!” Señor
Zorro said. “Be of strong heart, _señorita_! And be not frightened at
what you may hear or see. It is in my mind to terrorize these vermin
who call themselves men, preparatory to rescuing you!”
“Brave words, Diego!” she said. “But you cannot fight against four
score. If, at the end, you could do me one service――”
“And that?” he asked.
“Death is to be preferred to dishonor, Diego!”
“Why speak of dying? Do you forget that you are my affianced bride? You
are to live, and I am to live, _señorita_, and have many happy years.
Think always on that, and not on the other! And be of good cheer, for I
am near you always!”
She heard a slight movement on the other side of the partition. He did
not speak again, nor did she. Her heart was beating like angry waves
against a rocky shore. Her face was flushed. It gave her courage just
to know that he was near. Señor Zorro, she felt confident, would find a
way.
There was silence for a moment, and then she heard the soft hiss again.
“_Sí?_” she questioned.
“This is some sort of a storeroom,” he said, “in which Zorro has made a
temporary nest. But I do not intend to remain in it forever. It is in
my mind to look at you through the porthole before the dawn comes.”
“Diego! To dare such a thing――”
“What would not a _caballero_ dare for love?” he asked. “For love of
such a one――”
“Diego!”
“Call me Zorro, for, by the saints, that is my rôle now! I find that
I have a dual personality, and the tamer part of me is not working at
present. I am Zorro, the daring in love and war!”
“Have a care, for my sake,” she begged.
“I have work to do and a game to play, and they may be combined,” he
answered. “For the moment, _Adios_!”
Again she heard the little sound, as though he were retreating from the
partition and crawling over boxes and bales. There was deep silence for
a time, save for the noises on the deck. And then she heard his voice,
raised in song, and her heart almost stopped, for she knew that the
pirates must hear it, too.
She leaned her head against the wall, that she might hear the better,
though she was sorely afraid. She had heard the song often before, from
Don Diego’s lips, and when other young _caballeros_ had come to her
father’s _hacienda_ serenading. But never had she heard the real Señor
Zorro sing it before, and never before had it sounded so thrilling and
so sweet.
“_Atención!_ A _caballero’s_ near!
To guard the one to his heart most dear!
To love, to fight, to jest, to drink!
To live the life and never shrink!
His blade is bright, his honor, too!
_Atención!_”
The voice grew louder, more ringing. It seemed to the _señorita_ to
swell through the ship and across the tossing sea. Her heart beat
faster, though she still feared for him. Well she knew the audacity,
the reckless courage of her Señor Zorro!
“Zorro!” she breathed. “Man of men! _Caballero_ mine!”
There was silence on the deck above, and then she heard the harsh, loud
voice of Barbados, but could not understand his words. Señor Zorro was
continuing his song:
“_Atención!_ I’ve a thrust in store
For rogues, for foes, an abundance more
To shield my lady from all harm,
To save her from the world’s alarm;
A _caballero_ calls to you――
_Atención!_”
The _señorita’s_ eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her breathing
became as the stirring of a leaf in a gentle breeze. The song had
lulled her fears.
“Zorro!” she whispered, as the verse was ended. But there came no
answer from the other side of the partition.
Up on the deck, however, there was consternation. Barbados, having
listened, whirled angrily toward his crew.
“Who dares sing such a song?” he shrieked. “Are there not royally good
pirate ditties, that some of you must use the mush-like tunes and words
of the high-born?”
“Every man is on deck,” wailed Sanchez, who had been superintending the
storing of the loot. “’Tis a ghost song!” he exclaimed.
“A ghost song!” shrieked some of those nearest him.
Barbados shuddered. “There will be ghosts aplenty if this nonsense does
not stop!” he declared, whipping his cutlass out of his belt. “It was
no ghost singing. A ghost would have a more perfect voice. If I hear it
again――”
He heard it again. It seemed to come from the sails above, from the
waves overside, from the cabins below.
“_Dios!_” Barbados swore. “By my naked blade――”
“It is a ghost song!” Sanchez whimpered again.
Barbados whirled upon him, but the lieutenant dodged the blow that
would have hurled him senseless to the deck. The pirate chief,
breathing heavily, looked around at his men. Terror already had claimed
some of them.
“It is a trick of some scurvy knave I’ll split in twain!” he declared.
“On with your work!”
The men shivered, but again bent to their tasks. Barbados walked to
the rail and stood looking down at the dark water, and then toward the
land, where the dawn was almost due. Through the darkness and up to him
slipped one of the pirate crew.
“Master!” he whispered.
“To your work, hound of hell!”
“A word with you, master!”
“Concerning what?” Barbados demanded.
The man edged closer. “Master, I have a present for you――a goodly piece
of loot that is not in the common store.”
“How is this?” Barbados said. “You steal from your comrades?”
“Softly, master, else they hear!” the man whispered. “This is something
special, and I got it for you.”
“In Reina de Los Angeles?”
“_Sí_, master! In Reina de Los Angeles. It was while we were in the
church there.”
“In the church?” Barbados gasped.
“When the old _fray_ first stood us off, master, and before you came.
We had rushed forward, and I was in the van. And when the old _fray_
was hurled backward the first time, I got it.”
“And what is it?”
“A golden goblet, master, studded with precious gems. See――I have it
here! I saved it for you, master, and thought perhaps that you might
give me promotion――”
Barbados looked at the goblet, struck by the light from the nearest
torch. It glowed and glistened like some live thing. The pirate chief
recoiled.
“Away with it!” he cried. “I do not want to touch it――do not wish to
see it! It is a thing of ill-omen, the thing that old _fray_ was trying
to protect!”
“But, master――”
“Ill-luck will follow the man who has it. It is some sort of holy
thing! Away with it! Keep it for yourself. Gamble it away, and the
sooner you get rid of it the better. You may be struck down for taking
it. I had a friend once who robbed a church and struck a priest, and I
do not care to remember what happened to him! Are you going to take it
away?”
The man gasped, astonished, and put the golden goblet beneath his shirt.
“I may have it all for myself?” he asked.
“_Sí!_ I would not touch the thing! I call upon the saints to witness
that I never touched it!”
So, through all the ages, have wicked men, in moments of fear, called
upon the gods they have pretended to scorn.