She clutched at her breast and drew forth the dagger. She gave a cry of rage, and struck out wildly. Barbados, caught unaware, lurched quickly to one side, but the blade struck his arm and tore away flesh and skin and brought a gush of blood.
“By my naked blade—” he swore.
He whirled as she struck again and missed, grasped her, and tore the dagger from her hand. He tossed her back upon the bunk, where she braced herself against the wall, gasping, weeping, expecting that now he would make an end of her.
But the pirate chief merely slipped the dagger into his belt, glanced at his wounded arm, swore again, and then stepped back to the door.
“A wench with spirit, eh?” he said. “Ha! I would not be this Captain Ramón and have the taming of you! Glad will I be when I turn you over to him! I have battles enough on my hands without fighting women! I’ll send a man soon with food. Such a female warrior must eat to conserve her strength!”
He laughed at her, mocked her, went out and closed the door, and she heard the heavy bar shot into place and the sounds of his feet retreating. She collapsed on the bunk and gave way to a tempest of tears.
“Diego!” she breathed. “Diego, beloved!”
Barbados ascended to the deck, bathed the wound in his arm, and said nothing when Sanchez questioned him. Throughout the day he gave his attention to the sailing of the ship, but he could not shake off the schooner which followed.
Then came the night, and once more Barbados cursed the bright moon. For, though his craft showed no lights, yet could she be seen from the schooner. Back and forth Barbados sailed, but always failing to shake off the other ship. And when there came the dark hour before dawn he changed his course abruptly, and ran before the breeze.