“But it will be a sorry business, Don Audre! You will be outnumbered three to one. And you may be sure that there are men in the camp who were not on the pirate ship. They may have a few pistols they have captured from ships, but it will be hand to hand work with blades. Three to one, at least, Don Audre!”
Don Audre Ruiz drew himself up. “Three beasts to one caballero,” he said. “It is an equal affair. There can be no hesitating, señor. Señorita Lolita Pulido is held a captive by those beasts. And I am not forgetting what happened to Don Diego, my friend! There is but one thing to do—attack! At least, we can die!”
There was a short conference, and then the boats began carrying the men to the shore. The caballeros approached to within a mile of the pirate camp and stopped to rest, sending scouts on ahead. The men of the crew circled to the other side.
Some of the caballeros slept, sprawled on the sand. But Don Audre Ruiz sat beside a tiny fire he had kindled, his knees drawn up and nursing them with his hands.
“At least we can die, Diego!” he said, softly. “And we can strive mightily before we do that!”
The black hour came, and then the first finger of the dawn. Don Audre arose and stretched himself, and walked for a time up and down the beach. The caballeros shook off their sleep, bathed their faces at the edge of the sea, exercised their muscles, whipped out their blades and fanned the air.
Sergeant Gonzales, who had snored throughout the night, snorted as he bathed his face and hands, and then strode down to Don Audre and confronted him.
“Señor, you are in command of this enterprise,” the sergeant said. “There are orders?”
“Only that every man is to do his best,” Don Audre replied. “The señorita is to be rescued if it is possible, and returned to the schooner.”
“And the pirates are to be hanged?”