He sang it as he fought, stopping the song now and then for an instant to grunt as he made an unusually hard thrust. The men before him broke and fled, and Señor Zorro, with Don Audre at his side, seized the minor advantage of the moment. The other caballeros rallied and followed.
“The ghost!” one of the pirates shrieked. “It is the ghost from the sea!”
“Ha!” Señor Zorro cried, and cut down another man. “Ha, scum! So you fear ghosts? Have at you—”
“Pirates, eh?” Sergeant Gonzales was crying, puffing and blowing out his great cheeks as he fought. “Stand, pirates, and fight like men! Is this a fight or a test of speed, dolts and fools? Meal mush and goat’s milk!”
“A ghost!” another man shrieked.
Barbados whirled around in time to see Sanchez, a look of terror in his face, about to retreat. He took in the situation at a glance.
“It is no ghost, fiends of hell!” he shrieked at his men. “’Tis this Señor Zorro somebody has saved from the sea! At him! Fetch him to me alive! Does a ghost fight with a blade that runs red? Get the fiend!”
His words carried weight. The pirates gathered their courage and surged forward again. The other men came running from the huts and the adobe buildings, now that the crew of the trading schooner had been handled. The caballeros found their line broken once more, found that they were being scattered.
Still side by side, Señor Zorro and Don Audre Ruiz fought as well as they could. But here in the open they could not get their backs against a wall. However, they did the next best thing—they stood back to back and engaged a circle of foes.
The fight swirled around them. Señor Zorro’s face wore an expression of anxiety now. He knew, fully as well as did Don Audre Ruiz, that this wonderful show of courage and blade skill was availing the caballeros nothing. Slowly but surely, the pirates were traveling the road to triumph.