“Then we must have sport,” Sanchez said. “If you’ve anything to suggest—”
“We have prisoners,” Barbados remarked, licking his thick lips, “and it is possible that a little torture would not be amiss. Say, roasting at the stake for one of those high-born caballeros whose blood is gentle.”
“Ha!” Sanchez grunted. “It is an excellent idea—if we draw out the man’s agony.”
“The drawing out of his agony can be accomplished without a great deal of trouble,” Barbados declared. “We’ll make him squirm and squeal.”
“But there is an ambush to be prepared for the soldiers,” Sanchez suggested.
“There will be ample time for that at a later hour,” replied the pirate chief. “It will take some time for those troopers to gallop out here from San Diego de Alcála. We can fight better if we have more wine to drink and some sort of sport to watch before giving battle.”
“And which of the caballeros shall be roasted?” Sanchez wanted to know. “All of them are valuable men from the standpoint of ransom.”
“Ha! One can be spared,” said Barbados. “Not a man in that adobe but has very rich relatives. What sum we lose from the one we roast we can fasten on the others. We’ll force them to gamble and decide the victim themselves. That is a happy thought. Come with me and fetch half a dozen trusted men along.”
Barbados, having arrived at a decision, started straight for the adobe building as Sanchez shouted to some of the men nearest. The pirate chief unfastened the outer door and entered with the others at his heels. Then he unlocked the inner door and threw it open.
The caballeros were sprawled around the room, talking to one another in low tones, and they turned and looked at Barbados as he stood before them, much as men might have looked at an intruder. Scorn was in every face, and the pirate chief was quick to notice it.