Here and there a man gave fight, but not for long. The pirates outnumbered the citizens, because they traveled in force and the citizens were scattered. Shrieks and screeches and cries stabbed the air. Raucous oaths and fiendish laughter rang across the plaza. And above the din roared the voice of Barbados, the human fiend, as he ordered his men, commanded them, admonished them, led them to an easy victory.
It was quick work, because the descent had been so unexpected. It might have continued throughout the night, until the town was stripped bare, until not a native’s hut was left standing. But Barbados wanted quick loot and a get-away. He wanted to reach the coast during the bright moonlight, get the planks of the ship’s deck beneath his feet once more. He trusted Captain Ramón, but he feared that the soldiers might return.
Across the plaza the pirates charged, with Barbados at their head. They broke into the church. They filled the sacred edifice with oaths and ribald jest and raucous laughter. They darted here and there, torches held high above their heads, searching for articles of worth.
From a little room to one side stepped a fray. His hair was silver, his face was calm. Erect and purposeful he stood, looking across at them. Quick steps forward he took toward the altar, where there were relics he loved.
“What do you here, señores?” he demanded.
His voice seemed soft, yet at the same time there was the ring of steel in it. They stopped, their shouting ceased, there was a moment of silence.
“Who are you?” one shouted.
“I am called Fray Felipe, señores,” came the response. “Just now I am in charge of this house of worship. How is it that you so far forget yourselves as to bring your tumult here?”
“Fray?” one shouted. “Fool and fray? Why do we bring our tumult here? For to get loot, gowned one!”