Señor Zorro, having concluded his song, crept over boxes and bales to the little door of the storeroom. There he crouched and listened for a time, but heard nothing save the noise from the ship’s deck and the wash of the sea and singing of the wind through the rigging.
Presently he opened the door a crack and peered out into a pitch-dark, narrow passage. He slipped through and closed the door after him. Again he stopped to listen, and then he crept forward, reached a ramshackle ladder, and went up it swiftly and silently to a tiny hatch.
Lifting the hatch he crawled out upon the deck near the rail, hidden from the glare of all the torches. He had seen such a ship as this before, and knew her build well. There were no mysteries for him.
Along the rail he went like a shadow, and as silently. He reached a point where he could look amidships. Barbados was back among his men, now, urging them to greater speed, and Sanchez was echoing his commands. The ship was sailing at a fair rate of speed before a freshening breeze.
Señor Zorro crouched in the darkness and contemplated the pirate crew for a moment. He put out a hand to brace himself against the rolling of the vessel, and it came in contact with a tub of small bolts. Señor Zorro had an inspiration.
Far ahead of him, in the flare of a torch, he saw the ship’s bell. Señor Zorro grasped one of the little bolts, stood to his feet, took careful aim, and hurled the bolt from the darkness. He missed the bell by the fraction of a foot, and the bolt flew overboard.
Señor Zorro grunted, got another bolt, and tried again. It struck the bell squarely, glanced away, and fell into the sea. Out above the din rang one clear note. The ship had an excellent bell.
Instantly there was silence. Barbados whirled to look forward. His crew stood open-mouthed.
“The ship’s bell sounded!” Sanchez wailed.
“And which of you struck it?” Barbados demanded.