She heard him scrambling among his boxes and bales and barrels. She would have spoken to him again, but did not dare raise her voice above a whisper, and she felt slumber claiming her. She was thoroughly exhausted. Before she went to sleep, however, she extinguished the torch, and stood for a moment before the open porthole, looking through the morning haze at the distant land.
The ship was riding easily on the long swells, sailing swiftly toward the south. The señorita slept, and in the dark storeroom Señor Zorro reclined on a pile of sacks and tried to think things out. In an emergency he was quick to think and to act, to take advantage of every opening, but to sit still and analyze a situation was beyond him. He was a man of action, and it was action he craved.
He did not doubt that Don Audre Ruiz and the others had obtained possession of the trading schooner and would follow. But would they follow the correct lane of the sea? And, if they caught up with the pirates, what would follow? The caballeros would be greatly outnumbered. Not that such a thing would cause them to hesitate about an attack, but it would work against them, of course.
For an hour or more Señor Zorro thought on the problem, itching to be in action and knowing that he should remain quiet. The pirates would be searching the ship, he supposed, since he had marked Sanchez the way he had. He would have to remain in hiding, bury himself in the storeroom in such manner that they could not find him.
Then, after a time, he heard a noise in the little cabin, and quickly made his way to the crack in the wall. He could see that the door had been opened, and then he saw that Sanchez was standing just inside it.
“Señorita!” the pirate lieutenant called. “Sleep not when the chief commands!”
Señorita Lolita came from her slumber and sat up on the bunk with a little cry.
“Do not be afraid,” Sanchez told her. “By my naked blade, I will keep my distance! I have no wish for a knife between my ribs, driven there by a high-born damsel who thinks nothing of murder!”
“What is your wish?” she demanded. She was herself again now, scorning him, her chin tilted.
“It is no wish of mine,” Sanchez protested. “I but carry the commands of the chief. He orders that you come on deck, and at once.”