Señor Zorro watched her carefully. He could not make out her flag. At the distance he could see nothing except that she was of the type of trading schooner, and that she had swift heels. For she was gaining rapidly, as though sailed by experts. And the pirate craft was foul of bottom, needing careening and scraping.
Barbados had hurried to the rail and was watching the oncoming ship. Señorita Lolita saw it also, but did not seem to realize that it meant hope. Perhaps she feared that the ship was but coming into grave danger, running into a conflict that would mean capture and death for her crew.
Señor Zorro glanced at the deck, and then back at the approaching vessel again. He saw that another sail was being sent aloft. It was broken out, snapped into place, the lines tautened. And Señor Zorro with difficulty restrained a cheer. On the white expanse of the sail, painted there in haphazard fashion, but easily made out, was a monster Z.
So his friends were on that ship! Señor Zorro felt better now. He glanced once more toward the deck, and realized that Barbados had seen what was on the sail also. For the pirate chief left the rail and stamped back to the señorita’s side, determination in his manner and rage in his countenance.
“Now you’ll speak the truth, wench!” he shouted. “Is Señor Zorro aboard this ship? If those are his friends coming up, then will we attend to him before we attend to them!”
“I do not care to hold conversation with you,” she said.
“No? By my naked blade, I am in command here!” he roared. “An answer I intend to have.”
He lurched forward and grasped her by the shoulders, shook her as a terrier shakes a rat, held her at arm’s length and shook her again. She fought against crying out, but could not win the battle against such cruel odds.
One plaintive little cry drifted across the deck and straight into the heart of Señor Zorro.
He transferred his sword from his right hand to his left. He whipped the dagger from his belt and hurled it. His aim was poor, yet he had come close enough. The dagger was driven, quivering, into the mast between Barbados and the señorita.