There was grave danger on the deck, he knew, and so he went aloft once more. Up and up he went, while Barbados and Sanchez shrieked to the others to follow and get him.
“Alive! I want him alive!” Barbados screeched.
Another spring from spar to spar. Señor Zorro almost missed because of the rolling of the ship. But he caught and clung on, and scrambled to a place of safety. In toward the mast he hurried.
But there was a treacherous spot on the spar, where the mist had struck and clung, a wet spot made to cause a boot to slip. Señor Zorro felt himself reeling suddenly to one side. He grasped wildly—grasped nothing but empty air. His heart seemed to stop beating for an instant. He felt himself falling through space. To his ears came the terrified cry of the little señorita. The deck rushed up to meet him. He struck it with a crash and the darkness came.
Señorita Lolita gave another little cry and covered her face with her hands. Barbados and Sanchez rushed forward, the others at their heels.
Señor Zorro was unconscious for the moment, though the fall had broken no bones.
“Bind him!” Barbados cried, glancing back at the oncoming ship. “We attend to him first, and then to his friends. Water his head well and bring him back to life. Get ready a plank!”
The pirates rushed to do his bidding.
Señor Zorro’s wrists were lashed behind his back. One man hurled water into his face, and he groaned and opened his eyes, and tried to sit up on the deck.
“Ha!” Barbados cried. “So it is Señor Zorro, eh? And now we can repay you for this little mark you put on my forehead, señor! Barbados, also, knows how to make payment!”