The further adventures of Zorro

Barbados continued to mutter curses as he watched the sky. Not a cloud marred its face, and the moon was at the full. But here was an enterprise where there was small risk, so he could discount the bright night.

He grunted his pleasure as he saw Sergeant Gonzales and the troopers ride away from the presidio, cross the plaza, and continue toward the south. He called Sanchez to him and explained what was to be done at the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido.

“You will take half a dozen men,” Barbados commanded. “Do as you please at the place, but capture the señorita by all means, and go quickly back over the hills to the mouth of the cañon. Steal horses, and ride. Get there before the break of day! We shall do the same. The ship will be putting in at dawn or before.”

“Sí!” Sanchez replied. “And do you care for my share of the loot here. There may be small profit at the hacienda!”

Sanchez selected his ruffians and led them away around a hill and toward the north, where the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido rested. Barbados whispered instructions to the remainder of the crew. And then they waited, for Barbados wished to make sure that the soldiers did not return.

For more than an hour longer he waited, and then gave the word. Down from the crest of the slope they slipped, breathing heavily, lusting for illegal gain, holding their cutlasses in readiness for instant use. They kept in the scant shadows as much as possible, scattered as they crossed the wider light spaces, made their way slowly to the edge of the town.

There, in the shadows cast by an empty adobe building, they separated, and Barbados whispered his final instructions. They were to look for rich loot, and nothing bulky. He had decided against food and wine, bolts of cloth, casks of olives and jars of honey. Such things could be obtained later at any hacienda. Just now he wished to get portable valuables and hurry back to the coast.

Men were detailed to seize horses and have them in readiness. Certain large houses were to be attacked in force after the smaller ones had been disposed of. The inn was to receive special attention, since it was whispered that the fat landlord had hidden wealth.

Down upon the town they crept, and suddenly they charged into the plaza from either side. Into the inn they poured, cutting and slashing at natives until they fled screeching with terror, stabbing at the fat landlord as he called upon the saints.

They took what the landlord had, and gave their attention to the houses and shops. And now bedlam broke loose as it was realized what was taking place. Doors were smashed, terrified men and women were driven from room to room. Things of value were seized. Jewels were ripped from dainty throats and delicate fingers. Silken shawls were torn from beautiful shoulders.

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!”

“Loot?” Fray Felipe thundered, taking another step forward. “You would profane this house? You would lay sacrilegious hands on what is to be found here, even as you have voiced sacrilegious tones within these walls? Scum of the earth, begone!”

They surged toward him. “One side, fray!” shouted a foremost one. “Respect the black flag and we respect your gown!”

“Spawn of hell! Sons of the devil!” Fray Felipe thundered. “Back to the door, and out of this holy place!”

He scarcely hoped to stop them. There were rich ornaments on the altar, and in the uncertain light the torches shed he could see the eyes of those nearest glittering. And the gem-studded goblet was there!

Thought of the gem-studded goblet gave new strength to ancient Fray Felipe. It was a relic highly prized. Fray Felipe loved it, and cared for it tenderly. There was a legend connected with it. Once it had been touched by a saint’s lips, men had said. To have this scum as much as touch the sacred goblet was too much—to have them steal it would be unthinkable.

Once more they surged forward, and Fray Felipe sprang before the altar and threw up his hands in a gesture of command.

“Back!” he cried. “Would you damn beyond recovery your immortal souls? Would you commit the unpardonable sin?”

“Ha!” shouted a man in the front of the throng. “Worry not about our souls, fray! One side, else you’ll have a chance to worry about the state of your own! We have scant time to spend on a fray!”

“What would you?” Fray Felipe asked.

“Loot, fool of a fray!”

“Only over my dead body do you take it! I am not afraid to die to protect holy things! But you—you will fear to die, if you do this thing!”

“Slit his throat!” cried one in the throng. “Are we here to argue? The work is not done!”

Once more they surged forward. The light of the torches sent rays of fire shooting from the ornaments on the altar. Their lust for loot consumed them.

Fray Felipe braced himself, seized the nearest, raised him half from the floor, and hurled him back against his fellows.

“The fray shows fight!” one cried. “Use your knives, you in the front! A stab between the ribs, and let us go!”

Again they rushed, and Fray Felipe prepared for one more feeble attempt, the one he deemed would be the last. He made the sign of the cross and waited calmly—waited until they were upon him, until he could feel their hot breathing upon his face, until the stench of their perspiration was in his nostrils.

But, even as a man raised a cutlass to strike, there came an interruption. The bellowing voice of Barbados rang out above the din.

“Stop!” he shrieked. There was something terrifying in the sudden and unexpected command. The pirates stopped, fell back. Barbados charged through them and to Fray Felipe’s side. The pirate’s face showed white in the light of the torches.

“Back!” he commanded. “This fray is not to be harmed! Out, fools and devils! There is one rich house yet to be robbed. Let us not tarry here!”

“There is loot—” one began.

He did not complete the sentence. Barbados whirled, and with a single blow he stretched him senseless.

“Out!” he commanded. “This fray is not to be touched!”

They backed away from him, rushed back to gather near the door. They did not pretend to understand this, but Barbados was chief, and perhaps he knew what he was doing. They saw him turn, knew that he spoke to the fray, but could not make out his words.

“I had no doing in this,” Barbados said. “I assault no fray nor priest! I stopped them in time. Had I not remained outside a moment to watch affairs I would have stopped them before.”

“You are not wholly bad,” Fray Felipe said.

“I am wholly bad, fray—make no mistake about it! But I keep my hands off frailes and priests!”

He whirled around and rushed to the door, shrieking at his men. Only the soft light of the candles glowed in the church.

Fray Felipe took a step forward and looked after them. He turned back toward the altar, a look of thankfulness in his face.

And suddenly that look changed! Misery took its place. Fray Felipe gave a little cry of mingled surprise and pain, and tottered forward. The precious gem-studded goblet was gone!

He sensed at once how it had happened. When they had charged upon him, before Barbados came, one of the pirates had snatched the goblet away.

Fray Felipe whirled toward the door again, took half a dozen steps, seemed at the point of rushing after them. But he knew they were on the other side of the plaza now, and that an appeal to them would be useless. However, he could try.

He faced the altar again, and the expression of his old countenance was wonderful to see. And then and there Fray Felipe took a vow.

“I go!” he said. “I return with the saintly goblet, or do not return at all!”