Zorro and the Little Devil

by Peter David

  The men dropped it on the deck just behind Diabolito. For his part, Diabolito was grinning at the sight of del Riego and his men being hauled up, blinking at the sunlight that they felt for the first time in days. Some of them were still in their uniforms, but most of the others — including del Riego himself — were wearing pirate attire since Diabolito’s men had appropriated their clothes in order to pull off the imposture of being civilized men. “Good morning, Senores! How do you feel this morning?”

  Del Riego stepped forward, hatred in his eyes. “We’ve been in your stinking hold, you pirate bastard,” he said. “How do you think we feel?”

  “I think you should feel appreciative. You could all be dead. Instead you have been brought up here to witness our triumph. There,” and he gestured back toward the chest. “There is the treasure of Calico Jack. I will not lie. There was certainly much effort involved in finding it, but I wager the contents will be worth the risk. Luis!”

  Luis immediately came forward, shoving del Riego out of the way. “Yes, my Captain?”

  “Do you have your lock picks with you?”

  “Absolutely,” he said and pointed to a small pouch that hung from his belt.

  “Good. Bring it here.”

  Luis immediately clambered onto the plank and made it over to the galleon in short order. Diabolito gestured toward the chest. “Will that present a problem to you?”

  Luis took a glance at the padlock that was keeping it closed and grinned widely. “Should not be a problem at all. Allow me,” and he walked over to the chest. He crouched in front of it, rummaging through the picks contained in the pouch. He selected two. Then he inserted one into the padlock, and moments later inserted a second, thinner pick. Carefully he operated the both of them, feeling his way through the padlock’s gears.

  The seconds ticked by slowly and Diabolito’s patience slowly dissolved into impatience and then anger. This was taking far too long. Obviously Luis had lied about his skill as a lock pick. Diabolito was going to look like a fool to del Riego, and the thought alone was enough to transform his growing anger to outright fury.

  He started to reach for his gun before remembering that he had just fired it a little earlier and hadn’t taken the time to reload it. He didn’t want to stand there and reload, telegraphing his intention to shoot down Luis. But as he mentally wrestled with what would the best way to proceed, a loud click suddenly sounded in the air, and Luis proudly said, “Ha!”

  Diabolito whirled and saw that the lock was now hanging open and Luis was removing it. He disengaged it from the chest and then wisely turned to Diabolito. “Would you care to do the honors, Captain?”

  The Little Devil certainly did want to. He strode over to it, his men scrambling to get out of his way.

  He put his hands on the chest’s lid, took a deep breath, let it out. This plan had been far more aggravation than he had ever thought it would be, but now it was finally over.

  He lifted up the lid.

  A stench bellowed forth so hideous, so massive, that Diabolito was literally knocked back onto his rump. He coughed violently, his stomach twisted, and then the remains of the most recent meal he had ingested revolted from his stomach and exploded from his mouth. It spattered on the deck nearby the chest.

  The Little Devil was not alone. Anyone within proximity to the chest turned away, gagged, choked. Most of them only had rum in their stomachs, but even that exited and the entire deck became decorated with the vomit that was blasting from them.

  Diabolito was on his hands and knees, gasping, trying to reclaim his dignity. It was impossible to do so with the foul smell emanating from the chest. It had so overwhelmed him that he hadn’t even gotten close enough to see what was in it that was causing the stench. Finally he managed to pull himself closer and, with his hand clapped over his mouth and his fingers squeezing his nose, he was able to make out what it was.

  It was a child’s corpse.

  Most of it had rotted away, leaving the skeleton exposed. But there were still some small bits of flesh on its arms and face. It had once been wrapped in a blanket, but the blanket had deteriorated as well and was now mostly large holes with some of its original fabric being barely held together.

  “What the bloody hell?!” said Diabolito. “Where’s the treasure? This is a coffin! Why in the name of God would a pirate put a corpse in a treasure chest?!”

  “It must have been a trick!” said Tomas. “A fake to throw off anyone who was looking for the real thing.”

  Maria had now managed to make it over to his side. She had removed a handkerchief and was covering her nose and mouth with it. She stared down at the corpse and then reached into the chest.

  “What are you doing?” Diabolito demanded.

  To his surprise, she withdrew what appeared to be a piece of oilskin, wrapped up and tied shut with a bow. She pulled the bow off easily, because it had likewise deteriorated … so much so that it practically fell apart in her hand. Then she unrolled it and read it.

  “What does it say?” said Diabolito, who was unable to read and didn’t feel like admitting that in del Riego’s presence.

  She spoke softly, sympathetically. “Here lies my beloved son, Christopher. Taken far too soon.” She stared down at the corpse and smiled. “His greatest treasure. We knew he had a daughter. Apparently he also had a son who died, or perhaps was killed in a fight gone wrong. You were right, Diablo. This wasn’t a treasure chest. It was a coffin. His son was his treasure and he buried him the only way he knew: in a treasure chest.”’

  “Why the blazes didn’t he just dump the body in the ocean?!”

  A quiet anger flashed through her eyes. “If you have to ask the question, Diablo, you will never understand the answer.”

  And Diabolito went berserk with fury.

  The woman had challenged him in front of his crew. She had spoken to him in a diminishing voice. She had accused him of being unable to understand something. She had insulted him.

  She had insulted him.

  Luis was standing next to him and Diabolito saw the handle of his gun sticking out of his belt. In one move, Diabolito pulled the gun from his belt, brought it level, and fired.

  Maria staggered back, her hands clutching at her chest. She stood there, wavering, staring down to see that her palms were already thick with blood. She gasped, stared at Diabolito in shock.

  Immediately Diabolito regretted what he had done. She had been a worthy lover over all, and he realized he had overreacted. But there was no fixing it now. Instead he simply handed the gun back to Luis.

  His mind was no longer on her. His thoughts were already racing ahead, so much so that when she collapsed to the deck, he didn’t even hear the thud.

  What was he going to do now? This entire endeavor had slid sideways and his beloved treasure was simply the stinking remains of a child dead for decades.

  There were still options. He could take del Riego and his men and hold them for ransom, as he had said he would. But that would be a long, involved process. And while he waited for ransom money to be brought to them, they would have to remain hidden in one place. That was a dangerous undertaking. It could well be that his attempt to get money in exchange for his prisoners would become a fool’s errand.

  The entire endeavor could end up with Diabolito at the end of a hangman’s rope.

  Furthermore, it was very possible this would be a dispiriting endeavor for his crew to have to deal with. They had gone to all this trouble to acquire riches, and all they had was a rotted corpse. Disappointed pirates could well become dangerous pirates, and it was entirely possible he could wind up with a mutiny on his hands. If that happened, how many would side with him and how many would be in opposition to him? He suspected it could wind up with it being him against everybody.

  He had to emphasize at this moment that he was a formidable individual. He had to drive home that attempting to rebel against him would be a deeply terrible idea. There was one good way to do it.

 
; Kill people. Kill a lot of people.

  The means of doing so was readily apparent.

  All of these thoughts crashed through his head in seconds, and then he called over to the other boat, “Send del Riego and his associates over to this ship.”

  This announcement caused a degree of confusion from his crew on both sides. “Captain, why?” asked Tomas.

  “Because I have said to do it. Am I still not the Captain here?”

  There were slow, reluctant nods, although they were accompanied by some grumbling which could well have been a precursor to an eventual mutiny.

  The pirates prodded del Riego to lead the way. It was not the easiest of endeavors because his hands were still tied behind his back, so walking on a plank was a challenge for balance since he couldn’t spread his arms out to either side. But fortunately the distance was short, the plank was reasonably wide, and del Riego walked quickly. By the time his balance began to be threatened, he was already stepping onto the deck of the galleon. The rest of his crew quickly followed.

  Del Riego stood proudly in front of Diabolito. “Now what?” he said.

  In response, Diabolito called to the pirates on the ship with him, “All of you, back onto the Revenge.”

  The pirates immediately obeyed him, sprinting across the plank, feeling as if they had spent more than enough time on the Spanish galleon. Within moments it was only Diabolito remaining on the vessel with the Spanish crew.

  “Are you going to free my hands?” asked del Riego.

  “Most certainly not,” replied Diabolito. “After all, if I did that, you would be able to swim. Couldn’t have that.”

  “Why would I need to …” Then his voice trailed off and he understood. “I thought you were going to ransom us.”

  “You thought?” With a fierce swing of his fist, he struck del Riego in the jaw and knocked him to the floor. “You thought? You dare to try and second-guess how I think?

  “Allow me to illuminate my thoughts. What I think is that this escapade has been one colossal waste of time. And if I bother to hold you for ransom, that will very likely also be a waste of time. It’s obvious that this entire expedition is cursed. We can probably thank the ghost of Calico Jack for that. And I am not the least bit interested in continuing to provide amusement for a ghost. As far as I am concerned, I want to put my rudder to the entirety of California and to you. And that is exactly what I am going to do. And none of you will survive to tell the tale of Diabolito’s failure.”

  “These men have done nothing to you,” del Riego said from his position on the floor. “Kill me if it will give you satisfaction. But allow them to live.”

  “Sorry, my soon-to-be-late friend. You will all go together. It is often said that a captain must go down with his ship. So in this case, in a way, you will all be captains when I sink your ship.” He bowed deeply to del Riego. “Adios, Senor.”

  He turned away from him then, stepped onto the plank to cross over and shouted, “Fire the cannons!”

  And the air was filled with the sound of exploding cannons.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Cannons’ Roar

  Zorro peered out the porthole and saw how close the other vessel was to them. And he was able to hear the things that were transpiring up above.

  He was tremendously frustrated that Diabolito had been uncooperative with the plan that Zorro had laid out in his mind. Granted, it had been, in some ways, a nearly cowardly intention. On the other hand, it guaranteed his father would be safe. Now things had changed rapidly and his father’s continued existence was dubious at best.

  When Zorro heard that the chest was empty of treasures save for a child’s corpse, he immediately realized what Diabolito was going to do long before the pirate himself realized. He knew that the Little Devil would transfer the entire crew of Spanish soldiers onto the galleon and then open fire on it, sinking them. He had to find a way to stop them, and fast.

  The answer to the question readily presented itself.

  With no one on the ship wandering around or keeping guard, Zorro was able to fling caution to the winds and run as fast as he could into the depths of the ship. He threw open the door to the room where his father was imprisoned and said, “Quickly. Come with me.”

  “What’s happened, Diego?”

  “Zorro,” he corrected his father. “Or Senor Zorro. No time for questions; come with me and you will readily receive your answers.”

  Don Alejandro nodded and got to his feet. He wavered, leaned against the wall and tried to shake the awful stiffness out of his legs. He looked up to see that his son was no longer there.

  Instead Zorro was racing to the far end of the hallway to Quintero’s prison. He yanked that door open as well, and removed a dagger from his boot as he strode in. “Turn around, quickly.”

  “So you can stab me in the back?” said Quintero.

  Zorro ignored his question. He strode forward, grabbed Quintero by the arm and shoved him down onto his stomach. Then he brought the knife up and quickly sliced through his bonds. Quintero sat up, looking puzzled, shaking his hands to restore circulation. “What — ?” he began to ask.

  “No time,” Zorro said again. “Can you walk?”

  Quintero stood, as uneven on his legs as Don Alejandro had been. But he was much steadier, must faster than the older man had been.

  “Good, Quintero. Very good. Follow me.”

  “Where? What about the pirates?”

  “They’re going to be getting off this ship very soon. We have to be ready to bring down their ship.”

  “How in the world are we going to — ?” Quintero said, but then his voice trailed off and he actually smiled. “Cannons.”

  “Yes,” Zorro said, his own smile matching Quintero’s. “They have four demi-cannons on each side of the ship. We open fire with them on the pirates’ ship and they will have no means of defense, especially at this proximity.”

  “I like this plan,” said Don Alejandro.

  Quickly the three men made their way to the upper deck where the cannons were lined up. They were all rolled back, their wheels kept in place by large blocks so they wouldn’t roll backwards. The array of equipment that was required to load them were all there, attached to the wall: a long staff with a sponge to clear the cannon out before firing; a storage of gunpowder with a ladle sticking out of it; a rammer to drive the powder home; a botefaux that was used to light the weapon; and, most importantly, an array of cannonballs.

  “Take up positions, gentlemen,” Zorro ordered them.

  Don Alejandro and Quintero did as instructed, readying themselves behind two of the cannons. Zorro took for himself the job of loading the things and getting them ready to fire. It took long seconds for him to do it three times, and sweat was beading beneath his mask as he did so. Finally, though, all three were loaded and all three of the men were holding the botefeux with their matches set within them. Zorro was behind his own cannon. Both men — even Quintero — were looking straight at him and waiting for him to give the command.

  From above he heard Diabolito say loudly, “Adios, Senor,” and that was the cue the Curse of Capistrano was waiting for.

  “Now!” he shouted, pushing his cannon forward and lighting it. Quintero and Alejandro matched him and did the same.

  So it was, at the moment Diabolito commanded that the cannons be fired, the three cannons of the galleon ripped loose on the pirate ship.

  Immediately Zorro stood and shouted to Quintero, “Get over there and help Don Alejandro! You load, he’ll keep firing!”

  “Where are you going?!” demanded Quintero.

  “Diabolito is going to know we just fired on his ship. He’s going to come down here to find out who did it. I’m going to stop him.”

  “Ah,” and understanding crossed Quintero’s face. “Very well.” He abandoned his cannon and joined Don Alejandro.

  Turning his back to them, Zorro sprinted up the stairs that led to the upper section. His heart was pounding furiou
sly because he knew he was going to be facing Diabolito. And he was going to have to beat him. Otherwise everyone on the ship, including his father, was going to die.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You did this? You?”

  The explosion of cannons staggered Diabolito, who was at that moment still standing perched on the plank. The more serious issue was that when the cannonballs struck the pirate vessel, it caused it to pitch enough that the board clattered off its support on the far side.

  Diabolito twisted in midair even as the plank fell out from under his feet, and suddenly he was dangling from the ship, his fingers clamped solidly on the edge. Desperately he swung his leg up and managed to haul himself up to the deck.

  Del Riego looked as astounded as the Little Devil was. That immediately answered the question that went through Diabolito’s mind. He had thought that perhaps they had missed one member of del Riego’s crew and he had been the one to open fire on them. But no, that was not possible. It required two men to operate a cannon, and there was no way that he could have —

  “No,” he whispered, because he suddenly realized that there were indeed two men below decks who had nothing but hostility for him: Quintero and Alejandro. They must have somehow managed to free themselves from their restraints and prisons and were now taking the opportunity to open fire on the ship of their captors.

  “A problem?” del Riego asked. He had gotten to his feet and there was a huge smile on his face.

  For response, Diabolito drew back his fist and slugged del Riego in the mouth. Del Riego stumbled back and landed near Maria’s body. Then Diabolito turned and moved toward the stairs that led to the lower decks so that he could personally dispatch the damned Quintero and Alejandro with one sweep of his sword. He pulled his cutlass out of his belt so he would have it ready.

  He reached the steps, took two steps down, and stopped, his eyes wide in shock.

  A dead black-clad figure was standing at the bottom of the steps. “Care for a rematch?” he asked.