Diego once again found his sluggish mind slowly following his body's desire to be conscious again. Forcing his lungs to cooperate, he took in a slow, deep breath and tried harder to force himself awake. When his eyelids finally fluttered open, he immediately took note of his surroundings. He was lying on his side, and as he glanced around, he realized that the pirates had placed him back in the brig.
Victoria should be here with him, then.
Diego jerked awake to full consciousness as that final thought occurred to him. He sat up quickly, his gaze frantically searching for her, and he immediately regretted it. He gasped as the motion tugged and stretched the wounds on his back. As he stumbled further into consciousness, he realized how incredibly sore he was from the whipping. His muscles felt like melted cheese. His back felt like it was on fire, and the wounds itched and burned terribly. He finally noticed Victoria hovering worriedly at the end of the cot.
"Diego? Oh, thank goodness."
Diego tried to respond, but his mouth was too dry. All he managed to do was choke slightly at the effort. Thankfully, Victoria immediately sensed what the problem was. There was a tray of food sitting near the door to their little cell, and Victoria quickly grabbed the little cup sitting on it and plunged it deep into the pail of water that Sanchez had left next to the tray. The pirate hadn't been too pleased about showing their captives such hospitality, but Victoria had overheard Stark shouting at his right-hand man that they needed to be kept alive...and that meant caring for them to some degree. She'd eaten a small portion to stave off her hunger but saved most of it for Diego. God only knew the last time her novio had eaten, and after the way he'd been treated, he'd need every bit of his strength to heal.
Victoria quickly carried the cup of water over to Diego. "Here," She handed him the cup and watched him carefully to make sure he wouldn't drop it. "Sip it slowly, Diego."
He nodded his agreement. The first sip felt exquisite as the cool, refreshing liquid slid down his parched throat. He took another, and another. After the fourth sip, his stomach lurched, and he reluctantly handed the cup back to Victoria. He didn't want to make himself sick. That would certainly be counterproductive. Diego cleared his throat and found his voice.
"Gracias."
"Diego...I...I..."
Diego raised a worried eyebrow. "Are you all right?"
"Me?"
He smiled and unbuttoned his shirt sleeves to roll them up above his elbows more out of habit than any sense of comfort. "They didn't hurt you while I was gone, did they?"
"No. Stark was the only one to visit and he came and left quickly each time."
Diego stopped rolling his sleeves abruptly and clutched at his shirt. He glanced down his body. He was still wearing the cutoffs, but to his chagrin he was also wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt like the rest of the crew. His eyes snapped up to meet Victoria's. "I'm dressed," He said in surprise.
Victoria chuckled. "Yes, you are. I hope you don't mind. I thought you'd be more comfortable when you woke up."
"Mind? Of course not. That was quite thoughtful." Diego glanced skeptically at his tall frame. "I'm amazed you were able to manage."
"I did what needed to be done, that's all. Are you all right?"
Diego stretched experimentally and winced in pain. "I'm not quite sure yet," He told her honestly. He swung his feet off the cot, but a wave of dizziness prevented him from moving any further.
Victoria eyed him carefully. Kneeling in front of him on the floor, she put her hands on his knees. "Don't push yourself, Diego. We're quite safe for now." She tipped her head thoughtfully. "Well...I'm safe for now."
He smiled sadly at her while he gently tucked an errant curl of hair back behind her ear. "I was worried about you," He said tenderly.
"Believe me, Diego, the feeling was mutual." She gently caressed his whiskered cheek. She was pleased to note some of the bruising from the muzzle had diminished. She watched as his gaze drifted longingly toward the food on the tray near the door. "You must be starved. Do you think you can eat something?" She watched him as he seemed to carefully consider his response to her question.
"Hmm...Perhaps not."
Victoria knew how hard that admission must have been for him. How he must hate not being in control and to be held at the mercy of such an evil man. She handed him back the cup of water. "Try to at least drink some more then." He nodded his acceptance and managed to get a few more sips down before stopping again. He handed the cup back to her with a pained expression on his face.
Diego reached back to scratch an itch on his back before he realized what a bad idea that was. Victoria's expression crumbled when she saw him wince. "I'm all right, really," He managed to grind out through the pain. Something didn't feel quite right though, and he started to lift his shirt to feel the skin.
Victoria's gentle hands stopped him. "They packed the wounds with salt," she told him a tear slipping down her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Diego! I didn't know what to do. You were still bleeding when they brought you back, and I was afraid if I washed it out..." She stopped speaking, unable to continue.
"You did the right thing. I could not afford to have lost so much blood being so dehydrated. It was better to leave it there." Diego had thought to reassure her, but his answer only seemed to make Victoria more upset as she immediately started crying.
"Querida...Shhhh. I know how hard this is for you, I do." He opened his arms and she flung herself gratefully into his comforting embrace. He was immensely grateful that she didn't press on his back in the process of doing so. He held her close as she sobbed into his shirt. "Every time you're in danger, my stomach is in knots until I can get to you and I know that you're safe," He said softly.
"You were gone so long," She hiccupped. "I didn't know what they were doing to you...or...or..."
The heart-wrenching sob that finished her sentence instead of putting words to the fear of his death nearly split Diego's heart in two. He rubbed circles gently across her back. It took several minutes, but she finally seemed to calm down. "Shhh. It's all right now," Diego assured her. He pushed her away just far enough so he could look her in the eye. "I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it."
"But-" She hiccupped again. Curse her feminine emotions anyway, she thought miserably. Here Diego was, beaten and bruised, and he was the one comforting her! She had been so busy worrying about Diego, she hadn't paused long enough to consider how stressed she was.
"I don't believe Stark will kill me. If he'd wanted to do so, he could have simply done so in Los Angeles. I'm not sure what his plan is yet, but he had to prove to me what he'd do to you if I step out of line."
"Oh, Diego."
"Not another tear over this. Please Querida? He certainly tried my patience the last few days, but I'll heal. And you're safe. That's all that matters."
Victoria begged to differ, and she was about to tell him so when Diego gently put a finger over her lips.
"That's all that matters."
Victoria nodded as Diego wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried," She tried to explain.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Victoria. We must rely on each other if we're to make it through this."
Victoria nodded and rested her cheek on his chest. She savored the moment; they hadn't had many opportunities like this as a couple. It felt good.
A moment later she asked him, her voice slightly muffled against his shirt, "What did he do to you?"
Diego closed his eyes wishing he could forget the last few days. He felt another wave of helplessness as he thought of the predicament Stark had left him in. He wasn't naïve. He knew Stark was trying to break him; he also knew he had to resist the evil Captain for as long as it took to get Victoria to safety. "It's not important," He prevaricated, forcing the emotion back.
Victoria pushed herself away. "Diego de la Vega," she said in a tone that made him sit up a little straighter. "Don't you dare even think about keeping secrets from me. Not now." Her tirade was rewarded with one of Zorro's amused, half-smiles.
"Oh?"
In a more gentle tone, she tried to explain, "Diego please. You must understand that not knowing is so much worse."
His heart melted. They'd both been through so much...and now this. Fate was certainly doing its best to keep them from ever starting a family. The least he could do was make fate's most recent cruel joke on them more tolerable.
"Forgive me. I just...I had thought to protect you. But you're right, of course. We're in this together." Diego wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again, and explained what Stark had done. Victoria was a few shades paler after he'd finished. After he'd paused for a moment he asked, "How long was I unconscious after they brought me back to you?"
"All night. It's the following afternoon," Victoria said, her voice barely above a whisper. She was just staring at Diego. He really was an amazing man. She didn't know where he found the strength. If Captain Stark decided to torture her, or Dios forbid rape her, she was quite certain she would go crazy.
"That long?" He said incredulously.
"Oh, Diego. You...you wouldn't wake up. I could get you to take small sips of water, but that was all." Another tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it furiously away. "Do you feel at least a little better?"
"I do."
"Your back is burned quite badly..."
"I know," Diego shifted uncomfortably in his shirt. The linen fabric was soft to the touch on his back, but movement caused pain to race across the skin. He considered taking the shirt off but decided in their current predicament it would be better to keep the lash marks protected from dirt and infection. He guessed Victoria had reached the same conclusion.
Victoria stood up and peered over his shoulder and carefully lifted his shirt to check his wounds. "The cuts do look much better. Shall I wash your back?"
"No, Querida. You were right that the salt needed to stay in the wounds to stop the bleeding. But we can't wash them. Not yet. As irritating as it is, the salt is also keeping the wounds clean from infection. I can't risk getting sick with a fever. We should save as much water as we can for drinking, in any case."
"I can't imagine how much pain you're in, can I?"
Diego smiled softly at her. "Probably not," he answered honestly.
Stark and Sanchez chose that moment to walk down the stairs into the hold each carrying a pistol. "Well, well, well. Look who's finally awake!" Stark cackled. Sanchez nodded and chuckled behind him. Stark leered at Victoria. "An' I see yer lit'le lady friend has been takin' care of ye...Pity! Ha, ha, ha, ha!" Stark and Sanchez guffawed loudly.
Diego had managed to get his feet under him well enough that he was able to stand in front of Victoria to shield her from the two buccaneers. To Victoria's surprise, he had no witty remark for the Captain. She raised a curious eyebrow at his back, wishing fervently that she could see his face so that she could have some inkling of what he was thinking.
"On yer hands an' knees, boy," Stark pointed at the floor.
Victoria saw the muscle twitch on the right side of his jaw. She'd seen him confront the Alcalde enough times to know that usually meant his temper was about to flare, but again he remained silent. Victoria watched as he slowly, deliberately, lowered himself to the floor to comply with the order. She gulped realizing his injured back would be completely exposed and he'd be unable to defend himself. She was about to rush forward, but Diego seemed to sense what she was thinking and turned his head to look her in the eye. A shake of his head clearly communicated his wishes. Stay out of it.
Diego knelt on the deck. Once he was on the floor, Sanchez moved into the cell towards where Victoria was standing. Afraid she was in danger, Diego started to stand, but Stark kicked him sharply in the ribs.
"Stay down, boy!"
Victoria stood frozen in fear, her eyes darting furiously back and forth between Stark and Diego. She wasn't sure how much more Diego could take. She wasn't sure how much more Diego would take before his temper took over.
Diego coughed, struggling to catch his breath. He locked his elbows hoping to keep from collapsing onto the deck. To his relief, Sanchez left Victoria alone and merely picked up the muzzle off the floor. Victoria gathered her wits and scampered back and away from him to the opposite corner of the cell. Before Diego knew what was happening, Sanchez was replacing the muzzle over his mouth. Diego began to wrestle him down, but Stark seemed prepared for this reaction and simply put one boot in the center of his torn back and pressed down hard. Diego groaned in agony, but the pain caused the fight to flee from his abused muscles and he collapsed onto the deck. He tossed his head making it impossible for Sanchez to get the muzzle firmly in place.
Stark put more weight on his boot causing Diego to cry out this time. "Perhaps you need to see me whip her to take my threat seriously?"
Diego glared at Stark from the floor, but completely stopped struggling. Sanchez quickly strapped the muzzle on more tightly than last time as if to prove a point. Diego winced in pain as the straps dug deeply into the skin on his cheeks and jaw.
"I can see ye still haven't quite learned yer lesson, boy. Let's see if you'll catch on faster this time." He nodded at Sanchez who grabbed Diego's shirt and hauled him to his feet. The pirates shackled Diego's wrists and hauled him out of the cell before locking the door with Victoria still inside.
"Captain," Victoria called, "Captain, please stop. Please!" Victoria had never begged anyone for anything, but she was prepared to beg for Diego's life. Stark just looked at her and laughed. The hatch to the hold slammed shut, and Victoria was left alone again.
As Sanchez and Stark roughly hauled him back up to the deck, Diego took a moment to say a brief prayer of thanks that they'd left him fully clothed this time. The sunburns on his body were still a bright red and Diego was certain his skin couldn't withstand much more exposure so soon.
The pirates led him towards the mainmast. Enrique was waiting next to the swing used to quickly hoist sailors safely above the deck to adjust the sails and rigging. Diego felt his shoulder being squeezed just before his knees gave out uncontrollably. He winced as Sanchez gripped him hard, and Diego thought he might black out from the pressure. But just before his vision tunneled, Sanchez released the grip and dragged him closer to the swing. Diego was lying on the deck now trying to force his body back into some sort of cooperation. Before he could clear his head, Sanchez had threaded his shackles over the top of the swing and re-cuffed Diego's hands in front of his body.
Diego glared at Stark. This was going to be so much worse than standing in the stocks. He tried to ask the Captain to stop, but the muzzle was so tight all he managed to get out were a few muffled grunts. Diego watched in fear as Enrique turned a handle on the deck near the mast. The swing began to lift, and eventually, Diego was pulled up off the deck. He could hear the pirates laughing at his predicament now, and they finally stopped the swing when his feet were dangling about a hundred feet off the deck. He was near the top of the mast. The Don wasn't afraid of heights but swinging by a few ropes from such a distance off the deck was making his stomach flip.
Diego reached up experimentally to see if he could somehow maneuver himself into the swing. Since he was chained to it, he wasn't really worried about falling. The aching in his arms increased as he tried to grab a hold of the rope, but it was no use. Unable to find any footing against the mast, he couldn't get his hands into position to keep a good grip. He was already tired from the effort. Stark had planned the timing well; Diego hadn't had nearly enough time to regain his strength yet.
Diego wondered how long he could dangle before his arms were ripped out of their sockets. He hoped he wouldn't have the opportunity to find out. A soft rumble in the distance caused him to snap his head around to the south. The wind picked up suddenly, knocking him gently into the mast. Diego wasn't at all sure he'd be able to survive hanging from the mast during a storm, and he knew the timing was no coincidence. Stark had strung him up now because they were headed right for it. They would be in the thick of it soon; Diego could already feel the temperature starting to drop.
Dios, please let us be rescued soon!
~ZZZ~
The last vaquero Don Alejandro had sent south as a scout had finally returned. The Don led the young man into the library and asked Maria to lay out a meal for him in the kitchen.
"Gracias, Patrón. That is most kind of you."
"Nonsense, Martín, it's the least I can do. I trust you had a safe journey? I was worried about you when you didn't return right away."
"I am sorry it took so long for me to return, Patrón. The bridge was washed out by the storm a few days ago, and it took time to go around. I do have encouraging news, though, Don Alejandro."
"I was afraid to even hope," Alejandro leaned forward on the edge of his seat. "Please tell me what you have learned."
"I stopped at the mission of San Juan Capistrano. The padre there said a few nights ago some of the neophytes had gone to the beach to fish. When they returned, they said they saw off in the distance a large ship sailing south, and it was not a Spanish galleon...although it was too far away to make out in any detail."
"Oh, Martín, it could have been any ship..."
"Sí, Patrón, sí. I wanted to be sure, so I continued riding to the next harbor and spoke to the harbor master and asked if he'd seen the ship. He had! In fact, he'd alerted the Spanish authorities to its presence off shore because it seemed suspicious to him it would stay so far away from the shore line with so many ports nearby. It's been months since any ships not home to California have stopped to trade."
"If they worry about being caught, they might sail a good distance before they attempt to put into port to resupply."
" Sí, that makes sense, Patrón. They caused quite a stir here in Los Angeles. They are likely hoping that word will not be able to travel as fast by land as they can by sea."
Alejandro got up and motioned for Martín to follow him into his office. He pulled several rolled maps out of the cabinet and opened one to spread out on the desk. The two of them looked closely at the ports along the coast of Southern California.
Martin hesitated to speak for a moment before voicing his opinion. "Don Alejandro, San Diego is the last major port before Mexico. It seems to me that any Captain sailing south would put in there, especially if they hadn't stopped between Los Angeles and a port so far south."
"Not to mention it's the busiest port in Southern California. With so many ships coming and going, it'd be much easier for the Golden Lion to become lost in the chaos before continuing further south. If we move fast, we might be able to catch up."
"Shall I ask the garrison to escort us, Señor?"
"No, they haven't the men to spare after the attack. And...I'm not sure what...er...condition...we'll find Diego and Victoria in when we arrive. No, Martín; several of the vaqueros will ride with us. That will have to be enough." The last thing he wanted to do was expose his son's secret to the military if it could possibly be avoided. San Diego was far, but the storms that were passing through the region would likely slow the pirates down.
If they rode through the night and changed the horses in Capistrano, there was a chance, however slim, that they could rescue Diego and Victoria. It would be nice, Alejandro decided, if he could come to his son's aid for a change.
~ZZZ~