Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth..

Chapter 7

September 19th

Diego shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked over the terrain. The water hole that had kept him alive had dried up and he was in need of another source. There had been only the one rainfall since he had come to the island.

He had followed a large bird as it scrambled through the sand when it disappeared into some low scrub brush. Figuring it was heading for the source of water the other animals and birds had been using, he had decided to follow it. His energy had been flagging lately, and he knew just how much that digging a new well would take. Surely, following the animals to their own water supply would be less taxing.

His healthy tan was on its way to being sunburn, his mouth was like cotton, and his senses were beginning to dull. "Dehydration," he thought, for he was far too tired to even try to talk aloud now. Seeing the heat waves blur the air in front of him, he wished once again for a nice rain shower. But one look toward the blue-white skies told him the wait could be days.

Just one long, cool drink of water and he would be all right again. His head would clear and he would be able to go back to his plans. Right now, the only thing occupying his thoughts was the thought of that water. He was ignoring the feel in the pit of his stomach, the ache in every muscle of his body. His very bones made him feel like he was much older than his years. It was only the lack of water. The need of it could do all sorts of things to the body. He knew that.

But in the back recesses of his mind, he knew something more was going on with his body. He'd been without water for the better part of a day, not nearly long enough for him to be feeling like this. Even as the thought occurred to him, he pushed it aside and focused on the problem at hand. Water.

He watched in silence as the bird clawed at the sand. It was in no hurry to show him his way. Small insects were catching its attention and it took all of Diego's patience to remain quiet where he waited.

At long last, the bird began moving again, waddling forward at a very slow rate.

An hour later, it was clear to Diego where it was heading.

A long, high rise of land grew into an overhanging outcropping just above his head. The vines and vegetation that grew along the ridge told of water somewhere nearby.

For several hours Diego searched the area unsuccessfully. No streams, no ponds, and not even small puddles did he find. His frustration grew with each passing minute. The ache in his head grew more pronounced and his tongue felt as if it was swelling within his mouth.

Then suddenly, movement caught his eye and he scurried after it, scrabbling up the incline of the ridge. A small rodent of some kind had wriggled between some scraggly bushes where he seemingly disappeared behind the rocks. This time, Diego had watched as the animal vanished and he zeroed in on the exact spot.

At first, it appeared as if the ridge itself had swallowed the rodent. Then Diego saw why. He lifted up a veil of vines and thick growing brush to reveal an opening into the ridge itself. Pushing the living covering back, he climbed inside and found himself in a rocky cave. It was big enough that he could stand upright and he did.

Light came from the back recesses of the cave, indicating an opening from above. Even filtered through hanging vines that grew downward into the cavern from the overhead entrance, the light was enough to make out the glistening, wet stone walls that sparkled with crystal formations.

He heard the sound of dripping water immediately from the back reaches of the cave. Relief washed over him and he let out a heavy breath. The exertion he'd just made in climbing into the cave brought on a dizzy spell and he steadied himself against the wall of the cave. He thought, "If I can only make it to the water…"

He took a step forward and he could see the mirror-like surface of the cold pool of clear water at the back of the cave. Water dripped from the cave ceiling and down the walls, filling a natural concave rock formation with the life-giving stuff.

Small rocks littered the cave floor and he turned to the left when he heard the small furry animal running back toward the cave entrance, scared by his sudden appearance there. As he turned his head back toward the pool, his head swum, his senses reeled and his body pitched forward to lie motionless on the cave floor only a few feet from the water he had so desperately sought.

September 22nd

It was Mendoza who found Don Alejandro slumped on the ground. Dr. Hernandez was called and his diagnosis was that it was the elder caballero's heart that caused the man to collapse. He was taken to one of the mission rooms for a night so the doctor could be close at hand should he be needed. By the next day, Don Alejandro was ready to return to his own bed in his own house. The fact that he was getting grumpier was a good sign that he was improving.

But there were tongues that wagged about the subject of his visit to the Alcalde. De Soto had made no bones about it. Don Alejandro was having hallucinations if he thought his son, Diego, had been Zorro!

Diego de la Vega! Zorro? Could it be? The town buzzed with speculation. Some believed it immediately. They declared they knew it all along. Some dismissed the idea as the ravings of a distraught father. Don Diego was a good man, to be sure, but a hero? Zorro? It hardly seemed possible. Besides, hadn't Zorro been seen since Don Diego was lost at sea? The talk went on and on, and there was not a soul that could restrain from the speculation.

Don Alejandro remained in his bed. There was really no reason now to even try to get up and return to his life. What life was there left for him? His only son was dead. Even Victoria, who had been like a daughter to him all these years, was gone from him, perhaps never to return as well. His dear wife had already gone to be with God, so many years ago. Perhaps it would be his time soon too.

His dreams brought them all to his mind as he slept, and with them, the guilt he felt at failing them all. Even Victoria. I should have gone with her! I should have gone…

September 25th

Big Jim and his men had inspected four of the five-island chain for three days. When it came time to lower the small boats into the water to row out to the fifth, Victoria was already standing there.

"I'm going too this time, Big Jim," she announced

"Señorita, I'm not sure you should—"

"I am sure you don't, but I'm going anyway. This could be it, you said so yourself." She looked at him straight in the eye. "The debris, you did see it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. But it might not even be from the Perro Salado. It could be from some other ship. And there wasn't that much. I'm just saying I don't want you to be disappoint—"

"Disappointment I can live with. Diego I cannot live without. No, don't say it. No matter what we may find, I'm going." She looked out at the beach which was just far enough away that not a thing could be discerned from this distance. It looked like nothing but a white sandy beach with palm trees some distance from shore. Without the long looking glass, one couldn't even see the debris that had brought her so much hope.

"Very well," he said, giving in to her. He had already learned it would be useless to try to stop her. "But if you go, you are under my orders, understand?" He shook a finger at her face. "I won't brook any insubordination from my men and I won't from you either."

"Understood, Captain!" She saluted him comically and the action drew laughter from his men. The glare they received from Big Jim quieted them down fairly quickly. "I'm sorry, Big Jim, I promise to be good. Just don't leave me on board," she pleaded with him.

"Just remember my orders. Don't go running off from the group. We don't know what's out there," he warned.

All the way to the island, she couldn't keep still. Here and there along the beach, things came into view as they approached: bits of cloth, pieces of wood, a bottle and a wooden flask. Her hope soared with each new bit of flotsam. If anything from the ship had made it this far, so could Diego!

They beached the small boat and waded the last few steps through the shallow surf. Victoria ran ahead, heedless of Big Jim's cries to hang back with the men. He sighed heavily. He had known this would happen. Motioning for half the men to break off to the left, and half to the right, he joined the girl at the palm trees straight ahead.

"Victoria, this way," he directed her and led her away to the right following just behind the men. At least this way, they'd find anything first and could warn him. He could hold her back if they gave him a signal that they had found the worst.

"There's nothing here," she wailed plaintively.

"He may not have come ashore at this spot. There's another inlet down that way."

They walked for a good half hour before one of the men shouted. Big Jim and Victoria exchanged quick glances before taking off at a run.

"Big Jim! Look here. It's a camp. It's recent too." The man gestured here and there to the signs that lay about them.

Victoria's hopes lifted to the skies. She could even see the indications that somebody had been here. The remains of a campfire were clearly there, though it was evident it had not been used that day; the ashes were cold. There were coconuts strewn about, many broken open and the meat removed. A small handmade shelter stood back amidst the low shrubs and some crudely made tools lay on the sand as well.

"Captain!" The cry came from behind her and startled her as she looked intently at the tools. She turned to see Big Jim and the man called Franco examining something between them. She walked over to the men slowly, hesitating for the first time, wondering fearfully what they held.

"It's like paper!" Franco said with a good amount of wonder in his voice. "What does it say?" he asked his captain, for he had never learned to read yet.

"Señorita? Is this Diego's writing?" He handed her the fragile leaves of white porous stuff, and she took it in her hands as if it were something very precious.

"Oh, Madre de Dios! It is. It is!" She looked up at Big Jim with eyes wet from unshed tears. The crudely made papers before her held Diego's writing, his precious, precious writing. He was alive! She let the thought wash over her like a rain shower. Diego is alive. Her mind repeated it over and over as the handmade paper wavered in her vision. She couldn't even see it through the salty tears. She handed it back to Jim to read it to her, thankful for the small, yet huge, fortune that he could now read the words set down there.

"This page here, it says, 'made the knife' and 'no rain since…' I can't make out the rest. It's smudged. The surface is so uneven." He thumbed through the other sheets. There were four in all, small and covered in a difficult writing. Clearly, this had only been a partial success at paper making for Diego. "This page says, 'the well is drying up, must find…" He broke off as he heard the sob from Victoria.

All this meant was that Diego had survived the shipwreck. He had been here. It didn't mean he was still alive. The realization hit her like a terrible wave. She looked around at the deserted camp and the men who were searching all around it. "He's not here, Big Jim! Where is he? Where is he now?" she cried, almost ready to fall down and give up on the spot. So close and still he was not here. So very, very close!

Big Jim enfolded the señorita in his huge embrace and held her as she cried. He watched over her head as his men continued to scour the area and report their findings one by one.

"A well, over there. It's dried up and looks like it dried up days ago."

"Found this over there," one pirate said as he handed his captain a piece of cloth.

Every clue that could be found was taken to Big Jim and passed under his nose as he stood there, holding the señorita. Finally, she broke away from him.

"Go! Go search. You're the one that can find him for me. Please!"

"Stay here, then. You hear?" He looked at her sternly, and she nodded silently.

He walked immediately over to the place where the men had seen the well. He got down on his knees and inspected it intently.

There were pieces of coconut shells with small squares of cloth atop each one lined up near the large hole. The first cloth was very soiled. The last in line was fairly clean. All the ones in between were various stages in between.

"What does it mean, Captain?"

"He was filtering the water in stages to make it cleaner. A good idea," Big Jim said, but he only wished he felt better about that dried up mud hole.

Then he looked all around in the bushes and along the ground for some distance around the area. After walking down the beach for another hundred yards, he came back to the group and cautiously approached Victoria.

"Señorita, he was here for a while. He dug that well and I can tell you that the water that came from there was tainted. I don't know what with…just that the wildlife around here was keeping their distance, and that's odd unless there was something wrong with the water. Diego should have guessed that. He was – is certainly smart enough…"

Her head had come up at his use of past tense to describe Diego and she was looking at him with defiance.

"But Diego couldn't have even reached this island until days after the shipwreck, not even if he were conscious and swimming straight for it. My guess is he floated in on that bit of mast there." Big Jim pointed down the beach to a large piece of mast sticking half in the water and half out of it. Who knows if he lay there for hours or days! But whatever had happened, when he had set up this camp, he had needed fresh water, and he had needed it for days. By the time he dug that well, he may not have been thinking as clearly as usual for him."

Big Jim shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up at the palms that stood gracefully nearby. "He was still in fairly good physical shape, for he seems to have shinnied up those palm trees for the food. He also managed to catch some fish, made tools, and even paper and ink. Only Don Diego would think that as important as all the rest!" He laughed at last and even got a small, choked peal of laughter out of the señorita.

Once he started drinking from that," he pointed to the abandoned hole, "his reasoning was not perfect."

He shook his head. "Victoria." He called her by her name, indicating how seriously he was about to speak. "There are some tracks leading into the brush up that way. I think he went off to search for the place the animals have been using for water." He finished with the tale and took her hand.

There's no telling what we're going to find up that trail. We're close. I'm sure of it. I'd rather you stayed here, and I think that would be Diego's wish as well."

She looked up at him with her chin in the air. "Well, I don't care at all what you or Diego would rather I do right now! I'm going with you. I can take whatever we find, just as long as we find him." She sniffed loudly and hoped she sounded determined. Inside, she was wavering with fear. Big Jim was right. She should stay there. She knew that. But she would not, and she knew that too.

"All right, then, let's be going. Men! Gather up all this. Anything that Diego might want to keep," he said it more for the señorita's sake than for anything else. He didn't imagine Diego would care one way or another. But those items might just be the only things they'd be taking with them today.