A.N – Thank you guys for your quick, kind reviews yesterday. They made me so happy, I wrote this whole chapter today! (also because I felt inspired to carry on with this action piece, as I want to see this story finished even more than you do.)

Clickgeniera got the wink to "The Princess Bride" in the last chapter: "as you wish". As if De Soto was taking the piss out of Wesley and Pirate Roberts, hahaha.

(Btw, there is another reference to "The Princess Bride" in this chapter, because on that movie, when the pirates capture Wesley, he survives somehow, becoming their leader. Very believable, right? So fitting for NWZ as well, ;) )

Once again, thanks for reading and reviewing, and please, carry on with the comments. Thanks.

Chapter 111 – The big bang

As the Santa Eulalia broke off, the drunken pirates surrounded the man in black. De Soto didn't look too concerned about it, but Zorro still held his blade to his throat, using his rather short body as a shield. More than anything, the pirate captain only seemed amused by the situation.

"What are you going to do now, Diego?" Benito de Soto said, mocking his name with a derisive tone and a smirk rather similar to Ignacio's. Another family trait. "You better give up now, pringao, because you're dead. You can't fight us all."

Indeed, he couldn't, as there were at least thirty pirates left alive and kicking on that ship, plus a few injured ones, like De Soto's second. Dangerous men who were armed, unpredictably drunk, and especially angry and keen on revenge because their prey full of riches and women was sailing away, little by little putting some distance between the two vessels. And he had no idea what he should do now, what his best course of action would be.

Should he keep them entertained with that bluffing game for as long as he could, so the Santa Eulalia had a better chance to escape, as Ulloa had suggested? Sure, but that would not be enough. He had to get to the hatch somehow to go down, below deck, to use the lamp he had left ready to ignite the gunpowder, before any of those cabrones discovered his set-up. However, if he tried that approach too soon and failed to blow up the ship, the bastards would give chase to the Santa Eulalia and catch up with it in no time at all. Maybe would it be better to try to finish the job he had started, destroying the jibs and the connection of those sails to the bowsprit? Probably, but no way the angry pirates would step back and let him do that if he lifted his sword one inch off their leader's neck.

One more time during that awful day, Diego mentally cursed to himself a silent, big "F". On top of his misery, his leg hurt like hell, and he was losing a significant amount of blood through that wound, in dire need of a tourniquet to stop the haemorrhage. Another reason why he couldn't think clearly, and make a decision.

Sensing his hesitation, De Soto kept taunting him.

"Don't know what to do, ah, Diego? I tell you what, man: give up now, and I promise I'll kill you fast. I'll provide a quick and painless death. Otherwise…" he warned quietly, pausing for effect before he yelled a crazy threat at the top of his lungs: "…WE'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE, POUR A BUCKET OF SALT ON YE, AND HANG YER BLEEDING BODY OFF THE MAIN, TO ROAST UNDER THE FECKIN' SUN!"

The pirates roared insanely then, loving that suggestion, coming even closer, encouraged by those words.

"Order your men to step back, away from us! I don't want anybody behind my back!"

"Don't move, guys! He's only bluffing!"

"The hell I am!" Zorro cried then, pressing harder with the blade in the middle of the pirate's neck, cutting through the whole skin. As De Soto's started to bleed more, feeling the blade so close to his windpipe, he reconsidered.

"All right, back off! Back off!"

But the pirates didn't move.

"He's bleeding," Bustamante said, pointing at the small puddles of blood Zorro was leaving behind.

"Yeah, Cap'n. Tomás hooked his leg before he killed 'im. I saw it," another pirate said.

"Where?" De Soto asked, rather too interested, trying to look behind without moving his head much, through the corner of his eye.

"Top left, mid-ham. Deep and nasty," the witness said.

"Don't you even dare…" Zorro warned, almost growling, moving his injured leg back a bit, away from the treacherous De Soto. If he behaved like his cousin, it was only a matter of time before the pirate captain would target his wound.

At that point, he knew what he had to do: give up any hope of surviving, and go for it. Blow up the ship, right then and there, even if he had to apply the flame directly to the gunpowder barrel.

"Back off I said!" he cried as he started moving towards the hatch, dragging De Soto along. As the blade dug deeper into his throat, cutting into the muscles, the pirate finally took him seriously.

"Do as he says! Fall back!"

His men finally obeyed the order and retreated a few steps, in front of Diego.

"Come on! Walk!"

"Where to, hijo de puta?" De Soto cried, angry, but still walked along with Zorro, "Where the fuck you wanna go?"

"You'll see."

He headed in the general direction of the hatch, but as he feared, just before they reached it, De Soto punched his left thigh, taking advantage of his shorter height. Zorro cried in pain, relaxing his grip just enough so De Soto could push the blade away from his neck, elbow his stomach while wriggling like a weasel, and escape unharmed.

"Kill him!" the pirate captain cried once he got away, placing a hand over the slash in his neck to stop the trickle of blood.

A couple of pirates shot their guns, but only one bullet grazed Zorro's side, not causing major harm. Before anybody else could attack him, he ran to the hatch and jumped through the opening, not bothering with the steps.

ZZZ

The Santa Eulalia was still within hearing distance when the pirates roared as one, so everybody aboard heard the hair-raising sound. Victoria, still at the bridge, held onto the captain's arm again, pulling at his sleeve.

"We have to go back!"

"I'm sorry. You know we can't," Ulloa said, ignoring her as he continued to steer his ship away from the pirates, and away from Diego. His imagination ran wild then, recalling the array of torture routines pirates could inflict upon their victims, and wished they would give De la Vega a quick, dignified death instead. At least he deserved that.

"We can't leave him there on his own! It's not fair! We have to help him!"

"He chose his fate, and he did it to save you. I can't go back there to get us all captured again, especially you. I promised your husband I would get you to safety, away from those degenerates, and I intend to keep that promise, no matter what!"

Victoria insisted a bit more, but in the end, she went quiet, knowing deep down the captain was right. Diego had sacrificed himself for her, and as much as she would like to help him, it was impossible; it wasn't in her hands. Still, she hoped he could make it somehow. After all, he was the mighty Zorro, and he had made it out of impossible situations many times before. Maybe he could work his magic, and gain the trust of the pirates to become their leader, or something… No, that was too far-fetched!

Unfortunately, her feeling of hope was short-lived, annihilated when they heard the gunshots, that sounded like execution ones. At that point, she fell on her knees, wailing in desperation. Diego was surely gone now, for ever.

"I'm so sorry," Ulloa said, leaving the steering wheel unattended for a moment to help her up, trying to soothe her. "It's over now. We'll remember him like the hero he was, the one who saved us all."

Descansa en paz, De la Vega… Or should I say…Zorro? he thought, rather moved by the situation, and her desperation. Whatever. Still a hero.

He looked back at the Burla Negra then, while Victoria cried a river in his arms one more time. Obviously, if Diego was dead already and the pirates had regained control of their ship, it was only a matter of time before they turned around to chase them again.

Damn bastards!

He looked up at the rigging then. A couple of the still functional sails needed trimming to be more efficient, but he had no crew to do it. The only unharmed men he had available, Almeida and the boy, were busy at the cockpit treating the few survivors, and he, although not feeling so well himself, with broken ribs and a badly battered body, was busy at the helm. Besides, even if the contramaestre was available to climb up the mast, he would not be able to do the job on his own, as at least four men would be required for each sail.

The truth was, right then, aboard the Santa Eulalia, the only able-bodied people left to work as deckhands wore skirts, and one of them was right there, crying in his arms.

"If we want to get away from those bastards now, I'll need your help."

"My help?" Victoria said, lifting her head to look at him through her drenched, red eyes.

"Yours, and all the other ladies'."

"How? How can we help you?"

Ulloa looked at the sails again. He would have to send the women up the damaged mast to reset them, when they didn't have a clue on how to do it. A dangerous prospect. Not nice. Not at all. And some of them where so upset already after their ordeal, looking so fragile, and also hurting, in more ways than one, it was rather harsh to ask them to do that.

"Well…"

God help us!

ZZZ

Diego dropped to the lower deck like a dead weight, crashing at the bottom on the stairs. He cried in pain when he banged his injured leg on one of the steps, taking a hand to his wound, that deep gash that kept bleeding profusely, unattended. At least, that last bullet didn't cause much harm, as it only hit the muscles at his flank, not penetrating into his abdomen, and he didn't break a leg by leaping into the hatch like that. As fast as he could, he got up to wedge the pantry door between the hatch opening and the stairs, as a temporary solution to stop the incoming pirates. Then he picked up his sword and the still burning lamp, and hobbled downstairs to the lowest deck.

Ignoring the gunpowder trail he had left prepared, he ran towards the santabárbara to ignite the wick much closer. But half-way there, thinking about Victoria, and how much he wanted to keep living to see the birth of his child, he didn't apply the flame directly to the barrel, but a few meters from it, so he could still have a slim chance to make it out of there.

As the gunpowder hissed on ignition, sparkling and sizzling its way towards the barrel, Diego reckoned he had about 30 seconds to get off the ship. He limped back upstairs then, giving up his initial plan to use the pantry door as a floating platform, just as the first pirate managed to displace that improvised barrier to get through the hatch, climbing down into the upper gundeck. Avoiding that pirate, Diego staggered towards one of the open gunports and squeezed through it, jumping off the ship, into the ocean. As the pirates fired more weapons and bullets hit the water all around him, he swam away from the ship as fast as he could, but he wasn't fast enough.

ZZZ

Still crying for her loss, when Ulloa told her the sort of help he required, Victoria looked at him, incredulous.

"You want us to get up there? Up the mast, to the top? Seriously?"

"Yes. There's nobody else left to do it, I'm afraid."

"But we are not strong enough to pull those sails! And we don't know how to tie the knots properly!"

"I'll teach you how. If at least one of you stays here at the bridge, steering the helm, and Almeida and the boy are available, I'll only need another pair of hands to star with. Yours, for example."

Victoria thought about it for a moment. Then she wiped her tears with determination.

"Yes. Mary-Jo can stay at the helm, and I'll help you."

"Good. Can you call her to the bridge, and tell Almeida he's needed?"

Victoria left the bridge like a woman on a mission, keen to distract herself from the gloomy thoughts about Diego's demise. Unfortunately, Almeida and Terrance were in the middle of a gruesome procedure, and they couldn't leave the cockpit to help the captain right then, or that man would bleed to death. So, Victoria recruited Doña Margarita, Mary-Jo, and Katie, and returned with them to the bridge.

"Sorry, the contramaestre can't help you right now; he's treating one of your men, amputating his arm. You'll have to do with us."

"All right. Who will stay at the helm?"

"Me," Doña Margarita said, approaching the wheel. "At my age, I can't go up there; don't be ridiculous… What should I do?"

"Not much. Just keep the helm steady on the same heading: northeast. To do that, don't let go of the wheel, and don't let this mark move away from that notch."

"All right. I think I can do that," she said, taking the wheel with confidence. But when the captain let go of it, she realized it wasn't so easy, as it required some strength to keep it still.

"All right? Any questions?"

"No, I'll be fine," she replied with a smile, faking it. "Go and set those sails, please. Hurry up!"

Ulloa grabbed a piece of rope then and demonstrated how to tie the knots required for the job. As the women practiced them, they heard more gunshots, followed by an explosion.

They all looked back at the pirate ship. It was in flames, in the middle of a huge, smoke cloud. More explosions followed as the rest of their gunpowder ignited all over the ship, after the initial blast, with pieces of wood flying everywhere as the Burla Negra disintegrated in thousands of pieces.

"That's Diego! He blew it up!" Victoria said, letting go of the rope. "He's alive!

"Maybe he was, but surely he would be dead now," Ulloa said. "No one can survive that."

"You don't know that! We have to go back!"

"No, we have to keep going."

"What if he jumped off the ship before it exploded, and he's now treading water, waiting for us to pick him up?" Victoria insisted. "We have to return! You owe him that, just in case!"

Ulloa hesitated, looking back at the pirate ship one more time. She was right. It could not be a coincidence: De la Vega blew that ship somehow, and he could still be alive.

"All right. We'll return to check what happened. But you ladies should be ready on deck with guns, to shoot any surviving pirate that tries to come aboard. Deal?"

"Deal. We won't let any of those bastards climb up here," Mary-Jo said. After losing her husband, and the gang-rape she had endured at their hands, she looked only too keen to start shooting.

"All right. There we go," Ulloa said, taking the wheel again, much to Doña Margarita's relief.

ZZZZZ