Chapter 109 – Black fury
When Ulloa regained consciousness, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Ojeda's face. The first officer lay on his side on the deck boards, a short distance away from the captain, with a bleeding hole in his forehead and lifeless, open eyes that stared at him from the nothingness of death. That sight spurred Ulloa's rage, even more when he saw how the pirates harassed the scared women, groping them and chasing them all over the upper deck, ripping off their clothes as they screamed, terrified. In the middle of it all, Terrance tried to defend his sister and grandmother, but the amused pirates just toyed with the boy, pushing him around, greatly entertained in that drunken fest of booze and sex.
Feeling dizzy as never before on a ship, Ulloa got up slowly with a hand on his side, holding onto his busted ribs, not sure what he could do in his sorry state to help the women, but he had to try. His head was bleeding, cut by the shattered glass of that rum bottle, and so did his broken nose and split lip. In fact, his whole body ached after all those punches and kicks he had received, and he could hardly stand up straight.
Holding onto the rail, he checked on his crew, but they all looked worse than he was, except the contramaestre. Almeida, making the most of the distraction the women and the boy had provided, as nobody watched the injured prisoners anymore, had sneaked away, reaching the hatch. From there, he silently signalled to the captain, pretending to be shooting, and then disappeared through the opening, searching for weapons.
Ulloa looked around, but he could not see Diego. If he wasn't dead under the canvas anymore, where the hell was he, and what was he doing? He had no idea, but when he spotted Victoria struggling with the pirates, like the rest of the women, he remembered how he had promised De la Vega he would protect her and take her to safety, no matter what.
Why did you fall for it, goddammit! That woman should have followed the plan, blowing that gunpowder barrel, and it would all be over by then, for everybody. No need for the women to be raped and killed afterwards. And no need for him to come to the rescue with bare hands, like a fool.
ZZZ
Down below the Burla Negra's deck, Zorro made his way to the santabárbara, the area of the ship at the stern, a space that housed the gunroom and the mechanism that moved the rudder, connecting it all the way to the helm. On the way there, he heard a noise, like a soft cry. Then, he saw something he would have never wanted to see, a disturbing image that would haunt him forever, and a cruel reminder of what Victoria's fate could be at the hands of the pirates if he failed.
In a dark recess, close to the sailor's sleeping quarters, he found a woman in a terrible state. She was tied to an iron ring, naked, covered in filth and nasty bruises, bleeding with her legs spread wide open, also held by ropes, so tightly fasten that the bonds dug into her flesh at the wrists and ankles. She looked almost dead, but not quite, as she was still breathing, and wailing softly. Shocked by the state of her, Zorro swiftly cut all the ropes with his sword, taking a filthy rag from one of the sailor's cots to cover her up. She was hardly conscious, dehydrated and sick, and when he tried to lift her, she woke up to look at him with febrile, sunken, terrified eyes.
"Don't worry. You are safe now. Let me help you," he said as gently as he could, so she would trust him. However, using her last reserve of energy, the woman tried to scratch his face, but she lacked the strength to cause any real harm, mumbling some insults and incoherent words that sounded like French. Zorro tried again, delivering his message in that language.
"N'aie pas peur. Tu es en sécurité," he said, gently taking her hand away from his face. The woman stopped struggling, surprised, even more when Zorro gently placed a hand on her forehead. Even through the thickness of his leather gloves, he could feel the heat, as she was boiling hot, with a raging fever.
"Merci," she managed to whisper weakly, allowing him to lift her, going all floppy again.
God, what am I going to do with you? he thought as he took her away from that area, wishing his words were true, when in fact, he could not promise anything at all, as he had no idea if he would succeed. And unfortunately, having to take that woman with him to safety before he would blow up the pirate's ship, was very inconvenient, and a real handicap.
He took her closer to the stairs to the upper deck, and left her resting there. As he got up, one of the pirates still on board attacked him. He managed to dodge that sword directed to his chest, and quickly turned to hold onto the pirate's wrist to disarm him, hitting his face with his elbow. When the pirate dropped the sword, Zorro made a quick decision, spurred by the outrage caused by the state of that woman: he grabbed the man's head from behind, and with a swift, sudden move, he broke his neck. The pirate dropped to the floor, dead, but Zorro had no time for moral regrets: that man would have been dead sooner or later, so it didn't matter how he got dispatched.
With no time to lose, knowing the pirates would find the women soon, he got to the gunroom. He fitted a long wick to one of the gunpowder barrels, opened a hole in a smaller one, and carried it with him spreading a thick, continuous line of gunpowder all the way to the deck entrance and the stairs. Next, he pulled the door to the pantry off its hinges and left it ready, close to the hatch, also leaving a burning lamp there. At last, he checked again on the French lady, who looked rather quiet. She wasn't moving, or reacting at all to his touch anymore.
Dammit, he thought, removing his right glove to feel her neck. He couldn't find a pulse. She had passed away.
Hating the pirates even more, if that was at all possible, he cursed again, pulling the filthy rag over the poor woman's head, with a bittersweet feeling in his heart: he felt sorry for her, dying after her ordeal right when she could have been rescued, but at the same time, that poor soul looked damaged beyond repair, and having to take her with him overboard on those conditions would have been nearly impossible, so he couldn't help but feeling remorse because he also felt relieved she was gone and he didn't have to worry about her anymore.
He made the sign of the cross over her, muttered a quick prayer, and got up. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind from all those distressing, contradictory feelings, and got out, ready for battle, just in time.
ZZZ
De Soto looked at the lot, selecting his own prey: Victoria.
"Get your hands off me!" she cried when he took her by the elbow to get her away from the others. Shaking him off, she looked around with hope, but she couldn't see Diego anywhere.
"Feisty! Nice," the pirate said, grinning with delight. He had considered selecting the young girl, but that pretty brunette had a fire inside, much more interesting than a shy virgin.
"Are you Benito de Soto?" Victoria said as a distraction, overcoming her fear to gain some time while still hoping Diego could be about to do something.
"News about pirates travel fast, ah?" De Soto said, pleased by the unexpected ego massage. "How come you know my name?"
"Are you related to Alcalde Ignacio de Soto, by any chance?"
"A tall guy with fluffy, white hair like mine, but with crazy blue eyes?" Benito de Soto said, with a smirk so similar to the alcalde's, Victoria thought it had to be a family trait. Like the white hair. Not so much the eyes, as Benito's were brown.
"Yes, that one."
"I haven't seen my cousin Ignacio for years… Alcalde, ah? Qué cabrón. With his height, the tallest of the whole family, he always thought himself above the rest of us, the son of a bitch," the pirate said, chuckling with a vague, ambiguous fondness for his relative. "Where is he?"
"He's the new alcalde of the Pueblo de los Angeles, in California."
"Alcalde of a dusty little pueblo in the colonies? That doesn't suit his ambitions… The last time I heard of him, that gold digga' was in Madrid, trying to score with the rich dames at the Court." The pirate roughly grabbed Victoria's chin then, holding it up to have a better look at her. He kept staring at her, with a kind of lust she had only seen before in another person's eyes: her rapist Tomás. All the memories of the rape flooded her mind then, but she refused to give in to panic, choosing hostility and defiance instead, angry as she was because she had been fooled by Don Enrique. "Damn, you are pretty! I think I'll spare you today after we are done; we need new whores aboard, and you could be my special one."
"Get off me, cerdo!" she cried when he tore her top to grab her breasts.
"Leave her alone!" Ulloa cried behind him.
"What now?" De Soto said, turning to look at him, surprised to see that man back on his feet so soon. "Don't want to share your putita, Cap'n?"
"Leave… her… alone," Ulloa growled, stressing each word.
"Or… what?" De Soto said, laughing at the battered, unarmed man who could hardly stand anymore.
Ulloa looked around, hesitating. Or what, indeed. He had nothing. No weapons on sight.
"Bustamante! Who's watching these motherfuckers?" De Soto cried then, annoyed when he realized all his men were drinking and assaulting the women, in the wild party he had promised them at the start of the chase. Ignoring Ulloa, he pulled from Victoria's wrist to bring her closer to kiss her.
While Victoria struggled with him, trying to get away from such vile embrace, Ulloa grabbed a piece of wood from the fallen rigging. Don Enrique, tied to the main mast, tried to alert De Soto of his intentions, so Ulloa tested his improvised weapon on his face first, also whacking his friend Lorenzo for good measure. Then, he attacked De Soto, smashing that timber on the back of his head after Victoria bit the pirate's tongue and he let go of her. However, Ulloa didn't deliver a strong enough blow to knock De Soto out; he just staggered and fell over Victoria instead. Before he could hit him again, Bustamante arrived to kick the piece of wood from Ulloa's hands, whacking him with yet another hard punch to the face. The captain landed back on the deck boards, groaning.
"Wanna kiss my boots again, is that it?" De Soto said then, back on his feet, trying to kick Ulloa's face as hard as before, but he was so drunk and so dizzy by the blow he had received, he failed to do so, tripping and losing his balance, landing on his butt. When Bustamante bent down to help his boss up, Ulloa grabbed a dagger the pirate had in his belt, at the back, and slashed his legs with it, cutting the tendons behind his knees. The pirate fell, shouting all sorts of insults.
Angry as hell, De Soto got back on his feet to grab Victoria again, who was trying to get away, pulling his own dagger to her neck.
"Put that down, you son of a bitch, or I'll kill her!"
"Are you crazy? Not her!" Bustamante complained from the floor. "She's the best of the lot!"
"Shut up, you fool!" De Soto cried. "For her, I think he'd do anything… Don't you Cap'n?"
Ulloa looked up, so angry his jaw muscles and his eyelids twitched. How that motherfucker knew, he couldn't know, but he was right: De la Vega's words resonated in his head. He had promised he would protect that woman if his husband wasn't there, no matter what, and he had to be true to his word.
"Vete a la mierda!" Ulloa cried, getting up again, still wielding the dagger while more pirates came to help their captain and his second.
"Put that fucking blade DOWN!" De Soto yelled, applying more pressure to Victoria's neck, drawing some blood. "Or I'll kill her, I swear!"
"Go ahead! She'll be better off that way than in your filthy hands!"
He really meant that, but at the same time, he didn't want to see her dead. Unfortunately, his dagger looked useless against so many pirates, so Ulloa dropped it down in the end, lifting his hands up. Expecting De Soto would kill him next, he could only hope he'd dispatch him fast, as he had done with Ojeda, instead of goring him to spread his guts all over the deck, or something even worse.
"Jodido cabrón! Didn't you say there were no women aboard?" De Soto cried, letting go of Victoria the moment Ulloa dropped the dagger, coming closer to punch him again.
"There's gold in the hold, but it's hidden in the cargo!" Ulloa said from the floor then, trying to protect his head from the next shower of kicks. It was obviously a trick to gain time, but the mention of that word worked like magic on the drunken pirate.
"Gold? Nice. Where is it?"
"If you touch her again, or anybody else, I won't tell you where it is!"
"Doesn't matter, gilipollas. I'll find it myself, if there is any."
"You don't have the manpower to move all that load and search through it! It will take you days!" Ulloa insisted.
"Ain't you the smart-arse kind, ah?" De Soto said, hitting the captain again. "But that won't save you."
"Leave him, alone!" Victoria cried when he lifted his dagger to stab him in the back, as the final blow. "I'll go with you! But don't kill him, please!"
"Sweetheart, you are coming with me, no matter what, and he's a dead man, anyway…" De Soto said, grabbing her arm again. "They all are."
He nodded at his men, who were waiting for his signal. At once, all the pirates not busy with the women got on a stabbing rampage, attacking the defeated men they had gathered around. They went for any man still alive, in fact, standing or not, and that included Lorenzo and Don Enrique, still tied to the main mast. When a pirate tried to stab the captain, Almeida shot him down, returning from the lower deck with some of Don Enrique's weapons.
"STOP!" someone shouted from the other ship.
They all looked that way, spotting a man in black who looked like a Pirata del Caribe, the likes of the Treasure Island. He was at the foot of the main top mast, looking down at them.
"Who the fuck are you?" De Soto cried, so angry and surprised he relaxed his grip on Victoria. "Because I'm sure as hell you're not a feckin' pirate!"
"He's your worst nightmare!" Victoria said, wriggling out of De Soto's grasp, so relieved to see Zorro up there she couldn't help but grinning, despite the seriousness of the situation.
"As she said," Zorro said, cutting the stays and all the ropes that held the top sail in place, a sheet that ended up flapping, hanging lose from a single rope, totally useless. "I'm your worst nightmare. But you can call me the Dreaded Pirate Roberts."
He carried on destroying the rigging of that mast, using the ropes to swing from side to side as he went along, like an agile monkey, slashing everything with his sword.
"Get that motherfucker down!" De Soto cried, grabbing a musket from the nearest pirate still holding one. He aimed at the black-clad figure and shot, but he missed. "Come on, what are you waiting for! Don't let him destroy our ship!"
But that man in black kept doing precisely that, trying to cause as much damage as he could in the shortest amount of time. When he had finished with the rigging at the top of the main mast, he sank his dagger into the fabric of the mainsail and held onto it, letting his body weigh down on it, descending at great speed to land on the deck, actually tearing the sail in too.
"Everybody back to the Burla Negra! NOW!" De Soto cried.
The two pirates still on deck attacked the man in black, but he was too good with the sword, stabbing them both after a brief exchange. Before anybody else could get near him, he ran to the foremast and carried on destroying all its rigging, rendering it useless, whacking all the ropes and cables like a black fury.
"Maldito cabrón, hijo de su puta madre!" De Soto cried. "Get him! GET HIM!"
ZZZZZ