Chapter 1
Inspired by the 'Zorro' character of Johnston McCulley, 1919
1 - A WARM BIENVENIDO
“PIRATES!”
My eyes opened, and I yawned loudly. The gentle swishing of the waves had put me into a soothing slumber. Commotion echoed from the deck. Dust dropped from the ceiling. Footsteps thudded from above.
I hoped what I heard was part of a dream, but my heart sank, and I was flooded with dread when that word echoed again.
“PIRATES! They’re going to board the ship!”
I sprang out of the makeshift bed that was hidden amongst large barrels and ran for the deck. I bumped into several people and tripped on the stairs before squinting as my face met the warm sun.
The fierce wind whipped at my face as I stood up slowly. My feet buckled, and I almost fell again because of what I saw. It was the skull and crossbones of their pirate flag…a jolly roger.
“Everyone on deck!” our captain ordered. Our ship was small and for cargo; mainly clothes and wine from Spain. The rich land owners, the caballeros, always bought expensive goods from Spain for their colony of Spanish Guinea in Africa.
Anchor drawn. Sails down. My heart raced. I struggled to breathe…then they dropped their anchor.
“They’re not here for us,” the captain said calmly. “They only want the cargo. Don’t give them a reason to leave with anything or anyone else.”
The pirates boarded, and the planks groaned from the extra weight. They bared their fang like teeth, and I noticed many of them were missing a few. They each had curved sabres on their hips, and their clothes were dirty.
They prowled the deck like hyenas on a scavenge, howling with laughter as they dragged heavy barrels of wine and beer along the deck. I recoiled at the sound of the barrels scratching against the floor.
One of the pirates was a huge, mountain of a man. He wore a bandana on his head, and his forearms were like tree trunks. He made the large barrels look small as he carried multiple over his shoulders. He put the barrels down and clapped his hands.
Suddenly, the pirates parted and left a path in the middle. A man strutted slowly, and the pirates cheered as he walked by them, raising their swords in the air and singing their songs.
The man was thin and stood up straight with his hands behind his back. He had one hoop earring as his other ear had been mutilated, and he had a dirty bandana on his head. He was European with tanned skin that was sweaty, and he had thick, curly hair on his chest and back. He had no shirt or shoes, and his nails were dirty, long, and sharp like talons.
He waved his claw-filled hand, and his men ran through every corner of the ship for any valuables.
“Sit down, señores!” the pirate captain bellowed, and our crew obeyed. “Do not be afraid, no harm will come to you, fine gentlemen!”
His eyes gleamed after noticing our captain, and he strolled towards him. The pirate’s hair was long and matted, and his beard was ragged with patches all over.
“From one capitán to another,” he said while looking down. “You have my word that no harm will come to your crew or my name isn’t Enrique Lázaro, ’El Diablo Peludo.’ We are all hard-working men after all. I never hurt one of my own.”
Lázaro stretched his hand and took the hat from our captain’s head, and placed it upon his own.
“I’ll be keeping this and shall presume it’s a token of your goodwill. You don’t object, do you, Capitán?
Our captain shook his head. The pirates’ numbers greatly dwarfed those on our smaller cargo ship, so we had no choice.
Lázaro turned away but stopped in his tracks and drew his sword. His small black eyes stared into my soul.
“¡Aquí, señor!” he growled.
He had told me to go towards him, but my legs wouldn’t budge. His curved sword glinted in the sun.
“For your sake, I would suggest that you don’t make me ask again…caballero,” he growled at me. I stumbled forward, trying to keep my head down so that I didn’t meet his eyes.
“Look me in the eye when I speak! You are not beneath me!”
I turned my gaze towards him. He was slightly taller than me and his sword was dangerously close to my belly. He raised his arm, and I cowered in fear, which made him smile.
“Your hands look soft, your clothes are new, and you flinch at the mere sight of a sword. You stood out like a sore thumb…But you look different from the other caballeros. Your mother is a local, and your father is Spanish, I presume?
I nodded slowly.
What is your name, caballero?”
“Mateo… de la Paz,” I said quietly.
Lázaro smiled. “Son of Alfonso de la Paz. He has finally claimed you as his son? How long have you been away for, Don Mateo?”
“T-Ten years,” I stuttered.
“So you have picked your side. Rejected your local name and embraced your Spanish one. You have abandoned your people, those who look like you and suffered alongside you, deserting your comrades and joining the enemy.”
“That’s not wha-”
“A pirate of all people can understand someone doing what they need to survive, señor,” Lázaro smiled. “I won’t judge…but that means that you are now part of the problem.”
Lázaro walked in front of me with his hands behind his back. He flashed a kick into my stomach that sent me crashing into the side of the ship. The air had been knocked out of me. Pain invaded every muscle in my stomach. I felt a sharp discomfort in my back, too, but I tried not to cry out.
“Consider this your warm welcome, Don Mateo.”
He pointed his curved sword. It was inches from my throat. His hands were gnarled and rough like sandpaper. Our captain stood up, but he turned his black eyes.
“I’d stay put for your own good, Capitán.”
Our captain sat down again.
“Look around you,” Lázaro snarled at me. Spit flew from his mouth and onto my face as he talked. His breath smelled of tobacco and alcohol.
I looked and noticed the pirates smiling their cavity-ridden smiles from blackened molar to blackened molar. Sanchez, who was the huge pirate, was second in command, the first mate. He led the way in loading their pirate ship with our goods.
“I let them eat first before I do,” said Lázaro. “You caballeros wouldn’t know what that’s like. You trample over others. My men don’t work for me, they are with me, comprende?”
I nodded my head quickly.
“I show them my gratitude. They are the ones who keep the ship ticking. I owe them everything.”
He pricked my arm with the sword, and I winced.
“The dons take land that doesn’t belong to them. They destroy it and twist it from something beautiful into something in your image. Something vile!”
He ran the sword down my arm slowly, and I cried out. I panicked as my blood ran down my shirt and dripped onto the deck.
“Don Mateo, you need to learn that all men are equal before the eyes of the Lord,” he chuckled. “Or…El Diablo-”
A horn blared, and the pirates were startled. Lázaro looked up and walked away from me.
“Vamonos! It’s time to go, amigos!” he shouted to his crew. “Sanchez! Let’s get this ship up and running!”
I waited for him to be long gone before mustering the courage to stand up and look. I tasted relief. I saw gold and red. The Spanish flag. The military had come to our aid!
The pirates had quickly set sail, and Lázaro shouted over the waves.
“Till next time! ¡Hasta luego…caballero!”
Later that day, we arrived at the port for the island of Fernando Po. The island had changed a lot since I was a boy. I took a deep breath of the fresh air of Spanish Guinea. It was good to be home.
A short Spaniard with greying hair and a cane hobbled onto the deck and gave me a warm embrace.
“Mateo!” my father beamed. “You have grown so much, my boy. How does it feel to be home!”
I winced because of the sharp pain in my arm. He had put pressure where the pirate captain had marked me.
“Qué pasa, hijo?” he asked after noticing my reaction. “What’s wrong, son?”
“It was a-”
I was interrupted by someone. He was a tall, fair-skinned black man in a blue military uniform. He had a prominent Adam’s apple, a long, pointy nose, and a sharp stare. His moustache was thin, and his beard looked like it could cut me. His voice was deep and commanding.
“Don Alfonso,” said the man. “Your son was attacked by pirates. My forces were able to scare them away, but not before they stole some goods from the ship.”
“Capitán Vincente, I don’t care about the cargo!” Alfonso beamed. “My son is back! After ten long years!”
He hugged me even tighter this time, and I winced again. It felt like the sword was still in my arm.
“But señor,” said Vincente sternly. “The pirates were led by ’El Diablo Peludo’.
My father’s eyes widened, and he rubbed his wedding ring.
“But he’s not been seen in el pueblo for years! It’s been over a decade since he has been near this town.”
“I know, señor,” Vincente replied. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to apprehend him and bring him to justice. If he shows himself again, we will stop him.”
“Thank you, capitán,” my father said before hugging me again. “For allowing my son to arrive in one piece.”
“Yes, yes,” Vincente smiled, and I noticed his eyes were different colours. The right was brown, and the left was green. “Your precious son. You can’t put a price on his safety, señor.”
“I will try, Capitán,” my father said. “The garrison will get a hefty reward. It’s the least I could do.”
“We are just happy to serve, Don Alfonso,” Vincente smiled. I think I caught him looking at my father’s gold ring.
“Happy to serve,” he said as his voice grew deeper and quieter. “Happy to serve.”
