Sal and Dumas crept onto the dock at midpoint to survey the goods. One of the watchmen moved. What could Sal do to distract him?
“Fumar, smoke?” Sal said. He strode right up to the man in his military jacket disguise. When the guard looked at him, Sal moved to block the man’s view of Dumas. He reached for the tobacco Jean Paul planted in his pocket.
“Seguro, sure, why not?” the watchman said. He was smooth-faced and younger than Sal expected. Taking advantage of the kid, Sal’s hands shook while he attempted to roll a cigarette.
The second watchman began to snore. Dumas lowered the goods onto the dinghy. Nervous, Sal tried to engage the young watchman. Without thinking, he began to hum one of Blas’s favorite tunes.
“Bueno, a good old song…” the young man recognized it. At least it kept him distracted from Dumas’ activities behind him.
Jacques and Jean Paul were nervous. They signaled too early with a bright flame from the main ship. The other watchman, an older man, opened his eyes. Dumas reacted quickly, hitting him with the flat side of a shovel and knocking him unconscious.
Then Dumas dragged the shovel toward the younger watchman near Sal. The fellow hummed, unaware of anything but enjoying his cigarette and a song…whack! The young man sprawled out on the dock, looking a lot like Blas --the night he fell onto the Mission grounds.
“He didn’t deserve that,” Sal said. “He’s just a kid.”
“He’ll be ok,” Dumas said. “They’ll come to and make up an excuse for the lost goods.” Dumas’ eyes burned with an anger Sal had seen somewhere before. “If we kill ’em both, there’d be a bounty on our heads. Come on, let’s go.”
Dumas wanted nothing more than to boss Sal around and prove himself to Jacques and Jean Paul. How could Sal be a part of this violence?
They escaped back to the pirate’s schooner. Anyone seeing Sal’s actions would see the truth: Salvador Tenorio had become a real soldier of fortune - a pirate.
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