Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
General
Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
We went aft, to find the hatches all off and thrown about anyhow, while
the cargo had been completely cleared out, save one chest of tea which
had been broken and the contents had scattered.
"No mistake about it, Herrick," said Mr Brooke; and he went on to the
after-hatch, which was also open and the lading gone.
The next minute we were at the companion-way, and Mr Brooke hailed
again, but all was still. Just then the man peering over my shoulder
sniffed sharply like some animal.
The sound sent a shudder through me, and Mr Brooke turned to the man
sharply--
"Why did you do that?"
"Beg pardon, sir," stammered the man; "I thought that--as if--there
was--"
He did not finish.
"Come on," said Mr Brooke sternly, while I shuddered again, and
involuntarily my nostrils dilated as I inhaled the air, thinking the
while of a butchered captain and officers lying about, but there was not
the faintest odour, and I followed my officer, and then for a moment a
horrible sickening sensation attacked me, and I shuddered.
But it all passed off, and, myself again directly, I was gazing with the
others at the many signs which told us as plainly as if it had been
written, that the crew of the unfortunate barque had barricaded
themselves in here and made a desperate resistance, for her broken doors
lay splintered and full of the marks made by axes and heavy swords. The
seats were broken; and bulkheads, cabin windows, and floor were horribly
stained here and there with blood, now quite dry and black, but which,
after it had been shed, had been smeared about and trampled over; and
this in one place was horribly evident, for close up to the side, quite
plain, there was the imprint of a bare foot--marked in blood--a great
wide-toed foot, that could never have worn a shoe.
"Rather horrid for you, Herrick," said Mr Brooke in a low voice, as if
the traces of death made him solemn; "but you must be a man now. Look,
my lad, what the devils--the savage devils--have done with our poor
Scotch brothers!"
"Yes, I see," I whispered; "they must have killed them all."
"But I mean this--there, I mean."
I looked at him wonderingly as he pointed to the floor, for I did not
understand.
The next moment, though, I grasped his meaning, and saw plainly enough
what must have happened, for from where we stood to the open stern
windows there were long parallel streaks, and I knew that, though they
were partially trampled out by naked feet, as if they had been passed
over dozens of times since, the savage wretches must have dragged their
victims to the stern windows and thrust them out; any doubt thereon
being cleared away by the state of the lockers and the sills of the
lights.
Just then a peculiar hissing sound came to my ears, and I faced round
quickly, as did Mr Brooke, for I felt startled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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