“I don’t like, sir,” I said, as soon as he had given orders to four men to follow us, and the next minute we were climbing up to stand upon the deck.
“No doubt about it,” said Mr Brooke through his teeth. “She has been plundered, and then left to drift ashore or to burn.”
For there from the forehold curled up the pillar of smoke we had seen, and a dull crackling noise came up, telling that, though slowly, the fire was steadily burning.
We could not see much below for the smoke, and Mr Brooke led the way forward to the forecastle hatch, which lay open.
“Below! Any one there?” cried my officer, but all was silent as the grave.
One of the men looked at him eagerly.
“Yes, jump down.”
The man lowered himself down into the dark forecastle, and made a quick inspection.
“Any one there?”
“No, sir. Place clear and the men’s kits all gone.”