Satan seized the sculls and headed for the beach. The boats of the Juan and Natchez, already under way, were rowing as if for a wager, but the dinghy had the lead. They beached her, hauled her up a foot, and started over the rocks, running this time, heedless of broken limbs, Satan leading like the bounding kangaroo of Cleary’s and whooping as he went.
The rock bridge was still intact, but nearly the whole of the after part of the deck was gone.
“Go careful!” cried Satan. He got down on hands and knees and, crawling, followed by Ratcliffe, leaned over the break and looked.
Ratcliffe cried out in horror.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE CARGO
In that vast and gloomy interior the great beams showed like the ribs of some eviscerated monster and the honest light of day fell sick upon the cargo,—a cargo of skulls, ribs, vertebræ, and entire skeletons, piled high, as though five hundred men had struggled aft for exit in one mad rush and died heaped one upon the other like refuse. A charnel, limy smell rose, poisoning the air.
“Good God!” said Ratcliffe.
“Slaver,” said Satan. “What did I tell you? Nombre de Dios be sugared! She’s an old slaver, wrecked with the men under hatches. Here’s Sellers!”