From the deck they descended to the long chamber where now row upon
row of battered and deserted benches told of a tragedy more pitiful
than any that can befall men who are free to stand up and fight for
their lives.
"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the little hunchback, standing with
his arms folded and gloomily conjuring up the scene of yesterday;
"Jemmy, we must have mown the poor brutes down like swathes of meadow
grass. See here--"
He bent to examine a bench along which a broadening groove ran from
end to end, telling a frightful tale.
But Captain Runacles did not answer. He was standing by a battered
hole in the galley's starboard side and looking down at the floor.
A sunbeam fell through the hole and slanted along the planks of the
flooring. His eyes were following this sunbeam, and his face was
like a ghost's.
"Jemmy; come and look--here's a whole benchful accounted for at one
swoop." Still Jemmy did not reply. The sunbeam drifting between the
benches before him fell on a little patch of earth--a patch collected
by one of the slaves whose comrades, humouring his whim, had brought
him a handful or two in their pockets whenever they returned from
shore. Upon this patch of earth were sunk the prints of a pair of
feet, far apart; and between these footprints glimmered two lines of
green, with two other lines uniting them.
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