Their eyes, now well accustomed to the darkness, which was only rendered very slightly less intense by the distant reflections which stole through the bars, could distinguish the different figures as they crept cautiously up and stood together. As they considered it wisdom to remain quiet until Mr Butcher's return, they waited silently and with apprehension for a time until they heard his voice from above.
"You may come up," he said at last. "They are all in the other portions of the ship, and we have the saloon and aft cabins to ourselves and the killed."
One by one they crept up, horror being upon them all—a horror which demoralised them and sapped their courage as they touched with their feet or hands, when they stumbled, the stiffening bodies which lay so thickly between them and the aft doors of the saloon.
The electric wires from the steward's pantry had been broken or disturbed by the explosion, and only one dim lantern, evidently overlooked, still stood on the end table, but outside, on the gangway, the lamps were again glowing, which gave them all the light they required to grope along.
With the horror of the dead mingled the fear of the ruthless and seemingly all-powerful living upon them, they kept well within the shadows, avoiding both that dim lantern on the table, the light which streamed along the gangways, and the bodies amongst their feet. One after the other they crept along, looking fearfully behind them as they went, each suffering the terror of a nightmare.
Yet no one came to disturb them; possibly even Anarchists dislike the proximity and sight of their victims after the deed is done. The gangways were clear as far as they could see. None of the usual bustle of stewards or cooks disturbed them. It was a lighted
