This was a particularly large vessel and boasted enough cabins for most passengers to have their own cabin or a single bunk-mate. Smith shared a cabin with a man named Smoot. Both men were part of The Black Fish’s crew of able seamen.
Somerset went first, stepping into the cabin. What was left of Smoot was a massacred mess huddled in the far corner.
“Who did this?” Somerset demanded.
Smith just shook his head. He was colorless with shock.
“When did you find him?”
Smith explained that he’d noticed Smoot’s absence during the boxing match and come below deck in search of him.
“What’s that?” Penelope pointed to something near the body.
“It’s a mark,” Somerset answered. “What does it mean?”
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