The crew were faltering in their charge. No one rose up to fight them off; they weren't certain how to proceed. Mordecai ran up to Natasha, walking now at the lead. His captain had quieted as well, wary and watching still for defenders or sudden ambush.
The Albatross merely sat there. Long shadows cast by the setting sun fell down from the rigging onto the argent river. The only noises to be heard were the raspy calls of the flying lizards in the trees, the whirr of the Dawnhawk's propellers, and the occasional hoot of a gibbon.
Natasha came to a stop three dozen feet from the broken hull. "Where are all the sailors?" she asked.
Mordecai glanced about. "There should be a few here."
"Maybe I was right."
He shook his head. "No. They wouldn't have left this all alone, and they couldn't carry all the treasure on foot, not all the way to Breachtown."
Natasha smiled. "Well then. A mystery." She turned back to her crewmen on the beach. "All right, lads! Get aboard and search it out!" She looked at Mordecai. "I never had much patience for mysteries. Let's see if Fengel's information was good."
The crew threw ropes and grapples up onto the gunwales to climb aboard. Mordecai picked four of the ablest standing nearby, and followed Natasha up to the breach in the hull. The opening was just past the sandbar, where the waters of the river formed a large tidal pool. Ropes, broken wood, and other junk floated just beneath it. Whatever rock had cracked the ship had done its job well. The breach in the hull was as wide as three men.
Mordecai gestured for two men to go ahead. They splashed down into the pool and waded over to the breach, cutlasses out and at the ready. Nothing jumped out at them, so Natasha waded over as well, then clambered up into the hole. She was silent a moment, then let loose a long low whistle. The pair of pirates beneath her began laughing and hooting.
"Get over here Mordecai," said his captain. "You're going to want to see this.
Mordecai sheathed his blade and moved across the pool, and then up into the breach to stand beside Natasha. The cargo hold was like many other seagoing vessels he'd seen. It was long and tall, extending all the way up to a hatch in the upper-deck. And it was crammed full. Crates, chests, coffers, and urns packed it from one end to the other, stern to bow and port to starboard. These had all shifted during the rough journey, and several were cracked and broken open to the fading light of day. In the shadows Mordecai spied gold bars, thick silver coins and casks of jewels.
A pirate splashed down next to them, out of breath. It was Guye Farrel. "Captain, first mate," he said. As he gasped the boil on his neck visibly throbbed. Mordecai tried in vain to ignore it. "There's no one aboard the rest of the ship. Found signs of life, though, and there are tracks leading into the jungle."
Mordecai caught Natasha's eye and jumped down out of the hold. "Show me," he said to the pirate.
Farrel led him back around to the far side of the ship. Cook-fire pits, lean-tos, and crates of salvaged goods all huddled under the masts and torn rigging. The sand was kicked all about, dark patches staining it liberally. There were no corpses, or live sailors from the Albatross.
Reaver Jane appeared from beneath a bit of sailcloth. She moved with only a slight limp, a gift from Fengel. That was good; she was one of Natasha's more trustworthy lieutenants. "Signs of struggle, sir," she said. "Maybe twenty people, some injured. Taken by surprise, looks like. Two days old or so, by the blood."
Mordecai frowned. "Where are the bodies? Who attacked them?" And why would they have left the treasure?
Jane shook her head. "Dunno, sir. Bodies are all gone, sailors or attackers alike. There's tracks leading off into the jungle." She gestured. "Don't look human, though."
The first mate raised an eyebrow. "Not human? Ogres?" That fit. He'd heard tales of a few tribes within reach of Breachtown. Such savages wouldn't have any need for the gold and silver in the hold, but plenty for the meat of the crewmen.
Jane shrugged. "Dunno, sir. Something else kind of odd." She gripped the hilt of the knife at her belt, as if nervous.
"Show me."
Jane led Mordecai up from the wreckage towards the tree line of the jungle. It rose up, thick and green and smelling strongly of plant life. Away from the wreckage of the Albatross, tracks could be made out. Mordecai knelt to take a closer look at them. They were strange, longer than that of a man by several inches, and not booted in any way. There were three toes, long and claw-tipped, with the heel ending in a fourth talon. Mordecai looked up at the jungle and narrowed his eyes. These didn't belong to ogres. But as far as he was concerned, the result was probably the same.