After a while, the main gates of the customhouse's anti-smuggling prison swung open, and the warden came out in person to meet Colonel Field, leading him and two military officers into the prison.
Returning to this place after less than two days, Winters felt slightly emotional. Entering the prison as a guest rather than a prisoner certainly felt different.
The warden didn't lead Field and Winters into the main building but took them around the exterior wall to a small stone house.
Even before approaching the small stone house with a wooden roof, Winters could smell an odor that made one want to vomit. It was clear the warden was prepared, as he pulled out a sachet to cover his nose and mouth.
The colonel, expressionless, looked with contempt and disdain at the warden who couldn't help but react to the smell. Winters followed the lead, striving to keep his face straight and trying not to show any signs of discomfort.
The three of them stopped outside the stone house, with the warden frowning as he said, "The guards from the security department have been waiting at the archive building since early this morning. I've sent someone to notify them, they should be here shortly."
He glanced slyly at the two army officers, smiling as he spoke, "It's too smelly inside. You'd better wait out here instead of going in to look first."
Colonel Field observed the customhouse warden with a deep gaze, and from the deepest part of his nostrils, he let out a cold snort. He kicked the door open and entered, with Winters following closely behind.
Upon entering the stone house, the stench became even more intense and sickening, almost urging one to vomit out the last bit of content from their stomach. The wretched stench brought to Winters' mind the most disgusting thing he could imagine in the world:
It was as if the gas bloated from a skunk's corpse that had been left to rot in a sealed cave for a hundred years.
Winters finally understood where they were—this was the prison morgue.
Inside the stone house, flies danced wildly as three naked male bodies were laid out on wooden planks, most likely the source of the horrid smell.
The bodies were covered with a snowflake-like powder which Winters deduced to be salt.
Using salt to preserve was an ancient method of preservation; certain civilizations used this technique to keep the heads of their enemies. However, it was clear that the pickling had not been very effective on these three, as some kind of liquid oozed from underneath their bodies, dripping from the planks onto the ground.
Two more people entered from outside, their noses and mouths wrapped with cotton cloths filled with spices, appearing quite surprised to see two military officers entering the morgue without any protective scent gear.
The leader adjusted the brim of his hat and saluted the two officers politely. Winters returned the gesture in similar fashion, while the colonel just nodded, his face expressionless.
The leading man quickly introduced himself, "I'm Lop, an officer from the customhouse security department." He pointed to the man behind him, "This here is my deputy, Colonel Naro."
Colonel Field, however, did not introduce himself. Instead, he went straight to the point, "Are these the three bodies?"
"Not three," the security officer said with a wry smile. "Four." ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ novᴇlfire.net
With a wave of his hand, his deputy walked to the far end of the room and lifted up a filthy burlap cloth, revealing a fourth body underneath.
To be precise, it wasn't a complete body, just several parts of one. It was evident the original owner of the corpse had suffered some unspeakable and tragic fate, leaving only half remaining.
Winters had killed pirates and had seen them executed on deck by their own mates, most needing more than one chop to sever their heads, a scene utterly bloody.
He thought his mind was well-trained, but the gruesome sight of the half-corpse still made it impossible for him to look directly. He slightly turned his head away, avoiding the sight.
Yet, Colonel Field simply nodded, his expression unchanging.
Understanding the colonel's demeanor, Lop, the security officer, said, "We've seen the bodies. Let's discuss the rest outside. I know the two of you army officers have seen it all and can disregard it, but I can't stand another second in this room. Let's step out, shall we?"
Winters instantly felt a surge of appreciation for the customs officer, but he remained as impassive as Colonel Field.
The colonel nodded, and the four of them left the house. The warden outside had long since disappeared.
As they walked, Lop, the security officer, explained in a casual tone, "The prison folks only know about using salt for preservation, but they don't know you need to remove the innards first. With the weather being so hot, the bodies rot from the inside even though they might look intact outside, which is why they look . But you can't blame them. When prisoners die, they're kept for a couple of days before being claimed by family, or they're buried straight away if they have none. They're not used to dealing with bodies for so long."
The four men continued walking until they were about twenty meters upwind from the morgue before they stopped.
Lop handed a dossier to the colonel from his deputy's hands and began to speak, "Everything we've found is in here. The four inside arrived at Sea Blue Port on a three-masted schooner called the Bandit Gull with your cadet officers this year..."
What Lop didn't know was the tumult his words were causing in Winters' heart. The dim light in the morgue, coupled with the distortion of facial features caused by post-mortem muscle contractions, meant Winters couldn't recognize any of the deceased.