Beyond was Sergeant Quick, seated on a chair.

He seemed to be literally hacked to pieces.

An arrow that no one had attempted to remove was fast in his shoulder; his head, which Maqueda was sponging with wet cloths--well, I will not describe his wounds.
Leaning against the wall near by stood Higgs, also bleeding, and apparently quite exhausted.

Behind, besides Maqueda herself, were two or three of her ladies, wringing their hands and weeping.

In face of this terrible spectacle we came to a sudden halt.