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My heart seemed to stand still, but a horrible fascination drew me to the spot along with the Chinaman, for my first thought was that it was the body of Mr Brooke. "Not jolly sailor boy," said Ching; and I felt a peculiar exaltation. "Not Mis' Blooke. Pilate man dlowned. Ching velly glad."
"No; too much head busy go sleep. Want findee allee pilate, show Mr Blooke no like pilate. Velly 'flaid all gone." How the rest of that night went by, I can hardly tell. We seemed to be for hours and hours without end tacking to and fro, now going up the river two or three miles, then dropping down with the tide, and always zig-zagging so as to cover as much ground as possible.
As I leaned over the side, Ching heaved a deep sigh. "What's the matter?" I whispered. "Ching so velly mislable," he whispered back. "Mr Blooke think him velly bad man. Think Ching want to give evelybody to pilate man. Ching velly velly solly." "Hist! look out!"
Just then I turned and found him close behind me, rubbing his hands. "You ask Mr Blooke he likee Ching sit where pilate see him 'gain?" he said. "I am sure he would," I replied. He looked sad again directly, and just touched the sleeve of my Norfolk jacket with the long nail of his forefinger. "Ching velly solly," he said. "What about?" "Mr Blooke think Ching fliends with pilates.
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