It was impossible to help feeling a peculiar creepy sensation, and a cold shiver ran through one from time to time.
So painful was this silence, that I felt glad when we had sailed up abreast of the great vessel which had dropped anchor in mid-stream, for the inaction was terrible.
We sailed right by, went up some little distance, turned and came back on the other side, so near this time that we could dimly make out the heavy masts, the huge, clumsy poop and awkward bows of the vessel lying head to stream.
Then we were by her, and as soon as we were some little distance below Mr Brooke spoke-- "Well, my lads, what do you say: is she one of the junks ?" "No pilate junk," said Ching decisively, and I saw Mr Brooke make an angry gesture--quite a start.
"What do you say, my lads ?" "Well, sir, we all seem to think as the Chinee does--as it arn't one of them." "Why ?" "Looks biggerer and clumsier, and deeper in the water." "Yes; tlade boat from Hopoa," said Ching softly, as if speaking to himself.
"I'm not satisfied," said Mr Brooke.

"Go forward, Mr Herrick; your eyes are sharp.

We'll sail round her again.

All of you have a good look at her rigging." "Ay, ay, sir," whispered the men; and I crept forward among them to where Ching had stationed himself, and once more we began gliding up before the wind, which was sufficiently brisk to enable us to easily master the swift tide.
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.