I stretched out my hand and felt about.
I snatched it back with a cry of horror.

Yes, a cry of horror; for, though I could not hear it, I felt it escape from my lips.

I had touched something all wet and cold lying close beside me, and I felt that it was one of my companions who had been cast up or dragged ashore--dead.
Shivering violently, I shrank away, and stretched out my hand in the other direction--my left hand now, with my arm numbed, and my shoulder aching when I moved it, as if the joint had become stiffened and would not work.
I touched somebody there--something cold and smooth and wet, and drew my hand away again, when, as it glided over the sand, it touched something else round and soft and long, and--yes--plaited.

It was a long tail.
"Ching!" I ejaculated; and, gaining courage, I felt again in the darkness, to find that it grew thinner.

I tried again in the other direction, and once more touched the round wet object, which did not seem so cold, and then the next moment a hand caught mine and held it.
I was right; it was Ching.