CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
AFTER THE TYPHOON.
The repugnance and horror gave way to a sensation of joy.

Here was another companion in misfortune, alive and ready to share the terrible trouble with us, but who was it?
I tried to withdraw my left hand from Ching's grasp; but as soon as he felt it going, he clung to it spasmodically, and it was only by a sharp effort that I dragged it away, and turned to the side of my other companion, and began to touch him.

There was the bare arm, but that was no guide; the face helped me no more; but the torn remnants of his clothes told me it was not Mr Brooke, and my heart sank.

I felt again, and my hand encountered a drawn-up leg, and then I touched a bandage.
It was Tom Jecks, who had been wounded by the fire from the junk.
I could learn no more.

I tried to speak; I shouted; but he made no sign, and I could not even hear my own cries.