There were, however, here and there, ridges of rock, running down like breakwaters into the sea, and about which it fretted and tossed tremendously; and, in the hope that one of these ridges might hide our friends from our view, I climbed to the top of the highest piece of rock I could reach, and took a long and careful survey.
"See anything, sir ?" said Tom Jecks.
"No," I replied, "nothing.

Yes; about a quarter of a mile on there's a spar sticking up; it may be the boat's mast." I came hurriedly down, and my announcement was enough to set my companions off, Jecks limping painfully through the loose sand, climbing rocks, and finding it no easy task to get over that so-called quarter of a mile, which, like all such spaces on the sea-shore, proved to be about double the length it looked, while the nearer we got the higher and more formidable the ridge seemed to grow, completely shutting out all beyond, where it ran down from the cliff at right angles into the sea.
All at once, as I was helping the coxswain over an awkward stone, the poor fellow being weak and rather disposed to stagger, but always passing it off with a laugh and an "All right, sir, I shall be better after breakfast," Ching uttered an ejaculation, and pointed to something that the sea had washed up, and was pouncing upon again like a cat to draw it back.
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." We turned away, and continued our route, for I shrank from going into dangerous breakers to try and drag the man out, and my companion was too weak.

As to its being one of the pirates, it seemed possible, for I knew that one, if not two, had gone overboard in the fight, and it was probably one of these.
We trudged on and reached the ridge at last, to find it bigger and more precipitous than I had expected.