CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
FOR DEAR LIFE.
It was all clear enough: the great junk which had so deceived Mr Brooke and Ching had been cast ashore and shattered, these men having escaped and been exploring the island, or perhaps they were only coming down now from the spot where they had taken refuge after being cast ashore.
"Why, Ching," I whispered, "perhaps there are more of them about!" "P'laps," he replied.
We dared not move, but remained there watching; and it now became pretty evident that the men had come down to examine the wreck, for they began to hurry about, chattering away as they searched in all directions amongst the fragments, one or another setting up a shout from time to time, which brought others to him.

Then we saw them drag out now a chest from the sand in which it was bedded, now a cask; and soon after there was a burst of excitement over something we could not make out; but it was evidently a satisfactory find, for they bore it up from the sea to the soft, warm, dry sand, and all sat down round about it.
"Find something velly good to eat," whispered Ching.

"Now allee velly busy; come along, hide." It was very good advice; and we followed him down from the ridge, and in and out at the foot of the cliff, seeking for some place of concealment; for I had not a doubt about our fate if we were seen.

In fact, I did not breathe freely until the great ridge and several masses of rock were between us; and only then, a good half-mile away in the direction from which we had come, did we venture to speak above our breath.
"Velly big pity," said Ching, whose face was all in wrinkles.

"Velly muchee wish back at fancee shop." "Let's find a place before we talk about that," I said.
"Yes; soon findee place." "Here, what is it, Jecks ?" I cried, catching our companion's arm; for he suddenly gave a lurch as we struggled through the loose sand, and nearly fell.
"Bit done up, sir," he said, with a piteous smile.