"Poor old Ching! I am sorry, Gnat."
"Yes, and so am I."
I had not seen my messmates all through the trouble, and now they
appeared close to me in the darkness in a way which made me start.
I turned to them, and I don't know how it was, but as we three stood
there in the darkness, which was hardly relieved by a lantern here and
there, Barkins held out his hand and shook mine, holding it tightly
without letting go. Directly after, Smith took my other hand to give it
a warm, strong pressure; and then we three parted without a word more,
Barkins going one way, Smith another, while I went to the stern rail and
leaned my arms upon it, and then rested my chin upon my arms to gaze out
over the rushing water at the two blue stars.
But they were not there now. They had burned out some time before, and
I could see nothing, only take it for granted that the boats were being
slowly rowed back against the heavy tide, our anchor-lights acting as
their guide.
"Is it possible that they have found him after all?" I thought, and for
a minute I was hopeful. But once more the hope died out, for I knew
well enough that if they had picked the poor fellow up they would have
cheered.