“How these people do seem to detest us, Herrick!” said Mr Brooke, after we had been waiting patiently for about a quarter of an hour, impatiently another, but not quite in idleness, for, after tasting the river water to find that it was very slightly brackish now, the tub and the jar were both filled and left to settle.
“Yes, they’re not very fond of us,” I replied, as I noted how the numbers were increasing, and that now there was a good deal of talking going on, and this was accompanied by gesticulations, we evidently being the objects of their interest. “They can’t have much to do.”
Mr Brooke made no reply, but moment by moment he grew more uneasy, as he alternately scanned the people ashore and the junks in the offing.
“Oh,” I said at last, “if we could only see the Teaser coming up the river!”
“I’d be content, Herrick,” said Mr Brooke bitterly, “if we could only see the messenger coming back with our stores.”
“Yes,” I said uneasily, for I had been fidgeting a good deal; “he is a long time.”
“Yes,” said Mr Brooke, looking at me very fixedly, till I avoided his gaze, for I knew he was thinking of my defence of Ching.
“Perhaps the bakers’ shops are not open,” I said at last.
“Perhaps this is not London, my lad. It’s of no use for you to defend him; I begin to feel sure that he has left us in the lurch.”
“Oh, wait a little longer, please, Mr Brooke,” I cried; and I vainly scanned the increasing crowd upon the platform and shore, and could see, instead of Ching, that the people were growing more and more excited, as they talked together and kept pointing at us.