“And let them come and murder you, while we go?” I said.
“Well, yes, sir,” said the poor fellow faintly; “there’s no good in having three killed when one would do.”
“Look about, Ching,” I said sharply. “Is there any place where we can hide?”
“No,” he replied disconsolately. “Only place for lit’ dog; no fo’ man.”
“You can’t do it, sir,” said our poor companion. “Good-bye, sir, and God bless you; you’ve done all a orficer can.”
“Oh, have I? I should look well when Mr Reardon or the captain says, ‘What have you done with your men?’”
“Don’t! stop a-talking, sir,” he cried, clinging to my hand. “You know what these beggars are, and you’ll have ’em on to you, sir.”
“Yes; and we shall have them on to you if we don’t find a place soon. Here, Ching, don’t run away and leave us;” for I could see the interpreter climbing up a gap in the cliff.
“He’s quite right, sir; you go after him. I tell you it’s all over and done with me. If you got me along a bit farther, I should only go off all the same. It’s all up. Now, pray go, sir. It’s no use to stay.”
“Hold your tongue!” I cried angrily; for with the feeling on me strong that the pirates might be down on us directly, and the only thing to do was to set off and run for my life, the poor fellow’s imploring words were like a horrible temptation that I was too weak to resist.