“I can’t leave Tom Jecks,” I said. “Off with you, and try and save yourself. Never mind us.”
Ching looked at the injured sailor.
“You no get up, lun?” he said.
“Can’t do it, mate,” groaned the poor fellow. “I want Mr Herrick to make a dash for his life.”
“Yes, velly good. You makee dashee you life, Mr Hellick.”
“No, I stay here. Run for it, Ching; and if you escape and see the captain or Mr Reardon again, tell him we all did our duty, and how Mr Brooke was drowned.”
“Yes, Ching tellee Mr Leardon evelyting.”
“Then lose no time; go.”
“No; Ching velly tire, velly hot; wantee bleakfast, flesh tea, nicee new blead. Too hot to lun.”
“But I want you to save yourself,” I said excitedly.