"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. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. A SURPRISE. That night had set in very dark. The clouds were heavy overhead, and the river now looked intensely black, but toward the shore there were the dull lights of the Chinese town glimmering in the water, while from some building, whether on account of a religious ceremony or a festival, a great gong was being beaten heavily, its deep, sonorous, quivering tones floating over the place, and reaching my ears like the tolling of a church bell. It only wanted that depressing sound to make my spirits at the lowest ebb, and set me thinking of home, the perils of the career in which I was engaged, and wondering whether I should ever see England again. The watch had been set, and from time to time Mr Reardon came aft to look anxiously astern. The last time Mr Brooke was with him, and they stopped near where I was standing. "But they ought to be back by now," Mr Reardon said. "It's a long pull," Mr Brooke replied, "and the tide is terribly sharp at this time." "Yes, yes--it is; but I want to see them back. Who's that?" "Herrick, sir." "Oh! Looking out for the boats?" "Yes, sir." "That's right. I like to see a young officer take an interest in the men." They moved away to walk forward, while my face burned, for I did not deserve the praise, and my words had not been quite so honest as I could have wished. All at once, from out of the blackness astern, I heard the regular dip of oars, and at the same moment one of the watch challenged and received an answer. A minute later they were close up, and I shouted-- "Found him?" "No, sir; not a sign of him anywhere." I uttered a low groan, and the boats separated, one going to starboard and the other to port, to be hauled up to their quarters, and there was the customary trampling of the men going to their positions to run them up. "Poor old Ching!" I said aloud; and then I started back as if I had received a stroke, for my name was uttered from below in a sharp whisper. "Mister Hellick! Mister Hellick!" "Ching!" I cried, leaning over as far as I could reach, and gazing down at the water. "Help!--help!" I shouted. "Here he is!" Mr Brooke ran to me. "What do you mean, my lad?" "He's down here," I cried, "clinging to the chains." "Nonsense! the boats would have seen him." "But he is," I cried. "He has just called me. Below there! Ching!" "Yes; help! Velly cold," came up in a piteous wail. "Hold hard there!" shouted Mr Brooke. "Port boat back here under the counter." The falls were unhooked, and the boat drawn back by the coxswain till she passed round close to the rudder. "Any one there?" cried Mr Brooke. "Ay, ay, sir!" and a cheer broke out from the men hurrying aft.