"Stand by, my lads! Look out! Storm's coming down upon us. Now then; every man for himself." I turned cold with horror. Just then, too, when we were so near to safety. For the words were Tom Jecks', roared in a hoarse voice in the height of his delirium, and I saw that they were heard outside. For the Chinamen who were sitting sprang up, sword or knife in hand; those who were looking out to sea or making signals faced round, stood staring at the cliff for a few moments as if startled, and then, as Tom Jecks' voice rose again, but in muffled tones, for Ching had thrown himself upon the poor fellow to stifle his utterances, the pirates uttered a yell, rushed to the opening, tore down the sand and stones, and Ching and Tom Jecks were dragged out on to the sand. They had not seen me for the moment, but there was a shout directly, a man jumped up, caught me by the leg, and I was dragged along and out into the soft evening sunshine, to be forced down upon my knees close to where Tom Jecks lay, and Ching was being held, for he was struggling wildly with his captors, and talked excitedly to the fierce wretches who crowded round us. Ching was evidently pleading for mercy, not for himself but for me. I knew it, for he kept pointing to me; and finally he made a bound, got free, and leaped to me, throwing his arms about my waist. "No killee; shan't killee," he cried wildly; and then, turning round, he yelled at our captors in his own tongue, abusing them in his rage, and threatening them with his clenched fist. But it was all in vain: a dozen hands were at him; others seized and held me. Ching was dragged away vociferating wildly, thrown down, and three men sat upon him, while another knelt down, twisted his hand in the poor fellow's tail, and held his head fast. I don't think they meant to kill him, their rage being evidently directed at us; and I saw, with a peculiar kind of fascination, one man with a big sword come close to me; another, armed with a similar blade, go to where Tom Jecks lay, held down by three others. I can hardly describe my sensations. Five minutes before, I was horribly frightened; the cold perspiration stood upon my forehead; my hands were wet, and my legs sank under me. But now, all the fear had gone. I knew I was to die, and I remembered the execution I had seen in that great enclosure, when with one _whisk_ of the sword the executioner had lopped off head after head. It would not take long, I thought, and a curious exaltation came over me as I began to think of home, and at the same time my lips uttered the word "Good-bye," which was followed by a prayer. I did not cease muttering those words as I felt myself forced into a kneeling position, and saw that Tom Jecks was being treated in the same way. And somehow, as I prayed, the thought would come to me that the poor fellow would not feel or know anything about what was going to happen.