"The Orient!"
Iris was dazed. The uniforms, the pleasant faces of the English sailors, the strange sensation of hearing familiar words in tones other than those of the man she loved, bewildered her.
"Yes," explained the officer, with a sympathetic smile. "That's our ship, you know, in the offing there."
It was all too wonderful to be quite understood yet. She turned to Robert—
"Do you hear? They say my father is not far away. Take me to him."
"We are the sole survivors," answered the sailor.
"No need for that, miss," interrupted a warrant officer. "Here he is coming ashore. He wanted to come with us, but the captain would not permit it, as there seemed to be some trouble ahead."
Sure enough, even the girl's swimming eyes could distinguish the grey-bearded civilian seated beside an officer in the stern-sheets of a small gig now threading a path through the broken reef beyond Turtle Beach. In five minutes, father and daughter would meet.
Meanwhile the officer, intent on duty, addressed Jenks again.