el had met with some mishap to her machinery, struck
a derelict, or turned turtle, during that memorable typhoon of March 17
and 18. She had gone down with all hands. Her fate was a foregone
conclusion. No ship's boat could live in that sea, even if the crew
were able to launch one. It was another of ocean's tragedies, with the
fifth act left to the imagination.

To examine every sand patch and tree-covered shoal in the China Sea was
an impossible task. All the _Orient_ could do was to visit the
principal islands and institute inquiries among the fishermen and small
traders. At last, the previous night, a Malay, tempted by hope of
reward, boarded the vessel when lying at anchor off the large island
away to the south, and told the captain a wondrous tale of a
devil-haunted place inhabited by two white spirits, a male and a
female, whither a local pirate named Taung S'Ali had gone by chance
with his men and suffered great loss. But Taung S'Ali was bewitched by
the female spirit, and had returned there, with a great force, swearing
to capture her or perish. The spirits, the Malay said, had dwelt upon
the island for many years. His father and grandfather knew the place
and feared it. Taung S'Ali would never be seen again.

This queer yarn was the first indication they received of the
whereabouts of any persons who might possibly be shipwrecked Europeans,
though not survivors from the _Sirdar_. Anyhow, the tiny dot lay
in the vessel's northward track, so a course was set to arrive off the
island soon after dawn.

Events on shore, as seen by the officer on watch, told their own tale.
Wherever Dyaks are fighting there is mischief on foot, so the
_Orient_ took a hand in the proceedings.

But Sir Arthur Deane, after an agonized scrutiny of the weird-looking
persons escorted by the sailors to the water's edge, sadly acknowledged
that neither of these could be the daughter whom he sought. He bowed
his head in humble resignation, and he thought he was the victim of a
cruel hallucination when Iris's tremulous accents reached his ears--

"Father, father! Don't you know me?"

He stood up, amazed and trembling.

"Yes, father dear. It is I, your own little girl given back to you. Oh
dear! Oh dear! I cannot see you for my tears."

They had some difficulty to keep him in the boat, and the man pulling
stroke smashed a stout oar with the next wrench.

And so they met at last, and the sailors left them alone, to crowd
round Anstru