No sign of any of the poor unfortunates was seen.
Mrs. Smith-Jones is prostrated.
Immediately John Alden Smith-Jones had fitted out his yacht, Priscilla, despatching her under Captain Burlinghame, a retired naval officer, and an old friend of Mr. Smith-Jones, to the far distant coast in search of the body of his son, which the captain of the steamer was of the opinion might very possibly have been washed upon the beach.
And now Burlinghame was back to report the failure of his mission. The two men were sitting in the John Alden Smith-Jones library. Mrs. Smith-Jones was with them.
“We searched the beach diligently at the point opposite which the tidal wave struck the steamer,” Captain Burlinghame was saying. “For miles up and down the coast we patrolled every inch of the sand.
“We found, at one spot upon the edge of the jungle and above the beach, the body of one of the sailors. It was not and could not have been Waldo’s. The clothing was that of a seaman, the frame was much shorter and stockier than your son’s, There was no sign of any other body along that entire coast.
“Thinking it possible one of the men might have been washed ashore alive we sent parties into the
