Indeed, they were all rather stunned by the suddenness of the news,
and only for the fact that under it lay a great hope, they would not
have been able to hear up as well as they did.
The blow was a terrible one--to think that their loved ones were lost
in a shipwreck! But there was that merciful hope--that eternal hope,
ever springing up to take away the bitterness of death or despair.
There was, too, the necessity of work--hard work, if they were to go
off on an unknown and uncertain cruise. And work is, perhaps, even
better than hope, to mitigate grief.
So, though the sorrow would have been a terrible one, and almost
unbearable, were it not for the ray of light and hope, they were able
to hold themselves well together--these young Americans in a strange
land.
"Jack, perhaps you had better go and thank Senor Ramo at once,"
suggested Cora. "He may be able to give you some good advice, too,
about fitting up the Tartar for the cruise. He seems to know a great
deal about these islands."
"I'll see him at once," agreed her brother. "Just send up my card to
him, please," he requested the hotel clerk.
"To whom, Senor?"
"To Mr. Ramo."
"But he is not here--he is gone!"
"Gone?" Jack looked at the clerk blankly.
"Yes. He left, Senor, soon after you went away. He said business
called him."
"That is strange," murmured Jack.
Inez, who had heard what was said, looked curiously at Cora, and then
exclaimed:
"Ze papairs--for my father's release!"
A look of alarm showed in her face, as she hurried toward the
stairway that led to her room.
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