Down came the youth, head first.—Page [145].

Pan-American Series

THE
YOUNG VOLCANO EXPLORERS

OR
AMERICAN BOYS IN THE WEST INDIES

BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of “Lost on the Orinoco,” “With Washington in the West,”
“American Boys’ Life of William McKinley,” “Old Glory Series,”
“Ship and Shore Series,” “Bound to Succeed Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE

BOSTON:
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
1930

Copyright, 1902, by Lee and Shepard
Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London

All rights reserved

The Young Volcano Explorers
PRINTED IN U.S.A.

PREFACE

“The Young Volcano Explorers” is a complete story in itself, but forms the second volume of a line issued under the general title of the “Pan-American Series.”

When I began this series of tales I had in mind to acquaint my young readers with some of the sights to be seen in the three Americas,—especially such portions as lie outside of the United States. In the first volume, called “Lost on the Orinoco,” I told of the sight-seeing and adventures of five American lads, who, in company with their academy professor, who is also a great traveler and hunter, journey to Venezuela, our sister Republic on the north-east coast of South America. The boys visit several principal cities, inspect cocoa and coffee plantations as well as gold and silver mines, and then explore the mighty river already named.

In the present volume the scene is shifted from Venezuela to the West Indies, that group of islands of which Porto Rico has already become the property of the United States. Because of the recent Spanish-American War, and the still more recent volcanic disturbances in Martinique and St. Vincent, these islands are of unusual interest to us. In this book the boys and their instructor sail from Venezuela to Jamaica, stopping at Kingston, and then go to Havana, Cuba. In Cuba several places of importance are visited, and then the trip is continued to Hayti and to Porto Rico, where the party travel overland from San Juan to Ponce. At the latter city word is received that the fathers of two of the boys have gone to St. Pierre, Martinique, and the party start for that point, only to encounter the effects of the volcanic eruption when still far at sea. But Martinique is visited, nevertheless, and later on St. Vincent also, and in spite of the many dangers, all ends happily.

In penning this tale I have, as usual, tried to be as accurate as possible when giving historical or geographical details. The latest and best American and Spanish authorities have been consulted, and, in the case of the disasters at Martinique and St. Vincent, I have read with care the reports of all who suffered and escaped, and of those who have since visited these spots of interest.

Once again I wish to thank the many thousands who have perused my former works. May the present volume fulfil their every expectation.

Edward Stratemeyer.

CONTENTS

PAN
AMERICAN
SERIES

THE YOUNG VOLCANO
EXPLORERS

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING THE BOYS

“Here comes the mail boy, Darry. Now for letters and newspapers from home. There ought to be plenty of letters for all of us.”

“Don’t be too sure Frank. The mails in Venezuela are mighty slow, especially now when there is another revolution on.”

“Oh, I don’t believe this one-horse revolution will have anything to do with the mails,” put in a third boy, as he joined his chums, who were lounging in the hallway of a spacious hotel in Caracas, the capital city of Venezuela. “They have them too often, you know.”

“Hush, don’t call it a one-horse revolution, Beans,” returned Darry Crane, in a warning voice. “The people who live here think it’s just as important as any revolution that ever was—and it probably is, to them.”

“There goes the professor for letters now!” burst out Frank Newton. “Oh, I do hope he gets lots of them!” Frank was always more anxious for letters from home than anyone else. “Yes, here he comes with a handful, and an armful of papers in the bargain.”

The coming of the mail always attracted a crowd of patrons of the hotel, and soon the boys found themselves surrounded by those anxious to get their letters and papers. Looking, they saw the gentleman who had their mail wave his hand to them and disappear in the direction of the hotel courtyard and they speedily followed.

“What have you for me, Professor?” was the question asked by one and all, and now two more boys hurried up, making five in all who waited eagerly for news from home.

It was an interesting group, and while the mail matter is being distributed, we will take the opportunity of introducing each individual to the reader.

The oldest boy present was Mark Robertson. He was a lad of seventeen, and was the son of a dry goods importer. His father owned an interest in several mills in England and Scotland and made semi-yearly trips across the Atlantic, and the family were well-to-do.

When at home Mark lived on Madison Avenue in New York city, and directly opposite to him lived Frank Newton, another of the boys of the group. Although Frank was a year younger than Mark, the two were warm chums. Frank’s father was a banker, and if he was not a millionaire he was certainly well provided for financially.

The liveliest boy in the crowd was Dartworth Crane, always called Darry for short. He was but fifteen, the son of a rich Chicago cattle dealer, and to him life was one long, sunshiny holiday. It was very hard for Darry to take anything seriously, and his good nature was as spontaneous as it was catching.

“Darry would make a cow laugh,” said Frank, more than once, and the others agreed with him. As said before, Mark was Frank’s closest chum, but Darry was no mean second.

The fourth lad of the group was a tall, well-built individual of sixteen, with a high forehead and a thick mass of curly hair. This was Samuel Winthrop, generally called “Beans,” because he had been born and brought up in Boston. Sam was the son of a well-to-do widow of the Back Bay district. He was a studious, observant young fellow, seldom, however, given to “airing his knowledge,” and he and Mark were as friendly as were Frank and Darry.

The fifth youth in the crowd was a tall, lank individual of about Mark’s age, with a white freckled face and reddish hair. His name was Jacob Hockley, and he was the son of a millionaire lumber dealer of Pennsylvania. His manner was varied, at times exceedingly “bossy,” as the others termed it, and then again exceedingly sour and morose. The latter mood had won for him the nickname of “Glummy” or “Jake the Glum,” and although he objected strenuously to being called such a name, yet it clung to him in spite of everything. Hockley had plenty of money and spent it freely, but even this failed to make him any close friendships.

“Glummy thinks money is everything,” said Mark in speaking of the matter one day. “But sooner or later he is bound to learn that there are some things that even money can’t buy.” And Mark was right. True friendship is never a matter of dollars and cents.

For several years all these boys had attended a boarding academy located among the hills of New Hampshire. Lakeview Academy, as it was called, was presided over by Professor Amos Strong, a kindly and well educated gentleman, who had in years gone by been a great traveler and hunter. Professor Strong had often told the lads about his hunting expeditions in various parts of the globe, and through these stories a plan had originated to visit Central and South America, the expedition to be under the personal supervision of the professor himself.

At first Professor Strong could not see his way clear to leaving the academy, but a fire came and destroyed the place, and at the same time the professor’s brother, also a teacher, left the faculty of Harvard. It was then arranged that the school building should be rebuilt under the directions of the brother, who was afterward to assume control of the institution. This would give Professor Strong the liberty he desired and which he, in secret, greatly craved. For many years a wanderer on the face of the earth, binding himself down to steady teaching had proved rather irksome to him.

After a good deal of discussion it was decided that the party of six should first visit Venezuela, and in the first volume of this series, entitled “Lost on the Orinoco,” I related the particulars of the journey from New York to La Guayra, the nearest seaport, and told of the sight-seeing and adventures while visiting Caracas, the capital, Macuto, the fashionable summer resort, the great Gulf of Maracaibo, and other points of interest, including cocoa and coffee plantations and gold and silver mines, and also a never-to-be-forgotten journey up that immense river, the Orinoco, the second largest stream in South America.

The boys had had adventures in plenty, and becoming lost on the Orinoco had almost proved a serious happening for Mark and Frank, who had wandered away in a jungle that seemed to have no end. All of the party had met more than one wild animal, and a squall on Lake Maracaibo had come close to sending them all to the bottom.

It was not to be expected that four such whole-souled lads as Mark, Frank, Darry and Sam could get along smoothly with such an over-bearing and peculiar youth as Jake Hockley. They were sorry that the bully was along, and it was not long before there was a bitter quarrel and some of the boys came to blows with Hockley. This was stopped by Professor Strong, who said they must do better in the future.

With no special friend in the party, and with a strong desire to be “sporty,” and to do things which were not permitted by the professor, Hockley struck up an acquaintance with one Dan Market, a man from Baltimore, whose reputation was none of the best. This Markel succeeded in getting all of Hockley’s money away from him, and it was only through a discovery made by Mark and Frank that Markel was arrested and the money was recovered. But Markel had escaped, and what had become of him nobody knew. Getting back his money and also a watch which had been taken, had made Hockley friendly to Frank and Mark for the time being, and the bully was also friendly to Sam and Darry, for they had saved him from being crushed to death by a boa constrictor, having shot and killed the hideous reptile just in the nick of time.

It had been the intention of Professor Strong to take the boys from Venezuela to Brazil, but while the party was resting at a mining town called Castroville, there came in a report that the tropical fevers were raging in the latter republic, and that it was likely Venezuela, Brazil, Colombia, and some other countries would soon be mixed up in revolutions and wars, and it was then decided by a general vote that they should move northward again and visit the West Indies, taking in Jamaica, Cuba, Porto Rico, and other important islands.

“That will just suit me,” said Mark, when this decision was reached. “I want to see where the battles of the Spanish-American War were fought and also what sort of a place Porto Rico, our new possession, is.”

“And I want to get out of a country that grows boa constrictors,” came from Hockley. “Ugh, they’re awful. Professor, are there such snakes in the West Indies?”

“I never heard of any, Jacob. But they have poisonous reptiles, such as are to be found in all tropical climates.”

“Well, I won’t care so much for them, if they aren’t six or seven yards long,” grumbled the tall youth.

“That’s Glummy all over,” whispered Frank to Darry. “Every time he speaks of that constrictor he tacks a yard or two on to the length.”

“Never mind—it’s only a snake story, you know,” returned light-hearted Darry. “They don’t count, for nobody believes them. We’ll never get credit for killing anything more than a snake as long as your arm.”

The journey from Castroville to Caracas overland had been uneventful. They had stopped at numerous plantations and small towns on the way, and they had seen sheep and wild horses without number. They had also done considerable hunting, and each of the boys could now boast of being a creditable shot. If there was an exception it was Hockley, who, in spite of all the instructions given him by the professor, would take little pains in the handling of his gun.

On arriving at Caracas they put up at the same hotel which had been their stopping place on first visiting the capital. All had long before sent letters home speaking of their change of plans, and they were now anxious to ascertain how their parents would view the matter, even though, on leaving home, everything had been left to Professor Strong personally, he being fully competent to judge of what was best for all.

CHAPTER II
NEWS FROM HOME

Letters from home are always welcome, and doubly so when one has been out of reach of the mail for a long time. As Professor Strong held up nearly a dozen written communications, the lads fairly pounced upon them, and for the time being the newspapers were forgotten.

“Here’s one for Mark and two for Frank,” cried Darry. “Where is mine?”

“Here you are,” said Frank, holding out three. “And here is one for you, Jake.”

“And here’s another for Jake,” added Sam. “And two for myself.”

“No, boys, these two are my own!” laughed Professor Strong, holding them back. “You mustn’t expect all the good things, you know.”

“Only one for me!” murmured Mark. “And Darry has three. That’s hardly fair.”

“You want to send your folks a bottle of ink and some pens,” replied Darry. “Never mind; I’ll tell you what’s in mine, after I read ’em.”

“Don’t say a word,” burst out Frank. “Look at that letter, twelve or fifteen pages, and this one of mine has only four pages. Mark needn’t complain.”

“Here’s a photograph,” came slowly from Sam. “My mother! It was nice of her to send that.” And he gazed at the picture affectionately.

Soon all were sitting in the hammocks and easy chairs at hand reading the letters received. There was all sorts of news from home, of more or less interest. Mark’s father was just home from a trip to England and Scotland, and he and Mr. Newton were contemplating a trip together, for business as well as pleasure. Sam’s mother had left Boston to visit relatives up in Maine, and hoped her only son would do his best to keep out of peril and mischief. Darry’s letters told how his father had gone to Colorado to look up a big cattle deal, and there was also a letter from a sister who was just leaving home to go to boarding school. Hockley had word that his father had lost one saw mill by fire but had bought two mills to take its place, and that the elder Hockley was now president of a new Consolidated Lumber Company.

“Tell you what, pop’s getting there,” said Hockley, when he told this news to the others. “He’ll be the richest lumber dealer in the country before he gets through,” and he fairly swelled with pride over the announcement.

“I wonder where my father and yours will go,” said Frank to Mark, after the letters had been read, not once but several times. “It’s queer neither my letter nor yours tells that.”

“I guess they hadn’t made up their minds when the letters were written. I once heard father speak of coming down to Cuba and Jamaica. It would be queer if they did come down and we met them.”

“That would be just all right,” was the ready return, but as Mark spoke he never dreamed of the terrible circumstances which was to make that meeting a reality. Could he have looked ahead it would have caused him more than one shudder.

It had been determined that they should take the train for La Guayra on the following morning. There was to be a sailing of a steamer for Kingston and Havana one day later, and Professor Strong had already telegraphed ahead for the necessary accommodations.

“We can take our last look around Caracas to-day,” announced Professor Strong. “Have you boys any place in mind that you would like to visit?”

A general discussion arose. While it was at its height a gentleman who had driven to the hotel in his carriage came in and rushed up to the group.

“My own very dear friend, Amos Strong, once more,” he said, with a strong Spanish accent. “I received word last night that you and the boys had come back to Caracas. So I made up my mind I must see you all again. And how have you been?” And he shook hands cordially.

“We are all right, Morano,” was the professor’s reply, as the boys crowded around to speak to the newcomer, who was a teacher at the University at Caracas and an old college friend of Professor Strong.

“But we’ve had lots of adventures,” put in Darry.

“To be sure, Master Darry—you could not keep out of them. You see I have not forgotten how one of my horses once ran away with you,” and Enrique Morano laughed.

Besides being an instructor at the Caracas University, Enrique Morano was the owner of a large plantation just outside of the city, which the party had once visited, much to the delight of all hands. Now Morano insisted that he be allowed to send for his largest carriage and take them for a drive to such points of interest as they elected to see.

This was just what the boys wished, and inside of an hour the carriage was on hand and they piled in. Enrique Morano himself drove, with Professor Strong beside him. Soon the city itself was left behind and they were bowling along over a smooth highway in the direction of Antimano, situated some miles to the westward.

It was a perfect day and the boys enjoyed the sights greatly, as they passed plantation after plantation. The roadway was lined at some points with beautiful tropical trees, and flowers were by no means lacking.

“Tell you what, Señor Morano keeps good horse-flesh,” remarked Darry as they spun along. “This is better than a drive in Lincoln Park.”

“Or Central Park either,” added Frank.

“Oh, my father keeps just as good horses,” came from Hockley. “He’s got a trotter that can beat all creation for stepping out on a smooth road like this.”

So far they had passed but few turnouts on the highway. But now they saw approaching a carriage with a single seat, drawn by a team of horses which were covered with foam. On the seat sat two men, both evidently Americans.

“Reckless drivers,” murmured Enrique Morano, as the other carriage came closer. “Be careful there!” he called out, in Spanish, and pulled sharply to one side.

“Clear the track!” shouted one of the men, in English, and the tone of voice showed that he had been drinking. “We don’t get out of the way for no sun-baked native!” And he cracked his whip loudly.

The carriage came closer and it was only by a few inches that it missed striking Enrique Morano’s turnout. As it swept by the boys got a good look at the occupants.

“Dan Markel!” almost shouted Hockley and Mark, in a breath.

“That was Markel, just as sure as you are born,” came from Frank. “Who would have expected to meet him here?”

“We ought to go after him,” continued Hockley.

“You evidently know the man,” said Enrique Morano, bringing his team to a halt and gazing inquiringly at the boys.

“He is the man who robbed Hockley,” explained Professor. “He was captured once, down on the Orinoco, but he escaped.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, he should be caught. And the other man, what of him?”

He looked at the boys again, but all shook their heads. They could not remember having seen the individual before.

“Guess he’s another victim,” was Mark’s comment. “I don’t believe Markel had any money of his own. He has struck up an acquaintance with some newcomer and is doing the sponging act.”

“Or else he is spending the proceeds of another robbery,” said Sam.

“Do you wish to go after the man?” asked Enrique Morano.

“Oh, well, you might as well let him go,” yawned Hockley. “If we make another complaint and he is locked up, we may have to stay here as witnesses against him.” Hockley would have liked to see Dan Markel behind the bars but he was afraid that the rascal might tell of some things which would prove discreditable to both of them.

“I’d really like to know if that other man was a victim,” mused Frank, as they continued on their way. “If he is, he ought to be warned.”

There the matter was dropped, and for the time being Dan Markel was forgotten. When they came back to Caracas at nightfall they looked in several directions for the rascal but could catch no sight of him. The truth of the matter was that Markel had recognized several of the boys on the instant of passing them, and although partly intoxicated he still had wit enough left to keep hidden.

The party were to leave for La Guayra at nine in the morning, and the boys were up long before that time, taking a last look at their surroundings. Then came a good breakfast, and soon they were on the cars and winding over and around the mountains which separate the capital city of Venezuela from the seacoast.

“Here is where we had to get off and walk,” said Mark, as the train rushed on. “Do you remember that, Frank?”

“To be sure I do. And I remember how you got lost in a hole under the cliffs, too.”

“Yes, and not far away is the spot where you and Hockley pitched into each other,” whispered Mark, with a sly look at the bully, who sat just ahead. He did not think the lank youth heard, but he was mistaken.

“Raking up old sores, eh?” growled Hockley, swinging around and with his face very red. “I thought all that was to be dropped.”

“It is to be dropped, too, Jake,” answered Mark, quickly.

“Oh, yes,” came with a sneer. “You’re dropping it fast enough.”

“But I didn’t really mean anything, Jake,” pleaded Mark. “It—er—just came to my mind, that’s all. It’s past and gone now.”

“You can’t humbug me, Mark Robertson! You’re laughing in your sleeve because you think Frank got the best of me in that fight. But let me tell you I would have come out on top if Professor Strong hadn’t come up and stopped us.”

“Maybe you would not have come out on top,” said Frank, dryly, for his temper was rising. “I fancy I had the best of it by a good deal. Anyway, your teeth——”

“Oh, let that old quarrel drop,” came from Darry, who had caught the latter part of the conversation. “We’re out for a good time, and let us have it.”

“I’m willing to let it drop,” said Mark, readily.

“I wouldn’t have said a word, only Hockley—” began Frank.

“That’s it, blame everything on me!” howled the bully, his anger getting the better of him. “I knew that pretended friendliness of yours wouldn’t last. You are all down on me and you know it. But I’ll show you a trick or two before we’re done—you see if I don’t!”

Professor Strong had gone to the end of the car for a drink of water and to gaze for a moment out of the doorway. Now he returned to his seat near the boys, and the talk came to a sudden end.

CHAPTER III
OFF FOR JAMAICA

“He is the same old Hockley,” murmured Mark to Frank, when he got the chance. “His friendliness was all put on.”

“No, I don’t think that, exactly,” returned Frank. “I think he meant well, but he’s one of the kind who won’t let matters rest. I suppose it galls him to think I had the better of that fight, and some day he’ll try to square accounts.”

“In that case, Frank, you’ll have to be on guard.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’ll keep my eyes open.”

As my old readers know, La Guayra is only a small seaport, located on a stretch of land between the water and the high cliffs of the mountains. It is a dirty, ill-smelling place, and nobody lives there who can help it.

“I’m glad we haven’t to stop here long,” said Sam. “It smells like dead fish and oil mixed. Where is the steamer?”

An hour later found them on board of the craft, an old-fashioned, tub sort of an affair named the Chester. She was an English boat devoted to the carrying trade between Trinidad, La Guayra, Kingston, and other points in the Caribbean Sea. Her captain was named Jason Sudlip, and he was a burly fellow, with a reddish face and black, piercing eyes.

“This boat ought to be called the Chestnut, instead of the Chester,” remarked Darry, after he and the others had made a tour of inspection. “She’s old enough to vote twice over. It’s a wonder she hasn’t gone to pieces long ago.”

“Better not let the captain hear you talk like that,” came from Sam. “We’re lucky to get passage, so I was told. Steamers for Kingston and Havana are scarce.”

“She is no such steamer as brought us down from New York, that’s sure,” put in Mark. “But knocking around as we are, we’ll have to take what comes.”

Their baggage had been brought on board and placed in their staterooms, and now the boys started in to make themselves comfortable, for the journey to Kingston would last about four days, and that to Havana three or four days more.

“What a stuffy hole this is,” grunted Hockley, as he gazed around the stateroom which had been assigned to him and Darry. “I don’t see why the professor didn’t pick out something worth living in. I can’t sleep here.”

“The professor said he had done the best he could, Jake.”

“It’s a beastly shame. This ain’t fit for a mule to stall in.”

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as that. However, if you don’t like it, you can complain to the professor.”

Hockley would not do this and only continued to growl, until Darry grew so sick of hearing him that he escaped to the deck and there joined Sam and Frank.

“No two ways about it, Glummy has got a bilious attack,” he announced. “He has had the sore head ever since we got to Caracas. Now he’s kicking about the stateroom; says it isn’t fit for a mule. Of course it isn’t the finest in the world, but it’s not as bad as that.”

“It’s a pity he is in such a humor,” returned Sam. “And after everything was going so swimmingly, too. But I think I can explain it, in part at least.”

“Then do so by all means, Beans,” cried Darry and Frank, in a breath.

“I learned it by accident, when we came on board. I picked up part of a letter Hockley had torn up. I didn’t know it was his at the time. It read to the effect that he couldn’t have any more money at present, that Mr. Hockley was going to send the funds direct to Professor Strong. Jake evidently wanted money very much, and his father’s refusal to give him some has upset him.”

“That would do it, for Glummy always wants to cut a dash with his rocks,” said Darry. “But he needn’t take it out on us. I’ve got to room with him, unfortunately, but I shan’t stand much of his cutting up.”

As only three staterooms were to be had, Amos Strong had taken Sam in with himself and given another room to Frank and Mark. This just suited the two New York boys and they at once proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as the limited means permitted.

As the steamer was a small one and carried but few passengers, the help was also limited, and both the table and the staterooms were looked after by a tall, gaunt negro who rejoiced in the name of January Jones. The colored man was from Alabama and had shipped some months before. He was thoroughly good natured, but one would never have guessed this from his face, which was usually as solemn as that of an owl.

“Be pleased to help yo’ young gen’men wid yo’ things,” he announced, on presenting himself. “Do whatever yo’ wants me to, sah.”

“Thanks, but everything is about done,” said Mark, who was addressed. Then he added: “Are you the porter?”

“Yes, sah, I’se de portah an’ de waitah, sah.”

“Two in one, eh? All right, George, we’ll call on you later.”

“Yes, sah—January Jones, sah.”

“January Jones!” came from Frank. “That’s an odd name. How did they come to name you January?”

“Ole massa did dat, sah—afo’ de wah, sah. Called me January because I was boahn in July, sah—said eberything was goin’ wrong, wid that wah comin’ on, an’ things was turnin’ ’round, sah.”

At this Mark and Frank laughed outright.

“He was certainly a humorist, January,” said Mark.

“Massa was a cotton plantah, sah—had a big plantation on de ribber, sah. He’s dead an’ gone now, an’ so is de missus.”

“Well, then he was a planter as well as a humorist.”

“Didn’t nebber hear him say nuffin ’bout bein’ in de humorist business, sah. But I was a little piccaninny dem days an’ didn’t know nuffin. Den I can’t do nuffin fo’ you?”

“Not now, but we’ll want you later,” answered Mark, and January Jones shuffled off to call on the others.

“That’s what I call a character,” said Mark, after another laugh. “I reckon we can have some fun with January before this trip comes to an end.”

Early in the morning the Chester left the harbor of La Guayra, with its many ships of all nations and its strange native fishing smacks. The boys and the professor stood at the rail and remained there until land became a mere blur in the distance.

“Farewell to Venezuela!” cried Sam, taking off his hat and making a profound bow. “Our trip was full of pleasure and full of excitement. May the coming trip please us equally.”

“And be less full of peril,” added Professor Strong. “Too much excitement is worse than none at all.”

“Oh, Professor, we’ve got to have some excitement,” said Darry. “Now that it is all over I think everything was just about right.”

“But I am under orders to bring you back home safe and sound,” returned Amos Strong, with a peculiar smile. “And how can I do that if you insist on placing your head in the lion’s mouth?”

“I haven’t seen a lion yet,” said Darry, with a vacant stare. “Where is he and where’s his mouth?”

There was a general laugh, in which even the professor joined, for he loved a joke as well as any of them.

“You know I was speaking metaphorically, Dartworth. Of course I cannot look ahead, but I sincerely trust that you do what you can to keep out of danger in the future. If you do not, I’ll have to call this tour off and take you all home.”

“We’ll be as good as mice watched by a cat,” put in Frank, and this caused another laugh; and then the subject was changed and soon the group separated, each person bent on making himself comfortable in his own way.

But the Chester was not a comfortable ship, as Mark and Frank soon learned by a tour from stem to stern. And they also learned another thing,—that the captain, Jason Sudlip, was anything but an agreeable man.

“Hi, you, I don’t allow passengers in there,” they heard the captain cry, while they were peering into the chart room. “You boys must stay where you belong while you are on this ship.”

“We weren’t going to touch anything, Captain,” replied Mark, pleasantly, although he did not like the way in which he was being addressed.

“Oh, I know boys—into everything they have no business in,” retorted Captain Sudlip. “I’ve had them on board before. You’ll have to stay where you belong.” And he slammed and locked the door of the chart room in their faces.

“He’s real sweet, isn’t he?” said Frank, as they walked to the saloon deck. “I’m glad I don’t work under him. I wouldn’t be a hand on this steamer for ten dollars a day. I’ll be glad when our trip on her is ended.”

Professor Strong had noticed the captain’s harsh manner to those under him, but he said nothing, for in his travels he had met many a captain just as harsh and some of them had been positively brutal.

Dinner was served at five o’clock, and when the boys came to the table with their hearty appetites—nobody had as yet had a chance to get seasick,—they looked at what was set before them by January Jones with dismay.

“This is awful!” whispered Darry to Sam. “This soup is regular dish-water.”

“I can’t eat such soup,” returned Sam. “I hope the meat and vegetables are better.”

“Sorry, sah, but it’s de best de ship affords, sah,” said January Jones, who saw that they were not suited. “De cap’n am a werry close buyer, sah,” he added, in a lower voice. “Can’t git nuffin cheap enough.”

The meat was tough and there was hardly sufficient to go around, while the vegetables, brought on board the day before, were far from fresh. The bread was also poor, and the coffee of the lowest grade. For dessert there was a rice pudding which, according to Darry, “was just like a chunk of dirty rubber.”

Professor Strong saw that the boys were on the point of open rebellion, but he shook his head at them.

“Make the best of it,” he said. “I will see the captain about it later and find out if the service cannot be improved.”

January Jones heard the words, and they made the solemn-looking colored man grin. “Dat’s right, sah,” he whispered. “I hopes yo’ do kick, sah. But yo’ wants to be careful, sah. De man wot kicked on de las’ trip got it hot an’ heaby from de cap’n, sah.”

“So there has been trouble before?”

“Yes, sah, lots ob trouble. But please don’t say I tole yo’, sah. De cap’n would mos’ kill me if he found it out,” went on January Jones. “De cap’n am a hard one, an——”

The colored man did not finish, for he had turned to leave the table, and now he found Captain Sudlip close behind him. He gave one startled look and dove for the door leading to the cook’s galley. The captain followed, and one disappeared directly after the other.

CHAPTER IV
A TALK ABOUT A MEAL

“There’ll be music now,” whispered Frank to Darry. “That captain is a tartar if ever there was one.”

The dessert had already been brought on, so January Jones was not called on to do additional waiting and he did not re-appear. The boys were soon finished and went again to the deck, leaving Professor Strong to interview the master of the steamer.

It was a disagreeable duty he had to perform, but Amos Strong was too old a traveler, and had seen too much of life, to hesitate concerning his course of action. Being unable to find the captain, he hailed the first mate.

“I wish to see the captain at once,” he said. “Where is he?”

The mate did not know, and sent a deck hand to hunt him up. It was a good quarter of an hour before the master of the Chester put in an appearance.

“What is it you want?” demanded Jason Sudlip, harshly and there was a gleam in his eyes which was far from pleasant.

“I wish to complain to you, Captain Sudlip, of the food furnished to our party.”

“What’s the matter with it?”

“Everything is the matter with it. In the first place it is very poor in itself and in the second place it is miserably cooked. To-day’s dinner is the poorest which has been served to our party since we left the United States, and that is several months ago.”

“Humph! I heard you trying to raise a row at the table. According to my way of thinking the food is all right, and so is the cooking. Is that all you want to see me about?”

“That is all, and it is quite enough. I do not propose to stand it. I paid for first-class accommodations for myself and for those with me, and I shall expect such accommodations in the future. If they are not forthcoming as soon as we get to Kingston I shall lodge a complaint against you and sue to recover, even if I have to hold myself and your ship there to do it.”

At this announcement Captain Sudlip’s eyes almost bulged out of his head with rage.

“Ha! do you threaten me?” he roared. “That’s the way of all Yankees—think they can ride right over everybody that comes along. You can’t ride over me!”

“I won’t argue the point,” returned Professor Strong, calmly. “You heard what I said, and I am a man who always keeps his word. I once met a fellow of your stripe at Nassau—Captain Renfaw, of the Queen Mary—perhaps you know him. He tried the same game of poor food and it cost the owners of the ship about sixty pounds in court—and the money came out of Captain Renfaw’s salary. Unless there is a better service I shall treat you exactly as I did Renfaw.”

With this remark Amos Strong swung around on his heel and sauntered off. Captain Sudlip stood for a second glaring at him, and seemed on the point of talking back. Then he drew his lips tightly together and walked to his private cabin.

The professor said nothing to the boys about what had taken place, but they all knew that he had “laid down the law” by the way the captain acted whenever he came near them. They saw nothing of January Jones until the day following.

By nightfall Hockley was taken seasick, and a little later Sam and Mark were also suffering. None of the attacks, however, was severe, and Frank and Darry escaped entirely.

“We got cleaned out when we came down here,” said Darry, with a grin. “My! but I’ll never forget that dose. I thought sure I was going to turn inside out!”

“Poor Hockley didn’t get a chance to boast this trip,” replied Frank. “He was the first one taken.”

By morning all felt fairly well, and everybody appeared at the table but Hockley, who was suffering from a headache.

“Now we’ll see what’s what!” whispered Frank. “This certainly looks encouraging,” and he pointed to the clean tablecloth and the neat piles of bread and pats of butter.

Breakfast seemed a long time in coming, but when at last it did arrive it was quite a fair meal. The quantity was not extravagant, but what there was of it was fairly well cooked, and the coffee proved of a much better grade, greatly to the professor’s satisfaction, for like many old-time travelers, he was a great coffee drinker. Nothing was said about the improvement in the food, but many a sly wink was given and returned across the board.

While the boys were eating they saw that January Jones was unusually silent. The negro had a bit of court-plaster on his forehead and one side of his jaw seemed slightly swollen.

“It looks to me as if January had been in a fight,” remarked Sam, when the crowd found itself on deck. “Do you imagine that brute of a captain attacked him?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” returned Mark. “He is a very easy-going, mild-mannered darkey, and a fellow like Captain Sudlip would just take pleasure in brow-beating him.”

“But isn’t it against the marine rules to strike a man like that?” questioned Frank.

“I guess captains often take the law into their own hands,” said Darry. “They can put in a complaint of mutiny, or something like that, and a sailor, or other ship’s hand, has no show.”

The day had started in bright and clear, but by ten o’clock it began to grow misty, and soon a drizzling rain was falling and they were compelled to seek the shelter of the cabin.

“I think we may as well improve our time by having a talk about Jamaica,” said Professor Strong. “We shall only stop for one day at Kingston—unless something unforeseen happens—but it won’t hurt to know something of this English possession.”

He had his map handy, and placing it on the wall he sat down in front of it, and the boys ranged close alongside.

“As you can readily see,” began the professor, “Jamaica is an island located in the Caribbean Sea directly north of Colombia in South America and south of the island of Cuba. It is oval in shape and is about one hundred and fifty miles long by fifty miles wide. Can any of you name a State at home of about that size?”

There was a few seconds of silence.

“If I am not mistaken New Jersey is just a little larger than that,” answered Mark.

“You are right Robertson, the general length and the general width are about the same, although New Jersey contains more square miles than Jamaica. The island has a ridge of high hills running east and west, called the Blue Mountains, and from these hills spring over half a dozen small streams which flow into the sea.”

“Can you sail on the rivers?” came from Darry.

“On only a few, Crane, the others contain too many rapids and waterfalls. The deepest stream is the Black River, which is used by small boats for perhaps twenty-five or thirty miles. I once had an adventure on that river, so I am not likely to forget it.”

“Oh, tell us the story!” cried Frank, eagerly. He always thought a “geography lesson” awfully dry.

“It is soon told,” answered Professor Strong, with a good natured smile. “I had been out hunting and had slipped on a steep rock and twisted my ankle. I went down to the river and there discovered a rowboat. No one was at hand from whom I could hire the boat and I could not walk around looking up the owner. So I determined to risk taking the boat, and jumping in I shoved off and began to row down to the town, two miles away. I had hardly gotten quarter of a mile when I heard a shouting and two old Englishmen came running down the river bank, yelling wildly. They, too, had been out gunning, and before I could come back and explain one of them aimed his gun at me and fired.”

“And were you hit?” asked several of the boys together.

“No, fortunately his aim was poor and the charge passed over my head. Then I rowed to shore in a hurry, and after a good deal of trouble explained matters. They told me that they had had their boat stolen by negroes three days before and in the darkness took me for one of the negroes. I felt like giving them a piece of my mind for shooting at me, but as it was their boat I let the matter drop. But I never borrowed another boat without permission.”

“I’d had ’em locked up,” came from Hockley, who had just joined the group.

“Well, I did not. Now to get back to Jamaica. The mouths of the numerous rivers afford good harbors, but the best of the shelters for ships is the bay toward the south-east, upon which is situated Kingston, the capital. The total population of the island is about six hundred and fifty thousand, only a very small part of that being white people.”

“It’s the best of the West Indies belonging to England, isn’t it?” questioned Sam.

“Yes. It used to belong to Spain. It was discovered by Columbus, on his second voyage, in 1494, and it was taken under Spanish rule fifteen years later. In 1655 Oliver Cromwell sent out an expedition which captured the island, and it was ceded to England later on. Since that time there has been more or less trouble with the negroes, but at present the island is at rest.”

“And what do the people do for a living?” asked Darry.

“They raise sugar and coffee principally, and also some fruit. The country is also becoming something of a health resort, the climate, especially among the hills, being fine.”

“I’ve often heard of Jamaica rum,” said Hockley.

“Yes, the island produces more of that than is good for the people at large,” answered the professor. “It also exports large quantities of log-wood, and the price received is, at present, very good.”

“Tell us about your hunting trips in Jamaica,” said Frank, after a pause, during which Amos Strong pointed out several of the important towns on the map; and a long talk on hunting followed which did not come to an end until the gong rang for dinner. Nothing had been brought down in the forests of Jamaica but birds—for there are no wild animals worth mentioning—but the professor had a manner of telling his “yarns” which was exceedingly captivating.

The midday meal served was about on a par with the breakfast. There was no more than was absolutely necessary, but the quality was far above that of the day previous and the cook had taken pains with the preparation of the food. The captain did not show himself, and even January Jones hardly spoke a word.

“I hope you didn’t get into trouble on our account, January,” observed Sam, when he got the chance.

“De cap’n am a werry hard man, sah,” replied the negro, and that was all he would say.

“Angry, is he?”

The negro nodded solemnly and walked away.

“I think we’ll hear more of this,” said Darry, and he was right.

It grew dark early in the afternoon and the rain kept them in the cabin, where the boys started in to amuse themselves in various ways.

“It’s small fun on board of a ship in a storm,” said Sam. “Makes me feel like a chicken boxed up in a hen-house.”

“Really?” returned Darry, dryly. “Now I never was a chicken in a hen-house, so I don’t know how——” and then he broke off short and dodged, as Sam moved as if to throw a book at his head.

“It certainly is dead slow——” remarked Frank, when a sudden hissing stopped him. The hissing was followed by a roar as of an explosion and before they could realize it the cabin began to fill with steam.

“Gracious, the boiler must have burst!” ejaculated Mark.

“Boiler burst!” came from the others.

“We had better get out on deck, boys!” called Professor Strong. “Something is certainly very much wrong.”

He had scarcely spoken when there came another roar and worse hissing. A yell went up from some other passengers and immediately there was wild confusion on all sides.

“Oh, Professor, are we going down?” cried Hockley in terror, as he clutched Professor Strong’s arm.

“I hope not, Jacob,” was the reply. “Come, we will get to the deck and provide ourselves with life preservers.”

But to reach the deck through that cloud of steam was by no means easy. Hockley was frantic and began to yell for help. In the meantime Professor Strong and Frank reached a number of life preservers and passed some to the others. At last they found themselves outside on the wet and dark deck, wondering what was going to happen next.

CHAPTER V
THE DEFENSE OF JANUARY JONES

“We’ll all be drowned, I know we will!”

The remark came from Hockley. His teeth chattered so that he could scarcely speak.

“If there is any real danger I should think the captain would have the boats lowered,” said Mark, who, now that the first scare was over, was more calm than any of the other boys.

“Perhaps it is not as bad as we anticipated,” said the professor.

“Tie this life preserver on me, will you?” asked Hockley of Sam. He already had one preserver around his waist and now wanted this on his breast.

“All right,” replied Sam, and did as requested.

In the meantime all listened for the sound of another explosion. Would it come, and if it did, would it send them skyhigh? Certainly it was a moment of terrible suspense.

“I—I know we’ll go up,” chattered Hockley. “And we’re ever so far from land too!”

But they did not go up, nor did anything more in the nature of an explosion occur. The hissing of steam continued for fully five minutes and then stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

“I imagine the worst is over,” said Professor Strong, after a painful silence. “Unless I am mistaken that accident was nothing worse than the ripping open of some steam pipes. But it may have cost the life of a fireman, coal heaver, or engineer. If you will all remain here I will investigate.”

They promised to stay where they were and he left them, to be gone the best part of quarter of an hour. In the meantime quietness was restored on board, and some of the passengers went back to the cabin, which was now free of steam.

“It was as I surmised,” said the professor. “Two pipes burst and let out an immense amount of steam. One of the firemen had his leg scalded and an engineer had his left hand badly lacerated. They are now repairing the damage done, and they say that by morning we will be able to steam along the same as usual.”

“I’m glad to know it’s no worse,” observed Frank, while Hockley wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. “But it’s queer the pipes should burst. They must be old.”

“The engineer says he told Captain Sudlip about the pipes needing repairs before we left La Guayra. But the captain put him off and told him that he would have the repairs made at Havana.”

“If that’s the case then that fireman and that engineer will have it in for him,” was Mark’s comment.

“And they ought to have it in for him,” came from Frank. “Those men might have been steamed to death, and we might have been blown up in the bargain.”

“Just what I say,” added Sam.

The rain soon cleared off and that evening the countless stars came out to brighten up the view of the sea. The boys made themselves easy on the deck, taking in the scene, the single exception being Hockley, who sat close to a cabin light, reading a novel he had picked up at a bookstall in La Guayra.

“Did you see that novel Glummy is reading?” said Sam to Frank, as he drew up his chair.

“I didn’t notice particularly. What is it, something deep?” And Frank smiled.

“Very deep,” went on Sam, disgustedly. “The title is ‘Pete Prankley, the Sassiest Boy in Sawtown; Or, Out for a Hundred Laughs a Day.’ Did you ever hear of such rot? I don’t see how Jake can read it.”

“That’s on a level with another book he was reading—at the hotel in Caracas. That was called ‘Gold Nose Hank, the Mine Discoverer; Or, The Whoop-Up at Stampede Hollow.’ Just for fun I looked through the book and made a note of the things that happened. Gold Nose Hank shot down three Indians, two road robbers and one government detective. His enemies fired forty-six shots at him but never touched him. He located nine gold mines, said to be worth fifteen million dollars, and saved the life of the girl five times, once from a stampede of cattle, once from the Indians, once from a road robber, and twice from drowning in a river which he afterward forded without getting his cartridge belt wet. And all that for ten cents.”

At this Sam burst into a merry laugh. “That author believed in giving his reader his money’s worth, didn’t he?”

“Glummy seems to have got a mania for that sort of a story lately. The professor once took a book away from him and burnt it up. But now Glummy puts the books out of sight as soon as he sees the professor coming.”

“If he keeps on he’ll be wanting to follow in the footsteps of Gold Nose Hank or Pete Prankley,” said Mark, who had listened to the talk. “If he does it will get him into trouble. He will find—listen!”

Mark stopped short, and all of the boys listened. From the forward deck of the steamer came a cry, as of sudden alarm. Silence followed.

“That was queer,” said Sam. “It sounded to me like January Jones’ voice.”

“It was January,” returned Frank. “He’s in some sort of trouble. Come on and see what it is.”

The three boys rushed forward, followed by Darry, the professor having gone to his stateroom to change his coat. At first they could not find the colored man, but presently located him near the forecastle. Beside him stood Captain Sudlip, a bit of an iron chain in his hand.

“That will teach you a lesson,” the captain of the Chester was saying. “You’ve needed it ever since you came on board.”

To this January Jones made no answer. He was wiping the blood from his nose and from a cut on his left hand.

“The captain has been striking that negro,” whispered Sam. “It is an outrage and I mean to tell him so.”

“Don’t do it, Beans,” cried Mark, catching him by the arm. “You’ll only get yourself into trouble.”

But Sam would not listen. He was ordinarily a quiet, studious boy, but now his stern New England sense of justice was aroused, and tearing himself loose he hurried up and confronted the master of the steamer.

“I think it’s a shame for you to strike this man,” he said, in a loud, clear voice. “I know you are the captain but I don’t think you have a right to abuse any of your crew.”

At this frank speech Jason Sudlip stared in open-mouthed astonishment. For the moment he fancied he had not heard aright.

“Why—er—what——” he began, and then his eyes blazed with sudden fury. “Get out of here!” he roared. “Get out, I say! If you don’t I’ll knock you down!”

His advance was so threatening that Sam put up his hands to defend himself. But he did not back away, and Captain Sudlip stopped when directly in front of the lad.

“Did you hear me?” he stormed. “I want you to get where you belong. I’ll treat this nigger as I please. By Jove, I think you need a good licking too!” And he raised the chain as if to strike.

But now Darry ranged up alongside of Sam. “If you fight, you’ll have to fight me too,” he declared. “He said it was a shame for you to abuse January Jones and it is. No decent captain would act as you are acting on this trip.”

If possible this declaration made Jason Sudlip more furious than ever. He was naturally of a vindictive nature and he glared at the boys as if he would like to “chew ’em” up.

Mark and Frank were not long in advancing as Darry had done, and the sight of the four boys, with their determined faces, caused Captain Sudlip to pause again. He glanced around, but in the semi-darkness of that portion of the deck no one was visible but the boys, January Jones and himself.

“Don’t you know you are carrying matters with a high hand, dictating to me on my own ship?” he demanded, in a slightly milder tone.

“I am not dictating to you,” replied Sam. “But if this man needs protection and I can aid him I will, that’s as sure as you stand there. I don’t know much about the sea, but I think the time has gone by when a captain can treat his crew like a lot of slaves.”

“Dat’s right, I ain’t no slabe no moah,” came from January Jones, who was beginning to pick up a little courage, now he saw he had so many to side with him.

“You keep quiet!” stormed the captain, shaking his fist at the colored man. “I’ll settle this with you at another time,” and then January Jones slunk back, fearful that he had “put his foot into it” worse than ever.

“Captain, I can’t see why we can’t settle this little affair in a friendly way,” said Mark, after an awkward pause. “We don’t want any trouble. If you’ll only treat that colored fellow as he should be treated, and continue to serve us with decent meals, there won’t be any cause for——”

“I don’t want any preaching from a boy!” interrupted the captain. “I know my business and I want you to mind yours.”

“All right, we will,” came from Darry. “But just the same, we are going to keep an eye on you so long as we remain on board. And if you do anything more that the law doesn’t allow you’ll hear from us; isn’t that so, fellows?”