“He? Who? What has he got?” asked the others in a breath.
“Glummy. He’s seasick, and he’s in his room doing more groaning than a Scotch bagpipe. Come and listen. But don’t make any noise.”
Silently the quartet tiptoed their way out of the stateroom and to the door of the apartment occupied by Hockley. For a second there was silence. Then came a turning of a body on a berth and a prolonged groan of misery.
“Oh, why did I come out here,” came from Hockley. “Oh dear, my head! Everything’s going round and round! Oh, if only this old tub would stop rolling for a minute—just a minute!” And then came another series of groans, followed by sounds which suggested that poor Hockley was about as sick as a boy can well be.
“Let’s give him a cheer, just to brace him up,” suggested Frank, in a whisper.
“Just the thing,” came from Darry. “My, but won’t it make him boiling mad!”
But Mark interposed. “No, don’t do it, fellows, he feels bad enough already. Come on and leave him alone,” and this advice was followed and they went on deck. Here they met the professor, who wanted to know if they had seen Hockley.
“No, sir, but we heard him,” said Sam. “He’s in a bad way, and perhaps he’d like to see you.”
At this Professor Strong’s face became a study. Clearly he knew what was in the boys’ minds, but he did not betray it. Yet he had to smile when he was by himself. He went to see Hockley, and he did not re-appear on deck until two hours later.