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.”