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LOST ON THE ORINOCO.

Over it went, carrying the boys with it.

Pan-American Series

LOST ON THE ORINOCO

OR
AMERICAN BOYS IN VENEZUELA

BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of “With Washington in the West,” “American Boys’ Life of
William McKinley,” “On to Pekin,” “Between Boer and Briton,”
“Old Glory Series,” “Ship and Shore Series,”
“Bound to Succeed Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE

BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD
1902

Published in March, 1902
Copyright, 1902, by Lee and Shepard

All rights reserved

Lost on the Orinoco

Norwood Press
Berwick & Smith
Norwood, Mass.
U. S. A.

PREFACE

“Lost on the Orinoco” is a complete tale in itself, but forms the first volume of the “Pan-American Series,” a line of books intended to embrace sight seeing and adventures in different portions of the three Americas, especially such portions as lie outside of the United States.

The writing of this series has been in the author’s mind for several years, for it seemed to him that here were many fields but little known and yet well worthy the attention of young people, and especially young men who in business matters may have to look beyond our own States for their opportunities. The great Pan-American Exhibition at Buffalo, N. Y. did much to open the eyes of many regarding Central and South America, but this exposition, large as it was, did not tell a hundredth part of the story. As one gentleman having a Venezuelan exhibit there expressed it: “To show up Venezuela properly, we should have to bring half of the Republic here.” And what is true of Venezuela is true of all the other countries.

In this story are related the sight seeing and adventures of five wide-awake American lads who visit Venezuela in company with their academy professor, a teacher who had in former years been a great traveler and hunter. The party sail from New York to La Guayra, visit Caracas, the capital, Macuto, the fashionable seaside resort, and other points of interest near by; then journey westward to the Gulf of Maracaibo and the immense lake of the same name; and at last find themselves on the waters of the mighty Orinoco, the second largest stream in South America, a body of water which maintains a width of three miles at a distance of over 600 miles from the ocean. Coffee and cocoa plantations are visited, as well as the wonderful gold and silver mines and the great llanos, or prairies, and the boys find time hanging anything but heavy on their hands. Occasionally they get into a difficulty of more or less importance, but in the end all goes well.

In the preparation of the historical portions of this book the very latest American, British and Spanish authorities have been consulted. Concerning the coffee, mining and other industries most of the information has come from those directly interested in these branches. This being so, it is hoped that the work will be found accurate and reliable as well as interesting.

Once more thanking the thousands who have read my previous books for the interest they have shown, I place this volume in their hands trusting it will fulfil their every expectation.

Edward Stratemeyer.

April 1, 1902.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

LOST ON THE ORINOCO

CHAPTER I
THE BOYS TALK IT OVER

“Hurrah, Mark, it’s settled at last.”

“What is settled, Frank?”

“We are to go to Venezuela and other places in South America. My father just got the word from Professor Strong. I brought the letter along for you to read.”

“That’s certainly immense news,” remarked Mark Robertson, as he took the letter which Frank Newton held out to him. “Does he say how soon he will be able to start?”

“Just as soon as he can settle up affairs at Lakeview Academy. I suppose he’s got quite something to do there yet. But we can hurry him along, can’t we?”

“I don’t think you’ll hurry the professor much,” answered Mark, as he began to read the communication which had been passed to him. “He’s one of the kind that is slow but sure—not but that he can move quick enough, when you least expect it.”

“As for instance on the night we tried to hide all the schoolbooks in the old boathouse,” responded Frank, with a twinkle in his eye. “He caught us neatly, didn’t he?”

“That’s what. Hullo! So Beans and Darry are going, too. I like that first rate. Beans is all right, even if he is from Boston, and Darry will furnish fun enough for a minstrel show.”

“To be sure. I wouldn’t want to go if they weren’t along, and you. But do you see what the professor says on the last page? He wants to take Jake the Glum along too.”

At this the face of Mark Robinson fell somewhat. “I wish he had left Glummy out,” he said. “He knows the fellow is sour to the last degree and a bully in the bargain.”

“I guess the professor wants to reform him, Mark.”

“He’ll have up-hill work doing it. Glummy has been at the academy two years and I know him pretty thoroughly.”

“Well, he’ll be the richest boy in the crowd. Perhaps that had something to do with taking him along.”

“No, the professor doesn’t think so much of money as that. Each person in the crowd will have to pay his share of the expenses and his share of the professor’s salary, and that’s all, outside of the incidentals.”

“I wonder if the incidentals won’t be rather high.”

“I fancy we can make them as high as we please—buying souvenirs and things like that. You can be sure Glummy will try his best to cut a wide swath if he gets the chance.”

“Perhaps the professor will hold him in. But it’s great news, isn’t it?” And in his enthusiasm Frank began to dance an impromptu jig on the library floor.

Frank Newton was a New York city youth, sixteen years of age, tall, well-built and rather good looking. He was the only son of a Wall Street banker, and if his parent was not a millionaire he was exceedingly well to do. The lad resided in the fashionable part of Madison Avenue when at home, which was not often, for his family were fond of going abroad, and either took the boy with them or sent him to boarding school.

Directly opposite the home of the Newtons lived the Robertson family, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, Mark, and several smaller children. Mr. Robertson was a dry goods importer who owned an interest in several mills in England and Scotland, and he made trips across the Atlantic semi-yearly.

Although Mark Robertson was a year older than Frank Newton, the two lads were warm friends and had gone to school together for years. Their earlier education had been had in the city, but when Frank was eleven and Mark twelve both had been packed off to Lakeview Academy, a small but well conducted school nestling among the hills of New Hampshire.

Five years of life at the academy had made the place seem like a second home to the boys. The master, Professor Amos Strong, was a thorough gentleman and scholar, and under his guidance the boys progressed rapidly in all their studies. The professor had in his day been both a traveler and hunter, and the stories he was wont to relate during off hours were fascinating to the last degree.

As might be expected, the boys, while at school, made many friends and also an enemy or two, although as regards the latter, the enmity was never very deep, for Professor Strong would not tolerate anything underhanded or sneakish.

Next to Mark, Frank’s dearest chum at the academy was Dartworth Crane, a slightly built boy of fifteen, who was as full of fun as a boy can well be. Dartworth, or “Darry” as he was always called for short, was the son of a rich Chicago cattle dealer, and the boy’s earlier days had been spent on a ranch in Montana. He loved to race on horseback and hunt and fish, and the master sometimes had all he could do to hold the sunny but impetuous lad within proper bounds.

As Frank had another chum, so did Mark, in the person of Samuel Winthrop, the son of a well-to-do widow who resided in the Back Bay district of Boston. Samuel was a tall, studious looking individual, with a high forehead and a thick mass of curly black hair. Because he came from Boston, he had been nick-named “Beans,” and although he did not relish the sobriquet it was likely to stick to him for years to come.

Among the lads to join those at the academy two years before had been Jacob Hockley, a thin, lank youth of Mark’s age, with a white freckled face and hair strongly inclined to be red. Hockley was the only son and heir of a millionaire lumber dealer of Pennsylvania. His manner was peculiar, at times exceedingly “bossy” as the others declared, and then again morose and sour, the latter mood having won for him the nickname of “Glummy” or “Jake the Glum.” Hockley was given to spending his money, of which he had more than was good for him, freely, but even this had failed to make him any substantial friends.

The enmity between Hockley on one side, and Frank and Mark on the other, had arisen over the captaincy of the academy baseball team the summer previous. Jake wished to be the captain of the team, and had done his best to persuade or buy the boys over to vote for him. But Frank had advocated Mark for the captaincy, and Mark had won, much to the lank youth’s discomfiture.

“You’ll never win a game with Mark Robertson as captain and with Frank Newton on first-base,” had been Jake’s sour comment, but he was sadly mistaken. That summer the team played nine games with the teams from rival schools, and won seven of the contests. The winning made Jake Hockley more down on Mark and Frank than ever, but as the others were popular he had often to conceal his real feelings.

On a windy night in June the cry of “fire!” had aroused every inmate of Lakeview Academy from his bed, and had caused all to leave the rambling building in a hurry. The conflagration had started in the laundry, and from this room quickly communicated to the kitchen, dining hall, and then the remainder of the stone and wood structure. In such a high wind, the fire department from the village, two miles away, could do little or nothing, and the efforts of the students, headed by the several teachers, were likewise of no avail. Inside of three hours everything was swept away and only a cellar full of blackened debris marked the spot where the picturesque academy had once stood.

Under such circumstances many a man would have been too stunned to act immediately, but ere the stones of the building were cold, Professor Strong was laying his plans with the insurance companies for the erection of a new and better structure. The students were cared for at some neighboring houses and then refitted with clothing and sent home.

During the fall there had been much talk of a personally conducted tour to South America during the coming year, the tour to be under the guidance of Professor Strong, who had been South a number of times before. Letters had been sent to the parents of various students, but nothing definite had been done up to the time the fire occurred.

Mark and Frank had planned for the trip South, and could not bear to think of giving it up, and as soon as Professor Strong was in a position to give them his attention, Frank had gotten his father to write concerning it. Several letters passed, and at last Professor Strong decided to leave the building and the management of the new academy to his brother, who had just left the faculty of Harvard, and go with the boys.

While the trip was being talked of at the academy, previous to the fire, Jake Hockley had announced his determination to go, but since the boys had separated, nothing more had been heard from the lank youth, and Mark and Frank were hoping he had given the plan up. The announcement therefore, that he would make one of the party, put a damper on their enthusiasm.

“He’ll get us into some kind of trouble before we get back, you see if he doesn’t,” was Frank’s comment.

“I’ll make him keep his distance,” was Mark’s reply. “If he attempts to go too far I’ll show him that I won’t stand any nonsense.”

The party of six were to leave for Venezuela by way of New York city, and a few days after the conversation just recorded Sam Winthrop came down on the train from Boston, to remain with Mark until the arrival of the professor.

“Beans, by all that’s delightful!” cried Mark, as he wrung his friend’s hand. “So glad you came a few days ahead.”

“I wanted a chance to look around New York,” answered Sam Winthrop. “I’ve never had a chance before, you know.”

“You shall look around, all you please, and Frank and I will go with you.”

“Is Darry here yet?”

“No, but Frank expects him to-morrow. Then we can all go around until Professor Strong arrives. But say, what do you think about Glummy going?” and Mark looked anxious.

“Can’t say that I am overjoyed, Mark.”

“I wish it was anybody but Hockley—and Frank wishes the same.”

“Well, all arrangements have been made, so we’ll have to make the best of it. But I heard one thing that doesn’t please me,” went on Sam. “I got a letter from Dick Mason, and in it he said Glummy was talking of the trip to some of his chums, and said he was going just to show Frank and you a thing or two.”

“Did he? I wonder what he meant?”

“He didn’t mean anything very good, you can be sure of that, Mark.”

“You are right. We’ll certainly have to keep our eyes open and watch him,” concluded Mark, seriously.

CHAPTER II
PREPARING FOR THE START

On the following morning Darry Crane came in, on the Limited Express direct from Chicago. He sent a telegram ahead, to Frank, who went up to the Grand Central depot to meet his chum.

“Had a fine trip,” said Darry, “but, honest, I couldn’t get here fast enough, I’ve been that anxious to see you. Heard from Beans yet? I’ll wager he comes down with his grip loaded with beans, on account of the long trip, you know. What, didn’t bring any beans? Must be a mistake about that.”

“I guess he was afraid you’d forget the pork,” answered Frank, with a laugh. “But how have you been since you left school?”

“First-class. Went West, you know, with my father and nearly rode a pony to death on the Lone Star ranch. Oh, it was glorious to get over the ground. Beats a stuffy old city all to bits. Hold on, I’ve got to look after my trunk. Wouldn’t want to lose that, for it’s got the whole outfit for the trip in it.”

“Our man will have the trunk brought to our house,” answered Frank. “You come with me, and I’ll take you down to Mark’s, where you’ll find Beans. By the way, heard anything of Glummy?”

“Did I? Well, I just guess, Frank. What do you think? He actually paid me a visit—not very long, of course, but still he came to see me. Said he was passing through Chicago on a trip to St. Louis, and felt that he had to hunt up an old chum. I almost fainted when he said it. But he acted quite decent, I must admit, not a bit airish or sour either.”

“Did he say anything about this trip to South America?”

“Not much, excepting that he would like to go if it went through. I didn’t say much either, for I was thinking you and Mark wouldn’t like to have him along. You don’t, do you?”

“Not much, although I guess we can stand it if he lets us alone. We needn’t have much to do with him.”

Taking Darry’s valise from him, Frank led the way to the street and hailed a passing auto-cab, and both were speedily taken to the home on Madison Avenue. A few minutes later they hurried across the way and joined Mark and Sam.

In anticipation of the good times ahead, all four of the lads were in a happy frame of mind, and the remainder of the day was spent by the New Yorkers in showing the visitors around Central Park and other points of interest. In the afternoon the four went downtown and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Then they came back to the Battery and took the little craft which plies hourly between that point and Bedloe’s Island, where is located the Statue of Liberty, standing as a gigantic sentinel to New York Bay.

“How big it looks when one is close to it,” remarked Sam, when they disembarked close to the base of the statue. “I thought climbing to the top would be easy, but I fancy it’s going to be as tedious as climbing to the top of Bunker Hill monument.”

And so it proved, as they went up the dark and narrow circular steps leading to the crown of the statue. They wished to go up into the torch, but the way was blocked owing to repairs.

Suddenly Mark, on looking around him, uttered an exclamation of surprise. “Glummy Hockley! How did you get here?”

His words caused the others to forget their sight seeing for the moment, and they faced about, to find themselves confronted by the freckled-faced youth, who had been gazing in the opposite direction.

“I’ll thank you not to call me ‘Glummy,’” said Hockley, coolly, although he too was taken by surprise. Then he turned to Darry. “How do you do, Darry? When did you arrive?”

Mark bit his lip and looked at Frank, who gave him a knowing look in return. Clearly it had been an ill beginning to the conversation. Somehow Mark felt as if he had not done just right.

“Excuse me, Glum—I mean Hockley, I’ll try to remember your proper name after this,” he stammered.

“I don’t mind those things at school, but you must remember we are not at school now,” went on Hockley, with something of an air of importance. Then he smiled faintly at Sam. “How are you, Beans?”

“Excuse me, but we are not at school now, and my name’s not ‘Beans,’” was the dry response.

There was a second of silence, and then Darry burst into a roar of laughter, and Frank and Mark were compelled to follow, the whole thing seemed so comical. Hockley grew red, but when Sam joined in the merriment he felt compelled to smile himself, although he looked more sour than ever directly afterward.

“All right, Sam, I’ll try to remember,” he said with an effort, and held out his hand.

The two shook hands and then the lank youth shook hands with Darry. After this there was nothing to do but for Frank and Mark to take Hockley’s hand also, and this they did, although stiffly.

But the ice was broken and soon all were talking as a crowd of boys usually do. Hockley had brought a field glass with him and insisted on all using it.

“Bought it down in Maiden Lane this morning,” he remarked. “Got the address of a first-class firm from a friend who knows all about such things. It cost me sixty-five dollars, but I reckon it’s worth it. Ain’t many better glasses around. I expect it will be just the thing in Venezuela.”

“No doubt,” said Darry, but felt somewhat disgusted over Hockley’s air of importance. Nevertheless, the glass was a fine one, and everybody enjoyed looking through it. Ships coming up the Lower Bay could be seen at a long distance, and they could also see over Brooklyn and Long Island, and over Jersey City and Newark to the Orange Mountains.

“What are you fellows going to do to-night?” questioned Hockley, when they were going down the stairs again.

“We thought something of going to Manhattan Beach to see the fireworks——” began Frank, and broke off short.

“I was thinking of going to Coney Island,” went on the lank youth. “Supposing we all go there? I’ll foot the bill.”

“I shouldn’t care to go to Coney Island, and I don’t think Darry and Sam will care either,” said Mark.

“Let us all go to Manhattan,” broke in Sam. “I’ve often heard of the fireworks.” He had not the heart to give Hockley too much of a cold shoulder.

So it was arranged, on the way back to the Battery, and then there was nothing to do but ask the lank youth to dine with them.

“We are bound to have Glummy on us, sooner or later,” whispered Mark to Frank, while they were eating. “Perhaps it’s just as well to make the best of it. It will be time enough to turn on him when he does something which is openly offensive.”

When it came time to settle the bill, the lank youth wished to pay for everybody, but the others would not allow this.

“Let everybody pay for himself,” said Darry. “Then there won’t be any trouble.”

“I can pay as well as not,” said Hockley, sourly.

“So can any of us,” returned Mark, dryly; and there the subject dropped.

The trip to Manhattan Beach and the fireworks were very enjoyable, and before the evening came to an end everybody was in a much better humor, although both Mark and Frank felt that they would have enjoyed the trip more had Hockley not been present.

Hockley was stopping at the Astor House, and left them near the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge. He had wanted them to have a late supper with him, and had even mentioned wine, but all had declined, stating they were tired and wished to go to bed.

“He must be getting to be a regular high-flyer if he uses much wine,” remarked Frank when the four were on their way uptown. “What a fool he is with his money. He thinks that covers everything.”

“He’ll be foolish to take to drink,” returned Darry. “It has ruined many a rich young fellow, and he ought to know it.”

“I think Hockley would be all right if it wasn’t for the high opinion he has of himself,” came from Sam. “But his patronizing way of talking is what irritates. He considers nobody as important as himself. In one way I think he’d be better off if he was poor.”

“The family haven’t been rich very long—only eight or ten years, so I’ve heard,” said Mark. “Poor Hockley isn’t used to it yet. It will be a lesson to him to learn that there are lots of other rich folks in this world who aren’t making any fuss and feathers about it.”

In the morning came a message from Professor Strong, stating that he had arrived, and was stopping at the Hotel Manhattan. He added that he would see Mr. Robertson and Mr. Newton that morning, and would be at the service of the boys directly after lunch.

“Now we won’t lose much more time,” cried Frank. “I declare I wish we were to sail for Venezuela to-day.”

“I fancy the professor has a good many arrangements to make,” said Sam. “It’s quite a trip we are contemplating, remember.”

“Pooh! it’s not such a trip to Caracas,” returned Darry. “My father was down there once—looking at a coffee plantation.”

“A trip to Caracas wouldn’t be so much, Darry,” said Mark. “But you must remember that we are going further,—to the great lake of Maracaibo, and then around to the mouth of the Orinoco, and hundreds of miles up that immense stream. They tell me that the upper end of the Orinoco is as yet practically unexplored.”

“Hurrah! we’ll become the Young Explorers!” cried Darry, enthusiastically. “Say, I wonder if the professor will want us to go armed?”

“I don’t think so,” said Frank. “He’ll go armed, and as he is a crack shot I guess that will do for the lot of us.”

“Glummy showed me a pearl-handled pistol he had just bought,” put in Sam. “He said it cost him sixteen dollars.”

“He’d be sure to mention the price,” said Frank, with a sickly grin. “I’d like to see him face some wild beast—I’ll wager he’d drop his pistol and run for his life.”

“Maybe somebody else would run, too,” came from Mark. “I don’t believe it’s much fun to stand up in front of a big wild animal.”

“Are there any such in Venezuela?”

“I don’t know—we’ll have to ask the professor.”

CHAPTER III
ON BOARD THE STEAMER

When the boys presented themselves at Professor Strong’s room at the Hotel Manhattan they found that worthy man looking over a number of purchases he had made while on his trip downtown.

“Glad to see you, boys,” he said, as he shook one and another by the hand. “I trust you are all feeling well.”

“Haven’t been sick a minute this summer,” answered Darry, and the others said about the same.

“I see you have your firearms with you,” remarked Mark, as he gazed at a rifle and a double-barreled shotgun standing in a corner. “We were wondering if we were to go armed.”

“I shouldn’t feel at home without my guns,” returned the professor with a smile. “You see that comes from being a confirmed old hunter. I don’t anticipate any use for them except when I go hunting. As for your going armed, I have already arranged with your parents about that. I shall take a shotgun for each, also a pistol, for use when we are in the wilds of the upper Orinoco.”

“Will you lead us on a regular hunt?” asked Darry, eagerly.

“I will if you’ll promise to behave and not get into unnecessary difficulties.”

“We’ll promise,” came from all.

“I have been making a number of purchases,” continued Professor Strong. “But I must make a number more, and if you wish you can go along and help me make the selections.”

“Is Glummy—I mean is Jake Hockley coming up here?” questioned Mark.

“I expected him to come with you. Isn’t he stopping with one of you?”

“No, he’s stopping at the Astor House,” came from Frank.

There was an awkward pause, which was very suggestive, and the professor noted it. With his gun in hand he faced the four.

“I’m afraid you do not care much to have Master Hockley along,” he said, slowly.

“Oh, I reckon we can get along,” answered Darry, after the others had failed to speak.

“It is unfortunate that you are not all the best of friends. But Hockley asked me about the trip a long while ago and when it came to the point I could not see how I could refuse him. Besides that, I was thinking that perhaps the trip would do him good. I trust you will treat him fairly.”

“Of course we’ll do that,” said Mark, slowly.

“I guess there won’t be any trouble,” said Frank, but deep in his heart he feared otherwise.

“Hockley has not had the benefits of much traveling,” continued the professor. “And traveling broadens the mind. The trip will do us all good.”

They were soon on their way to Fourteenth Street, and then Broadway, and at several stores the professor purchased the articles he had put down on his list. The boys all helped to carry these back to the hotel. On arriving they found Jake Hockley sitting in the reception room awaiting them.

The face of the lank youth fell when he saw that they had been out on a tour without him. “I’d been up earlier if you had sent me word,” he said to the professor. “I suppose I’ve got to get a lot of things myself, haven’t I?”

“You have your clothing, haven’t you?—I mean the list I sent to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you are all right, for I have the other things.”

From the professor the boys learned that the steamer for La Guayra, the nearest seaport to Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, would sail three days later.

“There is a sailing every ten days,” said Professor Strong. “The steamers are not as large as those which cross the Atlantic but they are almost as comfortable, and I have seen to it that we shall have the best of the staterooms. The trip will take just a week, unless we encounter a severe storm which drives us back.”

“I don’t want to meet a storm,” said Hockley.

“Afraid of getting seasick,” came from Frank.

“Not exactly,” snapped the lank youth. “Perhaps you’ll get seasick yourself.”

“Does this steamer belong to the only line running to Venezuela?” asked Sam.

“This is the only regular passenger line. There are other lines, carrying all sorts of freight, which run at irregular intervals, and then there are sailing vessels which often stop there in going up or down the coast.”

The three days to follow passed swiftly, for at the last moment the professor and the boys found plenty of things to do. On the day when the steamer was to sail, Sam’s mother came down from Boston to see her son off, and the parents of Mark and Frank were also on hand, so that there was quite a family gathering. The baggage was already aboard, a trunk and a traveling case for each, as well as a leather bag for the guns and ammunition.

At last came the familiar cry, “All ashore that’s going!” and the last farewells were said. A few minutes later the gang-plank was withdrawn and the lines unloosened. As the big steamer began to move, something like a lump arose in Frank’s throat.

“We’re off!” he whispered to Mark. “Guess it’s going to be a long time before we get back.”

Mark did not answer, for he was busy waving his handkerchief to his folks. Frank turned to Sam and saw that the tears were standing in the latter’s eyes, for Sam had caught sight of his mother in the act of wiping her eyes. Even Darry and Hockley were unusually sober.

In quarter of an hour, however, the strain was over, and then the boys gave themselves up to the contemplation of the scene before them. Swiftly the steamer was plying her way between the ferry-boats and craft that crowded the stream. Soon the Battery was passed and the Statue of Liberty, and the tall buildings of the great metropolis began to fade away in the blue haze of the distance. The course was through the Narrows to the Lower Bay and then straight past Sandy Hook Light into the broad and sparkling Atlantic.

“Take a good look at the light and the highlands below,” said the professor, as he sat beside the boys at the rail. “That’s the last bit of United States territory you’ll see for a long while to come—unless you catch sight of Porto Rico, which is doubtful.”

“Won’t we stand in to shore when we round Cape Hatteras?” asked Hockley.

“We shall not have to round Cape Hatteras, Hockley. Instead of hugging the eastern shore of the United States the steamer will sail almost due South for the Mona Passage on the west of Porto Rico. This will bring us into the Caribbean Sea, and then we shall sail somewhat westward for a brief stop at Curaçao, a Dutch island north of the coast of Venezuela. It is not a large place, but one of considerable importance. The submarine cable from Cuba to Venezuela has a station there.”

“I’m going to study the map of Venezuela,” said Mark. “I know something about it already, but not nearly as much as I’d like to.”

“To-morrow I’ll show you a large map of the country, which I have brought along,” answered Professor Strong. “And I’ll give you a little talk on the history of the people. But to-day you had better spend your time in making yourselves at home on the ship.”

“I’m going to look at the engine room,” said Frank, who was interested in machinery, and down he went, accompanied by Darry. It was a beautiful sight, to see the triple expansion engines working so swiftly and yet so noiselessly, but it was frightfully hot below decks, and they did not remain as long as they had anticipated.

They were now out of sight of land, and the long swells of the Atlantic caused the steamer to roll not a little. They found Sam huddled in a corner of the deck, looking as pale as a sheet.

“Hullo, what’s up?” queried Frank, although he knew perfectly well.

“Nothing’s up,” was the reply, given with an effort. “But I guess there will be something up soon,” and then Sam rushed off to his stateroom, and that was the last seen of him for that day.

Mark was also slightly seasick, and thought best to lie down. Hockley was strolling the deck in deep contempt of those who had been taken ill.

“I can’t see why anybody should get sick,” he sneered. “I’m sure there’s nothing to get sick about.”

“Don’t crow, Glum—I mean Jake,” said Frank. “Your turn may come next.”

“Me? I won’t get sick.”

“Don’t be too sure.”

“I’ll bet you five dollars I don’t get sick,” insisted the lank youth.

“We’re not betting to-day,” put in Darry. “I hope you don’t get sick, but—I wouldn’t be too sure about it.” And he and Frank walked away.

“What an awful blower he is,” said Frank, when they were out of hearing. “As if a person could help being sick if the beastly thing got around to him. I must confess I don’t feel very well myself.”

“Nor I,” answered Darry, more soberly than ever.

Dinner was served in the dining saloon at six o’clock, as elaborate a repast as at any leading hotel. But though the first-class passengers numbered forty only a dozen came to the table. Of the boys only Frank and Hockley were present, and it must be confessed that Frank’s appetite was very poor. Hockley appeared to be in the best of spirits and ate heartily.

“This is usually the case,” said the professor, after having seen to it that the others were as comfortable as circumstances permitted. “But it won’t last, and that is a comfort. Hockley, if I were you, I would not eat too heartily.”

“Oh, it won’t hurt me,” was the off-hand answer. “The salt air just suits me. I never felt better in my life.”

“I am glad to hear it, and trust it keeps on doing you good.”

Frank and Mark had a stateroom together and so had Sam and Darry. Hockley had stipulated that he have a stateroom to himself, and this had been provided. The professor occupied a room with a Dutch merchant bound for Curaçao, a jolly, good-natured gentleman, who was soon on good terms with all of the party.

There was but little sleep for any of the boys during the earlier part of the night, for a stiff breeze was blowing and the steamer rolled worse than ever. But by three o’clock in the morning the wind went down and the sea seemed to grow easier, and all fell into a light slumber, from which Mark was the first to awaken.

“I feel better, although pretty weak,” he said, with an attempt at a smile. “How is it with you, Frank?”

“Oh, I didn’t catch it very badly.”

“Did Glummy get sick?”

“No.”

“He’s in luck. How he will crow over us.”

“If he starts to crow we’ll shut him up,” answered Frank, firmly.

They were soon dressed and into the stateroom occupied by Sam and Darry.

“Thanks, I’m myself again,” said Darry. “And why shouldn’t I be? I’m so clean inside I feel fairly polished. I can tell you, there’s nothing like a good dose of mal de mer, as the French call it, to turn one inside out.”

“And how are you, Beans?” asked Mark.

“I think I’m all here, but I’m not sure,” came from Sam. “But isn’t it a shame we should all be sick and Hockley should escape?”

“Oh, he’s so thick-skinned the disease can’t strike through,” returned Frank.

He had scarcely uttered the words when Darry, who had stepped out into the gangway between the staterooms came back with a peculiar smile on his face.

“He’s got ’em,” he said.

“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.

CHAPTER IV
VENEZUELA, PAST AND PRESENT

“Supposing we now look at that map of Venezuela and learn a little about the history of the country,” said Professor Strong, immediately after the lunch hour and when all was quiet on board the steamer. “We can get in a corner of the cabin, and I don’t think anybody will disturb us.”

Ordinarily the boys would not have taken to anything in the shape of a lecture, but they were anxious to know something more of the locality they were to visit, and so all readily agreed to follow Professor Strong to the nook he had selected. Hockley was still absent, and the others asked no questions concerning him. The professor hung up his map and sat on a chair before it, and the lads drew up camp chairs in a semi-circle before him.

“As you will see by the map, Venezuela lies on the north coast of South America,” began Professor Strong. “It is bounded on the north by the Caribbean Sea, on the east by British Guiana, on the south by Brazil and on the west by Colombia. It is irregular in shape, and its greatest length is from south-east to north-west, about twelve hundred miles, or by comparison, about the distance from Maine to Minnesota or California to Kansas.”

“Phew! that’s larger than I thought,” came from Frank, in an undertone.

“Many of the South American republics are larger than most people realize,” went on the professor. “Venezuela has an estimated area of nearly 598,000 miles—to give it in round figures. That is as large as all of the New England States and half a dozen other States combined. The country has over a thousand rivers, large and small, over two hundred of which flow into the Caribbean Sea, and four hundred helping to swell the size of the mighty Orinoco, which, as you already know, is the second largest river in South America,—the largest being the Amazon of Brazil. The Orinoco is a worthy rival of our own Mississippi, and I am afraid you will find it just as muddy and full of snags and bars.”

“Never mind, we’ll get through somehow,” put in Darry, and his dry way of saying it made even the professor laugh.

“Besides the rivers, there are a number of lakes and bays. Of the former, the largest is Lake Maracaibo, with an area of 2,100 square miles.”

“That must be the Maracaibo coffee district,” suggested Mark.

“To a large extent it is, for the lake is surrounded by coffee and cocoa plantations. In the interior is another body of water, Lake Valencia, which possesses the peculiarity of being elevated nearly 1,700 feet above the ocean level. All told, the country is well watered and consequently vegetation is abundant.”

“But I thought it was filled up with mountains?” came from Sam.

“A large part of the country is mountainous, as you can see by the map, but there are also immense plains, commonly called llanos. The great Andes chain strikes Venezuela on the west and here divides into two sections, one running northward toward the Caribbean Sea and the other to the north-eastward. Some parts of these chains are very high, and at a point about a hundred miles south of Lake Maracaibo there are two peaks which are each over 15,000 feet high and are perpetually covered with snow.”

“I guess we won’t climb them,” observed Sam.

“I hardly think so myself, Samuel, although we may get a good view of them from a distance, when we visit Lake Maracaibo. Besides these chains of mountains there are others to the southward, and here the wilderness is so complete that it has not yet been thoroughly explored. It is a land full of mountain torrents, and one of these, after flowing through many plains and valleys, unites the Orinoco with the Amazon, although the watercourse is not fit for navigation by even fair sized boats.”

“What about the people?” asked Mark, after a long pause, during which all of them examined the map more closely, and the professor pointed out La Guayra, Caracas, and a dozen or more other places of importance.

“The people are of Spanish, Indian and mixed blood, with a fair sprinkling of Americans and Europeans. There has been no accurate census taken for a number of years, but the population is put down as over two and three quarters millions and of this number about three hundred thousand are Indians.”

“Are those Indians like our own?” questioned Darry.

“A great deal like the Indians of the old south-west, excepting that they are much more peaceful. You can travel almost anywhere in Venezuela, and if you mind your own business it is rarely that an Indian or a negro will molest you. And now let me ask if any of you know what the name Venezuela means?”

“I don’t,” said Frank, and the others shook their heads.

“The name Venezuela means Little Venice. The north shore was discovered by Columbus in 1498. One year later a Castilian knight named Ojeda came westward, accompanied by Amerigo Vespucci, and the pair with their four ships sailed from the mouth of the Orinoco to the Isthmus of Panama. They also explored part of Lake Maracaibo, and when Vespucci saw the natives floating around in their canoes it reminded him of Venice in Italy, with its canals and gondolas, and he named the country Little Venice, or Venezuela. When Vespucci got home he wrote an elaborate account of his voyage, and this so pleased those in authority they immediately called the entire country America, in his honor, and America it has been ever since.”

“Yes, but it ought to be called Columbia,” put in Frank, as the professor paused.

“Perhaps you are right, Newton, but it’s too late to change it now. The Spaniards made the first settlement in Venezuela in 1520, and the country remained true to Spain until 1811. Ojeda was first made governor of all the north coast of South America, which soon took the name of the Spanish Main. Pearls were found in the Gulf of Paria, and the Spaniards at Santo Domingo rushed into South America and treated the innocent natives with the utmost cruelty. This brought on a fierce war lasting over forty years. This was in the times of Charles V, and he once sold the entire country to the Velsers of Augsburg, who treated the poor natives even worse than they had been treated by the Spaniards. In the end, between the fighting and the earthquakes which followed, the natives were either killed off or driven into the interior. Then came another Castilian knight, who in 1567 founded the city of Caracas, so called after the Indians who used to live there.”

“I have often read stories of the Spanish Main,” said Mark. “They must have been bloody times.”

“They were, for piracy and general lawlessness were on every hand. The Spaniards ruled the people with a rod of iron, and everything that the country produced in the way of wealth went into the pockets of the rulers. At last the natives could stand it no longer, and a revolution took place, under the leadership of Simon Bolivar, and a ten years’ war followed, and the Spanish soldiery was forced to leave the country.

“At first Venezuela, with New Granada, (now Colombia) and Ecuador formed the Republic of Colombia. Simon Bolivar, often called the George Washington of South America, was the President of the Republic. At Bolivar’s death Venezuela became independent, and has remained independent ever since. Slavery was abolished there in 1854.”

“They were ahead of us in that,” observed Frank.

“So they were, and the credit is due to Jose Gregorio Monagas, who suffered a martyr’s death in consequence. The freeing of the slaves threw the country into another revolution, and matters were not settled until 1870, when Antonio Guzman Blanco came into power and ruled until 1889. After this followed another series of outbreaks, one political leader trying to push another out of office, and this has hurt trade a good deal. At present General Castro is President of Venezuela, but there is no telling how long his enemies will allow him to retain that office.”

“I hope we don’t get mixed up in any of their revolutions,” said Sam.

“I shouldn’t mind it,” put in Darry. “Anything for excitement, you know.”

“Venezuela has been divided into many different states and territories at different times,” continued Professor Strong. “In 1854 there were thirteen provinces which were soon after increased to twenty-one. In 1863 the Federalists conquered the Unionists, and the provinces were re-named states and reduced to seven. But this could not last, for fewer states meant fewer office holders, so the number was increased to twenty states, three territories and one federal district. What the present government will do toward making divisions there is no telling.”

“I should think they would get tired of this continual fighting,” said Darry.

“The peons, or common people, do get very tired of it, but they cannot stop the ambitions of the political leaders, who have the entire soldiery under their thumb. These leaders have seen so much of fighting, and heard of so much fighting in their sister republics, that it seems to get in their blood and they can’t settle down for more than a few years at a time. But as outsiders come in, with capital, and develop the country, I think conditions will change, and soon South America will be as stable as North America or Europe.”

CHAPTER V
HOCKLEY MAKES A BOSOM FRIEND

“Now I feel as if I knew a little more than I did before,” observed Frank to Mark, after the professor’s talk had come to an end and the teacher had gone to put away his map. “It’s a pretty big country, isn’t it?”

“It is, Frank, and at the best I suppose we can see only a small portion of it. But it would be queer if we got mixed up in any of their fighting, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you really think we shall?”

“I don’t know. But just before we left New York I saw a long article in one of the newspapers about affairs in Venezuela, Colombia and on the Isthmus. It seems that the Presidents of the two Republics are unfriendly, and as a consequence the President of Venezuela has given aid to the rebels in Colombia, while the President of Colombia is doing what he can to foment trouble in Venezuela. Besides that Nicaragua and Ecuador are in the mix-up. The papers said that fighting has been going on in some places for years and that thousands of lives have been lost, especially in the vicinity of the Isthmus.”

“It’s a wonder the professor didn’t speak of this.”

“Oh, I guess he didn’t want to scare us. Perhaps the soldiery doesn’t interfere with foreigners, if, as he says, the foreigners mind their own business.”

The day was all that one could wish and the boys enjoyed it fully, for the seasickness of the day before had done each good. Mark and his chums wondered how Hockley was faring, and at last Sam went to the professor to inquire.

“He is a very sick young man,” said Professor Strong. “His over-eating has much to do with it. But I hope to see him better in the morning.”

“Do you think he would like to see any of us?” asked Sam. “We’ll go willingly if you think best.”

“No, he said he wished to see no one but myself, Winthrop. You will do best to let him alone, and when he comes out I wouldn’t say anything about the affair,” concluded the professor.

To while away the time the boys went over the steamer from end to end, and an obliging under-officer explained the engines, the steering gear and other things of interest to them. So the time passed swiftly enough until it was again the hour to retire.

Hockley appeared about ten o’clock on the following morning, thinner than ever and with big rings under his eyes. He declined to eat any breakfast and was content to sit by himself in a corner on deck.

“I suppose you fellows think I was seasick,” he said, as Sam and Darry passed close to him. “But if you do, you are mistaken. I ate something that didn’t agree with me and that threw me into a regular fit of biliousness. I get them every six months or so, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” returned Darry, who had never seen Hockley sick in his life. “But I’m glad you are over it,” he went on, kindly.

“I suppose Frank and Mark are laughing in their sleeves at me,” went on the lank youth, with a scowl.

“I don’t believe they are thinking of it,” answered Sam. “We’ve been inspecting the ship from top to bottom and stem to stern, and that has kept us busy. You ought to go around, it’s really very interesting.”

“Pooh! I’ve been through ’em loads of times—on the regular Atlantic liners,—twice as big as this,” grumbled Hockley.

A few words more followed, and Sam and Darry passed on. “He’s all right again,” observed Darry. “And his seasickness didn’t cure him of his bragging either.”

The steamer was now getting well down toward the Mona Passage, and on the day following land was sighted in the distance, a series of somewhat barren rocks. A heavy wind was blowing.

“Now we are going to pass through the monkey,” said Darry, after a talk with the professor.

“Pass through the monkey?” repeated Frank. “Is this another of your little jokes, Darry?”

“Not at all. Mona means monkey, so the professor told me.”

“Will we stop?”

“No, we won’t go anywhere near land. The next steamer stops, I believe, but not this one.”

“I wouldn’t mind spending some time in Porto Rico and Cuba,” put in Mark. “There must have been great excitement during the war with Spain.”

“Perhaps we’ll stop there on our way home,” said Sam. “I should like to visit Havana.”

The Mona Passage, or Strait, passed, the course of the steamer was changed to the south-westward. They were now in the Caribbean Sea, but the waters looked very much as they had on the bosom of the Atlantic. The wind increased until the blow promised to be an unusually severe one.

“My, but this wind is a corker!” ejaculated Frank, as he and Mark tried in vain to walk the open deck. “Perhaps we are going to have a hurricane.”