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?”

A chorus of assent followed.

“I won’t talk to you further,” growled Captain Sudlip, and turning on his heel he started off. His direction was toward January Jones, and that individual lost no time in getting out ahead and disappearing to parts unknown.

“He is a brute and no mistake,” was Sam’s comment, when they were once more left to themselves. “I believe he would have half killed that darkey if we hadn’t come up.”

“Don’t worry but that the captain has it in for you,” came from Frank. “And in for Darry, too.”

“I guess he’d have it in for all of us—if he got the chance,” said Mark. “But we mustn’t give him the chance. In the future, while on shipboard, we had better keep together.” And on this the boys agreed.

When they returned to where the professor was sitting he asked them where they had gone so suddenly.

“Oh, we took a walk forward,” said Sam, carelessly, and then to stop further questioning asked Professor Strong how far he thought they were on their journey and when they would arrive at Kingston.

Hockley had finished his so-styled humorous book, and now came out to listen to what the crowd might have to say. But he was not interested and soon began to yawn.

“I’d rather sleep than sit out here gazing at nothing but stars and water,” he said, and shuffled off to his stateroom.

It was about an hour later when the professor and the boys also retired. Mark and Frank who, as told before, roomed together, had just undressed when there came a slight knock on the door.

“Who is it?” asked Mark.

“It’s me, sah,” came in the low voice of January Jones. “I dun stole down heah widout de cap’n knowing it.”

“Oh!” Mark opened the door several inches. “What can we do for you now, January?”

“Nuffin, sah, thank yo’, sah. I jess come down heah to thank yo’ fo’ what yo’ done fo’ me, sah. It was werry kind, dat was, sah. An’ I thought I’d tell you dat I ain’t a-gwine to stay on dis ship no longer dan I can help, sah. It ain’t good fo’ my constitution, sah, no, sah!”

“That’s right, it isn’t,” laughed Frank. “But you’ll have to stay on board until you strike land. Is that all?”

“Yes, sah. Thought I couldn’t go to sleep widout thankin’ yo’ sah, nohow. Please tell dem other gents, will yo’, sah?”

“We will.”

“Thank yo’, sah, much obliged, sah!”

And with these words January Jones sneaked off as noiselessly as he had come.

CHAPTER VI
AN INTERRUPTION TO SIGHT-SEEING

Two days later the Chester slipped into the fine harbor at Kingston and dropped anchor. It was cloudy, but by noon the sun broke forth and the boys had a chance to look at the shipping, which is fairly extensive. As usual in West Indian ports, the flags of many nationalities were flying, and the scene was full of interest.

Since the boys had stood up so bravely in defense of January Jones they had seen but little of Captain Sudlip, he evidently making it a point to avoid them. And they also saw but little of January Jones, for the negro was assigned to other work and a strange hand placed to wait on the table and care for their rooms. The service all around was fairly good, but, as Darry expressed it, “nothing to brag about.”

“Are we going to get a chance to stretch our legs on shore?” questioned Sam, as he gazed over the rail at the narrow and crowded streets of the town.

“The professor has got to find that out,” said Frank, who had just been speaking to Amos Strong. “He says he paid our passage right through to Havana, so we can’t bid good-bye to Captain Sudlip just yet.”

A little later Professor Strong joined them with the information that the Chester would remain in Kingston harbor until the following day until three o’clock.

“Then we can take quite a look around,” said Mark. “Are there any points of interest to visit?”

“A few only. You see, England has tried hard to make something of the island, but as yet there are too many negroes here to suit Americans. But we will take it in for what it is worth.”

It was decided that they should put up at the Queen’s Hotel over night and they so notified Captain Sudlip.

“All right, do as you please,” he growled. “But it won’t take anything off your passage money.”

“I did not expect it would,” replied Professor Strong, coldly.

They were soon ashore and walking up the narrow and dirty street leading from the quay. On either side were big warehouses with here and there a low drinking resort, around which hung sailors of many nationalities and crowds of negroes.

“This is not very inviting,” was Sam’s comment. “It smells almost as bad as at La Guayra.”

“It is not so bad further away from the docks.”

They soon reached the hotel, a comfortable resort with large shade trees in the courtyard and a fountain, and here Professor Strong secured accommodations for all.

“Kingston contains about fifty thousand inhabitants,” said the professor, after they had secured a large carriage in which to drive around. “It was established about two hundred years ago, after the neighboring town of Port Royal had been destroyed by earthquake. Now Port Royal has been rebuilt. It lies on the other side of the harbor, but Kingston is the main city, and nearly all the foreign commerce passes through this port.”

“Have they any railroads?”

“When I was here last they had a railroad about ten miles long, running from here to Spanish Town, in the interior. The lay of the land is not favorable to railroads.”

“I knew some sick folks who came to Jamaica for their health,” said Hockley. “A man and his son. Both had consumption.”

“Yes, invalids come here in plenty, and there are several hotels up in the hills built especially for their benefit.”

They were soon at the principal square of the city, called the Parade. Here were numerous shops, as well as a barracks for the soldiers, a church, theater, and other public buildings. The Parade was well kept, quite in contrast to the streets through which they had been passing.

It was a relief, when they returned to the hotel, to find a first-class meal awaiting them, something that “topped clean over old Sudlip’s lobscouse,” as Darry put it, borrowing a favorite sailor’s expression.

It was decided to take a run up to Spanish Town the next morning. They could get a train about ten o’clock, and that would give them ample time to look around and get back before three, the time when the Chester would set sail.

All of the boys were up bright and early on the following morning with the exception of Hockley, who snored away until Professor Strong called him.

“I don’t want to get up,” he grumbled. “Nothing to see in this dead hole.” Yet when dressed he joined the others in a trip to several public buildings, where an English official kindly showed them around.

Ten o’clock found them at the depot, waiting for the train which was to take them to Spanish Town, and here they discovered that the time table had been changed and the train would not leave until half an hour later.

“But we can get back before three even so,” announced Amos Strong, after studying the schedule. “I fancy none of you want to return to the Chester until it’s necessary.”

They waited around and at last the little locomotive, with its three coaches rolled in. As it came to a stop they heard a yell, and looking around, saw January Jones coming toward them on a dead run.

“Hello! what does he want?” exclaimed Mark. “Something is up, that’s certain.”

“Stop! stop!” called out the negro, as soon as he was within speaking distance. “Doan yo’ go fo’ to take dat train, less yo’ want to lose de ship!”

“Lose the ship?” queried Professor Strong. “What do you mean? We expect to be back before three o’clock.”

“De ship am gwine to sail at one o’clock, sah.”

“One o’clock!” came from all of the others. And then the boys looked at the professor inquiringly.

“Captain Sudlip told me he would sail at three o’clock,” said Professor Strong. “I asked him twice to make sure.”

“I ’spect he did, sah, but I heard him tell de mate dat dey must sail promptly at one o’clock, sah—dat he wouldn’t wait fo’ nobody, sah.”

“It’s a trick to leave us behind!” burst out Mark. “He has our money and that is all he cares.”

“But he told me three o’clock,” persisted the professor. “Although I have no witness to that fact!” he added, suddenly, a light breaking in on him.

“Then that is where he has us foul!” came from Frank. “It’s a good thing January told us this,” he continued, and gave the negro a grateful look.

“Tole yo’ I would do sumt’ing if I got de chance,” said the negro, with a grin.

“All aboard!” called the train porter.

“We are not going,” answered Professor Strong; and a minute later the train was off.

“Yo’ see it was dis way,” continued January Jones, as they walked away from the station. “I heard one ob yo’ young gen’men tell de udder ’bout gitting back befo’ three o’clock. Den when I heard what Cap’n Sudlip said to de mate I knowed sumt’ing was wrong. So I made up my mind to dun tole yo’. I went to de hotel fust an’ dey tole me to come heah.”

“We’ll not forget your kindness,” said Professor Strong. “It was certainly a mean trick on Captain Sudlip’s part and I shall tell him so. Of course if we had been left I could not have brought suit against him for damages, since I have no witness to prove that he said he would sail at three o’clock.”

“Tell yo’, sah, I’se mighty sick ob workin’ fo’ dat man, sah,” observed January, with a shake of his woolly head. “I’d leave de ship heah, only dis ain’t much ob a place.”

“No, I would advise you to remain until you reach Havana,” answered Professor Strong. “I have a number of friends in that city and perhaps I can get you something to do there.”

This pleased January Jones greatly, and he promised to do what he could for them so long as they were together.

As there was nothing much to do at present, they walked back to the hotel, where they procured dinner. In the meantime the negro, who had been sent ashore on an errand, hurried back to the steamer with all speed.

At quarter to one o’clock Captain Sudlip came on deck and looked around him anxiously. He was all ready to sail and so far had seen nothing of his five passengers. He gazed ashore but not one of them was in sight.

“I’ve won the game this time,” he muttered to himself. “And they can’t prove anything either. It was as slick as any Yankee move. They’ll be mad enough when they realize how I have outwitted them. And I’ve got the passage money safe in the cabin. Let me see, by dropping them behind I clear just about twenty pounds. I can tell the owners that they paid their way only as far as Kingston and they will never know differently.”

As the minutes went by he looked at his watch nervously. Ten minutes to one and no one in sight—five minutes. He called to the first mate.

“All ready to sail?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” was the answer. “But I haven’t seen anything of those Americans.”

“Well, it’s their own fault if they don’t come aboard in time. I shall not wait for them.”

“Didn’t think you would, sir,” answered the mate, but in such a low voice that Captain Sudlip did not hear him.

At one minute to one the lines were cast off and as a distant bell tolled the hour the Chester began to move from the harbor. Standing near the pilot house Captain Sudlip continued to gaze ashore. But those he was fearful of seeing did not show themselves and presently he heaved a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Half an hour later Kingston Harbor and Jamaica itself were left behind and the Chester stood boldly out into the Caribbean Sea.

“Dumped ’em!” said the captain to himself, with a smile of intense satisfaction. “That will teach ’em a lesson. They can’t ride over me!” And then he added, after a pause, “Now I’ve got that nigger to myself, won’t I just teach him a lesson? He won’t be able to stand when I get through with him!”

CHAPTER VII
THE JOKE ON CAPTAIN SUDLIP

But were our friends left behind, as Captain Sudlip so fondly hoped? Let us go back and see.

It was light-hearted Darry, always ready for a joke, who offered the suggestion, while they were eating dinner at the Queen’s Hotel.

“Say!” he exclaimed, suddenly, thumping the table in his excitement. “I’ve got a scheme for paying Captain Sudlip off for his meanness.”

“Have you?” came from Professor Strong. “Even so, please don’t pound the dishes from the table, Darry.”

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot, sir. But really, the scheme is just the thing,” went on Darry, earnestly.

“Then let us have it by all means,” put in Frank. “I’m ready to do anything to get square with that man.”

“My scheme is this: Let us try to get on board of the Chester on the sly. Then, when he is congratulating himself on leaving us behind we can suddenly appear. I’ll wager that will knock him silly.”

“Hurrah; that’s a go!” shouted Frank.

“A splendid plan,” came from Sam.

“We’ll have a tough job of it, getting on board without being seen,” remarked Hockley, who was envious because he had not made the suggestion. “There is always somebody on deck, and that somebody will let the captain know of our coming.”

“We must watch our chance,” said Darry. “Anyway, it’s worth trying, isn’t it?”

All the boys agreed that it was, and Professor Strong could not help but smile at their enthusiasm. At once they made him promise to come into the plan, and he finally consented.

“But I am not going to sneak on board like a criminal,” he said.

Soon they were down at the docks and here they met January Jones, who had just completed his errand. They took the negro into their confidence and he promised to come on deck and wave his big red bandanna handkerchief when the coast was clear.

Fortunately the plan worked with ease. Captain Sudlip was not dreaming of their return by half-past twelve and they came on board seen only by January and one of the deck hands. This deck hand loved the captain no more than did the negro and he readily consented to remain silent concerning the American passengers.

Once on the steamer the party did not go to their staterooms but to a storeroom which January pointed out to them. It was a fairly comfortable spot, and here they remained until the steamer was under way. While sitting here the boys completed their plan, which made even Professor Strong smile broadly.

It was Darry who ventured forth first, showing himself when the harbor had been left many miles behind. He strolled on deck as coolly as possible, passing the captain without appearing to notice the latter.

Captain Sudlip was nearly dumfounded and stared as if he was looking at a ghost.

“Why—er—er,” he stammered. “When—er—when did you come on board?”

“Not very long ago,” answered Darry, coolly.

“Hum! Did you—er know—I mean, did you have a nice time?”

“First-class, although I should have liked to have seen more.” And then Darry added, before the captain could speak again: “Seen anything of the rest of our crowd?”

“No.”

“Queer. They must be somewhere,” and then Darry walked away, leaving Captain Sudlip staring after him.

“He must have left the others of his party,” mused the master of the Chester. “Humph! Well, I won’t treat him any too good. He’ll find out that he can’t boss me as the whole crowd did. If he gives me any lip I’ll lock him in the brig.”

Darry lost no time in retreating to the storeroom, where he told his story. Then Mark sauntered forth and passed the captain as the latter was entering the cabin.

This time Captain Sudlip’s jaw dropped in chagrin as well as amazement. He was about to back away without a word, but Mark did not allow this.

“Well, Captain, I see you got away on time,” he said, pleasantly. “Nothing like being prompt, eh?”

“Hum! Why—er—yes, I always sail on time,” came back, in snappy tones. “I—er—when did you come aboard?”

“Not very long ago,” and then Mark added, as Darry had done: “Seen anything of the rest of our crowd?”

“Saw one,” was the short answer, and then Captain Sudlip passed on, his face full of perplexity and chagrin.

It was Frank he met next. The boy had a book in his hand and pretended to be reading. But on catching sight of the captain he sang out cheerily: “Hi, Captain Sudlip, have you seen anything of the rest of our crowd?”

“Some of ’em,” growled the master of the steamer, and walked in another direction, to encounter Sam, who came up to him with a handkerchief to his eyes.

“Oh, Captain, Captain Sudlip!” he exclaimed tearfully. “I—I’m in trouble.”

“Trouble?” demanded the captain, wrathfully. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you—have you seen anything—of—the—rest—of—our crowd?”

“Find out for yourself!” roared Captain Sudlip. “If this is a joke let me say I don’t stand for it!” And he rushed off for his private cabin.

Here he met Hockley, who had been waiting several minutes to interview him. But he was no longer surprised and was on the point of passing when the youth held him up.

“I say, Captain,” he began, “have you seen anything of the rest——”

“So you think you’re going to make a monkey of me?” exploded Captain Sudlip, in a fury. “Think you are going to make laughing stock of me, do you? I won’t stand it. How do you like that, you impudent rascal!”

“That” was a slap from his broad palm, which took poor Hockley fairly and squarely in the mouth and sent him on his back. The captain would have followed it up with more violence, but just then Professor Strong appeared.

“Stop that!” he commanded, sternly. “What right have you to touch this young man, sir?”

“He insulted me,” answered the captain, but turned somewhat pale. “I won’t be insulted on my own ship!” he added, doggedly.

“How did he insult you?”

“Didn’t insult him,” spluttered Hockley, rising. “I just asked him the question we agreed on,—if he had seen any of the rest of our crowd,—when he up and knocked me down.”

“I—I won’t argue the matter,” interrupted Captain Sudlip. “I know your game. After this you can mind your own business and leave me alone.”

“We will leave you alone,” answered Professor Strong, as calmly as ever. “But first I am going to have my say. I know of your trick to leave us behind. You told me you would sail at three o’clock and then you changed the time to one o’clock.”

“I did not, I——”

“We won’t argue that matter. Fortunately we got back before one o’clock, so your little plan was nipped in the bud. We are going to sail with you as far as Havana, and you must treat us fairly while we are on board, otherwise I shall enter a complaint with the owners of this ship. And as for hitting this young man, you must apologize or I will back him up in having you arrested as soon as we reach port.”

At these final words from Amos Strong the captain’s face became a study. There was a look of rage and hate there, mingled with that of baffled cunning. He had gotten himself in a tight corner and he knew it. Two other passengers had seen the assault on Hockley, so there were witnesses enough to his misdeed. The talk had collected quite a crowd, including all the boys.

“So you think I ought to apologize?” he said, slowly.

“Yes, and you’ve got to do it, too!” put in Hockley, growing bolder, now he saw that Professor Strong was, for once, backing him up.

“You had no right to play a joke on me.”

“I was only asking you a simple question.”

“Hum! I know you! But I may have—er—been hasty in hitting you,” went on Captain Sudlip, lamely. “And if I was I—er—apologize.”

And with this he walked off, and did not show himself again until the next day.

“I reckon we got square,” said Darry, later on, when they talked the matter over. “He’ll be mad over this affair every time he thinks about it.”

“It was all right enough for you fellows,” grumbled Hockley, who was nursing a swollen lip. “You didn’t catch what I got.”

“Why didn’t you strike back, Glummy?” asked Mark.

“I didn’t get the chance, the professor came up so quickly. Otherwise I would have wiped up the deck with him,” blustered the would-be bully.

All of the others had their opinion about Hockley’s ability to “wipe up the deck” with anybody, but they said nothing on that point, for certainly he had caught the bitter end of the joke.

“And now we’ve got to wait and see how Captain Sudlip treats us for the rest of the trip,” said Mark, when the meeting broke up.

“And how he treats January Jones,” said Darry. “Don’t forget that poor fellow. My! what would Captain Sudlip do to him if he knew he was the one who had brought us the news?”

As might be expected, Jason Sudlip was in anything but a sweet temper during the days spent in making the run around the western end of Cuba to Havana. But he managed to steer clear of Professor Strong and his party, and the meals furnished, while not particularly good, were still such as to be above complaint.

It was on his crew that Captain Sudlip emptied his vials of wrath, and everybody caught it from the first mate down to January Jones and the cabin boy. This led to more than one quarrel, and before the Chester reached Havana half the help on board were on the verge of mutiny.

“I won’t stand this,” said the second mate. “If the first mate won’t make a complaint to the owners I will!”

“I do not blame you,” answered Professor Strong, to whom he was speaking. “I think you have a clear case. If you wish it, I will write out a letter stating such facts as I know, and I will sign it, and so can the young men with me.”

This offer was readily accepted, and when the Chester reached the harbor at Havana the second mate had the paper safe in his possession. He had talked the matter over with the others on the steamer and five men joined in making a complaint, not alone to the owners but also to the authorities. As a result Captain Sudlip was discharged by the owners of the steamer and the first mate became the commander, and the second mate became first. The mate was willing to keep January Jones, but the colored man remembered what Professor Strong had promised and went ashore to stay there.

CHAPTER VIII
SIGHT-SEEING IN HAVANA

The boys watched the entrance into the harbor of Havana with interest, and as they approached the shore Professor Strong pointed out the various objects to which he wished to draw their attention.

“As you doubtless remember,” he said, “during the War with Spain, in 1898, the city of Havana and several other cities in this neighborhood were blockaded for many months, so that it was next to impossible for the Spaniards to get any supplies from outside or to send any goods away from these ports. A number of vessels tried to run the blockade but nearly every one was captured, so that when the war was over our sailors had quite a lot of prize money coming to them.”

“Is that Morro Castle?” asked Mark, pointing to a high fortification to the left of the harbor entrance.

“Yes, that is old Morro, and over on the right is Punta Castle, and beyond that is the Queen’s battery, a long fortification, which, as you can see, shelters the city itself from the sea. It was these fortifications, Morro, Punta, and the batteries to the west, that kept our ships at a distance during the blockade.”

“I should like to visit Morro Castle,” came from Sam.

“I think there will be no difficulty, although, you must remember, the American troops have now been withdrawn from the city and all of Cuba is now in the sole possession of the Cubans.”

“Well, I guess they have a friendly feeling towards Yankees,” came from Frank. “At least, they ought to have—we did so much to help them establish their freedom.”

“The entrance to the harbor is about a mile from the harbor itself,” went on Professor Strong, “and the city lies entirely on the west shore. Roughly speaking it is about a mile and a quarter square and contains about two hundred and forty thousand inhabitants. It is divided into the old city and the new, the former being within the old walls and being very much cluttered-up, and the latter being on the outskirts, where there are many fine buildings and summer residences. The harbor of Havana is a place that no real American is likely to forget. Can you tell me why?”

“Because the battleship Maine was blown up here,” came from one and another.

“Exactly, lads, and the blowing up of the Maine hastened on the war which resulted in Cuban liberty. I think we shall be able to see the spot where she sank, although the wreckage has been cleared away.”

“I will show you the place,” said one of the other passengers, and he pointed it out, not many rods from the shore. “I was here at the time,” he went on. “The explosion was a very terrifying one, and broke a good deal of the glassware in the hotel at which I was stopping.”

It was not until several hours later that they were allowed to land, after a Cuban Custom House official had passed their baggage. Professor Strong knew exactly where he wished to go, so there was no hesitation on that score.

“What narrow streets!” exclaimed Frank, as they passed along, the boys having elected to walk, in order to see the sights more fully. “Why they are no better than alleyways. This sidewalk is barely two feet wide.”

“That is the way they used to build the streets,” answered the professor with a laugh. “They know better now, and the new part of the city has some very broad and well-shaded highways, and also a great number of beautiful fountains.”

“I don’t see how wagons can pass each other—especially those long things they call volantes,” came from Hockley.

“There used to be a regulation that carriages and carts could only pass through a street in one direction. I presume that is still in force in the old part of the town.”

It was not long before they came to the main thoroughfare of Havana, with its quaint Spanish name of Isabel Segunde. Here, as the professor had said, were broad walks with numerous trees, and many fountains. Here was also located the hotel for which they were bound, a large three-storied affair, with broad verandas upon all sides, and the usual courtyard, or patio, in the center.

“This is quite like home,” declared Darry, as he looked around. “I have heard half a dozen folks speaking English. It’s a good deal different from Caracas.”

“The war made the difference, Dartworth. Before that time Havana was as foreign a town as one could find on this side of the Atlantic, and that too although it is but a short journey from Florida.”

The walk to the hotel had tired the party, and all of the boys, especially Hockley, were glad to rest in the patio, with its easy chairs and its cooling fountain. From a distance came the sounds of a band playing some popular air and the effect was most soothing.

“This is what I want,” was the tall youth’s comment. “Beats walking in the hot sun all to pieces.”

“Tell you what, Glummy, the next time you walk you had better ride,” said Frank, with a yawn.

There was a laugh at this “bull” and Hockley’s face grew sour at once.

“How many times must I tell you not to call me ‘Glummy’? I don’t want it and I won’t stand it.”

“All right then, sit down—it’s what we are here for,” returned Frank. “But I’ll try to remember,” he added, as he saw that Hockley’s anger was rising.

“See that you do,” growled the big fellow, and then he dropped into an easy chair and soon fell asleep.

“He hasn’t got over that affair on the steamer,” whispered Mark. “He thinks one of us ought to have had that knock-down from Captain Sudlip.”

“Oh, let us forget Captain Sudlip,” said Frank. “I never want to see him again. He was too mean to live.”

Professor Strong had to attend to several matters, including the getting of money on his letter of credit, and while he was gone the boys made themselves at home at the hotel. The quaint hostelry possessed every comfort and all would have been content to have remained there a long while.

But this was not to be. It had already been arranged that they should spend three days in sight-seeing in and around Havana, and then take side trips to Matanzas, Cardenas and other important cities not far away. After this they were to journey to Santiago, where they were to go out on horseback and view El Caney, San Juan, and other battlefields of the late war.

When the professor came in on the evening of the second day, he had a treat in store for them.

“I was passing the Tacon, the principal theater of Havana, when I saw an announcement of a celebrated Spanish dramatic company which is playing there in a round of standard dramas. I would like you to see this playhouse, for its size and beauty is known all over the world, and so I purchased tickets for to-night’s performance.”

“Good!” came from Darry and Frank in a breath.

“I’d like to see a play first rate,” said Mark. “What is it?”

“Othello. I suppose you have all seen this, so you can follow the play even if it is in Spanish.”

“Oh, pshaw! I thought it was some Spanish variety show,” sighed Hockley.

“I should not care to take you to a variety show, Jacob.”

“But this will be dead slow.”

“If you don’t care to go, you can stay here.”

“I guess I’ll stay here then,” answered Hockley. “I’ve got something of a headache, anyway. I’ll go to bed early.”

Hockley’s headache was largely imaginary, and his thoughts were on another novel he had picked up, “Handsome Jack, the Dead Game Sport of Chicago.” He had left off where Handsome Jack was confronted by four gamblers who wished to rob him of his fifty thousand dollar diamond stud, and he was anxious to read on and find out how the “hold-up” terminated.

“Very well, Jacob,” said Professor Strong. “If you have a headache I think the best thing you can do is to sleep it off. Probably the sight-seeing has been too much for your eyes.”

At the proper hour the boys were ready to attend the performance at the Tacon. They were attired in their best, for at this opera house, people invariably wear the finest clothing they possess. The professor called a carriage, and soon they were rolling down the broad highway.

“How foolish Hockley is,” whispered Frank to Mark. “He doesn’t know what he is missing. Do you think he’ll really go to bed?”

Mark shrugged his shoulders. “It isn’t likely. He’ll read another trashy novel, I fancy.”

Mark was right, as we already know. But this was not the depth of Hockley’s shortcomings.

The youth had a strong desire to be considered “mannish.” He wanted to follow in the footsteps of certain men he had known and others he had read about. The character of Handsome Jack, “the Dead Game Sport of Chicago,” appealed strongly to him. Jack played cards, drank, went to horse races, and always got the best of the many enemies who tried to “down” him. To poor Hockley, who swallowed these tales and believed them true, he was more of a hero than even “Gold Nose Hank, the Mine Discoverer” had been.

Having seen the others off, Hockley strolled over to a cigar counter in the hotel and invested in a package of cigarettes, one of which he lit and placed the others in his pocket. Then he entered the café and called for a glass of liquor, and while it was coming he sat down at a table in a corner to continue the perusal of his novel.

The fumes of the liquor, and the smoking of several cigarettes, made the misguided youth far from clear headed. But he kept on reading until the volume was finished, Handsome Jack having at last killed off all his enemies in double-quick order. To keep the eyes of the waiter off of him, Hockley ordered another glass of liquor which he also consumed. Then he threw the book in a corner, arose and stretched himself.

“Guess I’ll go out and have some sport,” he muttered. “It’s dead slow hanging around like this. I came to see the sights and I’m going to see ’em—professor or no professor. There must be lots of sport going on in a town of this size,—variety shows, gambling, and such—and I’m going to hunt ’em up, and if I don’t find ’em then my name ain’t Jake Hockley!”

And paying the amount of his bill he shuffled out of the brilliantly lighted café and was soon lost to sight in the darkness of the night.

CHAPTER IX
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HOCKLEY

“What a truly magnificent place!”

Such was Frank’s comment when they entered the opera house and took the seats Professor Strong had purchased. Frank had been to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York city, yet the present place struck him even more favorably, with its immense size, its gorgeous decorations and its many and varied lights.

“It’s all right,” returned Mark. “But I can’t say as much for the crowd. It’s quite a mixture.”

And it certainly was, for to-day Havana has a sprinkling of nearly every nation under the sun. As Darry put it, there were white folks there and black folks, and a good many who weren’t one or the other. But all were well dressed, and in the assemblage were a number of ladies who were truly beautiful.

The Shakespearian play was well produced, and all followed it with interest, although the boys understood but little of what was said. Between the acts they strolled around and looked into the various smoking and lounging rooms, and had some soda water at the refreshment place. Nearly everybody was smoking and the atmosphere was decidedly “hazy” in consequence.

“They used to have a curious custom here,” said the professor. “By paying a little extra you could go behind the scenes and see how the play looked from the actor’s standpoint.”

“Well, I’d like to see it that way, once,” answered Sam. “Especially when they were playing something with great mechanical effects, like a snow-storm, a landslide, a waterfall, or a smash-up on a railroad.”

At last the play was over, and they walked out to where their carriage was in waiting. A good part of the crowd lingered, and some went for a stroll in the cool night air.

“They don’t believe in going to bed early,” was Mark’s comment. “Well, I don’t blame them, it’s so nice and cool now and so hot during the middle of the day.”

It had been arranged that all the boys should occupy two large rooms, while the professor had a smaller room adjoining. As they went in Amos Strong cautioned them not to disturb Hockley should the latter be asleep.

“Why, he isn’t here!” exclaimed Mark, who was the first to look around and make the discovery.

“Isn’t here?” came from the professor.

“No, sir, and the bed hasn’t been disturbed either.”

At once the professor’s face grew grave, and his mind went back to a certain night in Caracas when Hockley had gone off with Dan Markel and lost all his money. Had the youth been equally misguided on this occasion?

“I will go below and make inquiries concerning him,” he said, and left them.

“I’ll wager Glummy has gone and done it again,” said Frank in a low voice.

“More than likely,” answered Sam. “How foolish for him if he has! He might have had a very pleasant evening with us.”

“Oh, Glummy has a big head and thinks he knows it all,” came from Darry. “Some time he’ll catch it worse than he did when he went out with that Markel.”

So the comments of the boys ran on. In the meantime Professor Strong had followed up Hockley from the hotel proper to the café and here learned that the lad had come in early in the evening for a package of cigarettes and then gone out on the street.

“Did he have any liquor?” asked Professor Strong, sharply.

“I do not think so, señor,” was the reply. This was a deliberate falsehood, but the proprietor of the drinking resort did not wish to get himself into any trouble.

More mystified than ever the professor went out on the street and looked up and down. He could see nothing of Hockley, and now the thoroughfares were becoming gradually deserted.

It must be confessed that Amos Strong was in a quandary. What had become of his charge he could not imagine, although he strongly feared that Hockley had gone off to see the sights and gotten into some sort of trouble.

“I can learn nothing of him,” said he, on returning to the rooms assigned the party. “All of you had better go to bed.”

“And what will you do, Professor?” asked Mark.

“I shall try to hunt him up. I cannot go to rest until I know something about him.”

“Don’t you think it would be better for one of us to go with you?”

“No, I think I can get along alone.”

Such was Amos Strong’s decision, and he told them they had better go to bed without delay. Mark and Frank were willing enough and were soon in the land of dreams. But Darry and Sam sat by an open window discussing the situation.

“After his experience with Dan Markel in Caracas you would think Hockley would turn over a new leaf,” said Darry. “But he seems bound to be wild, no matter what the cost.”

“We mustn’t judge too hastily, Darry. It is barely possible that everything is all right.”

“Or that Glummy has gotten into trouble through no fault of his own. If he is in trouble, he will certainly try to put it off on somebody else—he always does.”

“It must be his nature. He can’t seem to help it.”

“He doesn’t try to help it. He wants to be smart, and when he fails he isn’t man enough to shoulder the blame.”

For nearly an hour the boys remained at the window discussing the strange disappearance. Then they followed Mark and Frank to bed, and were soon sleeping with equal soundness.

The disappearance of Hockley, coupled with the fact that Professor Strong did not return, awoke the lads early, and by seven o’clock Darry and Sam were downstairs.

“Let us see if the professor is anywhere about,” suggested Darry, and they were on the point of moving off when a hotel attendant came up to them, a man from Florida who spoke English.

“Are you Samuel Winthrop?” he asked.

“I am,” answered Sam.

“I have a private note for you,” went on the attendant.

“A note? What can it mean?”

“Perhaps it’s from the professor?” suggested Darry.

Sam lost no time in tearing open the communication, which ran as follows:

“Dear Sam: I have got myself in a tight hole and don’t know how to get myself out of it. I am afraid the professor will give me rats for getting into it. I think you can help me a good deal—in fact, I know you can, if you will. Please come to me at the Fairfax House—an English hotel. If you bring anybody along let it be Darry. I don’t want the professor to know of it, and please don’t tell Mark or Frank, for they would only have the laugh on me. If the professor wants to know, tell him you want to go on a little private errand. Do this much for me and I will always be,

“Yours gratefully,
“J. Hockley.”

“Well, what do you make of that?” asked Sam, as he passed the note over to his companion.

“Glummy is in some sort of fix, that’s certain,” answered Darry, after reading the communication twice.

“He doesn’t say anything about money. I wonder what the fix can be?”

Neither could imagine, but Sam determined to go to the Fairfax House without delay, and inside of two minutes both were on the way, without leaving word of their destination.

It was an easy matter to find the hostelry named, although to walk there took longer than they had expected, for the Fairfax House was situated in a new section of Havana and well toward the outskirts. It was a modest, well-kept hotel, and on seeing this the boys felt relieved.

“Looks all right,” was Sam’s comment. “Glad it isn’t the other kind.”

There was an old Cuban volante driver standing in front of the hotel, and as they came up he accosted them in broken English.

“Pardon, señors,” he said. “Be you de gen’men by de name Winthrop or de name Carane?”

“Yes, my name is Winthrop,” answered Sam. “And this is Mr. Crane.”

“Dat is verra fortunate, señors. You come to see Señor Hockley, not so?”

“We did? Is he here?”

“He no here now. He had to go to udder house. He send me here to drive you dare, señors,” and the Cuban bowed low.

“To drive to another house?” queried Darry.

“Yes, Señor Carane. Dare is my volante. Please to step in, señors.”

“Wait.” Sam caught Darry by the arm. “Is it far?” he questioned.

“Not verra far, señor—verra nice drive dis a-morning.”

“What is the matter with our friend, Mr. Hockley?”

At this the Cuban shrugged his shoulders. “Cannot tell, señor. He is hurt in de back, I t’ink.”

“Hurt in the back!” came from both Sam and Darry.

“That looks bad,” continued the former. “Let us go to him by all means.” And he followed the Cuban to the volante.

“It’s a wonder Hockley didn’t come straight to our hotel if he was hurt,” said Darry. “But it’s just like him. He is as stubborn as an ox when he wants to be.”

In Cuba the volante, or “flyer” is the national carriage. It is a two-seated vehicle, slung on leathern straps between two very high wheels. The shafts are fifteen feet long, and the horses are harnessed tandem, the leader being for the postillion, or driver. It makes a very comfortable turnout and, because of the width from wheel to wheel, such a thing as a volante turning over is unknown.

They were soon moving over the highway at a good rate of speed. The Cuban offered no more explanations and merely shrugged his shoulders when questioned.

“Either he is very dumb or he doesn’t wish to explain,” whispered Darry.

“I don’t suppose Glummy told him everything, Darry. Perhaps the poor fellow is hurt too much for that.”

“He can’t be so badly off, or he wouldn’t have been able to write that letter. By the way, what did you do with it?”

“Tore it up.”

They were now passing several private residences and a moment later turned into a road which seemed almost deserted. Here the trees grew so low down that they frequently brushed the boys’ heads.

“How much further?” demanded Sam.

“We come dare soon,” shouted back the Cuban, and whipped up his horses harder than ever.

There was a small brook to cross and then they turned into another side road. Here they beheld an old stone building, which looked somewhat like a deserted convent. The windows were barred, but the doorway stood open.

“He in dare, señors,” said the volante driver. “He have a fall not far from here.”

The Cuban pointed to the old stone building.

“I don’t understand this,” muttered Sam. “First he said that Hockley had to go to ‘udder house.’ Now he said he had a fall here.”

“Come on, I’m not afraid, Sam.”

So speaking Darry walked through the open doorway into the stone building. There being nothing else to do, Sam followed, and the volante driver came after the pair.

CHAPTER X
THE OLD CONVENT

At first both boys could see but little, for the room they had entered was semi-dark, while outside the sun was shining brightly. But gradually their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and then they made out a staircase running to a floor above.

“Where is he?” demanded Sam, catching the volante driver by the arm.

“Him up de stairs, señor. Better air up dare.”

“I should hope so,” muttered Darry and bounded up the stone steps two at a time. Sam came on his heels, but the Cuban remained below.

There was something of a hallway, dirty and covered with dead leaves which past storms had blown into the barred slits of windows. Then came a room with an iron door which stood half open.

Just then a moan reached their ears and it appeared to come from the room. Thinking Hockley must be within they rushed past the iron door.

“Jake, are you here?” called out Sam.

There was another moan, but where it came from puzzled both of the lads.

“Jake, where are you?” exclaimed Darry. “We are here to help you, Sam and I.”

Both moved forward, peering eagerly to the right and the left. There were only two windows, each heavily barred, and they were far from large.

Suddenly the boys heard the iron door shut and an instant later a heavy bolt was slipped into place. Sam leaped back and shook the barrier, to find it fast.

“We are locked in!” he ejaculated. “Darry, this is a trick!”

“A trick!” gasped the other. He too shook the door. “Hi! let us out!” he called.

“Not just yet, my fine young fellows!” came in a strangely familiar voice. “I did not bring you as far as this just for fun.”

“Why, it is Captain Sudlip!” exclaimed Sam, who could scarcely believe his ears.

“Captain Sudlip, is that you?” called Darry.

“It is.”

“Where is Jake Hockley?”

“He is not far off.”

“Is he really hurt, or was it only a trick to get us here?”

“I’m not answering all your questions just yet,” returned the ex-master of the Chester, tartly.

“If you brought us here on a fool’s errand you shall pay for it,” said Sam.

“You had better not threaten me while you are prisoners.”

“Prisoners!” came from both.

“Do you intend to keep us prisoners?” demanded Sam.

“For the present, yes.”

“What for?”

“To pay you back for your impudence on board of my steamer, for one thing.”

“We weren’t impudent. We merely stood up for our rights, and for the rights of that negro you misused.”

“I won’t argue the point with you—at least not now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Going to get back my rights. I know all about that paper your crowd gave to my second mate. That paper was a mess of lies and I’m not going to stand for it.”

“We simply put down the truth, Captain Sudlip,” answered Sam, firmly. “And if you don’t let us go at once you’ll get yourself into a worse situation than ever.”

“I can’t get into a much worse fix,” growled the ex-ship’s captain. “I’ve lost my position and without a recommendation, too. If I can’t get it back through your crowd I’m going to make you pay for it. Reckon that professor of yours has considerable money, hasn’t he?” went on Jason Sudlip, craftily.

“If he has you’ll never get any of it,” answered Darry, quickly. “I’d rot here first before I’d let him give you any on my account.”

“And I say the same,” came from Sam.

“Reckon you’ll both sing a different tune when you are good and hungry,” retorted the captain, but it was plain to tell by this tone that this was not exactly the reply he had anticipated.

“Will you tell us where Hockley is?” went on Sam, after a painful pause.

“He is not a million miles from here.”

“Is he a prisoner, too?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“How did he come to write that note?”

“I won’t tell you that either.”

The boys could now hear the volante driver calling up from below, and a moment later they heard the captain move along the hall and descend the stone stairs.

“Well, this is a pickle and no mistake,” grumbled Darry, when they found themselves alone. “What do you make of it?”

“I hardly know what to make of it, so far,” was the slow answer. “For all we know, Hockley has turned traitor to our crowd and is in with the captain.”

“Do you think he is as bad as that?”

“If he isn’t, how did he come to write that note?”

“That’s true. But I shouldn’t think it, even of Hockley. Ever since we saved him from that boa constrictor he has acted pretty decently, for him.”

They moved over to the windows, to see if they could catch sight of the captain or the volante. At first they saw nothing, but presently they caught a flying glimpse.

“There go the both of them!” cried Sam. “Darry, we have been left to our fate.”

“Glummy wasn’t with them.”

“No.”

“I wonder what Professor Strong will say when he finds we, too, are missing?”

“He’ll be very much worried, no doubt of that. Perhaps he’ll set the police on the track. I’d like to know if he found out anything about Glummy.”

They did not intend to remain prisoners if they could help it, and so set to work immediately, exploring every nook and corner of the room, which was large and built in the shape of the letter L.

“I don’t see any way out, excepting by way of the iron door, and that’s as fast as can be,” said Sam, after an hour had passed.

“Excepting we can pry off the bars from one of the windows.”

“Even if you did that, how are you going to get to the ground? It’s a good eighteen or twenty feet. If you dropped that far on those stones you might break a leg.”

“Oh, I’d risk a drop. Besides, we can make a rope by tearing up a shirt, or one of our jackets. Anything to get away, to my way of thinking.”

They examined the various bars to the windows and began operations on one which looked to be more loose than the others. But though they worked with a will on the mortar with their pocket-knives, the stuff was hard and defied all their efforts.

“We ought to have one of Hockley’s dime novel heroes here,” said Sam, grimly. “He’d twist this bar out in a jiffy.”

“Or one of the half-dime novel detectives,” returned Darry. “He’d find a secret passageway leading down into a counterfeiter’s den, with a trunk full of gold in the bargain.”

“Well, this is no laughing matter, Darry. That ride made me hungry. If I had known this I’d had breakfast before I started.”

“Yes, indeed, and I’d have packed a big lunch box in the bargain, Beans. But don’t mention food—it only makes me more hungry. Let’s take another look around.”

“Bound to find that passageway to the counterfeiter’s den, eh? All right, Old Flashlight, go ahead and make yourself famous.”

Both boys laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and then began another hunt around the room.

“I see something that I didn’t notice before,” observed Darry, after searching around for quarter of an hour. “Do you see this wall? Right above my reach it is depressed for about a foot. If you’ll boost me up to the ledge I’ll feel around there for an opening.”

“To be sure I’ll boost you up. But don’t fall and hurt yourself.”

Once up on the ledge, Darry felt around with care. As before, he found plenty of dirt and mixed in with this were two or three musty books, a couple of empty bottles, and other odds and ends of no value whatever.

“Here’s some reading for you—it will help to pass the idle hours,” cried Darry, tossing the books to Sam.

“They are Spanish prayer books,” said Sam, examining them by the light of one of the windows. “They are dated fifty and sixty years back.”

“I thought I had struck rare volumes worth a few thousand dollars,” returned Darry, dryly. “Too bad! Old Flashlight must renew his wondrous search! If we only—hullo!”

Darry broke off short and Sam heard the creaking of rusty iron.

“What have you discovered now?” he asked, after an anxious pause.

“Discovered a door, as sure as you live!” exclaimed Darry, and now he was quite excited. “Hurrah, it’s daylight!”

He had pushed in a small iron door and true enough both could see a streak of sunlight beyond, streaming into a small stone passageway. In the passageway was an iron ladder, leading to the flat roof of the building. There was a trap door above, which the storms of years had moved several inches out of place.

It did not take Darry long to give Sam a hand up to the ledge, and then both boys entered the little passageway and crawled up the iron ladder. The trap door was thrown open and they came up onto the flat roof of the building. Near at hand was a sloping roof and also a square tower, all much dilapidated and covered in spots with heavy trailing vines.

“So far so good,” exclaimed Darry, as he walked over to examine the tower. “Now if we can only get to the ground from here we’ll be all right.”

“There must be another stairway to the lower floor, Darry.”

“To be sure, and it’s likely in the tower. Come on.”

Without much difficulty they crawled to the tower in question. Here they found another trap door, but it was tightly fastened and although they did their best they could not budge it.

“Stumped again,” grumbled Darry. “Did you ever see such luck?”

“I know what I’m going to do!” exclaimed Sam, suddenly. “I’m going to climb down on the vines. I am sure they are strong enough.”

“Just the thing! Why didn’t we think of it before.”

They ran over to the edge of the tower and began to test the vines. Then Sam let himself down a few feet and Darry did the same. Soon they were moving downward, slowly and cautiously.

“There goes that volante again!” cried Darry, presently. “But it didn’t have the captain in it.”

“Let us get away as quickly as we can,” came from Sam. “If we don’t we may run into more trouble.”

“Hi, you boys, come back here!” was the cry which reached their ears. “Come back, I say!”

In amazement, both looked up. There on the tower stood Captain Sudlip, shaking his fist at them!

CHAPTER XI
A STRANGE STORY

It was plain to see that Captain Jason Sudlip was as much surprised as were Sam and Darry. He had returned in the volante expecting to find the two prisoners just where he had left them. Seeing them thus escaping upset all of his calculations.

“Come back here, I say!” he stormed. “Come back!”

“Not much!” replied Darry. “If you want us, crawl down after us.”

“Don’t tell him that!” put in Sam, in a whisper. “He’ll go below and try to cut us off.”

“Are you coming back?” demanded the ex-master of the Chester.

“Wait a minute until I unloosen my jacket,” returned Sam. “It’s caught fast on a vine.”

“Gracious, you’re not going back, are you?” whispered Darry, in dismay.

“No—we’ll fool him,” said Sam, in a still lower voice. Then he continued aloud: “We may as well give in, Darry, he’s got the best of us.”

“I hate to do it, but I’ll follow you,” answered Darry, also in a loud voice. “Will you climb up first?”

“Yes. But I’m caught fast. Wait till I cut that vine loose.”

This talk reached Captain Sudlip’s ears—as it was intended it should—and his wrathful look gave place to a grim smile.

“Thought I’d make ’em knuckle under,” he muttered.

In the meantime Sam and Darry continued to climb down with all speed. It was hard for Captain Sudlip to look down at them but he felt the vines moving. He waited a few seconds. Then he heard a dull thud as both boys dropped to the ground below.

“Hi! you!” he yelled, and his face changed instantly. “Aren’t you coming up? Well, I’ll be jiggered!”

For at that moment he caught sight of the two boys, hurrying down the road leading away from the old convent. They were going at their best rate of speed and soon disappeared from view.

“Lost ’em!” he muttered and shook his fist in impotent rage. “First one and now two. I must get out of here. This spot will soon be too hot to hold me!”

In the meantime the boys had made good their escape, with no injury excepting half a dozen scratches from the rough vines and the convent wall. On striking the ground their one thought had been to put distance between themselves and their enemy, and they ran a good way before they dropped into a walk.

“That was an adventure truly,” puffed Darry. “Wonder what Professor Strong will say when he hears of it.”

“We ought to have Captain Sudlip locked up, Darry. Besides we don’t know yet what has become of Hockley.”

“That’s true. What do you propose?”

Both boys stopped short, to give the situation consideration.

“Let us stop at the first house we come to. Perhaps we can get help there. If we go all the way back to the hotel it will give the captain an elegant chance to clear out.”

“All right, Beans, the next house it is,” answered Darry.

It was not long after this that they came in sight of a beautiful villa, set in a mass of tropical flowers. There was an avenue of palms leading up to the front veranda and at one side a beautiful fountain of marble.

On the veranda they found a young lady, sitting in a hammock reading a novel. She received them politely and they were glad to learn that she spoke excellent English.

“Papa is not at home at present,” she said. “He left last week to go to Key West, Florida, on business. Is there anything I can do for you?”

A long conversation ensued, and the boys learned that the young lady’s name was Isabel Valois. Her father was a tobacco exporter and owned large plantations both in Cuba and in Porto Rico. She had been educated in a private seminary in Havana, but had spent two years at a young lady’s school in the United States. She listened to their tale with close attention and a face full of concern.

“I think I saw Captain Sudlip drive past yesterday in the volante of which you speak. And late last night I heard somebody drive past at a furious rate of speed. I am willing to help you all I can, but there are at present only three old servants here and one has to look after my mamma, who is an invalid. Perhaps it would be best for you to take our carriage and drive back to town or to some other house for assistance.”

“Thank you, we’ll take the carriage, if you don’t mind. Have you somebody to drive it and show the way?”

“Yes—myself,” and she laughed merrily. “The adventure will just suit me. While old Jose is harnessing up you shall have breakfast.”

As both were tremendously hungry they could not resist this invitation, and soon they were seated in a broad and cool dining hall and eating the food which was hastily prepared for them. The meal did not take long and by the time it was over Isabel Valois drove around with a comfortable carriage of American manufacture. They climbed in, there was a merry crack of the whip, and off they started in the direction of Havana proper.

Had their minds been at ease, Sam and Darry would have enjoyed that ride thoroughly, for Isabel Valois handled the reins with skill, and the team was a spirited one. She was what Darry called a “jolly” girl, and as they passed along she entertained them with a bright flow of talk, as she pointed out many objects of interest.

“I like the people from the United States,” she said, archly. “And I was so disappointed when Cuba was not taken into the Union. But papa says it is bound to come sooner or later.”

“And it will,” answered Sam. “But tell me,” he went on, “were you at home when Havana was blockaded?”

“To be sure I was, and many were scared to death, for fear the big guns on the warships would bombard our homes. Once, when a wild shot did come this way, all the servants ran down into our cellar and hid in a corner.”

“And weren’t you scared?” asked Darry, with a twinkle in his eye.

“No, I was not. I knew the Americans were our friends and would not hurt us.”

“I am afraid we hurt some Cubans down at Santiago.”

“Oh, that was different. Here it was only a blockade—that was a direct attack.”

The drive into the city of Havana took them past the Fairfax House, and here the boys determined to stop and learn if anything had been seen or heard of Hockley.

They had just leaped to the pavement when Professor Strong ran forward to meet them.

“Crane and Winthrop!” he ejaculated. “What does this mean?”

“It’s a long story, sir,” answered Sam. “Have you seen anything of Hockley?”

“No. I was looking for him the best part of the night and also for you, after I learned that you, too, were missing. I traced Hockley and you to this hotel by the note which you tore up and which Mark and Frank patched together. Did you follow Hockley up?”

“We don’t know,” answered Darry, and continued soberly: “It looks as if poor Glum—I mean Jake—had met with foul play.”

Isabel Valois was introduced, and the discovery was made that Professor Strong had met her father years before. Then the two boys told their story. As they proceeded Amos Strong’s face grew dark.

“This Captain Sudlip is a scoundrel!” he murmured. “We shall have to notify the police. He has been discharged from the command of the Chester, and it has made him vindictive.”

“So he has lost command of the steamer?” asked Darry.

“Yes. The owners were very angry that he did not have those repairs made at La Guayra, where they would have been cheaper, it seems, than here. Then they read the note that we signed, and Captain Sudlip got his walking papers. I heard afterward that the owners were tired of him as it was. But of course he lays the blame of his discharge on us. We may have to——”

“Here comes Hockley!” broke in Darry.

He pointed up the street and all looked in that direction. It was the lank youth sure enough, but so haggard, ragged and dirty that they scarcely recognized him. He did not see them until he was close at hand and then he started and flushed guiltily.

“Hockley, what does this mean?” demanded Professor Strong, but his voice was not particularly harsh, for he saw that the big youth had suffered.

“Oh, I’m so glad to get back,” said the truant, when he could speak. “I’m nearly dead, sir.”

“Where have you been?”

“It’s all that Captain Sudlip’s fault, sir. He got me in a regular box,” whined Hockley. Then he looked at Sam and Darry. “I thought he—he carried you off, too.”

“He didn’t carry us off. We tried to follow you, after you wrote that you were in trouble and wanted us to come.”

“I didn’t write any such note.”

“You didn’t!” burst out Sam and Darry, simultaneously.

“No, I didn’t. I wrote a note for Captain Sudlip, but it wasn’t that.”

“What was it?”

At first Hockley did not want to answer this question, but he finally admitted that he had written a note stating that Captain Sudlip had treated him first-class while on the Chester and that he was satisfied the captain was a good man. He did not add that he had also written that there was a plot against the captain, hatched out, shortly after leaving Kingston harbor, by Professor Strong, and the second mate.

“I had to write the note. The captain had me a prisoner and he threatened me in all sorts of ways,” concluded Hockley.

Again there was a conference, and it was decided that they no longer needed the services of Isabel Valois, although the young lady said she would place her carriage at their disposal as long as they wished it.

“You must surely call on me before you leave Havana,” said she. “I wish to hear the end of this adventure,” and Sam and Darry promised.

On the way to the hotel at which the party were stopping Hockley told his story in detail only leaving out the fact that he had been drinking and that when he left the café it had been with the intention of seeking amusement at some low theater.

“I thought I’d take a walk and try to get rid of my headache,” he said. “I walked further than I intended, and when I was on something of a lonely street I noticed that I was being followed. It was Captain Sudlip, and behind him came a Cuban who was driving one of those volantes. The captain came up to me and started to talk. He was very friendly and humble and said if he lost his job he wouldn’t know where to look for another. Then he asked me to ride over to the home of one of the owner’s of the steamer and put in a good word for him, and I consented.”

Hockley could tell but little of the ride that had followed, for the reason that his head had been muddled by the liquor he had imbibed. He put it down to a headache, and it is quite likely that he did have a headache.

“At last we stopped in front of some sort of stone building,” he continued, “and the captain took me inside. Then he laughed at me and told me I was a prisoner. We had a fight and he knocked me down and tore my clothing as you see. Then he made me write that letter. He wanted me to write to the other boys but I refused. After that he left me alone in the dark. I crawled around until I got to a barred window. One of the bars was loose and I pulled it out and crawled through the window. Then I started to run across a field but fell into a hole and struck my head on a stone. I don’t know how long I lay there. But when I got up it was light, and then I started to walk back into town, for I hadn’t a cent left with which to hire a carriage.”

CHAPTER XII
ABOUT CUBA AND TOBACCO RAISING

By the time Hockley had finished his story the party had reached the hotel, where Mark and Frank were found, wondering what was going on. They still had the pieces of the torn-up note in their possession, and now it was noticed that it was written in a crude imitation of Hockley’s handwriting.

“Jake, we owe you an apology for having thought you wrote that,” said Sam, frankly.

“Yes,” put in Darry. “We owe you an apology true enough. I guess you were locked up in the same old convent we were in,” he went on.

“I am going to proceed against Captain Sudlip without delay,” said Professor Strong. “We have a strong case against him and he shall suffer for his misdeeds.”

But though the professor spoke thus, to proceed was no easy matter. When the old convent was visited no trace of the ex-master of the Chester was to be found, nor could his whereabouts be traced from the Fairfax House. The Cuban who had driven the volante had likewise disappeared.

“Stumped!” said Darry, laconically. “He knows enough to keep shady. He won’t show himself until after we are gone, and neither will that rascally Cuban.”

Owing to what had occurred, it was resolved to remain in Havana for the balance of the week, and during the next few days all the boys spent a large part of their time in sight-seeing. They inspected Morro Castle, and a guide explained how it had been fortified during the Spanish-American War, and they also visited some of the other fortifications. Next came a trip to the post-office, treasury building, the military offices and the cathedral. At the latter place they were shown an urn said to contain the bones of Columbus.

“Are they really his bones?” asked Mark.

“More than likely,” answered Professor Strong. “Yet this statement has often been disputed. Some say the bones are in Spain and others that they are in South America. It matters little where his bones lie. The fame of Columbus will ever remain the same.”

After the visit to the cathedral came another to the public art gallery, and the museum, and they also visited both the Cuban and the English cemeteries, beautiful spots, with many tall and imposing monuments. They also drove out to Principe Castle and spent two days at other points in the suburbs.

A railroad runs from Havana, south-westward to Pinar del Rio, a distance of about a hundred miles, and it was decided that one day should be spent at this city, the most important in the extreme western section of Cuba. This railroad was formerly of small importance but since the dawn of Cuban liberty, matters have taken a brisker turn.

“They had the same trouble here that they are having in South America,” said the professor, during the journey. “The natives do not take to the cars, no matter how low the fare. They prefer to journey on muleback or on foot, even though it takes much longer.”

“What a difference between that and our own country,” said Frank, with a laugh. “Just let a railroad lop off an hour from the running time between New York and Chicago, or between Chicago and San Francisco, and everybody runs to ride on that railroad.” And then all laughed.

“How large is Cuba?” asked Darry. “I did know, but I stored the knowledge away so carefully that I’ve forgotten where I put it.”

“Cuba is, roughly speaking, over seven hundred miles from east to west, and from fifty to a hundred miles from north to south. It contains nearly forty-four thousand square miles of territory, but a large portion of this is either very rocky, as in the mountains, or else very marshy, as along the seacoast. There is a mountain range running almost the entire length of the island. It is called the Sierra del Cobra, and boasts of one peak, the Pico de Torginno, 7,670 feet high. Besides this range of mountains there are numerous hills, particularly in the east.”

“What of the rivers?” asked Frank.

“As in Jamaica the rivers do not amount to a great deal, for the water flows directly from the mountains into the sea. There is one, called the Cauto, which empties on the south coast, just north of Manzanillo. This can be navigated by small craft for a distance of sixty miles. But there are a number of bays which make good harbors. The one at Santiago de Cuba is particularly fine.”

“Where the great fight came off, and where Hobson sunk the Merrimac!” cried Sam. “We must see that by all means. I once saw the Merrimac, but she was only a coal boat at that time.”

“The Monitor sunk the Merrimac,” came from Hockley, who was half asleep in his seat. And then as the other boys began to laugh he straightened up. “What are you laughing at anyway?” he growled. “I know I’m right.”

“We are talking about the Spanish-American War, not the Civil War,” explained the professor.

“Oh!”

“There are only two great industries in Cuba,” went on Professor Strong. “But some day there will be a third. The two are tobacco and sugar. They dominate trade and have made many Spaniards and Cubans rich. The town we are now bound for, Pinar del Rio, is the center of trade of the Vuelta Abajo tobacco district. The folks for miles around do nothing but raise tobacco.”

“And what will that third industry be?” asked Darry.

“The development of the mineral resources of the island. There are large quantities of minerals in the mountains, and sooner or later companies will be organized to dig them out. The very name of the mountain, Sierra del Cobra, means Copper Mountains.”

“I’d like to explore those mountains,” said Mark. “It would be lots of fun to peep down into an extinct volcano or two.”

“We can do that when we get to other places, Mark. South America is full of old volcanoes.”

“That’s the talk!” cried Frank, enthusiastically. “We’ll become volcano explorers. It will be fine. Who knows but that we may find a fortune in gold.”

The ride to Pinar del Rio soon came to an end. The boys were somewhat disappointed in the town, which boasts of about nine thousand inhabitants. There are but few public buildings of note and everything looked rather hot and dusty. But the tobacco warehouses were something new to them, and the professor had a Cuban who could speak English take them around.

“Tobacco is grown in various ways in different countries,” said the professor, as they walked around. “But the usual method, and the easiest, is to plant the seed in a specially prepared garden, or hot-house frame. As soon as it is up a few inches the plants are taken to the field and each is set out on its own little hill. Plants, to be good, require constant care, especially against the insects, that would otherwise eat holes in the leaves and render them of small value.

“When the leaves are full grown the plant is cut down and the leaves are hung up, ends down, to dry. From this drying process they are taken to the curing shed where they are thoroughly cured, after which they are ready for packing, in hogsheads or large cases. How they make cigars you saw down in Venezuela.”

“My father frequently has cigars that are all spotted,” said Mark. “What do the spots come from?”

“If they are genuine they come from a gum in the leaf, which appears on the surface when the leaf is fully ripe. But many of the spots—which some smokers look for—are put on artificially.”

“What about smoking tobacco and snuff?” asked Darry.

“And cigarettes?” put in Hockley.

“Smoking tobaccoes are nothing more than tobacco leaves cut up in various ways and snuff is tobacco ground up. The smoking tobaccoes are flavored with a hundred and one different things and chemicals are often used to keep them moist, and this treatment is also true of chewing tobacco. Some snuffs are allowed to rot before being used and others are baked, and many of them are perfumed. As to cigarettes, the best of them are made of carefully selected tobacco leaves, cut fine, and rolled up in a high grade of specially prepared rice paper. But the ordinary cigarette, of which millions are sold, is made of the very commonest of tobacco, adulterated in many ways, and is utterly unfit for smoking. These cigarettes, often used by boys and young men, are so utterly bad that even old tobacco-saturated Cubans—like these working around this warehouse—cannot use them without feeling sick.”

The last words were uttered for Hockley’s benefit. The eyes of the tall youth sought the ground and a moment later he turned away. But it was evident that he was doing some deep thinking. A little later, when he felt he was unobserved, he dropped a half package of cigarettes in an out-of-the-way corner.

The ride back to Havana in the cool of the evening was delightful and the boys enjoyed it thoroughly, that is, all but Hockley, who soon went to sleep.

“I really can’t see why he came with us,” observed Sam to the others, in a low tone. “He doesn’t seem to enjoy the sight-seeing a bit.”

“He wants something more startling,” answered Frank. “He told me this morning that everything was dead slow. He wants more sport. If he had his way I really believe he’d turn in to paint the town red, as they call it.”

“I don’t believe he told us the whole truth about his meeting with Captain Sudlip, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I think he went out for a good time and perhaps he had some liquor.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” came from Mark. “But as we don’t know we shouldn’t misjudge him. If he’s got this wildness in his constitution it may be awfully hard for him to keep even as straight as he does.”

CHAPTER XIII
A CUBAN BASEBALL GAME

On the following morning the boys spent a good hour poring over the map of Cuba. It had been decided that they should go to Matanzas and Cardenas on the coast east of Havana, and they asked the professor why they could not continue eastward as far as Colon and Santa Clara.

“We can if you wish it,” answered Amos Strong.

“I see there is a railroad runs from Santa Clara to Cienfuegos on the south coast,” said Mark. “Why not go to that port? We ought to find some vessel there bound for Santiago.”

Willing to do what the boys desired, within reasonable limits, Professor Strong put the matter to a vote. Four at once voted in favor of Mark’s plan. Hockley said neither yes nor no.

“How do you vote, Jacob?” asked the professor, pleasantly.

“What’s the use of my voting?” grumbled the tall youth. “If I voted the other way it would be four to one.”

“Have you any objection to Mark’s plan?”

“Oh, no, I reckon it’s as good as any. I think the whole of Cuba rather stale.”

“What did you expect?”

“Oh, I want to see something of life. Do they have bull fights?”

“Not as they did formerly. But the Cubans are beginning to play baseball,” and there was a twinkle in the professor’s eye as he spoke.

“Humph, I can see that at home.”

“Oh, let’s go and see a game!” cried Darry. “Do you know of any here?”

For reply the professor produced a handbill which had been given him in the courtyard of the hotel. It stated that a game of ball would take place that afternoon on a certain public grounds between the Palmas of Havana and the Roosevelts of Florida.

“Say, but they are high-toned on names,” was Frank’s comment. “The President of Cuba against the President of the United States.”

“Whoop!” cried Darry, throwing his cap into the air. “Let’s go and root for Teddy!”

“Let’s!” shouted the others, and even Hockley brightened at the suggestion.

The professor was quite willing to let them go, feeling that the game would likely give Hockley something of the excitement he craved. The matter was soon arranged, and they purchased the best seats available.

When they reached the public grounds they found a crowd assembled, and the ball players were already at practice on the green field. There were several hundred Americans present, many in carriages, and among the carriages they discovered the Valois turnout, with Isabel Valois and a number of other young people.

“I thought I’d see you here,” declared the young lady. “No Yankee boy can keep away from a ball game,” and she smiled as she shook hands and was introduced to those she had not before met.

Mark was anxious to see the American players more closely. As we know, he had always been a good ball player and had been the captain of the team at Lakeview Academy, beating Hockley for that position by several votes, much to the bully’s discomfiture. Now he worked his way through the crowd close to the American players’ “bench,” in this case an awning spread to shade a certain spot on the grass to the right of the home plate.

The ball players were all about Mark’s age, one or two a little older, and seemed to be a jolly set. But as Mark came nearer so did one of the team and his face wore a serious expression.

“Ronaldson is no better,” Mark heard him tell the others. “Complains of terrible cramps.”

“Is he going to try to play?” asked one of the other players.

“Yes, but I don’t know how long he will last.”

“Then you’ll have to use Blackney.”

“I suppose so, but he’s got a sore hand and can’t half catch. We need a good man on second base. The Palmas are going to do their best to win this game.”

The talk interested Mark greatly and it aroused the baseball fever in his veins. He caught the eye of one of the players and beckoned to him.

“Are any of you fellows from New York state?” he asked.

“Yes, Len Gardell is from Rochester,” was the answer.

“I come from New York city,” went on Mark. “I’m an old ball player—used to be captain of the Lakeview Academy nine of New Hampshire. We once played a team from Rochester—the Silver Stars. Can I speak to Mr. Gardell? My name is Mark Robertson.”

“Why, certainly, Mr. Robertson,” said the ball player, and held out his hand. “My name is Bob Lee. I’m from Atlanta, Georgia. We put ourselves down as from Florida for we have been playing there—at several of the big hotels.”

And a minute later Mark was introduced to all of the team and made to feel quite at home.

Having finished their chat with Isabel Valois and her companions, the others made their way to the stand and found the seats assigned to them. Soon all of the baseball players were out on the diamond and the game began with the Cuban team at the bat.

“It’s funny Mark doesn’t come,” said Darry. “He always thinks so much of a ball game.”

“He went off to see the players,” answered Frank. He looked toward the “bench.” “I declare there he is now, talking to one of the substitute players!”

“Then he’s at home,” laughed Darry. “You won’t get him back here, unless the umpire drives him from the field.”

When Hockley saw Mark sitting on the “bench” he was green with envy.

“Always getting in,” he muttered to himself. “That’s just the way he got in on me at the academy! Confound the luck!” And then Hockley tried to get on the field himself, but was ordered back by one of the policemen stationed there to keep the crowd in bounds.

The boys had already learned that this game was the last of a series of three. Each club had already won one game. A prize of a silver cup and half of the gate money were to go to the winner of the series.

At first glance it did not appear as if the Cuban club could play. They seemed to toss the ball about in reckless fashion and strike out wildly when at the bat, yet at the end of the fourth innings the score was a tie, 3 to 3.

“This game is all right,” was Frank’s comment. “I’ve seen many a worse one right on the Polo grounds in New York.”

“Oh, the New Yorks can’t play ball anyway,” growled Hockley.

In the next innings both clubs scored two runs, bringing the score up to another tie. There was a beautiful running catch made by one of the Cuban fielders and this was roundly applauded by the American as well as the Cuban spectators.

“Give these Cubans a few more years and they’ll be as crazy for baseball as we are,” said Darry.

In the first half of the sixth innings the Cubans scored another run. A “pop” fly had been knocked across the diamond but the second baseman failed to hold it. As it was a clear muff some in the crowd groaned, at which the baseman looked more disconcerted than ever.

“Don’t groan or hiss,” said Professor Strong. “Every player is bound to miss it sometime. That baseman did very well before. And he acts to me as if he was sick. I’ve seen him holding his stomach several times.”

The Roosevelts now came to the bat with a score of 6 to 5 against them. The first player up was put out on strikes and the second on a foul tip. The third batsman had a ball and a strike called and then sent a long, high fly to center field.

“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd of Americans. “That’s a daisy! Run! Run!”

“It’s a home run. Go it, longlegs, go it!”

“Don’t let them stop you at third! You’ve got lots of time!”

The yelling continued. In the meantime the center fielder was racing after the ball like mad. He caught it up just as the runner was leaving third for the home plate and threw it to the catcher with all his strength. But it fell short of its mark and was captured by the pitcher, who whirled around and delivered it home just as the runner slid in amid a cloud of dust and a yelling which could be heard for half a mile. Then those close by saw the catcher leap for the ball, capture it in one hand and fall in a heap on top of the man who had slid in to victory.

“He’s safe!” was the cry, as the crowd saw the umpire keep his hand down. “Oh, wasn’t that a dandy run!”

“And wasn’t that a dandy hit!”

It was several seconds before the dust cleared away and then it was seen that something was wrong. The runner had been kicked in the arm by the catcher and the latter had tumbled and bruised his knee. Both had to be helped from the field and time was called while the hurts were attended to by a doctor who happened to be present.

“They say that runner is out of the game,” was the report which went the round a little later. “And that second baseman has retired too. He’s suffering from cramps. The catcher is all right.”

“If the Roosevelts lose two men they will be one man short,” said Sam. “They had only one substitute at the bench.”

“Perhaps the others are somewhere around,” answered Darry.

The catcher came limping up and the game was resumed. But no more runs were made and the innings came to an end with another tied score, 6 to 6. Then came a long wait.

“I hope they don’t call it off on account of not having another substitute,” said Frank. And then he continued: “I wonder where Mark is? He isn’t down at the bench.”

A minute later the American team came from their dressing room, where they had been in conference, and ran to their various positions on the field.

As they did so the boys in the stand gave a cry of amazement.

“Well, I never!” came from Darry.

“Is it really Mark?” questioned Sam.

“Of course it is!” shouted Frank, leaping to his feet and swinging his cap. “It’s Mark, and he’s going to play second base!”

CHAPTER XIV
WINNING A VICTORY

Frank was right, one of the two substitute players to go forth was really Mark, and he had run across the diamond to fill the important position mentioned.

The explanation of this state of affairs is very simple. On being introduced to the player from Rochester Mark had discovered that he had met the fellow before, and a long talk on baseball matters followed. Then Mark was introduced to the captain of the team, who told of the way they were handicapped with only one substitute player, two others having disappointed him, and of the fact that the second baseman was liable to give out at any moment.

After the muff already mentioned the second baseman refused to play longer and had to be excused. Then came the accident at the home plate and the team found itself short a man.

“I’ll fill that place,” came from Mark. “I think I can give satisfaction. Anyway, I’ll try my best.”

“Give him the chance,” came from the Rochester player, and so it was decided, the captain thinking he could remove Mark at the end of one innings if the youth proved “a stick,” as he put it.

It was natural for the boys to give a cheer, and they did so with a will, even Professor Strong joining in, for he was almost as enthusiastic as anybody. Mark heard and saw them and waved his hand. He had slipped on a player’s suit, as well as a cap and a pair of baseball shoes and, to use Frank’s words, “he looked the real thing.”

But there was one in the crowd who did not fancy the turn affairs had taken. I doubt if there is need to state that this was Hockley.

“Humph! so he has wormed his way in with them,” he muttered. “I hope he loses the game.”

The ardor of the Americans among the spectators was considerably dampened when the two substitutes appeared. With the score a tie and only three more innings to play it was felt that the Roosevelts would have to put forth their very best efforts in order to win.

The seventh inning was over in remarkably short order. There was but one base hit, made by the Cubans, and this runner “died” at third. Mark had next to nothing to do at second, nor did he come to the bat. But the other substitute came to the plate, and when he “fanned the air” for three strikes a deep groan went up.

“The subs are no good! Might as well give up the game!” cried some of the hasty ones.

In the next inning the Cubans managed by good luck to score two runs. In this inning Mark might have put one of the runners out at second, but the ball was thrown so high up that only his finger tip touched it. Yet this counted as an error for him and the other players looked far from pleased.

“I knew it,” muttered Hockley to Sam. “He can’t play—he isn’t in practice.”

“Jake Hockley, you ought to be ashamed!” retorted Sam, and then turned his back on the lank youth.

With the score 8 to 6 in their favor the Palmas came to the bat for the last time. One man went out on strikes and the next on a foul. Then came the third, a heavy-set fellow, who “lined it out” straight for the pitcher.

It was a “hot” ball, far too hot for that pitcher to take, even in a last inning, and he hardly made a move for it. But Mark made a leap, and almost before the spectators realized what was up, he held the sphere in his left hand and the umpire had called “out!”

“Hurrah!” yelled Frank. “That’s the stuff!” And the others followed in a cheer, while Professor Strong’s face wore a broad smile. This game of ball made him feel a good deal like a boy again.

“Two runs to tie the score and three to win the game,” said more than one player of the Roosevelts as they took their positions at the “bench.” “Oh, we must get together and do something. We can’t allow these Cubans to win the series.”

The first player to the bat was the left fielder. He was usually counted a careful hitter and nobody was surprised when he reached first base in safety. But the others were sorry he had not made third, or at least second.

There followed an out on strikes and aided by a short passed ball, the runner reached third, taking desperate chances. Then came a short hit which took the batter to first by “fielder’s choice,” the ball being thrown in to cover the home plate. But the man on third was wise and stayed there.

“Hilgard to the bat, Robertson on deck!” sang out the scorer, and Mark’s heart gave a thump. Was it possible that the result of this game was to depend upon him?

In another moment he knew, for Hilgard went out on strikes, amid a mad yelling from the Cubans. There were now two out, so the whole result of that contest rested upon Mark’s shoulders.

“You must do it, Mark!” yelled Frank, at the top of his lungs. “Go in, old boy, and win! Whoop her up for old Lakeview!” And then the others took up the cry, that is, all but Hockley, who, true to his nickname, remained as glum as ever.

When Mark stepped up to the home plate it was with a determination to “do or die” right then and there. He grasped the ash stick firmly, planted his feet and took a good, hard hold of his nerves.

The Cuban pitcher eyed him curiously. He was a “new proposition” and the pitcher hardly knew how to handle him. He stepped back, gave the catcher a sign, and delivered a swift out curve. Mark let it go by.

“Ball one!” called the umpire.

“That’s right, take your time!” yelled Frank. He was standing up and so was everybody else in the stand.

In came the ball again and this time Mark struck at it but missed.

“Strike one!”

A loud yelling went up from the Cubans.

Mark took a firmer grip than ever. It must be confessed that he was in an agony of mind. What if he should “fan out?” He was certain that club would never forgive him. And he was equally certain that he should never forgive himself.

And then came a ball waist high and directly over the plate, a beautiful ball, and just where Mark wanted it. Around came the bat in one swift drive. There was a crack, and the ball went sailing down into deep center field.

On the instant the crowd in the stand were yelling like so many demons and Frank was dancing up and down as if he had suddenly gone crazy. Mark had reached first—he was already on his way to second, and still the center fielder was chasing after that ball, which kept bouncing on and on just out of his reach. One runner crossed the home plate and the second followed almost on his heels. The catcher was yelling and so was the captain of the Palmas but nobody heard them. Mark, his breath coming thick and fast was fairly leaping through the air on his way to third. Here the baseman made a feint as if to catch the ball and Mark ducked and slid in to the bag.

“Go on! Go on!” yelled the coach, and a hundred others, and Mark glanced back, to see that the fielder was just picking up the ball. How he got to his feet he never knew, but off he started for home, amid a yelling that was louder than ever. He came over like the wind, to sink exhausted near the “bench,”—and then the ball came in.

The game was won!

“Hurrah for Mark!” Frank fairly screamed, and made a wild leap into the field, followed by Sam and Darry, and even the professor, and in another moment the enclosure was black with people. All the Americans were shouting loudly, while the Cubans had but little to say.

“He must be a first-class professional,” said one Cuban.

“Nothing of the kind,” retorted Frank, who heard the remark. “He is only an academy player. He never played on a professional team in his life.”

The players on the Roosevelt nine were not slow in congratulating Mark, and had he allowed it they would have carried him around the field on their shoulders. But Mark was too modest for this, and as soon as possible escaped to the dressing room.

“Oh, say, but it was great!” burst out Darry, as he wrung Mark’s hand. “Better than anything I ever saw at Lakeview.”

“You fairly lifted the crowd off its feet with that home run,” put in Sam. “Even the professor was yelling like a senior.”

“Was I?” the question came from Amos Strong himself, who stood behind Sam. “Well, I fancy the game was worth it,” he added, but looked rather sheepish for a second.

The Roosevelts insisted upon giving Mark a supper that night (since he had refused to accept part of the gate money for his services), and a good time was had until late in the evening. Frank accompanied Mark, and during that festive hour the lads made several warm friends.

“But the Cubans played a good game,” observed Darry, to Sam, while they and Hockley and the professor were waiting for Mark and Frank to return. “It was nip-and-tuck from start to finish.”

“That hit by Mark was a fluke,” grumbled Hockley. “I’ll bet a thousand dollars he can’t do it again.”

“Perhaps it was a fluke,” returned Sam, dryly. “But, just the same, Glummy, you’ll never have such a fluke happen to you;” and then Sam turned his back on the bully.

Hockley sauntered off to his sleeping apartment all out of sorts both with himself and everybody around him.

“After this they’ll be more stuck on themselves than ever,” he growled. “And they won’t want anything to do with me. But never mind, I’ll fix them yet, see if I don’t!”

CHAPTER XV
HOCKLEY TAKES A BATH AND GIVES ONE

On the following day Professor Strong and the boys received a call from Isabel Valois and her father, the latter having just returned home from a business trip. Señor Valois was delighted to meet the professor once more, and an interview pleasing to both ensued, lasting an hour. In the meantime pretty Isabel talked to the boys and especially to Mark.

“It was splendid, that baseball hit!” cried the girl, enthusiastically. “I hated to see our Cuban club lose but I couldn’t help admire the beautiful way in which you played.” And Mark blushed like a girl and could hardly stammer out his thanks for her kind words.

Señor Valois was telling the professor of his various plantations when another visitor was announced. This proved to be January Jones, who had been waiting patiently to see Amos Strong about the position which had been more than half promised. As a result of this visit January was given work as overseer’s assistant on a Valois’s plantation ten miles out of Havana. This proved to be just what the darkey wanted and he was correspondingly happy.

Matanzas lies east of Havana about sixty miles and Cardenas is about twenty miles further. As said before, both are seaports, the first named lying almost due south from Key West. The railroad from Havana runs direct to Matanzas, but to get to Cardenas one must journey first to the little inland town of Jovellanos.

The trip eastward was begun bright and early on the following week and proved full of interest. The cars were crowded and the boys noticed that many of the travelers seemed well-to-do.

“Matanzas is, as a commercial city, next in importance to Havana,” said the professor as they rode along. “It has a large shipping and the population is nearly forty thousand. Not far from the city are located the Caves of Bellamar. I never visited them, but they are said to be of uncommon interest and beauty.”

“Let us go by all means!” cried Darry. “I just love caves and volcanoes and high mountains.”

Matanzas was reached in the middle of the forenoon, and before dining they paid a visit to the fortifications which had taken active part in the war, and also to a number of public buildings. Then they dined, and after that set out for the caves on muleback, along with a native guide, who owned the mules and who said he could take them around to every point of interest.

The mule he rode interested Darry very much, for, as old readers know, he took naturally to any animal that could be saddled. The mule was not very large, but he looked powerful and his gait proved a surprise.

“I really believe he could win a race on a pinch!” said Darry.

“Do you?” queried Hockley. “I’ll go you for a mile.”

Darry was surprised to receive such a challenge from the lank youth, but he did not hesitate to accept, and away went both lads before either the professor or the guide could stop them.

At first it was nip-and-tuck, for Hockley’s beast was also swift of foot, and it was not long before the racers passed out of sight beyond a turn. Professor Strong began to look serious but the Cuban guide only smiled.

“They will not run far,” he said, in Spanish. “And when they drop into a walk they will pay up for their speed by going slower than ever.”

Nevertheless, the others set off after the two in advance, for the guide feared they would take to the wrong road, one leading into the country and away from the caves.

This was just what Darry and Hockley did, and soon they came to what was little better than a rough trail, with thatched huts on either side. The mules kept together at first but presently Darry forged ahead.

“Whoop I here we go!” he yelled. “Look out for the mountain express!” And then he had to cling fast, as the mule switched his heavy-ended tail and kicked up with his rear hoofs.

Soon Darry reached what seemed to be the middle of a settlement, with huts on all sides. Here was a big stone cistern, filled with water, and with the top wide open. Several natives were at hand, some of them with buckets and shells.

As soon as he reached the cistern the mule Darry rode came to an abrupt halt. Looking back the boy saw that Hockley was now having his hands full with his steed, which was rearing and plunging in a most surprising fashion.

“Look out, Glummy, or he’ll throw you!” he sang out. “He’s getting his dander up!”

“He shan’t throw me!” panted Hockley. “I’ll show him who is master!” And he hit the mule on the neck with his fist.

By this time the professor and the other boys came riding up, along with the guide. Hockley’s mule kept dancing around, and they had to move from one spot to another to keep out of the way.

“Better get off!” began Professor Strong, when of a sudden the mule made a sudden bolt forward.

Four leaps took the animal to the low wall of the cistern and here he stopped abruptly. Then up went his rear hoofs like lightning and in an instant Hockley was thrown into the air. Down came the youth head first, to strike the water with a loud splash, and then he disappeared from sight.

A perfect roar of laughter went up, both from the boys and from the natives, and Professor Strong kept a straight face with difficulty. It was a truly comical sight, and when Hockley came up the boys had to laugh still more. In going down the lank youth’s head had touched the unclean bottom of the cistern and now his hair and face were covered with a greenish mud and slime awful to behold.

“Hel—help me out, somebody!” he spluttered, blowing the water from his mouth.

“I’ll help you,” answered the professor, and leaping to the ground he gave the unfortunate one his hand. Getting out of the cistern was easy and in a moment more Hockley stood in the roadway brushing the water and dirt from him and glaring savagely at Darry and the others.

“It ain’t no laughing matter!” he howled. “You shut up, or I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

“It’s too bad, Glummy,” began Mark, when he could suppress his feelings sufficiently to speak. “But you did look so funny——”

“I don’t want you to talk to me!” stormed Hockley, working himself up into a perfect rage. “You are all against me. I’m going back to the city, and maybe I’ll start for home to-morrow.”

“Be calm, Jacob,” put in the professor. “It was truly unfortunate, but there is no occasion for making matters worse by losing control of your temper. I dare say if I had been thrown into the cistern all of you would have laughed just as hard.”

“I don’t care, they are all down on me!” grumbled Hockley.

“I believe you only imagine it. Come, we will find some place where you can wash up and have your clothing dried.”

“I’ll go back to the hotel and change my clothing. I don’t want to see the caves.”

Hockley was obdurate, and in the end he was allowed to depart, after having washed up in a nearby hut. A native conducted him back to the city, so that he might not lose his way. Once at the hotel he lost no time in getting some liquor and a package of cigarettes, and, in the privacy of a room the party had engaged, lay down to read another “thriller” he had purchased before leaving Havana. But he was full of bitterness, and his resolve to “fix” the others was greater than ever.

The trip to the Caves of Bellamar proved of interest to the boys, who brought with them upon their return a number of specimens of beautifully colored stones to be found there. While in the caves they had great sport with the echoes, and the guide pointed out to them a spot in which over a hundred Cubans had been imprisoned and starved to death in years gone by, during one of the awful uprisings in that part of the island.

When the boys got back to Matanzas they were glad enough to rest in the patio of the hotel before attempting to re-arrange their toilets and dine. Mark and Frank sank into one hammock and Darry and Sam in another, while Professor Strong rested in an easy chair not far away.

While they were resting, Hockley, whose room was directly above the patio, heard them talking, and their apparent happiness caused a sour look to spread over his face.

“If only they had gone into that cistern instead of me!” he muttered to himself, and then his eyes rested on a bowl of dirty water he had left on the washstand. “Just the thing!” he added. “I’ll see how they like it.”

To catch up the bowl of dirty water was but the work of an instant and he crossed to the window under which the boys were sitting. But then he paused.

“If I throw it from here, they’ll know I did it,” he reasoned. “I’ll go into the hallway.”

The hallway led around a corner, and here was another window, also opening upon the courtyard. The place was deserted and the window was wide open. Looking to make sure that he was not observed, Hockley threw the water out and then turned and ran with all speed for his own room. He put the bowl where it belonged, went outside again, locked the door, and ran down the front stairs, leading to the hotel reading room.

The bully’s aim was true, and the scattering water covered all four of the boys pretty thoroughly, and even the professor did not escape entirely.

“My gracious, what’s this!” spluttered Mark, who caught some in his eyes. “Who threw that water down on me?”

He leaped up and so did the others. They gazed up at the hall window but could see nobody. Yet they knew that it had come from there and in the mind of each rushed the same thought:

“Hockley!”

“Of course he did it!” cried Darry, brushing off his shoulders. “He wants to pay us for laughing at him.”

“I’ll pay him!” returned Sam, and made a dash for the doorway of the hotel, before Professor Strong could stop him. The others came behind, the professor calling out that they must behave themselves.

It puzzled them greatly to find the door to the room locked. They pounded in vain and then had to wait until Professor Strong opened the door to the apartment adjoining. Then they passed through a connecting door.

“Nobody here,” said Sam, staring around. “If he did it he got out in mighty quick order.”

“Nobody in the hall,” came from Mark, who had taken a look around. “But I don’t believe a servant would have thrown that water into the garden.”

“The wash bowl is empty and the pitcher is less than half full,” came from Frank. “The pitcher was full when we left—the servant just came and filled it.”

“Let’s look for Hockley,” was Darry’s advice, but fearing a bitter quarrel and perhaps a fight, the professor told them to leave the big youth alone and prepare themselves for supper. As all were more than ordinarily hungry, this changed the current of their thoughts and they did as requested.

When they entered the dining hall they found Hockley waiting for them. He put on an injured air.

“Thought you were never coming to dine,” he grumbled. “Next time I guess I’ll eat alone.”

“You may, Jacob, if you feel too hungry to wait,” answered the professor.

“Say, Hockley, did you—” began Mark, when Frank pinched his arm.

“Don’t let on,” whispered Frank to his chum. “If he doesn’t know anything about it don’t give him the chance to laugh at us.”

“Did I what?” questioned the bully.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” answered Mark, unconcernedly.

And there, for the time being, the affair rested.

CHAPTER XVI
GOOD-BYE TO CUBA

From Matanzas the party journeyed to Cardenas, where a day was spent in sight-seeing, and then took the train for Santa Clara, stopping off for two hours at the city of Colon. The route now lay around some lofty mountains and the scenery was grand in consequence. Two days were spent at Santa Clara and then they moved on to Cienfuegos on the south coast.

“Cienfuegos means the City of a Hundred Fires,” said Professor Strong. “Why it is called that I cannot tell excepting it may be on account of volcanic actions of years ago. It is probably the most up-to-date city in Cuba and will be still better after the sanitary arrangements have been completed.”

“Wasn’t there some sort of a fight off Cienfuegos during the late war?” questioned Sam.

“Yes. Some of our warships went in to cut the cables lying on the harbor bottom and the Spanish soldiers gave them battle. It was a hot contest, but it did not last very long.”

The boys found Cienfuegos fully as up-to-date as the professor had said it was. To be sure there were many narrow streets and not a few old buildings, but the general appearance was far superior to that of many towns through which they had passed. There were many fine public buildings and a nice park, where a fountain played and where a band held forth in the cool of the evening. The natives, too, were well dressed, even the children wearing shoes and stockings, articles usually lacking at places in the interior.

“Don’t see youngsters half dressed here,” remarked Frank. “It’s awful how they let ’em run around at some villages. They ought to be ashamed.”

“It’s what they have been brought up to, Frank,” returned Mark. “They don’t look at it as anything of a disgrace. Our own Indians didn’t use to wear much, and now look at them. Why, Darry told me he saw some at an agency in the far West wearing patent leather boots and stove-pipe hats.”

“I guess Darry was drawing on his imagination,” laughed Frank. “But I know they dress well, some of them. I’ve seen them up at St. Regis, in New York state.”

At Cienfuegos passage was obtained on the City of Madrid for Santiago de Cuba. Before purchasing his steamer tickets the professor made certain that the accommodations would be first-class, so that the party would experience no such trouble as had fallen to their lot on board of the Chester.

“That’s right,” said Sam, in speaking of the matter to Amos Strong. “One such experience is enough. I wonder if we’ll ever set eyes on Captain Sudlip again.”

“I hope not, Samuel. The less we fall in with such people the better off we will be.”

“I believe you, sir. He and that Dan Markel would make a team for meanness.”

“Wonder if we’ll ever see Markel again,” remarked Frank.

“Don’t want to see him,” growled Hockley.

“We don’t, that’s a fact,” put in Mark, yet they were to see the man from Baltimore, and under very peculiar circumstances.

Now that they had spent over two weeks on land the boys did not object to going on shipboard once more. The run eastward along the coast of Cuba to Santiago Bay would take a little over two days, the distance being little less than four hundred miles, around Cape Cruz.

“We will not run close to shore,” said the professor. “If you will look at the map you will see that there are many islands here, and also many keys, as they are called—little islands. The channels are dangerous, too, but especially in a storm.”

“I hope we don’t get any storm,” said Darry.

His wish was fulfilled and the trip to Santiago passed off without anything out of the ordinary happening. The City of Madrid proved an old but very comfortable steamer, and the meals served were more than satisfactory.

“There is where the Merrimac was sunk by Lieutenant Hobson,” said the professor, as they passed the spot, in the channel leading from the Caribbean Sea to Santiago Bay. “Hobson and his brave men were fired upon from half a dozen points about here and in spite of all they could do were finally caught and placed under arrest.”

“But they were afterwards released,” put in Frank. “It was a daring thing to do, that’s sure.”

They found Santiago very much like other Cuban cities they had visited. But the recent rule by United States authority was very much in evidence and even the side streets, unusually narrow, were clean and orderly. Santiago lies near the head of the bay, on the eastern shore, and in the distance they could see the hills of El Caney and San Juan, made famous in the Spanish-American war by Roosevelt’s Rough Riders and others of Uncle Sam’s soldier boys. Coming up the coast from Cape Cruz they had already had pointed out to them the spots where the Spanish warships had either been sunk or run ashore by our warships under Commodores Sampson and Schley.

“It must have been a great victory,” said Darry, when they were touring the city. “How scared the people must have been when they were told that our troops were pressing in on them.”

“The fortifications were several miles outside of the city limits,” returned the professor. “But gradually, after the fall of the blockhouses at El Caney and San Juan, our troops hemmed the Spaniards in closer and closer, and then there was, of course, much anxiety. You see, the Spanish soldiers were in a bad situation, for even the citizens of the town were largely against them and hoped for a Yankee victory.”

Among the places of interest visited were the prisons in which our captured soldiers and sailors had been kept. Some of the underground dungeons made them shudder.

“Cubans were kept here as well as our people,” said Professor Strong. “Some of the Cuban rebels, as they were called, were held in solitary confinement for years. It was horrible, and it is a grand good thing that Spain’s hold on this island has at last been broken.”

In Santiago they saw something which they had already noted in other towns but which nevertheless made then laugh again and again. This was a milkman driving his cows through the street and crying: “Milk for sale! Good milk for sale!” in Spanish. When somebody wanted milk the vendor would stop one of his cows, take the bowl or shell brought to him, and milk out as much of the lacteal fluid as was desired.

“Anyway, they get it fresh,” was Frank’s comment, when talking of the matter. “They can’t adulterate it either.”

The boys had thought to spend several days in Santiago, which is the capital city of the Eastern Department of Cuba, but Professor Strong learned that a particularly good steamer would sail for Cape Haytien in Hayti and San Juan, Porto Rico, on the day following, and he resolved to take this, so a talked-of ride into the interior had to be given up.

“Never mind,” said Amos Strong. “When we get to Porto Rico we will take the long ride over the old military road from San Juan to Ponce. That will give you a good idea of rural life in the West Indies. If we miss this steamer there is no telling when we will get one quite so good.”

“Oh, let’s go on by all means,” put in Hockley. “Santiago is too dead slow for me. It’s a good deal like all the rest of Cuba.”

“Oh, Jake, you want to wake up!” cried Sam, impulsively. “I haven’t heard you say a good word for any of the places. To me they are all full of interest. We are learning a great deal by traveling around.”

“Now don’t preach!” interrupted the lank youth. “I know what I am doing.” And then he continued, as the professor turned away: “It would be all right if we had a lively crowd along and if a fellow could do as he pleased when it came to sport. But as it is——” And he ended with a shrug of his shoulders.

That very night, as Hockley was walking along the street, he passed a ship’s chandlery and in the window saw a sign, “Pitch for Sale.” Struck by a sudden idea after he had gone by, he retraced his steps and entered the shop, and asked the price of the pitch. It was cheap enough and he soon had about a pint in his possession, done up securely in a tin can and wrapped in a heavy paper. He secreted the bundle under his coat.

The idea that had entered his mind was not wholly original with him. In one of the cheap novels he had read, “Pete Prankley, the Sassiest Boy in Sawtown,” Pete, the hero had had no end of fun by putting pitch into his father’s shoes at home and on the minister’s seat at church. It was a roaring good joke, according to Hockley’s notion, and to play something like that on the other boys would be just the thing.

But how could he do it without being detected? It might prove easy enough to get the pitch into the shoes without being seen, but if all the crowd suffered but himself they would surely lay the blame on him, and he had no idea of making himself suffer with them.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” he exclaimed at last, when he had cudgeled his brain for over an hour. “Just the thing! I’ll have my revenge on all of them, and one of them will catch it for keeps, too! It’s the best plan yet!”

And he almost fell to hugging himself with delight.

CHAPTER XVII
A JOKE ON SHIPBOARD

The steamer Clarissa, on which the boys now found themselves, was of the old-fashioned type, broad of beam and of rather light draught. But she was a very comfortable craft and after spending a day on board they were glad that Professor Strong had secured passage on her.

There were among the passengers half a dozen Americans, bound for San Juan, so the trip was more lively than those before taken. In the crowd were several good piano players, and as the saloon of the Clarissa boasted of a fairly good piano there was a good deal of music, especially during the evening. All the boys could sing, and none of them were “backward about coming forward,” as Darry expressed it. Even Hockley sang, for he had a fair voice and loved to show it off at the least opportunity.