CHAPTER III
ON BOARD THE STEAMER
When the boys presented themselves at Professor Strong’s room at the Hotel Manhattan they found that worthy man looking over a number of purchases he had made while on his trip downtown.
“Glad to see you, boys,” he said, as he shook one and another by the hand. “I trust you are all feeling well.”
“Haven’t been sick a minute this summer,” answered Darry, and the others said about the same.
“I see you have your firearms with you,” remarked Mark, as he gazed at a rifle and a double-barreled shotgun standing in a corner. “We were wondering if we were to go armed.”
“I shouldn’t feel at home without my guns,” returned the professor with a smile. “You see that comes from being a confirmed old hunter. I don’t anticipate any use for them except when I go hunting. As for your going armed, I have already arranged with your parents about that. I shall take a shotgun for each, also a pistol, for use when we are in the wilds of the upper Orinoco.”
“Will you lead us on a regular hunt?” asked Darry, eagerly.
“I will if you’ll promise to behave and not get into unnecessary difficulties.”
“We’ll promise,” came from all.
“I have been making a number of purchases,” continued Professor Strong. “But I must make a number more, and if you wish you can go along and help me make the selections.”
“Is Glummy—I mean is Jake Hockley coming up here?” questioned Mark.
“I expected him to come with you. Isn’t he stopping with one of you?”
“No, he’s stopping at the Astor House,” came from Frank.
There was an awkward pause, which was very suggestive, and the professor noted it. With his gun in hand he faced the four.
“I’m afraid you do not care much to have Master Hockley along,” he said, slowly.
“Oh, I reckon we can get along,” answered Darry, after the others had failed to speak.
“It is unfortunate that you are not all the best of friends. But Hockley asked me about the trip a long while ago and when it came to the point I could not see how I could refuse him. Besides that, I was thinking that perhaps the trip would do him good. I trust you will treat him fairly.”
“Of course we’ll do that,” said Mark, slowly.
“I guess there won’t be any trouble,” said Frank, but deep in his heart he feared otherwise.
“Hockley has not had the benefits of much traveling,” continued the professor. “And traveling broadens the mind. The trip will do us all good.”
They were soon on their way to Fourteenth Street, and then Broadway, and at several stores the professor purchased the articles he had put down on his list. The boys all helped to carry these back to the hotel. On arriving they found Jake Hockley sitting in the reception room awaiting them.
The face of the lank youth fell when he saw that they had been out on a tour without him. “I’d been up earlier if you had sent me word,” he said to the professor. “I suppose I’ve got to get a lot of things myself, haven’t I?”
“You have your clothing, haven’t you?—I mean the list I sent to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you are all right, for I have the other things.”
From the professor the boys learned that the steamer for La Guayra, the nearest seaport to Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, would sail three days later.
“There is a sailing every ten days,” said Professor Strong. “The steamers are not as large as those which cross the Atlantic but they are almost as comfortable, and I have seen to it that we shall have the best of the staterooms. The trip will take just a week, unless we encounter a severe storm which drives us back.”
“I don’t want to meet a storm,” said Hockley.
“Afraid of getting seasick,” came from Frank.
“Not exactly,” snapped the lank youth. “Perhaps you’ll get seasick yourself.”
“Does this steamer belong to the only line running to Venezuela?” asked Sam.
“This is the only regular passenger line. There are other lines, carrying all sorts of freight, which run at irregular intervals, and then there are sailing vessels which often stop there in going up or down the coast.”
The three days to follow passed swiftly, for at the last moment the professor and the boys found plenty of things to do. On the day when the steamer was to sail, Sam’s mother came down from Boston to see her son off, and the parents of Mark and Frank were also on hand, so that there was quite a family gathering. The baggage was already aboard, a trunk and a traveling case for each, as well as a leather bag for the guns and ammunition.
At last came the familiar cry, “All ashore that’s going!” and the last farewells were said. A few minutes later the gang-plank was withdrawn and the lines unloosened. As the big steamer began to move, something like a lump arose in Frank’s throat.
“We’re off!” he whispered to Mark. “Guess it’s going to be a long time before we get back.”
Mark did not answer, for he was busy waving his handkerchief to his folks. Frank turned to Sam and saw that the tears were standing in the latter’s eyes, for Sam had caught sight of his mother in the act of wiping her eyes. Even Darry and Hockley were unusually sober.
In quarter of an hour, however, the strain was over, and then the boys gave themselves up to the contemplation of the scene before them. Swiftly the steamer was plying her way between the ferry-boats and craft that crowded the stream. Soon the Battery was passed and the Statue of Liberty, and the tall buildings of the great metropolis began to fade away in the blue haze of the distance. The course was through the Narrows to the Lower Bay and then straight past Sandy Hook Light into the broad and sparkling Atlantic.
“Take a good look at the light and the highlands below,” said the professor, as he sat beside the boys at the rail. “That’s the last bit of United States territory you’ll see for a long while to come—unless you catch sight of Porto Rico, which is doubtful.”
“Won’t we stand in to shore when we round Cape Hatteras?” asked Hockley.
“We shall not have to round Cape Hatteras, Hockley. Instead of hugging the eastern shore of the United States the steamer will sail almost due South for the Mona Passage on the west of Porto Rico. This will bring us into the Caribbean Sea, and then we shall sail somewhat westward for a brief stop at Curaçao, a Dutch island north of the coast of Venezuela. It is not a large place, but one of considerable importance. The submarine cable from Cuba to Venezuela has a station there.”
“I’m going to study the map of Venezuela,” said Mark. “I know something about it already, but not nearly as much as I’d like to.”
“To-morrow I’ll show you a large map of the country, which I have brought along,” answered Professor Strong. “And I’ll give you a little talk on the history of the people. But to-day you had better spend your time in making yourselves at home on the ship.”
“I’m going to look at the engine room,” said Frank, who was interested in machinery, and down he went, accompanied by Darry. It was a beautiful sight, to see the triple expansion engines working so swiftly and yet so noiselessly, but it was frightfully hot below decks, and they did not remain as long as they had anticipated.
They were now out of sight of land, and the long swells of the Atlantic caused the steamer to roll not a little. They found Sam huddled in a corner of the deck, looking as pale as a sheet.
“Hullo, what’s up?” queried Frank, although he knew perfectly well.
“Nothing’s up,” was the reply, given with an effort. “But I guess there will be something up soon,” and then Sam rushed off to his stateroom, and that was the last seen of him for that day.
Mark was also slightly seasick, and thought best to lie down. Hockley was strolling the deck in deep contempt of those who had been taken ill.
“I can’t see why anybody should get sick,” he sneered. “I’m sure there’s nothing to get sick about.”
“Don’t crow, Glum—I mean Jake,” said Frank. “Your turn may come next.”
“Me? I won’t get sick.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“I’ll bet you five dollars I don’t get sick,” insisted the lank youth.
“We’re not betting to-day,” put in Darry. “I hope you don’t get sick, but—I wouldn’t be too sure about it.” And he and Frank walked away.
“What an awful blower he is,” said Frank, when they were out of hearing. “As if a person could help being sick if the beastly thing got around to him. I must confess I don’t feel very well myself.”
“Nor I,” answered Darry, more soberly than ever.
Dinner was served in the dining saloon at six o’clock, as elaborate a repast as at any leading hotel. But though the first-class passengers numbered forty only a dozen came to the table. Of the boys only Frank and Hockley were present, and it must be confessed that Frank’s appetite was very poor. Hockley appeared to be in the best of spirits and ate heartily.
“This is usually the case,” said the professor, after having seen to it that the others were as comfortable as circumstances permitted. “But it won’t last, and that is a comfort. Hockley, if I were you, I would not eat too heartily.”
“Oh, it won’t hurt me,” was the off-hand answer. “The salt air just suits me. I never felt better in my life.”
“I am glad to hear it, and trust it keeps on doing you good.”
Frank and Mark had a stateroom together and so had Sam and Darry. Hockley had stipulated that he have a stateroom to himself, and this had been provided. The professor occupied a room with a Dutch merchant bound for Curaçao, a jolly, good-natured gentleman, who was soon on good terms with all of the party.
There was but little sleep for any of the boys during the earlier part of the night, for a stiff breeze was blowing and the steamer rolled worse than ever. But by three o’clock in the morning the wind went down and the sea seemed to grow easier, and all fell into a light slumber, from which Mark was the first to awaken.
“I feel better, although pretty weak,” he said, with an attempt at a smile. “How is it with you, Frank?”
“Oh, I didn’t catch it very badly.”
“Did Glummy get sick?”
“No.”
“He’s in luck. How he will crow over us.”
“If he starts to crow we’ll shut him up,” answered Frank, firmly.
They were soon dressed and into the stateroom occupied by Sam and Darry.
“Thanks, I’m myself again,” said Darry. “And why shouldn’t I be? I’m so clean inside I feel fairly polished. I can tell you, there’s nothing like a good dose of mal de mer, as the French call it, to turn one inside out.”
“And how are you, Beans?” asked Mark.
“I think I’m all here, but I’m not sure,” came from Sam. “But isn’t it a shame we should all be sick and Hockley should escape?”
“Oh, he’s so thick-skinned the disease can’t strike through,” returned Frank.
He had scarcely uttered the words when Darry, who had stepped out into the gangway between the staterooms came back with a peculiar smile on his face.
“He’s got ’em,” he said.
“He? Who? What has he got?” asked the others in a breath.
“Glummy. He’s seasick, and he’s in his room doing more groaning than a Scotch bagpipe. Come and listen. But don’t make any noise.”
Silently the quartet tiptoed their way out of the stateroom and to the door of the apartment occupied by Hockley. For a second there was silence. Then came a turning of a body on a berth and a prolonged groan of misery.
“Oh, why did I come out here,” came from Hockley. “Oh dear, my head! Everything’s going round and round! Oh, if only this old tub would stop rolling for a minute—just a minute!” And then came another series of groans, followed by sounds which suggested that poor Hockley was about as sick as a boy can well be.
“Let’s give him a cheer, just to brace him up,” suggested Frank, in a whisper.
“Just the thing,” came from Darry. “My, but won’t it make him boiling mad!”
But Mark interposed. “No, don’t do it, fellows, he feels bad enough already. Come on and leave him alone,” and this advice was followed and they went on deck. Here they met the professor, who wanted to know if they had seen Hockley.
“No, sir, but we heard him,” said Sam. “He’s in a bad way, and perhaps he’d like to see you.”
At this Professor Strong’s face became a study. Clearly he knew what was in the boys’ minds, but he did not betray it. Yet he had to smile when he was by himself. He went to see Hockley, and he did not re-appear on deck until two hours later.