HOCKLEY MAKES A BOSOM FRIEND
“Now I feel as if I knew a little more than I did before,” observed
Frank to Mark, after the professor’s talk had come to an end and the
teacher had gone to put away his map. “It’s a pretty big country, isn’t
it?”
“It is, Frank, and at the best I suppose we can see only a small
portion of it. But it would be queer if we got mixed up in any of their
fighting, wouldn’t it?”
“Do you really think we shall?”
“I don’t know. But just before we left New York I saw a long article
in one of the newspapers about affairs in Venezuela, Colombia and on
the Isthmus. It seems that the Presidents of the two Republics are
unfriendly, and as a consequence the President of Venezuela has given
aid to the rebels in Colombia, while the President of Colombia is doing
what he can to foment trouble in Venezuela. Besides that Nicaragua and
Ecuador are in the mix-up. The papers said that fighting has been
going on in some places for years and that thousands of lives have been
lost, especially in the vicinity of the Isthmus.”
“It’s a wonder the professor didn’t speak of this.”
“Oh, I guess he didn’t want to scare us. Perhaps the soldiery doesn’t
interfere with foreigners, if, as he says, the foreigners mind their
own business.”
The day was all that one could wish and the boys enjoyed it fully, for
the seasickness of the day before had done each good. Mark and his
chums wondered how Hockley was faring, and at last Sam went to the
professor to inquire.
“He is a very sick young man,” said Professor Strong. “His over-eating
has much to do with it. But I hope to see him better in the morning.”
“Do you think he would like to see any of us?” asked Sam. “We’ll go
willingly if you think best.”
“No, he said he wished to see no one but myself, Winthrop. You will do
best to let him alone, and when he comes out I wouldn’t say anything
about the affair,” concluded the professor.
To while away the time the boys went over the steamer from end to end,
and an obliging under-officer explained the engines, the steering gear
and other things of interest to them. So the time passed swiftly
enough until it was again the hour to retire.
Hockley appeared about ten o’clock on the following morning, thinner
than ever and with big rings under his eyes. He declined to eat any
breakfast and was content to sit by himself in a corner on deck.
“I suppose you fellows think I was seasick,” he said, as Sam and Darry
passed close to him. “But if you do, you are mistaken. I ate something
that didn’t agree with me and that threw me into a regular fit of
biliousness. I get them every six months or so, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” returned Darry, who had never seen Hockley sick in his
life. “But I’m glad you are over it,” he went on, kindly.
“I suppose Frank and Mark are laughing in their sleeves at me,” went on
the lank youth, with a scowl.
“I don’t believe they are thinking of it,” answered Sam. “We’ve been
inspecting the ship from top to bottom and stem to stern, and that has
kept us busy. You ought to go around, it’s really very interesting.”
“Pooh! I’ve been through ’em loads of times--on the regular Atlantic
liners,--twice as big as this,” grumbled Hockley.
A few words more followed, and Sam and Darry passed on. “He’s all right
again,” observed Darry. “And his seasickness didn’t cure him of his
bragging either.”
The steamer was now getting well down toward the Mona Passage, and
on the day following land was sighted in the distance, a series of
somewhat barren rocks. A heavy wind was blowing.
“Now we are going to pass through the monkey,” said Darry, after a talk
with the professor.
“Pass through the monkey?” repeated Frank. “Is this another of your
little jokes, Darry?”
“Not at all. Mona means monkey, so the professor told me.”
“Will we stop?”
“No, we won’t go anywhere near land. The next steamer stops, I believe,
but not this one.”
“I wouldn’t mind spending some time in Porto Rico and Cuba,” put in
Mark. “There must have been great excitement during the war with Spain.”
“Perhaps we’ll stop there on our way home,” said Sam. “I should like to
visit Havana.”
The Mona Passage, or Strait, passed, the course of the steamer was
changed to the south-westward. They were now in the Caribbean Sea, but
the waters looked very much as they had on the bosom of the Atlantic.
The wind increased until the blow promised to be an unusually severe
one.
“My, but this wind is a corker!” ejaculated Frank, as he and Mark
tried in vain to walk the open deck. “Perhaps we are going to have a
hurricane.”
“You boys had better come inside,” said Professor Strong as he hurried
up. “It’s not safe to be here. A sudden lurch of the steamer might hurl
you overboard.”
“All right, we’ll come in,” said Mark.
He had scarcely spoken when an extra puff of wind came along, banging
the loose things in the open cabin right and left. The wind took
Frank’s cap from his head and sent it spinning aft.
“My cap!” cried the youth and started after it.
“Be careful of yourself!” came from the professor, but the fury of the
wind drowned out his voice completely.
Bound to save his cap Frank followed it to the rail. As he stooped to
pick it up the steamer gave a sudden roll to the opposite side and he
was thrown headlong. At the same moment the spray came flying on
board, nearly blinding him.
[Illustration: “Stay where you are!”]
“He’ll go overboard if he isn’t careful!” ejaculated Mark, and ran
after his chum.
“You be careful yourself,” came from Professor Strong, as he too rushed
to the rescue.
Before either could reach Frank the youth had turned over and was
trying to raise himself to his feet. But now the steamer rolled once
more and in a flash Frank was thrown almost on top of the rail. He
caught the netting below with one hand but his legs went over the side.
“Oh!” burst out Mark, and could say no more, for his heart was in his
throat. He thought Frank would be washed away in a moment more. The
spray still continued to fly all over the deck and at times his chum
could scarcely be seen.
“Stay where you are,” called out Professor Strong, to Mark. Then he
turned and in a moment more was at the rail and holding both Frank and
himself. Following the advice given, Mark held fast to a nearby window.
By this time a couple of deck hands were hurrying to the scene, one
with a long line. One end of the line was fastened to the companionway
rail and the other run out to where the professor and Frank remained.
The boy was all out of breath and could do but little toward helping
himself. But Professor Strong’s grip was a good one, and it did not
relax until one of the deck hands helped the lad to a place along the
rope. The deck hand went ahead and the professor brought up the rear,
with Frank between them. In a moment more they were at the companionway
and Frank fairly tumbled below, with the others following him.
“Gracious, but that was a close shave!” panted the boy, when able to
speak. “I hadn’t any idea the steamer would roll so much.”
“After this when it blows heavily you must remain in the cabin,”
said Professor Strong, rather severely. “And if your cap wants to go
overboard--”
“I’ll let it go,” finished Frank. “I won’t do anything like that again
for a train load of caps, you can depend on that.”
The storm increased, and by nightfall it was raining heavily. The boys
had expected a good deal of thunder and lightning, but it did not come,
and by sunrise wind and rain were a thing of the past and the steamer
was pursuing her course as smoothly as ever.
On board the ship were half a dozen passengers bound for Curaçao,
including Herr Dombrich, the merchant who occupied a portion of
Professor Strong’s stateroom. One of the number going ashore at the
little island was a man from Baltimore, a fellow with Dutch blood in
his veins, who had formerly been in the saloon business, and who was
far from trustworthy. His name was Dan Markel, and, strange as it may
seem, he had formed a fairly close acquaintanceship with Jake Hockley.
“I wish I had the money you have,” said Dan Markel to Hockley, one
afternoon, as the two were sitting alone near the bow of the steamer.
“There are lots of openings in Curaçao for a fellow with a little
capital. The Dutchmen down there don’t know how to do business. With
five hundred dollars I could make ten thousand in less than a year.”
“Haven’t you got five hundred dollars?” asked Hockley, with interest.
“Not now. I had a good deal more than that, but I was burnt out, and
there was a flaw in my insurance papers, so I couldn’t get my money
from the company.” Dan Markel told the falsehood without a blush.
“But what do you expect to do in Curaçao without money--strike some
sort of job?”
“I’ve got a rich friend, who has a plantation in the interior. I think
he will give me a place. But I’d rather establish myself in the town.
He wrote to me that there was a good opening for a tobacco shop. If I
could get somebody to advance me five hundred dollars I’d be willing to
pay back a thousand for it at the end of six months.”
Now Hockley was carrying five hundred dollars with him, which an
indulgent father had given to him for “extras,” as he expressed it, for
Professor Strong was to pay all regular bills. The money was in gold,
for gold is a standard no matter where you travel. Hockley thought of
this gold, and of how he would like it to be a thousand instead of five
hundred dollars.
“I’ve got five hundred dollars with me,” he said, in his bragging way.
“My father gave it to me to have a good time on.”
“Then you must be rich,” was the answer from the man from Baltimore.
“Dad’s a millionaire,” said Hockley, trying to put on an air of
superiority. “Made every cent of it himself, too.”
“I suppose you’ve got to pay your way with the money.”
“No, old Strong pays the bills.”
“Then you’re in luck. I suppose you don’t want to put that money out at
a hundred per cent. interest,” went on Dan Market, shrewdly. “It would
be as safe as in a bank, my word on it.”
“I want to use the money, that’s the trouble. I intend to have a good
time in Venezuela.”
“You ought to have it, on that money. I wish I had your chance. Caracas
is a dandy city for sport, if you know the ropes.”
“Then you have been there?”
“Yes, four years ago,” answered Markel, and this was another falsehood,
for he had never been near South America in his life. He had spent
his time in drifting from one city in the United States to another,
invariably leaving a trail of debts behind him.
“And you know the people?”
“Yes, some of the very best of them. And I can show you the best of the
cock fighting and the bull fighting, too, if you want to see them.”
“That’s what I want,” answered Hockley, his eyes brightening. “No old
slow poke of a trip for me. I suppose Professor Strong expects to make
us toe the mark everywhere we go, but I don’t intend to stand it. I
came for a good time, and if I can’t get it with the rest of the party
I’m going to go it on my own hook.”
“To be sure--that’s just what I’d do.” Dan Markel slapped Hockley on
the back. “Hang me if you ain’t a young man after my own heart. For two
pins I’d go down to Caracas with you, just to show you around.”
“I wish you would!” cried Hockley.
“The trouble is while I can spare the time I can’t spare the money. I’d
take you up in a minute if it wasn’t for that.”
“Never mind the money--I’ll foot the bill,” answered Hockley, never
dreaming of how his offer would result. “I’d like to have a companion
who had been around and who knew where the real sport lay. You come
with me, and you can return to Curaçao after our crowd leaves Caracas.”
A talk of half an hour followed. Markel pretended to be unwilling to
accept the generous offer at first, but at length agreed to go with
Hockley and remain with him so long as the Strong party stopped at
Caracas. He was to show Hockley all the “fancy sports” of the town and
introduce him to a number of swells and “high rollers.” On the strength
of the compact he borrowed fifty dollars on the spot, giving his I. O. U.
in exchange, a bit of paper not worth the ink used in drawing it up.