“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.”