“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.