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[iv] 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.

[v]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.

[vi]

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[2] 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[3] 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[4] 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[5] 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,[6] 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[7] 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[8] 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,[9] 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[11] 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.

[12]“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,”[13] 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.[14] 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[15] 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.

[16]“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.