Part 22 (1/2)
There was a roar of laughter at the sally, and Jim was called upon for a second song. Modestly enough he gave it too; for such open praise as had been bestowed upon him is not always good for a lad of his age, and might well be expected to turn the heads of many. Our hero had his failings without doubt, and we should not be recording truly if we did not allow the fact, but a swelled head was not one of the ailments he was wont to suffer from. So far his friends and acquaintances had never known Jim Partington to be too big for the boots he stood up in.
”Which is jest one of the things that made me take to him right away from the first,” said Phineas, when discussing the matter that same evening with the police officer who had been in command of the launch expedition. ”He ain't b.u.mptious, Major. He's jest a lively young fellow, full of sense and grit, and I tell you, if there's one lad here in the zone who's made up his mind to make a job of the ca.n.a.l, it's Jim. He's fixed it that he's going to rise in the world, and if nothing unforeseen happens we shall find him well up the ladder one of these days, and making a fine living.”
They called Jim over to them, where they were seated at a small table in one corner, and at once the Major gripped our hero's hand, while he acknowledged that he felt wonderfully better. His head was heavily bandaged, for the bullet which had struck him had caused a nasty gash in the scalp.
”Not that it did any great harm,” laughed the Major. ”They tell me that there was tremendous swelling at first, but the blood which escaped from the wound brought that down wonderfully; but I admit that at first I felt that my head was as big as a pumpkin. How's your own wound?”
Jim had forgotten all about it, though on his arrival that morning he had taken the precaution to have it dressed. But it was already partially healed, and caused him not the slightest inconvenience.
”I think I had the best of the matter altogether,” he answered, ”for though up there on the river I was unable to distinguish the man who began all this business by firing at me, yet both were hit, and I fancy pretty badly.”
”You can count them as almost wiped out completely,” agreed the Major.
”But I have serious news to give you regarding the other three. During our absence Jaime de Oteros and his comrades broke out of prison and made good their escape. The scoundrels are once more free to carry on any form of rascality. Of course I have sent trackers after them; but the latest news is that they have disappeared into the bush, and pursuit there is almost hopeless. I own I'm vexed, for there is never any knowing what such men may be up to. A Spaniard with a grudge to work off is always a dangerous individual.”
The information of the escape of the prisoners was indeed of the most serious moment, and Jim and his friends were yet to learn the truth of the words that the Major had spoken. For Jaime de Oteros had indeed a grudge, and with all the unreasonableness of men of his violent disposition he had already determined in his own mind that our hero Jim was the cause of all his troubles. He brushed aside the fact that one of his ruffianly comrades had most deliberately attempted murder, and that the effort made to capture the offender was but a natural reprisal. That effort had led to the discovery of the gang and its break-up, and in Jaime's eyes our hero was the culprit. He swore as he lay in prison to take vengeance upon him, while he did not forget his animosity towards the police officials.
”I tell you,” he cried fiercely, once he had contrived to break out of the prison, ”I don't move away from these parts till I've killed that young pup, while as to these others, these Americans, I'll do them an injury, see if I don't. I'll wreck some of the work they're doing; break up the job they're so precious proud of.”
Meanwhile Jim had many other things to think of, and very promptly forgot all about the miscreants. He sauntered back to the house with Phineas, and on the following morning boarded a motor-driven inspector's car running on the isthmian railway.
”We'll just hop along first to Gorgona,” said Phineas. ”And on the way we'll take a look at the valley of the Chagres River. You've got to understand that right here at Gatun, where we're building the dam, and where the river escapes between the hills which block this end of the valley, we shall have the end of the lake we're going to form. For the most part the valley is nice and broad, running pretty nigh north and south. This track we're on will be covered with water, so that gangs of men are already at work fixing the track elsewhere on higher ground. But I want to speak of this valley. It runs clear south to Obispo, where there is hilly ground dividing it from the valley of the Rio Grande, and there, at Culebra, which is on the hill, we're up against one of the biggest jobs of this undertaking. You see, it's like this: from Gatun to Obispo we follow a route running almost due south, with the Chagres River alongside us all the way; but at Obispo, which I ought to have said is just twenty-six miles from the head of Limon Bay, the Chagres River changes its course very abruptly, and if followed towards its source is found to be confined within a narrow valley through which it runs with greater speed, and in a north-easterly direction. Now, see here, to figure this matter out correctly let's stand up in this car.
There's the track running way ahead of us through the Chagres valley in a direction I described as southerly, though to be correct it is south-westerly. Dead behind us is Limon Bay; right ahead is Panama. I've given you an idea of the works we're carrying out at this end--first dredging Limon Bay for 4-1/2 miles, then ca.n.a.l cutting for say another 4 miles. There you get three tiers of double locks, and the Gatun dam that's going to fill in the end of this valley, and give us a lake which will spread over an area of no fewer than 164 square miles, and which will fill the valley right away up to Obispo, where the Chagres River, coming from a higher elevation, will pour into it.”
”And then,” demanded Jim, beginning, now that he was actually in the valley, to obtain a better conception of the plan of this huge American undertaking. ”I can see how you will bring your s.h.i.+ps to the Gatun locks, and how you will float them into the lake. I take it that there will be water enough for them to steam up to Obispo. After that, you still have to reach Panama.”
”Gee! I should say we had. But listen here. Taking this line, with Panama dead south-west of us, we come at Obispo to a point where the designers of the ca.n.a.l had two alternatives. The first was to cut up north-west, still following the Chagres valley where it has become very narrow, and so round by a devious route to Panama. That meant sharp bends in the ca.n.a.l, which ain't good when you've got big s.h.i.+ps to deal with, and besides a probable increase in the cost and in the time required to complete the undertaking.”
”And the second?” demanded Jim.
”The second alternative was to cut clear through the dividing ridge which runs up at Obispo some 300 feet above sea level. Following that route for 9 miles in the direction of Panama you come to the alluvial plain of the Rio Grande, and from thence to the sea in another 6 miles.
Forty-one miles from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e you can call it, and, with the dredging we have to do at either end, a grand total of 50 miles. But we'll leave this Culebra cutting till we reach it. Sonny, you can get right along with the car.”
Jim would have been a very extraordinary mortal if he had not been vastly interested in all that he saw from his seat in the rail motor car. To begin with, it was a delightfully bright day, with a clear sky overhead and a warm sun suspended in it. Hills lay on either hand, their steep sides clothed with luxuriant verdure, while farther away was a dark background of jungle, that forbidding tropical growth with which he had now become familiar. On his right flowed the Chagres River, winding hither and thither, and receiving presently a tributary, the Rio Trinidad. Along the line there were gangs of men at work here and there laying the new tracks for the railway, while, when they had progressed on their journey, and were nearer Obispo, his keen eyes discovered other subjects for observation. There were a number of broken-down trucks beside the railway, which were almost covered by vegetation, while near at hand on the banks of the river a huge, unwieldy boat seemed to have taken root, and, like the trucks, was surrounded by tropical growth.
”Queer, ain't they?” remarked Phineas. ”Guess you're wondering what they are.”
”Reckon it's plant brought out here at the very beginning of this work, and sc.r.a.pped because it was found to be unsatisfactory.”
”Wrong,” declared Phineas promptly. ”Young man, those trucks were made by the Frenchmen. That boat is a dredger which was laid up before you were born, and was built by the same people.”
The information caused our hero to open his eyes very wide, for he, like many another individual, had never heard of the French nation in connection with the isthmus of Panama; or if he had, had entirely forgotten the matter. But to a man like Phineas, with all his keenness in the work in which he was taking no unimportant part, it was not remarkable that French efforts on the isthmus were a matter of historical interest to him.
”A man likes to know the ins and outs of the whole affair,” he observed slowly, as they trundled along on the car. ”There's thousands, I should say, who don't even know why we have decided to build this ca.n.a.l, and thousands more who don't rightly guess what we're going to do with it when it's finished. But Columbus, when he discovered the Bay of Limon round about the year 1497, thought that he had found a short cut across to the East Indies. He didn't cotton to the fact that the isthmus stretches unbroken between the two Americas, and only came to believe that fact when his boats came to a dead end in the bay he had discovered. Cortes sought for a waterway at Mexico, while others hunted round for a channel along the River St. Lawrence, and all with the one idea of making a short pa.s.sage to the East Indies.
”Then the Straits of Magellan were discovered, while some of those bold Spaniards clambered across the isthmus and set eyes upon the Pacific Ocean. You know what happened? Guess they built and launched s.h.i.+ps at Panama, and the conquest of Peru was undertaken, and following it gold and jewels in plenty were brought by mule train from the Pacific to the Atlantic, across from Panama to Colon. So great was the traffic that even in the days of Charles V of Spain the question of an isthmian ca.n.a.l was mooted; for, recollect, Spain drew riches from the Indies as well as from Peru. And now we come to the nineteenth century. America badly wanted an isthmian crossing which would bring her western ports closer to those on the east, and vice versa. A railway seemed to be the only feasible method, and we tackled the job splendidly. That railway was completed in 1855, in spite of an awful climate, and guess it filled the purpose nicely. Just hereabouts came our war, North against South, and, as you can readily understand, there wasn't much chance of ca.n.a.l building.
”Now we come to the Frenchmen, to Ferdinand de Lesseps,” said Phineas, pointing out another group of derelict trucks to our hero. ”You want to bear in mind that the question of an isthmian ca.n.a.l was always in the air, always attracting the attention of engineering people. Well, de Lesseps had just completed the Suez Ca.n.a.l, connecting the east with the west, and guess he cast his eye round for new fields to conquer. He floated a company in France, and raised a large sum of money. Then he bought out the Isthmian Railway for twenty-five and a half million dollars. You see, he knew that a railway was wanted to carry his plant, and I guess that the fact of having that railway made him decide to build his ca.n.a.l across where we are working. But there was mismanagement. De Lesseps, like many another man, had been spoiled by success, and had lost his usual good judgment. His expenses were awful, and finally, when the money ran out, his company abandoned the undertaking. In eight years he had spent more than three times the amount for the Suez Ca.n.a.l, and had got through some three hundred million dollars. He and his staff left behind them the trucks you see, besides a large amount of other machinery. At this day there's many a French locomotive pulling our dirt trains right here in the Culebra cutting, while his folks set their mark on the soil. They, too, started to cut through at Culebra, and in those eight years did real honest work. But shortage of money ended their labours, and, as I've said, they've left behind these marks of their presence, with rows and rows of graves over at Ancon; for fever played fearful havoc with the workmen.
Yes, it was that which gave America her warning, and set our medical folk at work to tidy up this zone and sweep it clear of mosquitoes and fever.”