An American Undertaking
"I never did meet such a fellow as you, Jim Partington," cried Phineas
Barton, when our hero and his comrades turned up at the house situated
above the huge dam of Gatun, in progress of building. "No, never before.
You get introduced to me after a likely enough adventure. Perhaps I
ought to say that I was introduced to you; reckon anyway our meeting was
as strange as one might imagine, and there was no end of excitement in
it. You behaved like a plucky young beggar."
Jim went very red at once. "I thought we weren't to hear anything more
about that," he said bluntly. "That was our agreement."
But Phineas only grinned at him. "Agreement or no agreement," he said
seriously, "there are times when a chap has just got to sit down and
listen. Reckon that time is here now, and you're the chap. I was saying,
when you interrupted me--ahem!--that you were a beggar for adventures.
You come to my house, do one day's solid work, and then get gallivanting
off with an exploration party. Of course, being fired at in the
meanwhile and the ruction you had with those rascals down at the hut
above Colon is nothing--just a kind of act between supper and
breakfast, as it were. Now there's this launch expedition, and there's
Tomkins--a surly sort of fellow, who don't often open his mouth, and
then not always to be pleasant; there's this policeman, with the Major,
his commanding officer, singing your praises down at the club, till the
boys are jest jumping to get a grip at you. Time supper's ended to-night
you've got to come right along there with me; and, jest remember this,
they ain't got an agreement with you."
Jim was horrified at the suggestion. Though he was American born, and
was blessed with an American's average allowance of assurance, the lad
was undoubtedly modest when his own actions were in question. He would
have given anything to escape from what promised to be an ordeal, and
made numerous excuses. But Phineas bore him off in spite of all of them,
and Tom and Sam and Ching fell in as a bodyguard in rear, in case his
protégé should attempt to escape.
"It's not what you owe to yourself," he said, with a laugh, "but what
you owe to the boys. Remember that they're working here all day, with
little chance of getting news but what comes to them at the club. We're
steadygoing stagers here on the canal, and it isn't often that a chap
like you turns up. When he does he's got to stand the ruction, and guess
that's what you've got to do. Don't I jest wish you and I could change
places."
Jim agreed with him heartily, though, as a matter of fact, when he came
to face what in his imagination would be an ordeal, he discovered it to
be but the pleasantest ceremony. Quiet, earnest men crowded round him
to shake his hand; then he was bidden to sit at a table in the centre of
his new comrades.
"Yer see," said Harry, who regarded our hero with an envious expression,
"that 'ere Tomkins ain't the man to talk, while the Major's much too
busy; besides, guess his head's much too sore for chatting. You jest get
right in at it, and give us the yarn from start to finish."
[Illustration: ATTACKED BY NATIVES]
Jim did as he was bidden, describing every incident, and drawing a growl
from many of his audience when he came to that part of his narrative
which dealt with the injury to the engine; for it can well be imagined
that amongst those white employees on the huge canal a goodly number
were, if not actually engineers by profession, certainly most strongly
imbued with a leaning towards it. All may have been said to have had
mechanical knowledge, since there were few who did not run a steam
navvy, a rock drill, a rail-laying plant, or a lifting derrick of some
description.
"Gee whiz! That's hot!" exclaimed one of them, interrupting for a
moment. "One of those muzzle-loading gas barrels chucked a shot right at
your motor, did it? And knocked a hole clean through the water jacket?
My, that must have been awkward! Reckon the water pumped up most
everywhere, and swamped the ignition. Tell us jest how yer fixed it."
Jim described exactly what had happened, how he had plugged the water
entrance to the pump of his motor, and drained the jackets dry. "It was
a near thing," he admitted, with a grin. "I thought I should never get
going again; but we mopped the water from the magneto, and reckon we
fixed it just in time. Of course I gave her plenty of oil, and all the
time I was scared that the motor would become overheated."
"Excuse me, sir," said one of the audience, suddenly pressing forward
and disclosing himself as one of the officials. "All the time you were
fixing this motor, shots were flying, and I understand that there was a
boatload of dark-skinned gentlemen thirsting for the lives of yourself
and your comrades, and not forgetting to let you know it either. Reckon
many a man would have been too upset to think of extra lubrication,
though everyone here who knows a gasolene motor realizes well enough
that it was extra lubrication, and that alone, which saved your engine
from overheating."
He looked round at the assembled audience enquiringly, and was rewarded
with many a sharp nod of approval.
"You've got it, siree," cried one of them. "You've jest put your finger
on the very point I was about to ask."
"It's as clear as daylight," went on the official, "our young friend
here saved the whole party by keeping his head well screwed down and his
wits about him. If that motor had overheated, as any self-respecting
engine might well have been expected to do under the circumstances, you
were all goners. All dead, sir. Wiped out clean by those natives."
There came a grunt of acquiescence from the audience, while Jim went red
to the roots of his hair.
"You don't happen to have got fixed on a special job yet awhile?" asked
the official pointedly.
"I'm to take a steam digger away up by Culebra."
"And you wouldn't change, supposing I was to come forward with an offer?
See here," said the official eagerly, "I'm from the machine shops 'way
over at Gorgona. You've heard of them?"
Everyone in the canal zone had heard of these immense shops to which the
official alluded, for there a great amount of engineering work was
undertaken. In such a colossal task as this building of a canal between
Panama and Colon, between the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, the reader
will readily comprehend that an enormous number of locomotives, steam
diggers, and machinery of every sort and description was in constant
operation, and that, like machinery all the world over, such implements
break down on occasion and require repair. The works at Gorgona coped
with all such matters, and was staffed by such keen engineers that they
even did not stop at repairs of whatever description. There, in those
sheds, engines were constructed, from the smallest bolt down to the
heaviest crank shaft, according to the designs produced at the drawing
offices at Gorgona. The workers on the canal had long since discovered
that special machines were often required to deal with the special jobs
they had in progress. And clever heads at Gorgona invented means to
satisfy them. Witness the ingenious rail layer, without which the task
of delving would have been much delayed; witness that other clever
arrangement which did in seven minutes the work of a hundred men, and
swept the dirt clear from a whole line of earth wagons.
"You've heard of those shops 'way over at Gorgona?" asked the official
again.
"I have," Jim admitted. "I'm longing to see them."
"Then you shall, I promise. But, see here, about this job. A good man
deserves a proper place for his knowledge and his energies; down there,
at Gorgona, we've just turned out a gasolene rock driller that'll knock
the other steam-driven concerns into the shade. I'm looking for a man to
run it, one used to gasolene motors. Say, if I apply for you, sir, will
you take the work?"
Jim looked round the circle before he replied, and almost smiled at the
expression he caught on Harry's face. The genial fellow who had given
him a day's instruction in the working of a hundred-ton steam digger did
not look best pleased; but that was to be put down to his own keenness,
to the keenness which he inherited in common with every white man
labouring on the canal. For in Harry's eyes it was the machine which he
himself ran which was helping the progress of the canal; it was the
enormous mouthfuls of dirt which his digger tore from the soil that
placed the undertaking nearer completion. And every man he coached in
the task was something approaching a traitor if he abandoned that
particular machine for another. Then, of a sudden, his face took on
another expression.
"You ain't got no cause to think of me, young 'un," he said pleasantly.
"I don't deny as I'd have liked to see you running a digger, 'cos it's
me as taught you; but, then, I don't forget that you've shown that you
know one of these gasolene motors right away from the piston to the
crank shaft. You close with the offer if you like it; there'll be more
dollars in it, I reckon."
He addressed the last remark to the official, who nodded acquiescence.
"Special work, special pay," he replied curtly. "We want a man, and we
must be prepared to spend dollars on him. I offer a dollar more than
digger rates. What's the answer?"
"Of course he takes it!" burst in Phineas eagerly. "It ain't in human
nature to refuse advancement, and of course Jim'll take that motor. Do
you want him yet awhile?"
"In a couple of weeks perhaps. We're not quite ready."
"Then I accept, with many thanks," said Jim, his heart beating fast with
pleasure at such rapid progress; for here was advancement, here was pay
which made his own future and that of Sadie all the brighter. "In two
weeks' time; and in the meanwhile perhaps you'll allow me to see the
machine and get an idea of its construction."
"You can come along whenever you like and handle the concern. It'll
knock spots out of those steam drills," declared the official.
"And now, as this here business interview seems to have come to an end,
supposing we get to with a song," cried one of the audience. "Didn't I
hear tell as you could play a banjo, Jim, and sing a tune when you was
axed?"
"I've done so before; I can try," answered our hero, breathing more
freely now that his ordeal was over. "I'll buy a banjo as soon as I can;
then I'll let you see what I can do."
"You'll get right away in at it, siree," said the man severely, grinning
at his comrades. "See here, there's a banjo I brought along with me from
the States. Not that I can tune on it; I allow as I've tried, but, gee!
the performance was enough to make a cat laugh. The boys passed a
resolution axing me to give over at once, and fer that reason the
instrument's been lying idle in my quarters this three months past. Get
in at it, siree."
He produced a stained and somewhat battered instrument from behind his
chair and passed it to Jim. Now Jim was by no means a poor
instrumentalist, and in addition was one of those fortunate individuals
gifted with a fair voice. Thousands of men have found before this that
the power to sing and entertain their fellows is the key to popularity,
and Jim was no exception. It had been his fortune to live as a rule
amongst small communities, where any form of entertainment was
appreciated, and none more than a song. It followed, therefore, that
here again, as in the case of the gasolene motor, he had had experience,
and seeing that his audience were determined to hear him, he settled
down to the work without more ado. A fine young fellow he looked, too,
seated in their midst, the banjo in correct position as he leant over
it, touching the strings and tightening them till his keen ear was
satisfied. Burnt a deep brown by the hot sun of those parts, his hair
somewhat dishevelled, and his clothing by no means improved by the
adventures through which he had passed, Jim had a rugged, healthy,
out-of-doors appearance which was most attractive. That he was by no
means a weakling was at once apparent, for he filled his clothing well,
and presented a fine pair of broad shoulders. When he lifted his face
and glanced round at his audience, smiling in his own serene, inimitable
manner, there was not one who did not know in his heart that our hero
was a stanch and jolly individual, free from side and that stupid
conceit which spoils some young men of his age, but full of go and
energy as became an American; ready when his work was done, and only
then, to enjoy himself as much as possible and help to give enjoyment to
others.
"See here," laughed Jim, looking round the circle of men, all of whom
had their eyes on him, for there was no little curiosity to see how he
would accomplish the task; "if I break down, you must forgive me, for,
gee! it's like being in a cage with a whole crowd watching."
Down went the head over the banjo again, while his fingers played on the
strings; and at once, by the notes which issued, it became apparent that
here was no novice. Jim struck up a gay tune, and in a little while had
given his audience the first verse of a jaunty song, to which there was
an equally jaunty chorus; so that before the evening had passed the
rafters above were ringing to the sound made by a hundred or more lusty
voices.
"Fine, jest fine!" cried one of the men.
"Gee! If he don't take it!" shouted Harry.
"I'm shaking hands with myself," declared the official who had offered
him a post at Gorgona. "You men down here needn't think that you're
going to have young Partington all to yourselves. A fortnight to-day
he'll be a Gorgona man, when we'll send you invitations to our
concerts."
There was a shout at that, a shout denoting some displeasure. Phineas
Barton rose from his chair, his fractured arm swathed and bandaged and
slung before him, and regarded the official triumphantly. "Not a bit of
it, siree," he said. "Jim's my lodger. Don't matter whether he works
along here at Gatun or way over there at Culebra or Gorgona, he jest
comes home every night of the week. The Commission's jest got to pass
him a free ticket, and ef he's in a concert, why, guess it'll be here,
and the folks at Gorgona will be the ones to be invited."
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 bumptious, 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 canal, 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 canal 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 ships 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 canal 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 canal, which ain't good when you've got big ships 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 shore to shore 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 scrapped 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 canal, 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. Cortés 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 passage 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 ships 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 canal
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 canal
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 canal was always in the
air, always attracting the attention of engineering people. Well, de
Lesseps had just completed the Suez Canal, 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 canal 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 Canal, 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."
It was all very interesting, and Jim listened most attentively, though,
to be sure, every now and then his mind was distracted for a brief
instant by some new object to right or left of the line; while from the
very beginning the desire to ask one question and to receive information
in reply had been present.
"That tale of the French is new to me," he said, "and I hadn't the
faintest idea that a canal had been previously attempted. You've said
that Spain desired one by means of which to reach the East Indies and
so save the long trip round by the Straits of Magellan; how does America
stand when all's finished?"
The fingers of Phineas's only usable hand were clenched instantly. Was
it likely that a man such as he, who had counted the cost of the
undertaking, and knew something of its vastness, would not also have
counted the gain?
"What do we get when all's ended?" he cried eagerly. "Guess for that you
require a map by rights, though I can tell you something from memory. To
begin with, take New York as our important eastern port, and San
Francisco as that on the west coast. Of course I know that we have an
inter-oceanic railway. But if goods in bulk were shipped, the boat would
have to steam right away south, round by Cape Horn and the Straits of
Magellan. The Oregon, one of our best battleships, was lying away up in
the Pacific when our war with Spain began. She had to steam more than
13,000 miles to reach Key West, and guess a ship wants overhauling after
such a long journey, putting aside the risks she ran of capture _en
route_, owing to her isolation. Well now, this isthmian canal will knock
the better part of 9000 miles off the route from New York to San
Francisco. The English doing business with our firms in that port will
have a journey less by 6000 miles, while New York will be closer to the
ports of South America by a good 5000 miles. It'll be a shorter journey
from Japan or Australia to New York than it is to-day to Liverpool,
while there's scarcely a trip from east to west that won't be helped by
this canal we're building. Just think of it, Jim! Where this trolley's
running there'll be, one of these days, deep water, with bigger ships
floating in it than you can dream of now. You and I will have helped to
bring about that matter. When we're old we'll be able to tell the
youngsters all about it; for America will know then that she owns
something valuable. Her people will have had time to grasp its full
significance, and guess then the question will not be, as now, 'Where is
the Panama Canal? What are our folks doing?' but 'How was America's
great triumph accomplished?' My! Ain't I been gassing? Why, there's
Gorgona. Hollo, sonny! Pull her up."
They descended from the car promptly, and made for the huge sheds where
one portion of the engineering staff undertook the upkeep of the
machinery engaged along the whole line of the canal. The friendly
official was waiting for them, and very soon Jim's eyes were bulging
wide with delight at the sight of the motor drill he was to manage.