Hustle the Order of the Day
Never in the whole course of his short existence had Jim come upon such
a busy scene as he encountered, when Phineas Barton at length contrived
to drag the eager young fellow away from the engineering shops at
Gorgona.
"My!" cried Phineas, simulating a snort of indignation; "I never did
come across such a curious chap in all my born days. I began to think
that you'd stick in the place, grow to it as the saying is. But there, I
don't blame any youngster for liking a big works same as this. There's
so much to see, huge lathes and planing machines running and doing their
work as if they were alive and thinking things out. Steam-hammers
thudding down on masses of red-hot metal, giving a blow that would crack
a house and smash it to pieces, or one that would as easily fracture a
nut. Then there are the furnaces and the foundry: guess all that's
interesting. But you've got more to see; it's time we made way up for
Culebra. Look here, boy, set her going, and mind you watch the spoil
trains."
The precaution and the warning were necessary, for the double track of
the Panama railway at this point was much occupied by the long trains of
cars filled with earth coming from the trench that was being cut
through the high ground just ahead. It was not until they actually
reached the neighbourhood of Culebra, which may be said to occupy a
place in the centre of the gigantic cut, that Jim gathered a full
impression of the work, or the reason for so many freight cars. But it
was true enough that the driver of the motor truck had to keep his wits
about him to escape collision; for every three minutes a spoil train
came along, dragged perhaps by a locomotive made at Gorgona, or by one
imported by the French, and of Belgian manufacture. Every three minutes,
on the average, a train came puffing down the incline from Culebra, and
nothing was allowed to delay it. In consequence, the motor inspection
car on which Phineas and his young friend were journeying was compelled
at times to beat a hasty retreat, or to go ahead at full power before an
advancing empty train--returning from the great dam at Gatun, where it
had deposited its load--till it arrived at a point where a switch was
located. There was nearly always a man there, and promptly the car was
sidetracked.
"It's the only way to do the business," explained Phineas. "The getting
away of those spoil trains means the success of our working. If they
don't get clear, so as to be back at the earliest moment, there's going
to be any number of steam diggers thrown out of work; for it's no use
shovelling dirt if there aren't cars to load the stuff in. If there's a
breakdown with one of the cars, guess the whole labour force is pushed
on to it, so as to get the lines clear. Telephone wires run up and down
the line, and a breakdown is at once reported. But we're just entering
the cut, and in a little while you'll be able to see and understand
everything."
To be accurate, it took our hero quite a little while to grasp the
significance of all that he saw, for the Culebra cut extends through
nine miles of rocky soil, and at the period of his inspection it had
already bitten deep into the hilly ground which barred the onward
progress of the canal at Obispo. One ought to say, in an endeavour to
give facts accurately, that this mass of material forms the southern
boundary of the huge Chagres valley which, when the works are completed,
will be flooded with water. It bars all exit there, though by turning
sharply to the left one may follow the course of the river through a
narrow, ascending valley. However, the scheme of the undertaking
required that there should be no sharp bends, and in consequence the
host of workers were toiling to cut a gigantic trench, of great width
and enormous depth, right through this hilly ground. What Jim saw was
somewhat similar to the works below Gatun, at the Colon end of the
canal, but vastly magnified. There were the same terraces, with tracks
of rails laid, bearing an endless procession of spoil trains and numbers
of steam diggers. There was the same pilot cut in the very centre, from
which the terraces ascended step by step, as if they were portions of
another Egyptian pyramid. But there comparisons ceased. This huge ditch
extended for nine miles, and throughout its length presented an army of
toilers, any number of dirt trains, and a constant succession of white
steam billows, at various elevations, pointing to the places where the
hundred-ton diggers were at work.
"You have to get right on the spot to see what's happening," said
Phineas, looking proudly about him. "You can see for yourself now that
it means everything to us to get rid of the dirt as quickly as possible,
and everything to have spare trains ready to fill the place of those
taking the spoil away. This concern is simply a question of dirt, and of
how rapidly we can shift it. If I was the President of the Republic of
the United States himself I should have to look lively all the same, and
dodge about so as not to get in the way of the dirt trains. But we'll
get out here and climb; I'll show you a thing or two."
He chuckled at the prospect before him, for to expatiate on the canal
works to a keen young fellow, such as Jim undoubtedly was, was the
height of enjoyment to the energetic official. Their car was switched on
to a side track at once, and, descending from it, the two clambered up
the scarped side of the trench till they were on the summit of the rocky
ground. Then it was possible to obtain a bird's-eye view of the whole
cut, and to appreciate its vastness. Jim noticed that the path he had
clambered by shelved rather gently, while elsewhere the bank of the
trench was steeply scarped, and at once drew Phineas's attention to the
matter.
"You don't miss much, siree," came the answer. "We've come face up
against more than one tough job 'way up here at Culebra, and the
question of the slope of our banks is one. You see, this trench will be
mighty deep, and if we were to cut the sides perpendicular they would
soon fall in. Most of the stuff's rock, of course, but it's queer rock
at that. It's soft, weathers quickly, and becomes easily friable when
water has got to it. So we've had to spread the banks wide, and make the
slope easy, except where the rock's harder and allows a steeper slope.
Now, guess we're near about the centre of the cut. You've seen what's
happening to the north. Dirt trains run down the incline, enter the
tracks of the Panama Railway, and run 26 miles to the dam at Gatun.
South of us the tracks fall to the plain of the Rio Grande, and the
spoil trains run down and dump their stuff on either side of the line
the canal will take. You've got to remember that this trench is 'way up
above tide level; so at the end of the cut, at Pedro Miguel, there is to
be a lock, or, rather, a double lock--one for a vessel going north and
one for a ship coming south. A matter of a mile farther along there is
another lock--the Milaflores lock--double, like the last, but with two
tiers. It will let our ships down into the Pacific. But you've got to
remember that there is a tide in that ocean, so the lift of the
Milaflores lower lock will be variable. Now, lad, come and see the rock
drills."
They descended into the bottom of the trench again, Phineas explaining
that when it was completed there would be a bottom width of 200 feet,
ample to allow the passing of two enormous ships.
"Guess it's the narrowest part of the canal," he said, "though no one
would call it narrow; but it's through hard rock, which is some excuse,
and then this narrowest part happens to be dead straight. North of us
the cut widens at the bottom to 300 feet, while elsewhere, outside the
cut, the minimum width is 500 feet. You've got to bear in mind that I'm
talking of bottom widths. Recollect that the banks slope outwards fairly
gently, and you can appreciate the fact that the surface width of the
canal stream will make a stranger open his eyes. Ah, here's a drill!
This is the sort of thing you'll be doing."
To the novice the machine to which Phineas had drawn attention was
indeed somewhat curious. It looked for all the world like an overgrown
motor car, constructed by an amateur engineer in his own workshop, and
out of any parts he happened to have by him; for it ran on four iron
wheels with flat tyres, and bore at the back the conventional boiler and
smokestack. In front it carried a post, erected to some height, and
stayed with two stout metal rods from the rear. The remainder of the
machine consisted of the engine and driving gear which operated the
drills.
"It'll get through solid rock at a pace that will make you stare,"
declared Phineas, "though our friend at Gorgona believes that this new
model that you're to run will do even better. But you can see what
happens; these drills get to work where the diggers will follow. They
drill right down, 30 feet perhaps, and then get along to another site.
The powder men then come along, put their shot in position, place their
fuse, wire it so that a current can be sent along to the fuse, and then
get along to another drill hole. At sunset, when all the men have
cleared, the shots are fired, and next morning there's loose dirt enough
to keep the diggers busy. Guess you'll be put to work with one of these
drillers, so as to learn a bit. You can't expect to handle a machine
unless you know what's required of you."
The following morning, in fact, found our hero dressed in his working
clothes, assisting a man in the management of one of the rock drills. He
had risen at the first streak of dawn, and after breakfasting, had
clambered aboard an empty dirt train making for Culebra.
"Yer know how to fire a furnace?" asked the man who was to instruct him.
"Ay, that's good; I heard tell as I wasn't to have no greenhorn. Ain't
you a pal o' Harry's?"
There might have been only one Harry amidst the huge army of white
employees; but Jim knew who was meant, and nodded promptly.
"And you're the chap as went off into the swamps, across a lagoon, along
with the Police Major, ain't you?"
"Yes," responded our hero shortly.
"Huh! You and I is going to be pals. Harry's been blabbing. You don't
happen to have brought that 'ere banjo along with you?"
Jim had not, but promised to do so if this new friend liked.
"Why, in course we like," cried Hundley, for that was the man's name.
"Seems that you're to live 'way down there at Gatun, so the boys along
over there will get you of an evening; but you'll feed with us midday. I
tell you, Jim, there's times when a man feels dull out here,
particularly if he's had a go of fever, same as I have. It takes the
life out of a fellow, and ef he ain't brightened he gets to moping.
That's why I'm precious keen on music; a song soothes a man. There's
heaps like me up at the club; jest steady, quiet workers, sticking like
wax to the job, 'cos the most of us can't settle to pack and leave till
we've seen the canal completed."
There it was again! Right along the fifty miles of works Jim had come
across the same expressions. It mattered not whether a man drove a steam
digger or a dirt train, whether he were official or labouring employee,
if he were American, as all were, the canal seemed to have driven itself
into his brain; the undertaking had become a pet child, a work to be
accomplished whatever happened, an exacting friend not to be cast aside
or deserted till all was ended and a triumph accomplished. But Jim had
heard the request, and promptly acceded.
"I'll bring the banjo along one of these days right enough," he smiled.
"Perhaps you'll make a trip down to Gatun and hear one of our concerts.
They tell me there's to be one within a few days."
Hundley eagerly accepted the invitation, and then proceeded to instruct
our hero. As to the latter, he found no great difficulty in
understanding the work, and, indeed, in taking charge of the machine.
For here it was not quite as it was with a hundred-ton digger, when the
lip of the huge shovel might in some unexpected moment cut its way
beneath a mass of rock, and be brought up short with a jerk capable of
doing great damage. The rock drill, on the other hand, pounded away, the
engine revolving the drill, while the crew of the machine saw that the
gears were thrown out when necessary, and an extra length added to the
drill. If the hardened-steel point of the instrument happened to
catch--as was sometimes the case--and held up the engine, then steam had
to be cut off quickly, the drill reversed and lifted, so as to allow it
to begin afresh.
"You never know what's goin' to happen," explained Hundley; "but most
times things is clear and straightforward. You lengthen the drill till
you've run down about 30 feet: that means eight hours' solid work--a
day's full work, Jim. You don't see the real result till the next
morning; but my, how those dynamite shots do rip the place about! For
instance, jest here where we're sinkin' the drill we're yards from the
edge of the step we're working on. Well now, that shot'll be rammed
home, and the hole plugged over it. Something's got to go when dynamite
is exploded, and sense there's all this weight of stuff to the outside
of the terrace, and the shot is 30 feet deep, the outer lip gives way,
and jest this boring results in tons of rock and dirt being broken
adrift. It's when you see the huge mass of loose stuff next morning that
you realize that you ain't been doin' nothin'."
At the end of a week Jim was placed in entire charge of a rock drill,
while a negro was allocated to the machine to help him. Then, somewhat
later than the official had intimated, the motor driller was completed,
and our hero was drafted to the Gorgona works for some days, to practise
with the implement and get thoroughly accustomed to it. It was a proud
day when he occupied the driving seat, threw out his clutch, and set the
gears in mesh. Then, the engine buzzing swiftly, and a light cloud of
steam coming from the nozzle of the radiator--for, like all rapidly
moving motor engines designed for stationary work, the water quickly
heated--he set the whole affair in motion, and trundled along the
highroad towards the cut.
"If you don't make a tale of this machine I shall be surprised," said
the official, as he bade him farewell. "This motor should get through
the rock very quickly, quicker a great deal than the steam-driven ones.
But go steady along the road; steering ain't so easy."
Easy or not, Jim managed his steed with skill, and soon had the affair
on one of the terraces. He had already had a certain part allotted to
him, and within an hour of his departure from the works had set his
first drill in position. Nor was it long before he realized that the
desire of the staff at Gorgona was to be more than realized; for the
drill bit its path into the rock swiftly, more so than in the case of
the slower revolving steam drills, while there were fewer sudden stops.
That first day he accomplished two bore holes, giving four hours to each
operation. His cheeks were flushed with pleasure when he reported
progress to the official.
"And the engine?" asked the latter. "She ran well?"
"Couldn't have gone better," declared Jim. "She gives off ample power,
and there is plenty of water for cooling. That machine easily saves the
extra dollar wages you offered."
"And will pay us handsomely to repeat it, for then there will be more
dirt for the diggers to deal with, and the more there is the sooner the
cut will be finished. We can always manage to get extra diggers."
That the innovation was a success was soon apparent to all, and many a
time did officials come from the far end of the canal works to watch Jim
at work, and to marvel at the swiftness with which his machine opened a
way through the rock. It was three months later before anything happened
to disturb our hero, and during all that time he continued at his work,
coming from Gatun in the early hours, usually aboard an empty spoil
train, but sometimes by means of one of the many motor trolley cars
which were placed at the disposal of inspectors. At the dinner hour he
went off to one of the Commission hotels, and there had a meal, and
often enough sang for the men to the banjo which he had since purchased.
When the whistles blew at sundown he pulled on his jacket, placed a
mackintosh over his shoulders if it happened to be raining, which was
frequently the case, and sought for a conveyance back to Gatun. And
often enough these return journeys were made on the engine hauling a
loaded spoil trail.
As for Tom and Sam, the two negroes had received posts at the very
beginning, the little negro working with the sanitary corps and the huge
Tom being made into a black policeman.
"He's got a way with the darkies," explained Phineas, when announcing
the appointment, "and I've noticed that they're mighty civil to him. You
see, the majority of our coloured gentry come from the West Indies, and,
though they are likely enough boys, they are not quite so bright, I
think, as are the negroes from the States. Anyway, Tom has a way with
them, and don't stand any sauce; while, when things are all right, he's
ready to pass the time of day with all, and throw 'em a smile. Gee, how
he does laugh! I never saw a negro with a bigger smile, nor a merrier."
It may be wondered what had happened to the worthy and patient Ching.
The Chinaman was far too good a cook to have his talents wasted in the
canal zone, and from the very beginning was installed in that capacity
at Phineas Barton's quarters, thus relieving the lady who had formerly
done the work. The change, indeed, was all for the best, for now Sadie
received more attention.
Three months almost to a day from the date when Jim had begun to run the
motor drill the machinery got out of order.
"One of the big ends of a piston flew off," he reported to the official,
when the latter arrived. "Before I could stop her running the piston rod
had banged a hole through the crank case, and I rather expect it has
damaged the crank shaft."
It was an unavoidable accident, and meant that the machine must undergo
repair.
"You'll have to be posted to another job meanwhile, Jim," said the
official. "Of course I know that this is none of your doing. We shall be
able to see exactly what was the cause of the accident to that piston
rod when we've taken the engine down. Perhaps one of the big end bolts
sheered. Or there may have been a little carelessness when erecting, and
a cotter pin omitted. But I don't think that: my staff is too careful to
make errors of that sort. How'd you like to run one of the inspection
motor trolleys? They were asking me for a man this morning; for one of
the drivers is down with fever. You'd be able to take on the work at
once, since you understand motors. Of course there isn't any timetable
to follow. You just run up and down as you're wanted, and all you've got
to learn really is where the switches and points are; so as to be able
to sidetrack the car out of the way of the dirt trains."
So long as it was work in connection with machinery Jim was bound to be
pleased, and accepted the work willingly. The next day he boarded the
inspection car at Gatun, and within half an hour had made himself
familiar with the levers and other parts. Then he was telephoned for to
a spot near Gorgona, and ran the car along the rails at a smart pace.
Twice on the way there he had to stop, reverse his car, and run back to
a siding, there to wait on an idle track till a dirt train had passed.
"You'll get to know most every switch in a couple of days," said the
negro who was in charge of this particular point, "and sometimes yo'll
be mighty glad that you did come to know 'em. Them spoil trains don't
always give too much time, particularly when there's a big load and
they're coming down the incline from way up by Culebra."
The truth of the statement was brought to our hero's mind very swiftly;
for on the following morning, having run out on the tracks ahead of an
empty spoil train, and passed a passenger train at one of the stations,
he was slowly running up the incline into the Culebra cut when he heard
a commotion in front of him. At once he brought his car to a standstill
beside one of the points.
"Specks there's been a breakdown, or something of that sort," said the
man in charge, coming to the side of the car. "The track's clear
enough, but I guess there'll be a dirt train along most any minute. Are
you for runnin' in over the points out of the way?"
At that moment Jim caught sight of something coming towards him.
Suddenly there appeared over the brow of the incline the rear end of a
dirt train, and a glance told him that it was loaded. A man was racing
along beside one of the cars, somewhere about the centre of the train,
and was endeavouring to brake the wheels with a stout piece of timber.
Jim saw the timber suddenly flicked to one side, the man was thrown
heavily, then, to his horror, there appeared a whole length of loaded
cars racing down towards him, with nothing to stop the mad rush, not
even an engine.
"Gee, she's broken away from the loco!" shouted the man at the points.
"She's runnin' fast now, but in a while she'll be fair racing. Time she
gets here, which'll be within the minute, she'll be doing sixty miles an
hour. She'll run clear way down to Gatun. Come right in over the
points."
He ran to open the switch, so that Jim could reach safety, while our
hero accelerated his engine in preparation for the movement. Then a
sudden thought came to his mind. He recollected the passenger train
which was coming on behind him.
"Man," he shouted, "there's a passenger coming 'way behind us! The cars
were filled with people when I passed. She's ahead of the dirt trains,
and of course does not expect to have a full spoil train running down on
this line. She'll be smashed into a jelly."
"So'll you if you don't come right in," cried the man, waving to Jim
frantically.
But he had a lad of pluck to deal with. Jim realized that between
himself and the oncoming passenger train, now some six miles away
perhaps, there lay a margin of safety for himself, if only he could run
fast enough before the derelict spoil train racing towards him. But that
margin might allow him to warn the driver of the passenger train. He
took the risk instantly, shouted to the pointsman, and began to back his
car. Fortunately it was one of those in which the reverse gear applied
to all speeds, and, since there was no steering to be done, he was able
to proceed at a furious pace.
"Get to the telephone," he bellowed to the man as he went away. "Warn
them down the line."
Then began an exciting race between his car and the spoil train; for the
latter was composed of many long, heavy trucks, all laden to the brim
with rock debris, consequently the smallest incline was sufficient to
set them in motion if not properly braked. Now, when the whole line had
broken adrift from its engine, and had run on to the Culebra incline,
the weight told every instant. The pace soon became appalling, the
trucks bounding and scrunching along the tracks, shaking violently,
throwing their contents on either side, threatening to upset at every
curve, gained upon Jim's car at every second.
"I'll have to jump if I can't get clear ahead," he told himself. "But if
I can only keep my distance for a while the incline soon lessens, when
the pace of the runaway will get slower. But that man was right; she's
coasting so fast, and has so much weight aboard, that the impetus will
take her best part of the way to Gatun."
Once more it was necessary for Jim to do as he had done aboard the motor
launch. His ignition and throttle levers were pushed to the farthest
notch. He was getting every ounce of power out of his car, desperately
striving to keep ahead. But still the train gained. They came to a
curve, our hero leading the runaway by some fifty yards, and both
running on the tracks at terrific speed. Suddenly the inside wheels of
the inspection car lifted. Jim felt she was about to turn turtle and
promptly threw himself on to the edge of the car, endeavouring to weigh
her down. Over canted the car till it seemed that she must capsize. Jim
gave a jerk with all his strength, and slowly she settled down on to her
inside wheels again, clattering and jangling on the iron track as she
did so. Then he glanced back at the dirt train racing so madly after
him.
"She'll be over," he thought. "She'll never manage to get round that
bend at such a pace."
But weight steadies a freight car, and on this occasion the leading
trucks at least managed to negotiate the curve without sustaining
damage. The long train, looking like a black, vindictive snake, swung
round the bend, with terrific velocity, and came on after him
relentlessly. Then, as the last truck but one reached the bend, there
was a sudden commotion. The dirt it contained heaved spasmodically and
splashed up over the side; it seemed to rise up at the after end in a
huge heap, and was followed by the tail of the truck. The whole thing
canted up on its head, then swayed outwards, and, turning on its side,
crashed on to the track running along beside it. There was a roar, a
medley of sounds, while the actual site of the upset was obscured by a
huge cloud of dust.
"That'll do it," thought our hero. "If we have any luck, that upsetting
truck will pull the rest of the cars off the road, and bring the whole
train to a standstill."
But he was counting his chickens before they were hatched. The cloud of
dust blew aside swiftly, and, when he was able to see again, there was
the line of cars, nearer by now, leaping madly along, trailing behind
them the broken end of the one which had overturned. Right behind, the
other portion, together with the greater portion of the last truck of
all, was heaped in a confused mass on the second track of rails,
disclosing its underframe and its two sets of bogie wheels to the sky.
"That passenger train must be only a couple of miles from us now," said
Jim, as he desperately jerked at his levers, in the endeavour to force
his car more swiftly along the track. "If I can keep ahead for half that
distance I shall manage something, for then the incline lessens. Just
here she's going faster if anything. If only I could send this car along
quicker!"
He gazed anxiously over his shoulder, in the direction in which he was
flying, and was relieved to discover that the rails were clear. Then he
took a careful look at the line of cars bounding after him. There was no
doubt that the train was nearer. The leading car was within two hundred
yards of him, and a minute's inspection told him clearly that the
distance between them was lessening very rapidly; for the runaway now
seemed to have taken the bit between her teeth with a vengeance. Despite
the weight of earth and rock in the cars they were swaying and leaping
horribly, causing their springs to oscillate as they had, perhaps, never
done before. The wheels on the leading bogie seemed to be as much off
the iron tracks as on them, and at every little curve the expanse of
daylight on the inner side beneath the trucks increased in proportions,
showing how centrifugal force was pulling the heavy mass and
endeavouring to upset it. It was an uncanny sight, but yet, for all
that, a fascinating one. Jim watched it helplessly, almost spellbound,
conscious that the few moments now before him were critical ones. He
unconsciously set to work to calculate how long it would take, at the
present rate of comparative progression of his own car and the runaway
train, for the inevitable collision to occur. Then, seeing the heaving
bogies of the trucks, he leaned over the side of his own car and watched
the metal wheels. They clattered and thundered on the rails, the spokes
were indistinguishable, having the appearance of disks. But at the bends
this was altered. The car tipped bodily, the inner wheels left the
tracks, and at once their momentum lessened. Then, though he could not
see the individual spokes, the disk-like appearance was broken, telling
him plainly, even if his eyes had not been sufficiently keen to actually
see the fact, that the wheels and the track had parted company.
"Ah!" It was almost a groan that escaped him. In the few minutes in
which he had been engaged in examining his own wheels the runaway train
had gained on him by leaps and bounds. He could now hear the roar of its
wheels above the rumble and clatter of his own, that and the buzz of the
motor so busy beneath the bonnet. He cast his eye on either side, as if
to seek safety there, and watched the fleeting banks of the Chagres
River, bushes and trees, and abandoned French trucks speeding past. A
gang of workmen came into view, and he caught just a glimpse of them
waving their shovels. Their shouts came to his ears as the merest
echoes. Then something else forced itself upon his attention. It was the
figure of a white man, standing prominent upon a little knoll beside the
rails, and armed with a megaphone. He had the instrument to his mouth,
and thundered his warning in Jim's ears.
"Jump!" he shouted. "Jump! She'll be up within a jiffy!"
Within a jiffy! In almost less time than that; there were but two yards
now between the small inspection car and the line of loaded trucks. Jim
could see the individual pieces of broken rock amongst the dirt, could
watch the fantastic manner in which they were dancing. He looked about
him, standing up and gripping the side of the car. Then away in front,
along the clear tracks. He thought of the passenger train, and
remembered that he alone stood between it and destruction.
"I'll stick to this ship whatever happens," he told himself stubbornly.
"If the train strikes me and breaks up the car, the wreck may throw it
off the rails. Better that than allow it to run clear on into the
passenger train. Ah! Here it is."
Crash! The buffers of the leading truck struck the motor inspection car
on her leading spring dumb irons, and the buffet sent her hurtling along
the track, while the shock of the blow caused Jim to double up over the
splashboard. But the wheels did not leave the tracks. Nothing seemed to
have been broken. The dumb irons were bent out of shape, that was all.
"Jump, yer fool!" came floating across the air to Jim's ear, while the
figure of the man with the megaphone danced fantastically, arms waving
violently in all directions.
But Jim would not jump; he had long since made up his mind to stick to
his gun, to remain in this car whatever happened; for the safety of the
passenger train depended on him. True, a telephone message might have
reached the driver; but then it might not have done so. He recollected
that at the switch where this mad chase had first begun there was no
telephone station closely adjacent. It would be necessary for the man
there to run to the nearest one. That would take time, while his own
flight down the tracks had endured for only a few minutes, though, to
speak the truth, those minutes felt like hours to our hero.
Bang! The cars struck him again, causing the one on which he rode to
wobble and swerve horribly; the wheels roared and flashed sparks as the
flanges bit at the rails. The bonnet that covered the engine, crinkled
up like a concertina; but the car held the track. Jim was still secure,
while the second buffet had sent him well ahead. Better than all, he
realized that he was now beyond the steeper part of the incline, while
his engine was still pulling, urging the car backward. If only he could
increase the pace, if only he could add to the distance which separated
him from that long line of trucks bounding after him so ruthlessly. Then
a groan escaped him; for along the Chagres valley, where, perhaps, in
the year 1915 a huge lake will have blotted out the site of the railway
along which he flew, and where fleets of huge ships may well be lying,
there came the distinct, shrill screech of a whistle. Jim swung round in
an agony of terror. He looked along the winding track and his eyes lit
upon an object. It was the passenger train, loaded with human freight,
standing in the way of destruction.