IN THE JUNGLE
"What will we do with the cameras, Blake? The films, too, they
will all be spoiled--we haven't enough waterproof cases!" cried
Joe to his chum, as the boat, through some accident or failure,
backed nearer and nearer to the closing steel gates.
"Will we really have to jump overboard?" asked the Spaniard. "I am
not a very excellent swimmer."
But Blake, at whom these questions seemed directed, did not have
to answer them. For, after a series of confused shouts on the top
of the concrete wall above them the movement of the boat, as well
as the slow motion of the lock gates, ceased. It was just in time,
for the rudder of the tug was not more than a few feet away from
the jaws of steel.
"You're all right now," a man called down to those on the tug,
from the wall over their heads. "Something went wrong with the
towing locomotives. There's no more danger."
"Well, I'm glad to know that," answered Captain Watson gruffly.
"You might just as well kill a man as scare him to death. What was
the matter, anyhow?"
"Well, all of our machinery isn't working as smoothly as we'll
have it later," the canal engineer explained. "Some of our signals
went wrong as you were being towed through, and you went backward
instead of forward. Then it took a minute or so to stop the lock
gates. But you're all right now, and you'll go on through."
Blake and Joe looked at each other and smiled in relief, and Mr.
Alcando appeared to breathe easier. A little later the tug was
again urged forward toward the front lock gates. Then the closing
of those at her stern went on, until the vessel was in a square
steel and concrete basin--or, rather, a rectangular one, for it
was longer than it was wide, to lend itself to the shape of the
vessels. As Blake had said, it was like a big swimming tank.
"Now we'll go up," Captain Watson said. "You can't get any
pictures in here, I suppose?" he added.
"We can show the water bubbling up as it fills the lock," said
Blake. "Water always makes a pretty scene in moving pictures, as
it seems to move at just the right rate of speed. We'll take a
short strip of film, Joe, I guess."
The tug did not occupy a whole section of the lock, for they are
built to accommodate vessels a thousand feet long. To economize
time in filling up such a great tank as that would be the locks
are subdivided by gates into small tanks for small vessels.
"It takes just forty-six gates for all the locks," explained
Captain Watson, while Blake and Joe were getting their camera in
position, and the men at the locks were closing certain water
valves and opening others. "Each lock has two leaves, or gates,
and their weight runs anywhere from three hundred to six hundred
tons, according to its position. Some of the gates are forty-seven
feet high, and others nearly twice that, and each leaf is
sixty-five feet wide, and seven feet thick."
"Think of being crushed between two steel gates, of six hundred
tons each, eighty feet high, sixty-five feet wide and seven feet
thick," observed Joe.
"I don't want to think of it!" laughed Blake. "We are well out of
that," and he glanced back toward the closed and water-tight lock
gates which had so nearly nipped the tug.
"Here comes the water!" cried the captain. There was a hissing and
gurgling sound, and millions of bubbles began to show on the
surface of the limpid fluid in which floated the _Nama_. The water
came in from below, through the seventy openings in the floor of
each lock, being admitted by means of pipes and culverts from the
upper level.
As the water hissed, boiled and bubbled while it flowed in Blake
took moving pictures of it. Slowly the _Nama_ rose. Higher and
higher she went until finally she was raised as high as that
section of the lock would lift her. She went up at the rate of two
feet a minute, though Captain Watson explained that when there was
need of hurry the rate could be three feet a minute.
"And we have two more locks to go through?" asked Joe.
"Yes, two more here at Gatun, and three at Miraflores; or, rather,
there is one lock at Pedro Miguel, where we go down thirty and a
third feet, and then we go a mile to reach the locks at
Miraflores.
"There we shall have to go through two locks, with a total drop of
fifty-four and two-thirds feet," Captain Watson explained. "The
system is the same at each place."
The tug was now resting easily in the basin, but some feet above
the sea level. Blake and Joe had taken enough moving pictures of
this phase of the Canal, since the next scenes would be but a
repetition of the process in the following two locks that would
lift the _Nama_ to the level of Gatun Lake.
"But I tell you what we could do," Blake said to his chum.
"What's that--swim the rest of the way," asked Joe, "and have Mr.
Alcando make pictures of us?"
"No, we've had enough of water lately. But we could get out on top
of the lock walls, and take pictures of the tug going through the
lock. That would be different."
"So it would!" cried Joe. "We'll do it!"
They easily obtained permission to do this, and soon, with their
cameras, and accompanied by Mr. Alcando, they were on the concrete
wall. From that vantage point they watched the opening of the lock
gates, which admitted the _Nama_ into the next basin. There she
was shut up, by the closing of the gates behind her, and raised to
the second level. The boys succeeded in getting some good pictures
at this point and others, also, when the tug was released from the
third or final lock, and steamed out into Gatun Lake. There was
now before her thirty-two miles of clear water before reaching
Miraflores.
"Better come aboard, boys," advised Captain Watson, "and I'll take
you around to Gatun Dam. You'll want views of that."
"We sure will!" cried Blake.
"Isn't it all wonderful!" exclaimed Joe, who was deeply impressed
by all he saw.
"It is, indeed!" agreed the Spaniard. "Your nation is a powerful
and great one. It is a tremendous achievement."
Aboard the tug they went around toward the great dam that is
really the key to the Panama Canal. For without this dam there
would be no Gatun Lake, which holds back the waters of the Chagres
River, making a big lake eighty-five feet above the level of the
ocean. It is this lake that makes possible the operation of a lock
canal. Otherwise there would have to be a sea-level one, and
probably you boys remember what a discussion there was, in
Congress and elsewhere, about the advantages and disadvantages of
a sea-level route across the Isthmus.
But the lock canal was decided on, and, had it not been, it is
probable that the Canal would be in process of making for many
years yet to come, instead of being finished now.
"Whew!" whistled Joe, as they came in sight of the dam. "That sure
is going some!"
"That's what it is!" cried Captain Watson, proudly, for he had had
a small part in the work. "It's a mile and a half long, half a
mile thick at the base, three hundred feet through at the
waterline, and on top a third of that."
"How high is it?" asked Joe, who always liked to know just how big
or how little an object was. He had a great head for figures.
"It's one hundred and five feet high," the captain informed him,
"and it contains enough concrete so that if it were loaded into
two-horse wagons it would make a procession over three times
around the earth."
"Catch me! I'm going to faint!" cried Blake, staggered at the
immensity of the figure.
"That dam is indeed the key to the whole lock," murmured Mr.
Alcando, as he looked at the wonderful piece of engineering. "If
it were to break--the Canal would be ruined."
"Yes, ruined, or at least destroyed for many years," said Captain
Watson solemnly. "But it is impossible for the dam to break of
itself. No waters that could come into the lake could tear it
away, for every provision has been made for floods. They would be
harmless."
"What about an earthquake?" asked Joe. "I've read that the
engineers feared them."
"They don't now," said the captain. "There was some talk, at
first, of an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption, destroying the
dam, but Panama has not been visited by a destructive earthquake
in so long that the danger need not be considered. And there are
no volcanoes near enough to do any harm. It is true, there might
be a slight earthquake shock, but the dam would stand that. The
only thing that might endanger it would be a blast of dynamite."
"Dynamite!" quickly exclaimed Mr. Alcando. "And who would dare to
explode dynamite at the dam?"
"I don't know who would do it, but some of the enemies of the
United States might. Or someone who fancied the Canal had damaged
him," the captain went on.
"And who would that be?" asked Blake in a low tone.
"Oh, someone, or some firm, who might fancy that the Canal took
business away from them. It will greatly shorten certain traffic
and trade routes, you know."
"Hardly enough to cause anyone to commit such a crime as that, do
you think?" asked the Spaniard.
"That is hard to answer," went on the tug commander. "I know that
we are taking great precautions, though, to prevent the dam, or
the locks, from being damaged. Uncle Sam is taking no chances.
Well, have you pictures enough?"
"I think so," answered Blake. "When we come back we'll stop off
here and get some views from below the dam, showing the spillway."
"Yes, that ought to be interesting," the captain agreed.
The tug now steamed on her way out into Gatun Lake, and there a
series of excellent views were obtained for the moving picture
cameras. Mr. Alcando was allowed to do his part. He was rapidly
learning what the boys could teach him.
"Of course it could never happen," the Spaniard said, when the
cameras had been put away, for the views to be obtained then were
of too much sameness to attract Joe or Blake, "it would never
happen, and I hope it never does; but if it did it would make a
wonderful picture; would it not?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" asked Blake.
"The Gatun Dam," was the answer. "If ever it was blown up by
dynamite it would make a wonderful scene."
"Too wonderful," said Joe grimly. "It would be a terrible crime
against civilization to destroy this great canal."
"Yes, it would be a great crime," agreed the Spaniard in a low
voice. A little later he went to his stateroom on the tug, and
Blake and Joe remained on deck.
"Queer sort of a chap; isn't he?" said Joe.
"He sure is--rather deep," agreed his chum.
"Are you boys going into the jungle?" asked the tug captain that
afternoon.
"Yes, we want to get a few views showing life in the woods,"
answered Blake. "Why?"
"Well, the reason I asked is that I can take you to the mouth of
the Chagres River and from there you won't have so much trouble
penetrating into the interior. So if you're going--"
"I think we had better go; don't you?" asked Blake of his chum.
"Surely, yes. We might get some fine pictures. They'll go well
with the Canal, anyhow; really a sort of part of the series we're
taking."
"All right, then, I'll leave you in the jungle," the captain said.
A day or so later, stops having been made to permit the boys to
film certain scenes they wanted, the tug reached Gamboa, where
they stopped, to plan a trip into the interior.
Then, one morning, with their cameras loaded with film, they
started off for a brief trip into the jungle.