CHAPTER IV

_On the Way to the Southern Continent_

After leaving Kingston, Jamaica, one has an opportunity of observing some of the many types who journey to the isthmus of Panama.

The steamer is crowded and its comfort impaired by the numerous obstacles such as luggage and deck chairs, which prevent promenading and the taking of the usual form of exercise on board ship. On the fore deck, huddled together in endless confusion, are labourers from the island just left; behind their “household gods”--parrots, monkeys, poultry, and dogs--enjoying in many cases more comfort than their owners.

In the dim shadows cast by the awning spread to protect them from the glare of the burning sun, or the torrential rain which might at any moment descend; reclining upon chairs, hammocks or bedding spread upon the deck, men and women of varying age, colour and costume, seek oblivion in sleep from the nausea occasioned by the monotonous rolling of the ship.

On the afternoon of the third day, through the haze of a tropical downpour, Colon is sighted. Though the rain falls in sheets, the eye can trace through the silvery mists the faint outline of the coast and contour of the hills; whilst away across the bay, at its western extremity, the Toro Lighthouse is dimly visible.

This island of Manzanilla, upon which Colon is built, was passed and repassed many times by Columbus, when, on his fourth and last voyage, he searched so diligently for the Straits which he believed existed. His objective was to reach India, the land of the Grand Khan, and it was only after his ships had been reduced to mere leaking hulks, that he abandoned the search for the opening which he imagined must be there. Four hundred eventful years have passed, yet men’s minds have never ceased from

dwelling upon the idea of making a waterway through the narrow neck of land that connects two great continents and divides two vast seas. From the beginning of the eighteenth century, plans have been put forward for the accomplishment of this task; but it was not until the railway across the isthmus was completed in 1854 that any serious thought was given by responsible persons to such projects. The building of the Panama Railway was brought about by the discovery of gold in California in 1849, when hundreds of adventurers from every part of the globe found this the shortest and quickest route to the western El Dorado. The history of how Aspinwall and Stevens accomplished their task of completing this short railway across a fetid tropical country, is one of the finest records of human endurance and perseverance. Sickness and disease thinned the ranks of their labourers, and the graves of hundreds of workers who perished in this enterprise are scattered profusely across the isthmus. There is a legend current in Panama that every tie on the railroad represents a human life. (That this is an exaggeration, anyone who reflects will readily perceive; for it would mean that 150,000 deaths had occurred in the five years, a number ten times greater than the whole population of the isthmus at that period.) Trains carrying thousands of passengers, and tons of goods across the forty-seven miles of track, have never been able to cope with the enormous and increasing traffic. That a canal, through which the largest ships might pass from the Atlantic to the Pacific, would eventually be constructed, few people doubted; and when De Lesseps, fresh from winning his laurels at Suez, undertook to construct a waterway, his enthusiasm quickly spread to thousands of his countrymen, and a French company was formed to carry out his schemes. The history of the French Canal Company is sad reading, and is now almost forgotten. The Panama scandals and the trial of the De Lesseps, father and son, with many others connected with the affair, are things of the past: the United States Government have taken over the assets of the derelict company, and innumerable American citizens are carried annually to the scene of the great undertaking. From the moment the ship leaves New York, all the talk on board is of the isthmus and the canal, and those who have never visited the narrow belt of land look forward eagerly to catching their first glimpse of this much-talked-of country.

But the unfamiliar light that is frequently diffused over all, producing ever-changing and delicate tints of grey, purple, and blue, veils the landscape in indistinctness, so that expectations of beholding a land on which the sun pours down its burning rays, are unrealised, for a deluge of rain almost invariably welcomes the visitor.

Directly the vessel is berthed, the formalities attendant upon landing attract the attention. All the passengers are ordered into the saloon, and are medically examined by the officer of health for the port. Those unable to produce evidence of recent vaccination are promptly operated upon, and negroes and negresses reappear upon deck with crimson stains upon their long black arms, testifying to the work of the lancet.

Frightened mothers and terrified children are sobbing all around, adding to the general din that arises with the arrival of a steamer. The rain still pours from the leaden sky, which seems as if it could never exhaust its weeping grief, and even in the short distance from the shed upon the wharf to a ramshackle bus or cab, the exposure is sufficient to ensure a thorough drenching.

The main street, and indeed all of Colon, has undergone great improvements of recent years. A short drive and Christobal is reached, a kind of suburb of Colon, now within the territory called Canal Zone, owned by the American Government.

It was in one of the many wooden bungalows built in the time of De Lesseps, and facing Limon Bay, that I took up my first quarters on the isthmus. The house is quite typical of hundreds throughout the Zone occupied by the more responsible workers on the canal, and in every way possible the comfort of the occupants is considered, and the accommodation is ample for all ordinary purposes.

The verandahs surrounding the houses are securely screened with fine-meshed copper gauze to prevent the intrusion of the fever-bearing stegomyia mosquito and of the thousand other noxious insects which are the pests of this tropical country.

Every window is covered in the same manner, the doors which open from the verandahs being furnished with a strong spring, ensuring their being kept shut. The water cisterns are all covered, as are the rain-water tubs placed around the buildings, and there is no possibility of any insect finding a suitable breeding ground. During the whole of my stay on the isthmus I seldom encountered a mosquito, and it is no exaggeration to say that this insect runs serious risk of sharing the fate of the dodo.

The first work that the Americans undertook upon taking possession of their new territory, was to put into operation all means conceivable for the destruction of the mosquitoes, a work that would have been impossible if the Commission had not possessed the power to direct the sanitary and health measures in the towns of Panama and Colon, which both lie outside of the Canal Zone, but are so intimately connected with it as to be sources of danger, in case of epidemics. The maintenance of law and order is also vested in the United States, in the event of the Republic of Panama proving unable to cope with it.

For the greatest difficulty the Americans have had to contend with has been the climatic conditions so fatal to the workers during the construction of the Panama Railway in 1850, and throughout the operations of the two ill-fated French Canal Companies.

The careful attention which the Health Department of the Canal Commission has given to the sanitation and purification of their new territory, as well as of the towns of Colon and Panama, has amply justified the enormous expense by the wonderful results obtained. When one considers that yellow fever has always been regarded by tropical Americans as indigenous to their climate, it is indeed surprising that this disease has been practically exterminated from the isthmus of Panama in so short a time.

Houses have been entered, cleansed and fumigated; marshes drained, stagnant water treated with petroleum and the bush and scrub around all dwelling houses cut away, until haunt and breeding ground are alike denied to the germ-bearing mosquito.

Everywhere one comes across members of the Sanitary Corps, either lowly negroes and half-bred Indians with cans of petroleum from which they drop a small quantity of oil on any stray pool or puddle that they come to; or the doctors ever vigilant in their inspections of the most out-of-the-way holes and corners in which dirt or disease might lurk.

The large hospital at Colon, built upon piles over the seashore, was erected originally by the French, but has been improved and modernised until it is as well equipped as any similar institution. There has not been a case of yellow fever within its walls for some years now, and the many screens that formerly were placed around the beds have all been stored away, except one, left as a specimen to show visitors the methods employed in isolating patients suffering from the dread disease.

Colon has changed very much during the last ten years. The fires of 1885 and 1890 destroyed a great many of the wooden buildings of which it was formerly composed; and the only old buildings of any pretensions to durability are the railway station and offices, and a church which was built by the pioneers of the isthmian route in the middle of the last century. Reorganised and rebuilt for the purposes of the Atlantic terminus of the canal, the most prominent features of the town to-day are the large wharves and warehouses for the reception of the materials and supplies for the vast project. Laundries, bakeries, schools, court-houses and administration buildings, dwellings for employees, hotels, stores and machine shops, have been erected on this erstwhile mangrove swamp, an undertaking in itself of great magnitude.

A new railway terminus has been built. The trains which run each way, three times daily, across the isthmus to Panama, carry passengers and baggage to that city and to the numerous wayside stations along the route. They are always crowded with employees of the Canal Commission, and travellers on their way, via the Pacific port, to countries on the western side of South America.

Along the route of the canal, which follows closely the line of the railway, a busy scene of activity is presented. Only those who have travelled backwards and forwards over the line many times, and have branched off along the numerous side tracks that have been laid to carry the excavated earth to convenient or necessary dumping grounds, can be properly impressed with the magnitude and difficulty of the operations, as evidenced not only by the existing works, but by continual reminders of the French enterprise, in hundreds of disused and obsolete trucks, engines and dredgers which lie half-sunk in deep morasses or overgrown with dense vegetation.

The towns and villages that have sprung up along the line of the canal have grown rapidly during the last two or three years, for although the French had erected over two thousand buildings during their occupation, the new owners have added so largely to that number that such towns as Empire, Culebra, Las Cascadas, and Gatum are quite important and considerable centres of industry, with schools, hotels, court-houses and large dwelling houses scattered through them.

The headquarters of the Canal Commission are at Culebra, and it is here also that the largest excavation work is going on. The hill of Culebra (which means a “serpent”) is about thirty-six miles from Colon and ten from Panama, and it was at this point that the two French companies concentrated their efforts. The canal in course of construction, and now nearing completion, is a high-level one, the amount of excavation being considerably less than that required if De Lesseps’ original plan of a sea-level route had been adhered to.

Thousands of persons every year visit this famous cutting, for in it the majority of the great steam shovels are at work. The progress being made is apparent, for on the long terraces the positions of the steam shovels are always altering. Every now and then a great cloud of smoke and dust, followed by a deafening roar, intimates that blasting operations are in full swing. Dumpcars of the latest pattern have superseded the old French ones; and the trains are now composed of a series of new trucks, coupled together, one side of each car being left open with a movable iron plate connecting it with its neighbour. A large truck at on end of the train contains a powerful engine, which pulls a steel plough along the trucks, emptying them of rock and dirt when the desired dumping ground is reached. All day these long trains filled with spoil move backwards and forwards through the cutting, at the different levels made for them by the steam shovels. Gangs of labourers are kept busy laying the tracks to enable the shovels to carve their way into the huge rocky hill. The problem of keeping up a supply of men, fit to stand the climate, has been solved by importing on to the scene Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians, and West Indians, and they have endured the climate surprisingly. It is astonishing that in a shade temperature of from 89-91 so much energy can be displayed. In the rainy season the conditions become very difficult to contend against. The River Chagres rises and carries away long tracks of the railway, putting a stop to operations for days at a time. The rainfall amounts on an average to about one hundred and forty inches per annum, most of it falling from September to May. Yet the work proceeds rapidly in spite of the rain. The houses built for the labourers are all supplied with drying rooms, which are very necessary adjuncts to any dwelling on the isthmus, for otherwise it would be impossible to have any dry clothing.

But for the bad climatic and health conditions, the Panama Canal would have been finished long ere this, and had the De Lesseps company had the advantages of modern sanitary methods, the history of the canal might be different. In England it has been customary to hear exaggerated accounts of wasted money and material in Panama until the very name is almost synonymous with fraud and deceit. But on the spot the American engineers have discovered many evidences of the enormous amount of genuine work accomplished by the early companies, under depressing circumstances and difficulties. Much that they did has been utilised, houses, hospitals, and hotels have been put into order, and have proved of great assistance to the present owners. The task of keeping up a working force of thirty thousand men, feeding, housing, and caring for them, can only be appreciated by those who are acquainted with the tropics. As all nationalities are to be found in the vast army at work, this means that the labour camps to accommodate them have to be kept separate and the food supplies carefully chosen, in accordance with the various tastes of different nations. The world at large is the market in which the authorities buy their provisions. It is bewildering to the layman, and impossible for him to understand the numerous engineering problems into which the work is divided. The rival schemes of high level, low level, and sea level, have been subjected to the criticism of the world’s most expert engineers for over a quarter of a century, and although the original plan of a sea level waterway was abandoned by De Lesseps, it is still held by many experts to be the only satisfactory one. The canal scheme that is at present proceeding is one of locks. The River Chagres, which rises in the surrounding hills, is subject to enormous floods, and in the rainy season great tracts of country on the Atlantic side of the isthmus are under water. Villages and workshops are swamped, the railway tracks swept away and disorganisation sets in.

The control of this river has been the subject of much anxious thought and the experts’ opinion on it would fill volumes. The present plan entailed the building of the great dam at Gatum, about seven miles from the Atlantic terminus of the canal. This is now nearly completed and fills a gap between two ranges of hills, and much of the excavated material from the Culebra cutting (thirty miles distant) was dumped here. As the dam is about a mile and a quarter in length and half a mile in thickness, over two million cubic yards of material have been used for its construction. It has great controlling water sluices and locks, and completes the range of high ground, which will enclose an immense lake eighty-five feet above the sea level, having an area of over one hundred and seventy square miles. Towns and villages at present existing in the territory that extends from Gatum to Culebra will disappear when the great dam is finished, and the water is already being allowed to collect to form the great lake. Double sets of locks have been built at Gatum to raise ships up from the canal, a height of eighty-five feet. Vessels of one thousand feet in length and one hundred feet beam have been anticipated, and there will be accommodation for such boats when they shall be built and present themselves for entrance to the canal. The navigation channel through the great Gatum Lake will have a depth of at least forty-five feet and a width at bottom of one thousand feet until the Culebra cutting is reached, where the width will be diminished to two hundred feet. About ten miles from the Pacific terminus of the canal, at Pedro Miguel, the summit level will cease, at a series of locks which will lower vessels thirty feet, into a channel five hundred feet in width and about one mile in length. Two more locks at Miraflores will lower vessels to the Pacific sea level. The channel from Miraflores to Balboa (the Pacific terminus) will have a width of five hundred feet right to the open sea. Dredging operations are being carried on for the purpose of deepening and widening the channels at the Pacific and Atlantic entrances. Large wharves for the reception of steamers have been erected at Balboa, and dry docks for repairing have been constructed. In Panama itself, although the city does not belong to the United States Government, much money and time have been spent in putting it into a proper sanitary condition, for by treaty with the Panamanian Government the Canal Commission have jurisdiction over all matters connected with health. This ancient Spanish city has now been properly drained and a good water supply laid on, streets which were formerly quagmires in the rainy season, have been transformed by stone pavements thoroughly well laid by the Commission, but charged up to the Panamanian Government.

There are over five thousand white employees on the work. Police, magistrates, school officers, medical men, mining engineers, surveyors, train conductors, hotel managers, overseers, foremen, clerks, dispensers, judges, mechanics, detectives, chemists, teachers, indeed quite a state has grown up upon this tropical belt, which but for the work in hand would be unexplored bush. The engineering shops at Matachin have grown under the commission to four times the size of the original French buildings, and are capable of accommodating for repairs and putting together over twenty large locomotives at one time. Steam shovels, cranes, trucks, ploughs, and rolling stock generally undergo repairs in these shops. Everywhere along the line improved, modern, up-to-date buildings are occupied as fast as they can be erected, and the social side of life is highly developed. Dances, concerts, and amateur theatricals are always going forward, while of out-of-door sports the national game of baseball is easily first favourite. Everything is done by the authorities to make life on the isthmus as pleasant and enjoyable as possible, and very different from the early days when necessities were difficult to obtain and luxuries impossible. Ice is delivered to all the houses on the Canal Zone daily at a small charge, and bread, vegetables, meat, everything in fact that a dainty mortal can desire, is easily obtainable at the Commission’s Stores, so that in this land of “Perpetual Thirst” there is little of hardship and much of pleasure for the workers who have to live exiled from home.

The Commission has made a rule that every white employee shall take an annual holiday and spend it in the United States, so that there is much coming and going between the States and Panama. In fact, very few stay for long and the ranks are being continually reinforced with fresh recruits. The Commission have also a splendid sanatorium situated on the island of Tobago, a few miles south of Panama. Here, amidst perfect surroundings, the convalescents are nursed back to health and strength and tended with the utmost care. Even strangers who are not in any way connected with the canal, avail themselves of this retreat, and many Panamanians make it a holiday resort. At the foot of Ancon Hill, just outside the city of Panama, the Canal Commission have built a magnificent hotel capable of accommodating over three hundred first-class guests. It was opened in time to receive President Roosevelt when he paid his memorable visit to the isthmus in November, 1906, and since then has housed many other distinguished visitors.