CHAPTER IX.

COLON AND PANAMA.

The Sailors Lament-Rising of the Tide-The Canal Arouses Interest Our Purchase from the French-A Revolution That Worked Our Way-Hot Day at Colon-A Halt in the Program— Quarantined for Yellow Fever-The Obstinacy of Gorgas—The World's Canal Primer-Tragic History of the IsthmusGambling as an Expedient-Effective Sanitary Work-Expelling the Deadly Mosquito-American Methods in Favor-Condition of the Laborers-The "Terrible" Chagres and the Lock SystemGatun Town and Dam-Culebra Cut and the Artificial Lakes— Opinions of the Engineers.

As we drew away from Kingston, viewing sadly its vast area of charred buildings, its dreary piles of brick and mortar, the situation reminded me of "The Sailor's Consolation," a poem attributed to William Pitt, "master attendant at Jamaica Dock Yard, and afterward at Malta," who died in 1840. Observe how it fits:

Poor creatures! how they envy us,

And wishes, I've a notion,

For our good luck in such a storm
To be upon the ocean!

"And as for them that's out all day,
On business from their houses,
And late at night returning home,
To cheer their babes and spouses;
While you and I, Bill, on the deck,
Are comfortably lying,

My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots
About their heads are flying!

"Both you and I have oft times heard
How men are killed and undone,

By overturns from carriages

By thieves, and fires in London,

We know what risks these landsmen run,

From noblemen to tailors,

Then, Bill, let us thank Providence

That you and I are sailors.'"

Kingston was about eighteen degrees above the Equator. It had impressed us as a very hot place, and although we took to the ship for another long run at sea, we had our misgivings, for we were bound for Colon, on the north coast of the Panama strip, more than eight degrees below. We had learned enough by this time, however, to know that the ship and the free winds of the sea were much more restful and invigorating than were the hot and dusty cities of the West Indies. We had not gone far before the discovery was made that one of the passengers was missing. The discipline of the ship, immediately after we had left the harbor, brought the fact to light. The passenger, too, happened to be a woman—. —Miss Keating, an artist—who had gone to her state room before we left the dock, and had returned

to the shore on some sudden call, unnoticed by the steward. We sympathized with the young lady, at the same time congratulating her and ourselves that neither she nor any of us had been left at even a more remote point than Kingston.

All day Saturday, March 23d, we were at sea pursuing a course almost due South. The spirit of revelry, this day, first disported itself in comments by the Congressional party upon the sudden rise in Olcott's trousers. It was a matter of general comment, as the stalwart form of the New Yorker perambulated the deck, that not only his trousers, but his entire crash suit were moving rapidly upward as the heat increased.

"Think of it!" Olcott had said. "I got the whole suit. for $2.16."

"Tide's going up, Olcott," said Tawney, when the lower end of the trousers overtopped the canvas shoes of the letter carriers' friend.

"But what can you expect at such a price?" was the polite rejoinder.

"You can't expect much," broke in the Speaker, “but you can respect the proprieties. Moreover, if you drop into the New York stores next summer, you will probably buy that kind of a suit for less money."

Olcott held out bravely for some time, but eventually went below, only to reappear in conventional white duck.

As the day wore on, it became evident that Panama had been the chief point of interest to every passenger on the ship. Somehow or other, everyone was interested, whether from motives of pride or curiosity. Historical works upon Panama were produced, and a number of copies of the President's illustrated message to Congress made their appearance. Scrugg's "The Colombian and Venezuelan