CHAPTER V
The Ways of the Steam Digger
To say that Jim could not have been put into better or more capablehands is to tell only the truth. For Harry, the young American operatingthe steam digger, was one of those eager, hard-working fellows whostrive their utmost, who are not satisfied unless they make the verybest of a task, and who, given a machine of great power, cause it toproduce the biggest results possible, consistent with proper management,and who, unlike some, do not curtail its strength, and limit its output.
"You jest hop up there inside with me," he said, wiping the sweat fromhis forehead, and tilting his broad sombrero hat backwards a little."It'll be close quarters, you bet; but when a chap's learning a job hedon't kick at trifles."
Jim obeyed his orders with alacrity. He clambered up into the narrowcab, which was merely a metal framework bolted to the huge, slopingsteel girder which may be termed the backbone of the leviathan digger,and seated himself upon a hard wooden seat barely wide enough for oneperson. Just above his head was a toothed wheel, with another, very muchlarger, engaging with it. Beside him, causing him to start when hetouched it, for it was very hot, were a brace of cylinders, with alever adjacent for operating the throttle. Right overhead was a roof ofsplit and warped boards, which helped to keep away the rays of the sun;for on this isthmus of Panama the heat is fierce at times, and extremelyenervating.
"But, bless you, we don't notice it," said Harry, swarming up after him,and seeing that he had noticed the shelter. "Most all of us wear a bighat. In fact you can say as every white man does. Them dagoes don't;they seem to like the sun, same as the Spaniards. Seen anything of 'em,mate?"
Jim nodded. "Not much," he admitted. "There were a few aboard that ship,and they didn't impress me much. They lost their heads and fought likewild beasts."
"Aye, that's them all over; but they're good 'uns to work once they'reset to at it, and know you won't put up with any nonsense. I don'tsuppose there was ever a part where gangs of them Spaniards works betterthan they do here, and gives so little trouble. Now and agin there's arumpus, and the police has to intervene; but it ain't often. See 'emover there."
Jim had been so occupied with his inspection of the giant digger that hehad hardly had eyes for his surroundings; but as Harry pointed, he swunground in the cab and surveyed the scene. It was remarkable, to say theleast of it. Right behind him lay track on track of metal rails, allrunning direct towards the Atlantic, and the majority of them ondifferent levels. They seemed to hug various gigantic steps, by whichthe sides of the huge trench in which the digger was situated ascendedto level ground. Hundreds of cars were on these rails, with a little,smoking engine at their heads, and a half-closed-in cab behind. Gangs ofEuropean and black labourers were disposed here and there, some breakingup rocks obstructing the tracks, others carrying lengths of double railtrack bolted together in readiness to be placed in position, while yetagain others were engaged in pouring a liquid into trenches at the sideof the cutting. Jim looked puzzled, and Harry laughed outright as hecaught a glimpse of his face.
"Gee! It do amuse me when strangers come along," he cried. "Guess thishere's an eye-opener. Any fellow can tell what we're doing, and whywe're doing it, except the reason for those men and the stuff they'repouring into the trench. Say now, what's it for?"
Jim could not even hazard a guess. It was inexplicable, and seemed,indeed, to be an idiotic proceeding. His face must have shown histhoughts, for Harry burst into a loud guffaw, though, unconsciously,pride again crept into his tones as he answered.
"Guess you ain't the first as thought there was madmen about," he said."But all that stuff being put into the trenches is jest part of thisalmighty scheme. Without it we wouldn't be able to work; for that's agang from the sanitary corps, and guess they're nosing round most everyday. It's their particular job to see as there isn't a place where amosquito can breed, or where water can easily lay. Ef there's a spotmade in purpose to carry away water, same as that 'ere trench, wheresome of it's bound to lay, why, they spreads kerosene along it, and noself-respecting mosquito'll go near that stuff. It's a terror to 'em.Guess this Panama zone, stretching five miles either side of the canalline, fairly gives them insects the pip, it's that unhealthy for 'em. Asfor us, we lives in comfort, and goes on living, which can't be said forothers who was here before us. But jest get a grip of that throttlelever, and don't be skeared. Keep cool all the time, and when I cry'stop', jest jerk it off. She'll come up short jest as ef she was alive,and that's something, seeing as this is a hundred-ton digger. She's ableeasy to cut her way into well over a thousand cubic yards of dirt in aneight-hours day, and can sling some six hundred double horse loads intothem trucks. But we ain't dealin' with horses here. It's machines allthe time, machines, and men, I guess, to drive 'em."
It was grand to hear the fellow talk; unconsciously a glow crept intoJim's face. To think that he, by the movement of his ten fingers, and bythe use of his own brain, could control such work, and then to rememberthat every little task accomplished was setting his country nearer theday of triumph. For triumph it must be: America, in spite of thecroakings of a few, cannot and will not fail. She may experiencesetbacks; but she will prevail in the end. Her native determination andthe grit of her workers will compel her.
"You can jest see how we're moving," said Harry, placing a hand on asecond lever. "This here digger's set up on a truck heavy enough to takeit, with its boiler right away at the tail end of the truck, tocounterbalance the stuff we're lifting. We're on rails, as you can see,with a second track beside us that holds a spoil train, as we calls thetrucks into which we chucks the dirt. Right clear afore us is theground we're digging, and you're jest going to take a bite fer yerself.Watch that digger."
Jim cast his eyes upon the huge bucket with its steel cutting lip placedat the end of a secondary beam slanting downwards from the lower part ofthe main steel girder. Huge chains ran from the upper edge to the tip ofthe girder, and, as Harry gently pushed his lever, the chains ran outclanking, and the bucket descended till it bumped on to the ground. Itwas now at the foot of a broken and steep slope some eight feet inheight, at the summit of which was the first of that series of big stepsascending to the top of the lock cutting, and accommodating rail tracks.Indeed a spoil train was crunching along it as he looked, while on halfa dozen others trains were to be seen. As to the sloping bank itself, itran on directly till it came to a dead end, where an army of men wereengaged in erecting the lake-end wall of the lock. Behind, it dwindledinto other banks, and was lost in the distance.
"Where we started, I guess," said Harry, following his gaze. "First thedredgers got to work, then the steam shovels. You see, we cut deep downin the centre first of all, and then take a step out at either side.Then, while diggers get to work to cut other steps we go deeper again inthe centre. But let's get at this here bank. That bucket's drawn thechains out by its own weight. This here lever controls a brake, and Ican stop the bucket at any point; but it's there, ready for digging.Give her steam, and gently with it. Be ready to cut off if I shout."
Jim moved his lever ever so gently. The proposition was so new to himthat he felt somewhat timid of the results; but Harry was as calm asever. He watched the cutting edge of the bucket dig deep into the bank,while Jim, watching it also, cast an eye upward at the chains where theypassed over the tip of the girder. Chug! chug! chug! they went, whilethe massive beam trembled; but nothing could stop the irresistiblecourse of the digger. The bucket sheared its way upward through thesoil, and in a very little while had accomplished the whole height ofthe bank; then, its work done, it shot upward, causing the machine toshiver and shake.
"Cut her off," cried Harry, and obedient to the word Jim shoved thelever over.
"Now take a grip of this here lever I've been holding, and pull it toyou. Give her steam."
Clank! clank! clank! Jim felt the gears engage as he shifted the lever,and once more opened the throttle of the engine. Now he experienced anew and altogether delightful sensation; f
or the huge mass of machineryto which the cab was bolted, and which was situated on the front of theheavy truck carrying the whole apparatus, swung round easily, the loadedbucket well in front and overhead. Harry grinned: it amused him to watchthe delight on his pupil's face. But this was not the moment forallowing his attention to become distracted. He kept a careful eye onthe bucket, and, a moment later, just as it began to swing over the dirttruck placed on the side track, he pulled a rope, and with a loudclatter the bottom of the bucket banged open and the dirt fell into thetruck.
"Stop her!" he shouted, and Jim at once closed his throttle. "This isthe boy that works the shutter for us. See here; pull it and give hersteam. Watch those two arms to which the bottom of the bucket arebolted. This here gear just overhead works 'em and closes them over thetrigger. Gee! If you ain't working this here like an old hand. Now watchit. That bucket's closed, and you've always to remember to close itafore you swing the machine back again to its work, 'cos the edge of thebottom comes low down and would foul the truck. That'd mean a bust up.Now, round with her. Stop her; get a hold of the brake lever and let herdrop."
Confused at first, because of the multiplicity of movements, in an hourJim was quite at home with the machine. True, he made errors; forinstance, he forgot that very important movement to close the bucket,and, as a consequence, though he missed the side of the truck he nearlyripped off the head from a negro. But Harry was there to supervise, anda quick movement on his part arrested the machine.
"Hi! What fo you gwine kill me, yo?" shouted the negro, who had beenuntouched, as it happened. "Yo take care ob that great big playting obyours. Not here to dig niggers. Not like hab de head knocked off."
Harry roared. "It's only Joe," he shouted. "He's been as near a blowafore now, and loves to make the most of it. See here, Joe," hebellowed, "I ain't a-goin' to have my machine broken against that 'erehard head of yours. I'll have to be warning the foreman overseer toshunt yer."
That brought a grin from the negro. He showed his teeth, and shook hisfist at Harry; but Jim knew his meaning well enough. The big fellow wasjust like the rest of his people--just a big, strong, healthy baby, whosaw the fun in everything, and, if there were no fun, manufactured itpromptly.
"I's gwine to break yo into little pieces," he said, clambering on tothe cab and poking his face within an inch of Harry's. "Yo say I habhard head? Lummy! Me hab hard fist as well."
"Git out!" shouted Harry, striking at him with the slack end of the ropethat commanded the bucket trigger.
"Who's he?" demanded Joe, nodding at Jim, and suddenly changing theconversation.
"Him? Why, Jim, of course. Saved Mr. Barton."
"Den I knows him."
To Jim's astonishment the negro stretched out a hand and shook hiseagerly. Then he explained the situation. "Know Tom and Sam," he said."Dey down here now, seein' tings. I show dem round. Tom mightyimpressed: he tink yo work de digger better'n Harry."
That brought an exclamation from the latter, while Joe jumped down fromthe machine just in time to escape the swing of the rope. But his wordswere true; close beside the digger were Tom and Sam.
"By de poker, but yo run him well!" shouted Tom. "Me's watched yo dislast half-hour. Seems to Tom as ef yo soon have a job in the diggin'."
To the huge fellow everything that Jim did was well done, everything heattempted was sure to be accomplished; and never for one moment did hetire of watching his hero. But Jim had his lesson to learn, and foranother hour held to the work. By that time he had filled a whole spoiltrain, and had watched another shunted into position.
"Ready to fill like the last," said Harry. "That's the proposition thatjest beat us at first. There wasn't enough trucks nor locomotives tobegin with, and not enough tracks, so these fine diggers wasted halftheir time; but we've fixed it a while since. Soon as a train's loadedit's pulled back, while an empty spoil train crosses the switchesbehind. That comes over another switch just behind the digger, and soright on alongside, the last truck just in position for loading, thefirst 'way ahead. Then, as you've seen for yourself, we move along, afew inches after every dig, filling the trucks as we go."
"And then?" asked Jim. "What happens? Where is the dirt taken? Whounloads the trucks?"
"Gee! You are a chap fer questions. Where does it go? Away up there, atthe far end of the river gully, where the Lake of Gatun'll be, there's asight more dirt than this being taken from the isthmus. Some of that'sbeing dumped at the dam just away over our heads; some of it's beingemptied outside Panama, filling up a swamp through which the canal willrun. Reckon there won't be swamps when we're done. There'll be good hardground, and houses'll be built on a spot where there's fever nowadays.We're using dirt at this end in the same way; but you was asking aboutthe dumping?"
Jim nodded, and looked at the spoil train being hauled away. "The gangsof niggers do it, I guess," he said. "But it must take longer than theloading by a long way; at least that's what one would imagine."
"Jest about seven minutes fer the whole train," smiled Harry. "My davyon it! You ask how? Wall, listen here. I've been here a long while, andin them days when we was fixed badly fer more trucks niggers did see toclearing the spoil trains--and precious bad niggers they was, too, aboutthat time. Yer see, they mostly comes from the West Indian Isles, andsomehow the place didn't seem to suit 'em. They was too slack to workmuch; but guess our officials fixed the trouble. They found it was thefood, and now every nigger employed on the works gets his meals regularat a Commission barracks, and sech meals as gives him strength. But wewas talking of unloading. See that truck 'way in front of the trains,the one just close to the engine? Wall, that's the Lidgerwood apparatus,and guess it beats creation. There's a plough right forward of thetrain, and a wire rope attached to it. When the spoil train has beenbrought to the place where the dirt's to be dumped, niggers or Europeanslet down the truck ends, so's the whole train's one long platform. Theplough then gets pulled from end to end, and shoots the dirt out. Sevenminutes for a whole train, siree! Lightning ain't in it!"
Whistles sounded at this minute, and promptly Harry shut down his leversand leaped from the cab.
"Guess you've done right well fer a first time," he said. "In a dayyou'll be able to get to at it alone. Anyway, you've earned your grub.Come along to the Commission hotel; there's meals there for all whites,and no one can grumble at them."
Wherever he went Jim found something to interest him, so much so thatit was a matter of wonder to him that, though he had often been close tothe isthmus, he had had no idea of the extraordinary bustle taking placethere. It was so extremely surprising to find small towns sprung upwhere he was assured there was but a single native hut before, todiscover buildings so temptingly cool and elegant in appearance, and tolearn that America not only employed labour, but provided quarters,food, and recreation for her employees. And here was another example.Harry took him away from the lock cutting, where one of these days adouble tier of three locks will elevate ships from the Atlantic, andintroduced him to his friends in one of the well-equipped hotels erectedfor the accommodation of white employees. Hundreds of men were streamingup the steps as they arrived, and passing in behind the copper-gauzescreens of the veranda. Jim noticed that all bore much the sameappearance--for the most part clean shaven, with here and there somewearing moustaches and beards. Dressed in rough working clothes, withbroad-brimmed hats, none showed signs of ill health. There was a buzz ofeager conversation as they washed before the meal, and a loud clatterfrom many tongues as they sat at the tables. As to the food, it wasplain, abundant, and well cooked.
"Costs jest fifty cents a day," explained Harry. "If you've finishedwe'll get to the club. We usually go along fer a smoke at dinner-time.'Sides, there's a cable of interest now and agin, and sometimesletters."
A few minutes with Harry at the club served, in fact, to banish anydoubts which Jim may have had as to remaining on the isthmus. For herewas comfort and recreation at the same time, and plenty of men with whomto make friends.
; "This here's Jim, him as saved Phineas Barton," Harry told his comrades,and the statement was at once sufficient to rouse interest. Hand-gripswere exchanged with our hero. The news of his presence spread round thehuge room, in which men were smoking or playing dominoes at littletables, and one by one they strolled up.
"You're stayin' here?" asked one, and when Jim nodded, "I'm main glad:Phineas is one of the best, and a chap who could go in for him as youdid must be one of the right kind. What are you going to do?"
"Steam digging, I hope," said Jim. "But of course I'm green yet."
"You'll do. If you've got the grit to face being sucked under by afoundering ship, guess you've the gumption to run one of them diggers.Anyway, I'm glad you're staying. Play yer a game of dominoes one ofthese mornings."
"Say, siree, ken you sing any?" asked another, when he had shaken hands;"'cos there's concerts here sometimes o' nights, and a new hand aerwanted."
"Guess I can do a little," answered Jim, reddening; for here was a find.No one loved a sing-song more than our hero, and, to give him only hisdue, he had an excellent voice, badly trained, or not trained at all, tobe accurate, but pleasing for all that. "When I've put a little togetherI'll buy a banjo," he told his interrogator. "I had one aboard theship, but guess it's deep down below the Caribbean."
"My, that are good news! Say, boys, here's one as can strum on a banjo."
The information was hailed with delight by those present, for a banjoplayer was an acquisition indeed. These skilled white men engaged in thePanama undertaking were as simple as well could be, and longed fornothing more than mild recreation. After an eight-hours day of strenuouswork, and supper at the Commission hotel, it delighted them to gather atone of the clubs and there listen to an impromptu concert. But themidday halt was not the time for dawdling. Already the better part ofthe interval was gone, and very soon the blowing of steam whistlessummoned the workers back to their machines; for nearly every one of thewhite employees in that hotel managed some sort of machine.
"There's a heap of them engaged with the rock drillers," said Harry,"and ef you go along the line to-morrow, towards Panama, and enter thegreat Culebra cut, you'll see and hear 'em at work everywhere. Mostevery night, when the whistles has blown and the men cleared off, you'dthink a battle was being fought over there, for there's dynamite andpowder exploding on every side, and huge rocks jest bounding down intothe trench. Gee! There is a dust up. But I war saying that most everyonewho's white has a machine to mind. Of course there are overseers, andlots of officials. Then there's a small army kept going in the repairshops 'way along over Panama direction, at Gorgona. That's a place aswould open the eyes of people at New York. I tell you, they turn out apower of work there. See that machine down there running along therails? Wall, that's home-made, every stick and rod of it put together atGorgona, and, what's more, it's the invention of one of the employeeshere."
He was bursting with pride, with a legitimate pride. There was noconceit about Harry, but merely a robust belief in all that his comradesdid, and in particular in the brains and muscles at work on this giantundertaking. With a sweep of his hand he pointed to a heavy truck, witha crane-like attachment built on it, running along the rails on one ofthe higher steps of the huge cutting on which he himself was engaged.
"Jest watch it," he invited Jim. "It's a treat to see it handle rails.You see, our rails wants shifting constantly; for as the diggers clearthe dirt they naturally want to get forward or outward, as the case maybe, seeing that we cut our steps away to the side. Anyhow, there's needto swap the rails from place to place and lay new tracks, and that 'eremachine is a track layer, which handles the double lengths of boltedrails as if they was sticks."
Jim was fascinated, indeed, as he watched this new wonder; for wonderthe machine undoubtedly was. As he looked he could realize that gangs ofmen and much time might be needed to shift the lines of rails, and time,he remembered, was an item of which his comrades were sparing. Bustlewas the order of the day, and of every succeeding day, on the isthmus.As to the machine, it swung its arm over a long length of rail, fastenedits clutches upon it, and lifted the double track, ready bolted to itssleepers, into the air. Then it trotted along the rails, and presentlydeposited its burden somewhere else.
"And by the time it's nipped back for another length, and has broughtit, the track gang has got the lengths in line, and has bolted thefishplates to it," explained Harry. "But that digger's waiting for us.Git along, Jim."
Breezy was not the word for this young American. He seemed to enjoyevery minute of his life, and would have made an admirable companion forone subject to depression. However, Jim was not that; our hero wasnaturally inclined to jollity, if at times serious, as became hisposition of responsibility, but with Harry beside him there was nothought of seriousness. They made a laughing, jolly couple on thedigger. The hours flew by, so that Jim was astonished when thefive-o'clock whistles blew.
"How's he shaping?" he heard a voice ask, and, turning, found it wasPhineas Barton, with another white beside him.
"Shaping! Say, ef there's a digger going free he's fit to take it rightoff, he's that careful," cried Harry. "See him at it, Major."
"You jest go along as you was before," he whispered in Jim's ear, as thelatter hopped back into the cab of the digger. "I ain't going to stay upthere alongside of you, 'cos there ain't no need; and you ain't got nocause to feel flustered. The Major's one of the works bosses, and reckonemployment lays with him. He'll know in a jiffy that you're able to dothe work."
To tell the truth our hero felt somewhat scared at the moment, moreeven than he had that morning when taking his place for the first timeon the machine. But he had perfect confidence now in his powers ofcontrol, and, with that assurance to help him, struggled against theunusual feeling of nervousness which had so suddenly attacked him, andlet the bucket of the digger rattle down to the bottom of the bank. Timeafter time he dug his way upwards, and delighted Harry by hismanagement.
"Gee! Ef he ain't got some brass!" the latter exclaimed beneath hisbreath, as the bucket swung out over the spoil train. "He's copying mewith a vengeance. I mind the time when I first started in at thebusiness, and it took me a sight longer to fix the emptying of thatbucket. But this here Jim has kind of tumbled to the knack. He swingsher out, and ain't stopped swinging afore he opens up and lets his dirtdrop. Ef that don't fix the Major, wall he don't deserve to have goodmen."
As a matter of fact the official was a good deal impressed; but he was acautious man, and was not inclined to be taken in by a demonstrationwhich might prove to be somewhat freakish. He told himself that underobservation there are some men who do better than others, only to breakdown on ordinary occasions, lacking the stimulus of a gallery toapplaud. He yet wanted to prove that this would-be employee had a headon his shoulders, and though he had heard the tale of the rescue, hedetermined to see if Jim could show coolness on dry land as well as inthe water. Therefore he strolled across to the head of the spoil train,to find the driver had not yet quitted his post, in fact he was just inthe act of uncoupling from the train, but willingly obeyed an order.Then the official strolled back, to find Jim still busy with the digger,and, waiting a favourable opportunity, waved his arm. What followed madeHarry stand up on his toes with anxiety.
"He's sure to boss it!" he growled. "Gee, if I don't talk to thatdriver! He knows as well as I do that he ought to blow his whistle aforegiving his engine steam to draw out. An old hand wouldn't be caught, butmost like Jim'll bungle it. He'll get his bucket opened over the train,and the moving cars will catch it."
That, it was evident, was the intention of the Major. He was applying atest which might well strain the cuteness of a raw hand; and, as ithappened, it was only watchfulness which saved Jim. Up came his bucket,a mass of dirt tumbling from its edge, and round spun the machine,swinging the bucket over the trucks. In a moment the bottom would fallopen. Harry could see him handling the rope which freed the trigger.Then he gave a sigh of satisfaction, for Jim had observed the
movement.His hand left the rope, the bucket stopped in its swing, there was thegrinding sound of moving gears, and promptly the massive beam returnedon its axis.
"That train's moving," he shouted. "I might have had a jam up."
"You might, and no mistake," said Phineas, coming up to the side of thecab. "You jest fixed the business nicely. Reckon if there had been abust-up the Major deserved to have to pay for the damage. Say, Major,here's a hand wanting a job."
"Bring him to the office to-morrow; I'll take him," was the shortreply. "Usual terms; he can get on to a digger way up by Culebra."
Before Jim could thank him the official had departed, leaving our herostill seated in the cab.
"You kin git down off that machine and eat a supper feeling you'veearned it," exclaimed Harry, coming up to him and gripping his hand."I'm main sorry though that you're to work at Culebra, 'cos it wouldhave been nice to meet of an evening."
"And no reason why you shouldn't," cried Phineas. "See here, Harry,Jim's to live with me. He and his sister will have quarters at thehouse, the two niggers and the Chinaman also. It's an exception, I know,but there it is. Of course he'll get his dinner and supper way up atCulebra; but he'll take breakfast with me, and of an evening he'll comedown to the club here. Guess you'll hear more of him."
That the arrangement was likely to prove satisfactory seemed certain,and it may be imagined that Jim was filled with glee. He sat inPhineas's parlour that night, behind the screen of copper gauze, withhis mind full of the morrow, wondering what Culebra would be like, andwhether the men working there could be half so pleasant as those he hadalready met.
The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal Page 5