Part 23 (1/2)

”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 ca.n.a.l 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 ca.n.a.l 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 ma.s.s 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 ma.s.s 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 ca.n.a.l 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 pa.s.s 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.