The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great CanalBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Panama Canal (Panama) -- Juvenile fiction
Curiosity caused him to run nimbly up the steps again. His head was just
emerging from the opening when the shout was repeated, while it was
taken up instantly by men above his head, on the bridge of the ship. At
the same moment there came the tinkle of the engine telegraph.
"Port! Port your helm! Hard a port!" he heard the lookout shout from his
post on the forecastle. "Ship ahead! Port your helm!"
"Hard astern, Mr. Dingle! hard astern!" came in steady but sharp tones
from the bridge, then there followed once more the tinkle of the
telegraph. Jim felt the tremble and throb of the engines suddenly die
down; indistinct shouts came to him from somewhere in the interior of
the coaster. Then the engine throbs recurred furiously, as if the ship
were making a frantic effort. Crash!
He was thrown hard against the combing of the gangway, his head striking
the woodwork heavily, so that he was partially stunned. That and the
succeeding jar, as the coaster came end on into the bows of another
steamer, toppled Jim over. He lost his foothold, and rolled down the
steps into the gangway down below. Then he picked himself up, feeling
dazed and giddy, and for a moment held tight to a pillar supporting the
deck.
"A collision," he told himself. "A bad one too--full tilt into one
another. It's shaken the electric light out. Lucky they keep an
emergency oil lamp going."
The temptation to dash up on deck was strong within him, and had he been
alone on the vessel, with none to care for, no doubt he would have
obeyed the inclination. But there was Sadie; Jim was her protector. He
dashed at once towards her cabin, and came upon her at the doorway,
looking frightened.
"There's been a collision, Sadie, dear," he said, endeavouring to keep
his voice quiet. "Guess we may have to move; let me come in and fix
you."
The child was not undressed, fortunately, and Jim at once pushed into
the cabin, groped for one of the cork life preservers which are placed
in overhead racks, and adjusted it to her body.
"Now," he said, "bring a warm coat, and leave the other things. Ah,
here's Tom!"
"Sah; me here, right enough. You's not hurt, nor missie?"
"Not a scratch, Tom. Just take Sadie right up on deck and stand beside
her. That Sam?"
In the dusk outside there was a second figure, and behind that another.
The faithful negroes, and Ching Hu, the Chinaman, had rallied at once to
their youthful master.
"Me, in course," cried the little Sam. "Guess this here's a collision.
But we ain't got no cause to mind; not at all, not at all, missie."
"Get life belts, put them on, and then go on deck," said Jim shortly.
"Sadie, take charge of this bag of dollars. I'm going up to see what's
happened."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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