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
"Six or seven knots faster than the steam launch can make," said the
Major. "If only we can sight the spot where they have put in before
darkness comes, we ought to make short work of them to-morrow. In any
case we must discover some sort of haven in which to lie to-night."
But, search as they might, it was already dusk before Tom's sharp eyes
hit upon an opening on the flat, dismal coast.
"Fresh water come down dere," he cried, after a while, staring
coastward. "Water blue and clean, not same as dis hereabouts. By lummy,
but dere a riber in dere, where we can lie fo to-night. Den boil de
kettle, cook de meal, hab little sing-song."
"I don't think so," exclaimed Jim at once. "If we make a port there'll
be no singing, especially from a noisy fellow such as you are. But I
believe he's right, Major; the water does seem clearer here. Probably a
stream running into the sea."
"Then we'll explore. We can't venture farther along in any case, and it
will be dark even now before we enter unless we hurry. Push her along,
my lad; but go easy as we get close in."
Thanks to the fact that the gasolene launch drew but a couple of feet of
water, there was no need for extreme caution; and, besides, the coast
thereabouts was practically free of rocks. Still, there was mud, mud in
abundance, and were the launch to run hard upon it she would stick in
that position, so arresting further pursuit.
"Easy now!" commanded the Major, after a while, when the land was close
at hand, and a thick fringe of tropical vegetation within close range.
"There's the river entrance; narrow enough in all conscience. Take her
along to the centre, Jim, and be ready to reverse if I give the order."
He went clambering along past his men till he sat right forward, the
diminutive Sam joining him there, as if he thought he needed help. In
fact, but for the little fellow's sharp eyes they would certainly have
brought the expedition to an abrupt conclusion, for a huge sunken tree
blocked a goodly portion of the river channel just at its exit into the
sea.
"Hold dere!" shouted Sam, raising both hands. "Back um! Yo see dat snag
down dar, sah? Him rip de bottom out ob us quick as noting. Break um up,
send de boat to Davy Jones, and all ob us to the sharks or crocodiles.
Back um, Massa Jim!"
"He's right! I can see it now--a huge tree," sang out the Major. "That's
very awkward. Seems to prove that we are on the wrong track."
"'Spose yo gib Sam de painter, den swim or wade ashore. Easy pull de
launch right up to de tree, den see wheder we can get past um. If too
much in de way, den put Tom oberboard. Him lift de tree away. If
crocodile dere, no matter; Tom very good to eat."
The little man grinned at the big negro, while the latter shook an
enormous fist at him, and bared his teeth in just that same manner as
had had such effect upon Jaime de Oteros. But Sam recked little of the
signal.
"Yo one big, hulkin' nigger, yo," he grinned. "Yo eat wonderful nice and
tasty."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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