The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great CanalBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Panama Canal (Panama) -- Juvenile fiction
Jim rubbed his eyes; the sudden change in the movement of progression of
the launch amazed him. He could hardly believe that she was retreating,
that those agitated ripples now spreading from her stern right forward
beyond the bows meant that she was departing. It was the whirr of her
engine and the splashing of her propeller as it churned the water
violently which brought the true facts clearly to his mind.
"They're off," he shouted; "we must follow. Quick, on to the launch!"
He dashed along the bank of the stream, calling loudly to the men, and
arriving opposite to their own vessel, swiftly cast adrift the rope
which had been passed from her stern to a tree growing close down to the
water. With a spring he was aboard, and, tumbling at once into the well,
he searched in the darkness for the starting handle. But however
convenient a gasolene motor may be on ordinary occasions, the fact
cannot be denied that there are at times difficulties in connection with
them. For instance, it was always a practice of Jim's to shut off his
petrol supply when the engine was not running; for otherwise there was
risk of leakage through the carburettor, and leakage of such a volatile
and inflammable fluid aboard a boat spells danger for those who man her.
Then, too, it happened that this engine trusted to drip lubricators for
her supply of oil, and though she might reasonably be expected to run
satisfactorily for a while without that supply, still, in the exciting
time before him, Jim might easily forget to turn up his lubricators, and
such neglect spelt failure for his party. After all, this was decidedly
one of those cases where it would be better to follow his usual routine,
and thereby make sure that the engine had everything in its favour.
"I'll have her running in double-quick time," he shouted. "Get that
painter cast off, Major; and, see here, can't you manage to push her
along until I have got the engine going?"
"Guess I'se got one mighty big pole here," called Tom, an instant later,
whilst the launch heaved and rolled as the ponderous fellow moved about.
"You get right along wid dat engine, Massa Jim. I'se gwine astern to
pole her."
Once more the launch rolled and heaved as Tom made his way rapidly aft.
Then his pole plunged into the water, one of the policemen pushed the
bows out from the bank, and, casting his eye upward for one brief
instant, Jim saw that they were moving. Meanwhile he had found the
gasolene tap and turned it, while the fingers of his other hand as
rapidly lifted the six lubricators which fed the engine with that fluid
so vital to her.
"Ready?" asked the Major tersely, his voice hard and cold, as if sudden
disappointment had changed it. "Get her going quick, my lad, or those
fellows will get clear away from us. Already they are steaming right out
into the lagoon."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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