Gold Seekers of '49 Part 14

"What's that big point? Porto Bello?"

"The pirates captured it, didn't they, couple of hundred years ago?"

"Can you see the old fort on it?"

"How far's the Pacific Ocean, now?"

"Do we land in that big bay?"

"Don't think so. That's Limon Bay, isn't it? Where is Colon?"

"Colon is where the railroad's going to begin. We land at Chagres."

"Where is Chagres?"

"How far across to the Pacific at Panama?"

"About four days. Three by boat and one by mule, they say."

"Anything to eat at Chagres? Any sleeping place?"

"Don't know."

"Oh, Tom! How'll we engage a canoe? Ought to make up a party and send a man ash.o.r.e at once, oughtn't we?"

Accompanied by this babel of cries, the _Georgia_ steamed up along the sh.o.r.e. She pa.s.sed the lofty headland, which seemed to guard a fine harbor; and she pa.s.sed the big bay which people said was Limon. The sh.o.r.e looked very tropical, with its beaches and palms and green hills and thatched huts and glimpses of bright tinted towns, while behind rose the mountain range. Charley gazed spellbound.

"Say, where is Chagres?" were asking the pa.s.sengers crowding along the insh.o.r.e rail.

Yes, indeed; where was Chagres? The _Georgia_ was supposed to land at the town of Chagres, which was at the mouth of the Chagres River, and the way to California then lay up the Chagres River, by canoe, as far as possible; over the mountains by mule, down to the Pacific Ocean at Panama; and aboard the Pacific Mail Company steams.h.i.+p there, for San Francisco.

"According to the map," said Mr. Adams, "Chagres is about eight miles up the coast from Limon Bay. I shouldn't wonder if we were turning in for it now."

Sure enough, the _Georgia_ was beginning to point for the sh.o.r.e, which rose high and steep, seamed with darker lines that proved to be ravines running down to the sea. A narrow inlet opened in the sh.o.r.e; no, this was the mouth of a river--the Chagres River, said several voices.

"I see a castle," cried Charley. "It looks like a castle, anyway. On top of the cliff, above the river. Or maybe it's a fort."

"San Lorenzo castle, they call it, I believe," announced Mr. Grigsby.

Closer to the river's mouth and the castle above swept the _Georgia_.

Her whistle sounded hoa.r.s.ely. Still no town appeared; and to general disappointment, when about a quarter of a mile from sh.o.r.e, opposite the mouth of the river, she stopped her engines, there was a rattle of chains through the hawse holes, and she had dropped anchor! Almost immediately a boat pulled away from her, for the sh.o.r.e. It contained the captain and two or three other officials. They soon entered the mouth of the river and disappeared. The pa.s.sengers, pressed against the rails on all the decks, their hand baggage ready, murmured irritably, but no other boats were launched and evidently it was not yet time for them also to go ash.o.r.e.

"If you two will look after the baggage, I'll try to get ash.o.r.e among the first and hire a boat," offered Mr. Adams.

"That's the best idea," approved Mr. Grigsby. "There won't be boats enough to go 'round, and somebody'll get left."

Charley saw his father shouldering his way through the crowd, to the head of the stairs, into which he made further way. He descended from sight. Down below he would have a harder time, for the crowd at the rails of the lower decks was thicker, where people had cl.u.s.tered hanging close so as to be in the first of the boats. But Mr. Adams could take care of himself, all right, whether lame or not. He had been in many a battle.

For a time there was nothing to do but gaze at the sh.o.r.e--at the old, crumbling Castle of San Lorenzo, where through gla.s.ses a few cannon could be descried; at the clumps of palms, standing like plumes; at the rolling green hills, bordering the sh.o.r.e, and at the distant mountain range which was to be crossed after the river had been ascended as far as possible. Beyond the mountains lay the Pacific Ocean, where, at the city of Panama, the steamer for California would be boarded by those who got there in time. Except for the dots of soldiers, surveying the _Georgia_ from the walls of the fort, the only signs of life ash.o.r.e were the thatched roofs of some huts, back among the trees.

In the course of an hour another murmur arose from the impatient pa.s.sengers, for the s.h.i.+p's boat reappeared, issuing from the narrow mouth of the river--and with it was a much larger boat that soon turned out to be a big canoe, manned by half a dozen natives. Both boats headed for the s.h.i.+p. The canoe reached it first. It was a dug-out, fas.h.i.+oned from the single trunk of a tree; and its crew, wielding their paddles, were black as coals, their naked bodies streaming with perspiration. On their legs they wore white cotton trousers, loose and comfortable.

They halted amids.h.i.+ps, under the steamer's rail, where while the thousand faces stared down at them they gestured and called up. All that Charley could understand were the words: "Go ahead!" They held up their fingers, opening them and closing them to indicate twenty, evidently. But the pa.s.sengers could do nothing, although some of them almost jumped overboard in their excitement.

Now the s.h.i.+p's boat with the second mate in it hove alongside. The mate clambered up, by the rope ladder which was lowered for him and closely guarded. He made himself heard the best he could and the word speedily traveled fore and aft, on all the decks, that the canoe would take ash.o.r.e twenty people, at once.

"And he says we've just time, if we start to-day, to catch the _California_ at Panama," was reported.

What a hubbub resulted! Of course, every party aboard s.h.i.+p tried to place in the canoe their man who would engage a canoe, ash.o.r.e, for the river trip. The tussle looked and sounded like a free-for-all fist-fight. Down the rope-ladder swarmed the picked men, each trying to out-elbow the others, and dropped recklessly into the dug-out. Two men jumped for the dug-out from the lower deck, and fell sprawling.

Another sprang overboard, and climbed in, dripping. But Charley was relieved to see, among the lucky ones worming down the rope-ladder, his father. Hurrah for dad!

Mr. Adams was none too early. The boatmen were jabbering and dodging and shouting. Already the dugout was loaded with its twenty, but the rope-ladder was as full as ever. Out from the s.h.i.+p's side shoved the big canoe, its captain shaking his head vigorously at the pa.s.sengers above and yelling: "No! No!" while his men began to ply their paddles.

Now there was a splash in the water, and a chorus of cries and laughter. A pa.s.senger who was bound not to be left had dived overboard, after the canoe. Up he rose, to the surface, and struck out. He was the long-nosed man, Mr. Jacobs!

"Wait! Wait! Man overboard!" rang the excited shouts to the dug-out; and Mr. Jacobs himself, swimming as high as he could, waved an arm and shouted.

But the crew of the dug-out only looked back and laughed; their captain, steering, shook his head and motioned no; and faster and faster traveled the canoe. The long-nosed man swam hard for a little way, when, giving up, he turned and came back to the s.h.i.+p.

The pa.s.sengers gave him a round of applause mixed with laughter, as he clambered aboard; but leaning over to watch, Charley saw him pause at the rail and shake his fist after the retreating dug-out. He was not a good loser.

"Well, _he's_ left, anyhow," greeted Mr. Grigsby, when Charley hastened back to find him and tell him. Mr. Grigsby was so tall, that he had seen as well as Charley, who was little and could squeeze about under people's arms. "It's a wonder. That kind of person usually swipes the best seat."

"I'm glad, aren't you?" answered Charley. "Maybe we won't have any more trouble with him."

"Humph! Can't count on that yet," a.s.serted Mr. Grigsby.

"My father didn't get left. He's in the boat, all right," said Charley, proudly.

"Yes. I knew he'd make it. Now as soon as we can get ash.o.r.e we'll start up-river."

But nothing was done aboard the _Georgia_, toward landing the pa.s.sengers, until another hour. Then suddenly the word spread: "Get your baggage. Everybody ash.o.r.e," and the sailors began to lower the boats.

By the fight for place, that again occurred, anybody would have thought that the s.h.i.+p was sinking and that only those people who got into the boats at once would be saved! The parties who had no men ash.o.r.e were the most determined to be first.

"Pshaw! Let 'em go," spoke Mr. Grigsby, as the shoving crowd jostled him and Charley hither and thither. "We can wait. I'm not specially anxious to be capsized and lose all our stuff."

Boat after boat, loaded to the water's edge, pulled away from the s.h.i.+p for the sh.o.r.e, canoes hastened to help, and still the pa.s.sengers clamored and fought. In the confusion Charley lost all track of the long-nosed man and his partners. The main thought now was, when could he and Mr. Grigsby get ash.o.r.e and find his father?

When the boats returned for their second loads there was another hurly-burly, but the decks were thinning out, and pus.h.i.+ng to the nearest ladder Charley and the Fremonter managed to climb down, lowering their baggage, into the boat there. The boat was loaded full almost instantly, and away it pulled, for the sh.o.r.e again.

Standing up, because there wasn't s.p.a.ce to sit down, Charley eagerly gazed ahead. Slowly the sh.o.r.e enlarged; and turning the high point on which was the Castle of San Lorenzo the boat entered the mouth of the river. A little bay unfolded, its sh.o.r.e high on the left, low and marshy on the right. On the left, at the foot of the thickly wooded bluffs, among bananas and plantains, appeared a little group of peak-roofed huts, all the muddy bank in front of them alive with the _Georgia's_ pa.s.sengers. Was that the town of Chagres? Well, who would want to live _here_!

The pa.s.sengers already landed were running about like ants, every one acting as if his life again depended upon his getting away immediately.

The landing place was covered with baggage which had been dumped ash.o.r.e. A number of canoes were lying in the shoal water, and a number of others had been hauled out while their owners repaired them. Amidst the baggage, and over the canoes, swarmed the _Georgia's_ pa.s.sengers, in their flannel s.h.i.+rts or broadcloth or muddy white, shouting and pleading and threatening, trying to hire the boatmen.

"There's your father," spoke Mr. Grigsby, suddenly, to Charley, as their boat neared the busy landing.