CHAPTER IV
Congress Redivivus
Visit to the Culebra Cut—Culebra Ridge—Trying to Learn of Time of Departure of Boats—Yellow Fever Causes Stampede—The Eastern Contingent Arrives and Visits President Amador—All Is Lively Again—Last Business Meeting that Was not the Last—The Great Eastern Report—Another Meeting Voted—Wishing Well of Panama.
On Friday morning the congresistas were taken to the Culebra cut to learn how a little mountain could be gnawed in two, and show how a big breakfast could be swallowed. As I had heard all there was to be said about the cut and had gone through it slowly and comfortably on an express train, I did not care to hurry through it on foot under a hot sun; for after all there was more to be imagined than seen. As far as the banquet was concerned there was more to be seen than could be eaten, and my stomach needed rest, not exercise. But the others had had more experience and practice in eating than in fasting or dieting, and naturally preferred doing what they could do best.
But I can not pass this part of my narrative without indulging in a digression—not to my stomach, but to the great Culebra[2] Mountain Ridge, Nature’s pre-historic sea serpent, which had successfully stood the test of earthquakes and volcanic action, and had held the impatient oceans apart ever since it arose out of the open sea and divided them. It was there when Columbus discovered the continent, when Cortez fought, Pizarro crossed and Morgan plundered. It witnessed the moving of all the gold that glutted Spain. It laughed at the engineering schemes of explorers. It snored at the pickaxes and shovels of France. It balked the tricks of trusts, the greed of commerce and the changes of time. It is left for U. S. to conquer it. Let U. S. watch and pay. Let U. S. smite the rock and start the water. Let U. S., the only Americans, live up to our pretensions. The eyes of the world are upon U. S. and the great Culebra, the dreaming dragon of Panama snores and sings, “Lass mich schlafen.” Let U. S. be wiser than the serpent. Let U. S. return with interest the gold that was carried away by Spain, and our children shall conquer the great Culebra.
[2] Culebra is the Spanish for serpent.
I executed a little Chinese shopping after “coffee,” and did considerable scouting, trying to learn something about the departure of boats from Colón for New Orleans, but accomplished nothing definite. I had written three days before to W. Andrews & Co., the agents at Colón, and had just received an indefinite answer referring me to the Panama Estrella and Herald, in which the arrivals would be announced. This was quite unsatisfactory, for the time of departure was never known until after the boats had arrived. And as they always departed as soon as they had unloaded, and the consignments to Colón were frequently small, I might not have time to get there after the notice had gone through the delays of being printed at Panama nearly a hundred miles from the port.
I ate my eleven o’clock breakfast in the usual way, and afterward took my siesta in the usual way, and attended the three o’clock scientific meeting in the usual way, feeling much more fit for mental exertion than if I had breakfasted and bibbed in the Culebra cut. Papers on General Medicine were read and our ignorance of life and death scientifically expounded.
Yellow fever rumors and mosquito stories had been circulating since the evening before and the ladies were becoming panicky and were clamoring to return to Colón to be ready to catch the first ship for home. Five fever patients and two suspects had been discovered and taken to the hospital. Hence Doctor and Mrs. Brower, Doctor Waite, Doctor Senn, Doctor and Mrs. Crile, Doctor Newman, Doctor Frank and several others did not hesitate to take the afternoon train for Colón. I had no fear of yellow fever and malaria since mosquitoes had corners on these markets and had not bitten me, or at least had not succeeded in penetrating through my skin. Panama mosquitoes are small and have short stingers. Hence I concluded that it was safe to wait until the next day, in order to see and say goodbye to the fashionable Easterners when they “passed first base on their home run.”
About the time our afternoon session, which was the last of the scientific ones, adjourned, the Eastern delegates arrived under the guidance of the faithful and long-suffering President Icaza, who had been at Colón waiting for them since the evening before. Those of us who had remained accompanied the newly arrived delegates to President Amador’s second complimentary reception, given in order that none of the members might be slighted. Champagne was again passed around and constituted the only refreshment connected with the congress that the Easterners arrived in time to enjoy. And that probably did not come out of the $25,000 barrel. The Westerners had done their duty.
At the hotel all was lively again, for the new arrivals more than replaced those who had departed, both in numbers and animation. The closing business meeting, scheduled for 8 P. M., was called to order at nine in an immense scantily furnished corner room on the second floor over the barroom. It was called the parlor. Ladies and guests were present, and the majority of the men were in evening dress. The army medical officers were dressed in white duck suits trimmed with heavy white braid on the front edges of the jackets, on the shoulders, cuffs and outer seams of the trouser legs. This white, fancy dress suit constituted a tropical uniform of appropriate beauty and purity, and was worn on full-dress occasions by government officials. A formal speech was made by a delegate of each country represented, and finally the Eastern contingent asked the privilege of making a report. The favor was courteously granted.
Doctor MacDonald, of Greater New York, arose and began his report. But the forgotten National band was in attendance below in the patio and, thinking it their turn, started playing, “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night,” so that although the doctor’s lips moved vigorously and there was intelligence in his facial expression, no voice could be heard. The secretary’s smile vanished for a moment as he rushed out on the veranda of the patio and waved the well-meaning musical patriots, who had stuck to the congress closer than friends, to silence. When order was restored and smiles smoothed out, the speaker began again.
“Mr. President! Members of the Fourth Pan-American Medical Congress! Physicians of Panama! Conquerors and possessors of this beautiful waist of our glorious continent, of which the United States is the bosom and Brazil the bustle!
“On behalf of those who, like Achilles, have been beaten about by unpropitious winds; on behalf of those who were unfortunate enough to embark in an ancient ship called the Athos, built by Greeks and navigated by dagoes, and renamed by us the Pathos, I wish to give greetings, and submit our report to the North American members, the Middle American members, and the South American member.
“Our classic ship had chosen December 12, 1904, at 11 A. M. to sail from Baltimore, and promised to arrive at Colón the next year in time for us to be here to breakfast with you at 11 A. M. But the ship left one day late. It was bound for a Spanish country where to-morrow is always in time, and where to-morrow never arrives. And the jealous dagoes, not to be outdone by rivals or arrivals on the old Spanish main, added another to-morrow, and another, knowing that they had only doctors to deal with.
“And we, like good Samaritans and average physicians, allowed them to do as they pleased, viz., to start late and put us in a special ship that has not been seaworthy since the birth of Christ, and is good only for doctors who are supposed to delight in resuscitating one another when shipwrecked. And when we awoke on the day we were to arrive for breakfast we, to our surprise, discovered that we were three days from our destination. We consulted, we agreed, but we found no remedy. We had no firearms about our persons, and only firewater at our disposal. We had lances and poisons and corkscrews with us, but could only kill time. And so we allowed the dagoes to live to bring us here.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is our excuse which must, on account of the importance of our mission, go on our records as a matter of history and hysteria, for we had members of both sexes among us.
“But we are here, and desire to thank you for waiting for us, for delaying President Amador’s reception until this afternoon, and the opening exercises until this evening. We are glad to come in time to assist you in honoring and emptying the $25,000 barrel.[3]
[3] The following newspaper clipping deserves to be preserved as a part of the subsequent history of this remarkable boat:
FACE DANGERS OF OCEAN.
VACATION PARTY IN PERIL.
STEAMER ATHOS ARRIVES OFF SCOTLAND LIGHT-SHIP WITH
A TALE OF WOE AND A LOT OF SICK AND
HUNGRY PASSENGERS.
“New York, Aug. 22.—The steamer Athos, seventeen days late, with eight passengers, a cargo of rotten bananas and the bones of half-eaten sharks on board, arrived off Scotland light-ship late last night.
“July 30 the Donald Steamship Company’s steamer Athos left Port Antonio, Jamaica, for New York, a six day’s voyage, with provisions in plenty for this short period. Three hours out of port an eccentric rod on the engine broke, and from that hour until last Sunday, proceeding sometimes only an hour a day under her own steam, the Athos drifted at the mercy of storms, in constant danger of famine, once without drinking water, and receiving supplies from time to time from passing vessels, until the disabled steamer gave up Aug. 20 and signaled the Altai for a tow. This steamer brought the Athos to New York.
“The trouble was in the engine all the time. From July 30 to Aug. 7 one to two breaks daily were recorded. The log chronicles the fact that the daily delay was only thirty minutes long Aug. 5. Two days later the catching of the sharks is recorded. Chinamen on board attempted to eat the sharks, but the meat made them ill and the fish were thrown into the sea. During the next two days boats were lowered from the Athos in search of food fish.
“BANANAS TAINT WATER.”
“Aug. 8 the disabled steamer sighted the steamship Adirondack and signaled ‘All well on board,’ but Aug. 10 the last tank of water was opened and was found to be tainted with the juice of rotting bananas. Some dolphin were caught two days later, and Aug. 13 the incipient famine was relieved by the steamer Montevideo, which supplied provisions.
“Between Aug. 10 and 17 the engine’s shaft was useless, and not only was the steamer forced to drift about while repairs were under way, but for two days of this period a great storm and high seas broke over the helpless steamship. The log meanwhile indicates that more dolphin were caught. Aug. 18 the coupling flange broke and the Athos abandoned the attempt to make New York under her own steam, after twenty days of repeated accidents. It was decided to accept the first offer of a tow. This did not come for two days, during which a second famine was averted by the steamer Vera, which came alongside the Athos, supplying food and drink.
“Worse even than the danger of famine and of thirst, the passengers say, was the odor of the decaying banana cargo.
“At Scotland light-ship last night the tow line broke as a last chapter in her long series of accidents, and the Athos could not repair the broken line in the dark, but anchored for the night, while the Altai brought her passengers to quarantine. To-day tugs were sent out to bring the Athos into port.”
One of the congresistas arose to a point of order and informed the ancient orator of the Athos that we were celebrating the closing session, that the meetings had been held, the contributions discussed and the contents of the barrel dissipated.
MacDonald of Athos looked enquiringly at Icaza of Panama who, understanding neither English nor Athos when spoken so fluently, smiled politely and said nothing, while the band taking advantage of a moment of silence, played enthusiastically and loudly.
“Mr. President,” he began again, when the band had done its duty, “I am glad there is a congresista left to tell the tale. I understand that the previous deliberations of the congress have been carried on by a minority (since the majority were in the Athos, now the Pathos, holding majority meetings) and are therefore void. If they are not void, I move that they be voided, and that the congress begin over again.”
The secretary ventured to say that such was an impossibility since there was nothing left of the $25,000 barrel but a barrel of beer, a hundred bottles of White Rock, a can of evaporated cream, and half a bottle of Mountain Dew.
“Then I withdraw my motion,” said the speaker, “and move that all of the meetings held on the Athos, and afterward on the Pathos, be reported in full to the secretary, and be constituted a part of the transactions of the Fourth Pan-American Medical Congress.
The South American delegate arose and spoke against the motion as being irregular and unparliamentary, and would establish a bad precedent. He wished to place the vote of the entire continent of South America on record against it.
Doctor MacDonald replied, saying that he spoke for North America. He was from Greater New York, in which lived one out of every twenty-one persons of the United States; the others lived out of town. Therefore, in behalf of those he represented, he felt it his duty to insist upon the motion. It would enable the Athosnians or Pathosnians (whichever name might in the future prevail) to hold another closing scientific session mañana for the presentation of the Pathos proceedings, and to leave immediately afterward so as to reach Havana on the last day of the meeting of the Pan-American Public Health Association—and be able to do the same thing there. MacDonald was a born leader, and conducted himself more like a man accustomed to dictate terms at the head of a nation rather than at the head of a bed.
The president listened with rapt attention and, not understanding the New York dialect, smiled politely in approval. Thereupon the secretary put the motion and the Pathosnians, being in the majority, carried it. The secretary explained the situation to the president, who smiled and nodded, but whether ’twas with pleasure, displeasure or in sarcasm, no one knew. A motion to adjourn to meet at 8 A. M. the next morning prevailed. The band then played Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” and the meeting broke up brilliantly.
What transpired at the business meeting the next morning at 8 A. M., I do not know, for I took the train for Colón at seven, fearing to delay any longer lest in the meantime a ship might arrive and set sail with my Chicago friends.
I was treated well by the Panamanians right up to the end, and will always retain a kind feeling for them and their gentlemanly doctors. I hope that Panama will apply for statehood in the United States in the near future. We like the Panamanians, and wish to take them into our family and share with them our prosperity, our affections and their afflictions. Colombians are apt to distrust us and believe that we have captured Panama, but they are mistaken. Panama has captured us and our money, and we forgive them.