All too soon the delightful trip was about to end. We were in Colon harbor. Already a line of cocoanut palms had burst upon our view, and the captain said that the pretty town in the distance was Cristobal. Every one was shaking hands preparatory to going ashore. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and the last train had gone to Panama, so we were obliged to spend the night at a Colon hotel.
I shall never forget with what feelings of disgust I went up the dirty stairs to the bedroom which had been assigned to three of the nurses and myself. There were broad verandas, around the hotel, and they were littered with all kind of rubbish. The walls and floor of the bedroom were bare and dingy, but the beds really looked clean. We did not sleep that night because of the noise in the room next to ours. A disreputable character occupied it, and she spent the night in a drunken revel with some friends. In the morning I caught a glimpse of her, and I was amazed to see that she was a notorious character who had been tried for bigamy, she having married two young men, sons of wealthy parents, within the space of a few months.
The New York yellow journals had featured her scandalous behavior, and she finally dropped out of sight. On seeing her, a gloom settled on my very soul, and a feeling of loathing for Colon came into my mind.
I was glad when the train which was to take us to Panama pulled out of the station. As it sped on, we were charmed with the wild beauty of the country. The luxurious tropical verdure was truly delightful, and helped to cheer us after our depressing experience of the night before.
The train was dirty and the service bad. The conductor came and set down beside me with the ease and freedom of a dear brother. He asked me questions about myself and talked freely of his own past as follows:
“I came from the Far West, and I ain’t ever intending to go back. I been a conductor on a railroad for nigh on fifteen years, an’ I tell you what, I been a high flyer. I stole $30,000, killed a man who robbed me of my girl, an’ then just lit out. Panama ain’t got no terrors for me,” he continued, “though I will say that it is the doggondest place for crooks that I ever struck.”
He chewed tobacco vigorously, and he spat through the open window in a noisy sort of a way that was as amusing as it was disgusting.
“I’d like to marry a good, nice girl from the States,” he went on, “but good ones from there is goldarned scarce. Some of the boys is taken up with wenches, but I’m kind of particular about myself. Though I ain’t been no saint, the woman I marry’ll have to be purty free from the dark spots on her soul, an’ her skin’ll be white if I have me eyesight. I’m gittin’ $211 a month, an’ the system is so goldurned bad that a feller could knock down twice as much as that. I do want to be honest, but with a system like this it’s purty hard fer a feller to be strictly on the square.”
I looked into his face as he said this, and I was impressed with its honesty. He had rather a likeable personality, and his kindly blue eyes would have a tendency to inspire one with confidence. He had a strong face, too—a face that might belong to one’s most respected friend—and yet I felt my flesh creep at the thought that he was a self-confessed thief and murderer. After a pause he resumed:
“All the folks that come in on this train’ll be measured for their coffins as soon as they land at Panama. Folks is dyin’ like sheep here now with yellow fever, and the place ain’t fit for Americans to live in.”