May, 1852.
The weather being fine, the roads were in tolerable order when we arrived at Panama; we made light, therefore, of the journey, and, having arrived at Gorgona, we dismounted from our mules, and, taking boats, went swiftly down the rapid river, landing at the village of Barbacoes, to which point the railway was now completed.
The station-house consisted of a large shed, in which hundreds of fowls and thousands of eggs were being cooked, eaten, and paid for with astonishing rapidity. I observed, among other things, that the coffee was just as weak and scalding hot at Barbacoes, as at Wolverhampton, or any other refreshment station.
There was no time-table here at this period; but the line had this advantage over most others, that the
train started at the time specified by the authorities; for they waited until it suited them, and then gave the order to “let her slide.�
On this eventful day, however, we had not “slidâ€� above two miles when the train stopped. Returning Californians are of a vivacious temperament generally, and are seldom at their ease when sitting down inactive; therefore, the instant the train stopped, every man jumped out to see what was the matter. The cause was soon apparent; we were ascending an inclined plane, and the little engine—which, Hercules by name, was not Hercules by nature—had declined to proceed any further. In vain the sooty stoker emptied his oil-can into the fire to induce if possible more steam; the little engine, as it ineffectually tried a fresh start, looked piteous, and seemed to say, “How can you expect a little chap like me to pull nine hundred of these big fellows up a hill like this? Let ’em get out and shove me over.â€� This argument seemed to strike the conductor, for, without further preface, he said, “Now, lads, heave together,â€� and at once we all set our shoulders to the concern, and got more speed out of it than “Herculesâ€� had done from the start. There was but one line of rails laid down, and, although the authorities were not particular with regard to the time of starting, we had the comfort of knowing that a collision with the other train could not be very serious. I wonder what we should have done had we been met by an up-train; one of us would have had to retire, for “Herculesâ€� could not have taken us back, and it was not likely we were going to shove ourselves back to Barbacoes.
The scene would have been splendid, for like the two goats that met on the narrow bridge, one train would have tried to force the other back, and in this contest of personal strength I think the nine hundred returning Californians would most probably have won the day, and entered Aspinwall in triumph.
Having reached the top of the hill, we all got in, and Hercules making the most of the descent ran away with us for three miles, when we got out again, and so on. The road lay through a thick jungle of splendid teaks, and palms, and ferns of every variety; the rich epiphytes brushed against our carriage windows, and the air was suffused with that sweet fragrance which is alone known in a tropical forest after rain has fallen. Myriads of little land-crabs of a turquoise colour lined the banks, and as the time had now arrived when we might discharge our revolvers and put them away, the blue land-crabs had the advantage of several hundred bullets, and whilst Hercules rushed impetuously through the jungle, pop, pop, pop, went the “six-shooters,� and as the land crabs turned over on their blue backs to die, they presented to the astonished beholder yellow bellies and green eyes.