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.