The Panama Canal: A history and description of the enterprise

by J. Saxon Mills

The business was soon over. Huertas ordered out his soldiers, who knew well enough what was going to happen. Then, as the military swells from Bogotá came on the ground, the little general gave the order, the rifles were levelled on the Colombians, and they were walked off to police headquarters and safely locked up. Then Governor Obaldia was also arrested and taken to prison, but this was only a formality. He was an ardent conspirator, but as he represented the central government, it was thought desirable to perform the symbolical act of arresting and deposing him. He was at once released.

There was now no going back. The next step was to announce the fact of the revolution to the gunboats, in the harbour, which were still a doubtful factor. Two of them, the Padilla and the Chucuito, remained silent; but the third, the Bogotá, sent word that if the generals were not released by ten o'clock it would turn its guns on to the city. The generals were, of course, not released, so at ten o'clock the Bogotá launched three shells into the city. One of these killed an unfortunate and innocent Chinese coolie near the barracks, and that was the only casualty that occurred during the whole course of the great Panama revolution. Then the Bogotá, that deed of slaughter accomplished, steamed out of the harbour.

The next morning the gunboat Padilla, which had been considering the situation during the night, suddenly made up its mind, steamed in to a snug anchorage under the fortified sea-wall, and hoisted the flag of free and independent Panama. The Padilla might have been called upon to make good its new allegiance, for a report was spread that the terrible Bogotá was returning to bombard, this time to good purpose. So a letter was drawn up by the consuls of the United States, Great Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Holland, Ecuador, Guatemala, Salvador, Denmark, Belgium, Cuba, Mexico, Brazil, Honduras, and Peru, protesting against the bombardment of a defenceless city without due notice to the consular corps as contrary to the rights and practices of civilized nations. What answer the justly enraged commander of the Bogotá would have returned to this rather representative address cannot be known, for the Bogotá, no doubt unnerved by the sensation of casting three live shells into a live town, never returned to witness the devastation it had wrought.

What in the meantime was occurring at Colon? Why had the 450 Colombian soldiers not flown to the rescue and vengeance of their captured officers? The explanation is simple, though perhaps unexpected—they could not pay their railway fares! After the departure of the generals for Panama on November 3, Colonel Torres, who had been left in charge of the government troops, demanded a "special" to take them across the isthmus. The superintendent of the line intimated that specials were procurable, but that fares must be paid. And the fares of 450 persons ran into money, in fact nearly $2,000 in gold, or quite a little wheelbarrowful of the depreciated Colombian silver. Anywhere but in Panama or Ruretania the plea of state necessity, which in presence of the 450 needed no demonstration, would have procured some concession from the railway authorities. But the railway rules provided for no such emergencies. No fare, no journey—that was the immutable railway law, and Colonel Torres had to lead his men back to their street encampments. It is one of the many remarkable coincidences at this juncture that the telegraphic and telephonic system also broke down, the wires refusing to transmit any messages from Colon to the officers at Panama.

At last, on November 4, Colon received the news of the revolution and the impounding of the Colombian officers. Some little impatience then appeared among the Colombian troops. They actually threatened to seize the railway and go across in spite of regulations. Also it was rumoured that Colonel Torres, losing for a moment his self-command, threatened to kill every American citizen in Colon unless his fellow-officers were at once liberated. At any rate, that rumour was duly reported to the commander of the Nashville, who, on the strength of it, at once landed fifty bluejackets to preserve the peace of the town. The commander also wrote to the alcalde of Colon and the chief of the police, giving the gist of an official order he had received from Washington. The order pointed out that to allow the passage of Colombian troops from Colon to Panama would excite a conflict between the forces of the two parties, and would thus interrupt the free and open transit of the isthmus which the United States was bound to maintain. The commander had therefore instructed the superintendent of the railways to afford carriage to the troops of neither party. Never was officer so outrageously impeded in the performance of his obvious duty as Colonel Torres. And right in the middle of the situation thus created the Carthagena, which had brought the Colombian troops to Colon, sailed demurely home.

In a few days there assembled some nine or ten vessels of the United States navy at Colon or Panama. On November 4 it was announced that the United States would permit the landing of no forces hostile to Panama within fifty miles of the city of Panama or anywhere at all on the Caribbean coast. Was not the United States government compelled by treaty obligations to preserve peace, the paying of fares, and "free and uninterrupted transit" at the isthmus? How unreasonable to suggest that the great and grown-up republic was protecting and taking the side of the little baby republic which had just been born at Panama!

But the 450 soldiers encamped with their wives in the streets of Colon were becoming an inconvenience, and it was highly desirable to remove this substantial lump of grit from the machinery of revolution. The commander of these troops himself helped to effect that object. He, in fact, offered to take his little army away in return for a satisfactory honorarium. The Panama treasury fortunately contained at that time a sum of $140,000 in debased Colombian coinage, worth about $56,000 in gold. A little of this might well be expended on clearing the country of the Colombian troops. The commander accepted $8,000 in gold, and quickly bundled the loyal troops and their spouses on board the Royal Mail steamship Orinoco for passage homewards. He himself did not propose to return home and report himself. His scheme was to go to Jamaica and spend his suddenly acquired wealth in "that loveliest of the Antilles." Then a cruel thing happened. The 450 got wind of the bargain their commander had made with the Panama government, and by a swift logical process concluded that the $8,000 which had been paid for their departure belonged to themselves as well as to their commander. So they laid hands on the hapless officer and took all the money from him. We may imagine the annoyance of the gentleman who had betrayed his country, dishonoured his name, and then lost the "tip" which had made it all worth while. His subsequent proceedings are nowhere recorded.

Just after the Colombian troops had set sail homewards a special train arrived at Colon bringing the captive generals, who had promised to go home without further fuss. They left Colon on November 12, so that they had plenty of time to contemplate the beginnings of the new régime in Panama. All kinds of reports began to arrive about the intentions of the government at Bogotá. A naval expedition was said to be on the way from Buenaventura, but the United States navy had instructions to take care of any experiments of that sort. Then the news came that a land expedition was approaching along the isthmus. That would have implied a real triumph of original exploration. It would have meant clearing a road for troops through impenetrable jungle, through which it is hard to cut the narrowest track by means of the machete or the long Spanish cutlass. The untamed San Blas Indians, who permit no white man to spend a single night in their territory, would have mobilized against the invasion, and so would the wild cats and anacondas and monkeys, who share with the Indians the sovereignty of that tangled wilderness.

The revolution was an accomplished fact, and Colombia could do nothing but accept the inevitable and reflect on the disappointment of her golden dreams. The revolutionists had been ready with their constitutional arrangements. The municipal council of Panama had met immediately after the coup d'état. It was unanimously voted that Panama should be a free and independent republic, and a provisional ministry was at once appointed. These proceedings were ratified the same afternoon at a mass meeting of the people of Panama held in the cathedral square. A formal manifesto was also issued, constituting a declaration of independence and a justification of the revolt. It opens magniloquently: "The transcendental act that by a spontaneous movement the inhabitants of the isthmus of Panama have just executed is the inevitable consequence of a situation which has become graver daily." It goes on to set forth the grievances of Panama under the Colombian connection and the events which had led to the revolution. It ends in an almost pathetic note:—

At separating from our brothers of Colombia we do it without hatred and without any joy. Just as a son withdraws from his paternal roof, the isthmian people in adopting the lot it has chosen have done it with grief, but in compliance with the supreme and inevitable duty it owes to itself—that of its own preservation and of working for its own welfare. We therefore begin to form a part among the free nations of the world, considering Colombia as a sister nation, with which we shall be whenever circumstances may require it, and for whose prosperity we have the most fervent and sincere wishes.[6]