On the third day of their trip, they reached the Pedro Miguel Locks, forty miles from the Atlantic. In its general features, it was patterned after those at Gatun. Here, the vessel, which had been sailing along at a height of eighty-five feet above sea level after it left Gatun, would begin to drop toward the Pacific. It would descend thirty feet, then sail across an artificial lake for a mile and a half, until it reached the Miraflores Locks, the last place where it would be halted on its trip to the Western Ocean. Here there were two chambers, each lowering the ship twenty-seven and a half feet, making a drop of fifty-five feet in all. From there, for a distance of eight miles, it would pass through a channel, five hundred feet wide and forty-five deep, until at last it reached the sea.
And now the whole stupendous plan lay before them as clear as crystal. As in a panorama, they saw the vessel, as it left the Atlantic and prepared to climb the backbone of the continent. It would come up the Bay of Limon to the entrance of the Canal, and there the sailing craft would fold its wings, the liner would shut off steam. On the wide expanse of Gatun Lake they would again proceed under their own power. Through the Canal proper they would be drawn by electric traction engines, running upon the walls. At Gatun, they would climb, by three successive steps, to a point eighty-five feet above sea level. Crossing Gatun Lake, they would pass through the Culebra Cut to the Pedro Miguel Locks. A downward jump of thirty feet here, another of fifty-five feet at the Mirafiores Locks, a level sail for eight miles more, and they would emerge on the broad bosom of the Pacific. Then the sails would be broken out, the engines begin to throb, and away to the western coast or Manila, or Australia, or China and Japan. The dream of four hundred years would have become a glorious reality.
In ten hours, the largest steamship could ride in safety from ocean to ocean. The distance from New York to San Francisco by sea would be shortened by over nine thousand miles. Liverpool would be brought seven thousand miles nearer the Pacific Slope. From New York to Manila, five thousand miles were saved. The commercial supremacy of the sea would be taken from the maritime nations of Europe and put in the hands of the United States. That shining strip of water, fifty miles in length, would prove the "path of empire," and mark a peaceful revolution in the history of the world.
"And it's time that we came into our own again," declared Bert, as, their trip finished, they sat on the veranda of the hotel at Colon. "Eighty years ago, our flag was to be found on every sea. But we've been so busy with our internal development that we've let the control of the ocean pass into the hands of others, especially England. It's a burning shame that most of our commerce is carried in English ships. I hope that, now the Canal is ready for use, there'll be a big upbuilding of our merchant marine, and that it'll be no longer true that 'Britannia rules the waves.'"
"I think that the British already see the handwriting on the wall," remarked Dick. "Perhaps that explains their unwillingness to take part in the San Francisco Exposition. They've made a big fuss because we don't make our coastwise vessels pay any tolls for going through the Canal. But I think the real reason lies deeper than that."
"Germany and Russia are none too cordial, either, I notice," said Tom.
"When you come to think of it, we haven't many friends in Europe, anyway."
"No," mused Bert. "About the only real friend that we have over there is France. As a rule, she's been on pretty good terms with us, ever since she helped us in our Revolutionary War. We had a little scrap with her on the sea, once, and we had to warn her to get out of Mexico, when she tried to back up Maximilian there. But our republican form of government appeals to her, and, on the whole, she likes us.
"But Russia feels a little sore, because she thinks we sympathized with Japan in her recent war. And Germany has always kicked like a steer about our Monroe Doctrine. If she felt strong enough, she'd knock that doctrine into a cocked hat. She wants to expand, to establish colonies for her surplus population. She's especially keen on getting into Brazil. But wherever she turns, she finds the Monroe Doctrine blocking her way. She says it isn't fair: it isn't reasonable; it isn't based on international law."
"Well, isn't she right?" asked Tom. "It's always seemed rather nervy to me, for us to say that no other power shall acquire territory in North or South America. By what right do we say so?"
"By no right at all," admitted Bert. "We fall back on the law of self-preservation. We've simply figured out that we want to keep the ocean between us and the nations of Europe. Otherwise, we'd have to keep an enormous standing army. If they had territory near by, where they could drill and recruit and establish food and coal depots, so as to be ready to attack us suddenly, we'd be on edge all the time. As it is, we can go to sleep nights, without any fear of finding the enemy in our backyard the next morning when we look out of the window."