It was, however, by some sacrifice of moral sense that the United States gained control of the Isthmus. They offered a financial deal to the republic of Colombia: the terms were liberal, and the Colombian Government had in principle no objection to make money by the grant of a perpetual lease of so much land as was needed for the Canal. But it haggled unreasonably over the details, with the object of delaying business until the period of the French concession had expired, so that it might secure, not only its own share of the compensation, but the share that was to be paid to the French investors whose rights and achievements were taken over by the United States. A revolution occurred: the province of Panama declared its independence of Colombia, and at once completed the bargain. The revolution was so exceedingly opportune in the interests of the United States, and of the French concessionaires, that it is impossible not to suspect its instigation in these interests. Beyond a doubt the United States assisted the revolutionaries: they prevented the Colombian forces from attacking them. Panama was originally independent of Colombia, and had been badly treated by the Colombian Government, which, in its distant capital of Bogota, was out of touch with Panamanian interests, and returned to the province but a very small share of its taxes. But, however this may be, we may take it, without straining facts, that the United States, being unable to bring Colombia to terms, evicted her in favor of a more pliable authority. This is not in accord with Christian morality. Nor are political dealings generally. And, from a practical point of view, it was preposterous that the cupidity of some Colombian politicians should stand in the way of an improvement in geography. The agreement with the newly born republic of Panama gave the United States a perpetual lease of a strip of land, ten miles broad, across the Isthmus. This is styled the "Canal Zone." The Latin towns of Panama and Colon fall within its limits. But they are expressly excluded from the United States jurisdiction.
In substance the Canal works consist, first, of an enormous dam (at Gatun), which holds up the water of the river Chagres so as to flood a valley twenty-four miles long; secondly, of a channel—nine miles in length—(the Culebra Cut)—which carries the valley on through a range of low hills; and, thirdly, of a set of locks at each end of this stretch of water that are connected by comparatively short approaches with the sea. The surface of the lake will be from 79 to 85 feet above sea-level, and vessels will be raised to this height and lowered again by passing through a flight of three locks upward and another flight of three locks downward. The passage of both flights of locks is not expected to occupy more than three hours, and ships should complete the transit of the Isthmus—a distance of about fifty miles—within twelve hours at most. The design of the work offers nothing that is new in principle to engineering science. Dams, cuttings, and locks are familiar contrivances. But they are on an immensely larger scale than anything which has previously been attempted. The area of the lake of impounded water will be 164 square miles, and it has been doubted whether the damming of so large a mass of water, to a height of 85 feet, could safely be undertaken. But this portion of Central America is apparently not liable to earthquakes. And the dam is so large as to be a feature of the earth's surface. It is nearly half a mile broad across its base, so that although its crest is 105 feet above sea-level its slope is not very perceptible. Its core is formed of a mixture of sand and clay, poured in from above by hydraulic processes. This has set hard, and is believed to be quite impervious to water at a much higher pressure than that to which it will be subjected. In the center of the river valley—a mile and a half broad—across which the dam has been flung, there very fortunately arose a low rocky hill. This is included in the dam, and across its summit has been constructed the escape or spill-way. During seasons of heavy rain the surplus discharge of river water will be very heavy, and a cataract will pour over the spill-way. But it will rush across a bed of rock, and will be unable to erode its channel. And it will be employed to generate electrical power which will open and shut the lock-gates and generally operate the Canal machinery. The river Chagres will energize the Canal as well as fill it.
The locks are gigantic constructions of concrete. Standing within them one is impressed as by the mass of the Pyramids. The gates are hollow structures of steel, 7 feet thick. Their lower portions are water-tight, so that their buoyancy in the water will relieve the stress upon the bearings which hinge them to the lock-wall. Along the top of each lock-wall there runs an electric railway; four small electric locomotives will be coupled to a vessel as it enters the lock approach, and will tow it to its place. The vessel will not use its own steam. This will lessen the risk of its getting out of hand and ramming the lock-gate, an accident which has occurred on the big locks that connect Lake Superior with Lake Huron. So catastrophic would be such a mishap, releasing as it might this immense accumulation of water, that it seemed desirable at whatever expense to provide additional safeguards against it. There are in the first place cross-chains, tightening under pressure, which may be drawn across the bows of a ship that threatens to become unmanageable. Secondly, the lock-gates are doubled at the entrance to all the locks, and at the lower end of the upper lock in each flight. And, thirdly, each flight of locks can be cut off from the lake by an "emergency dam" of peculiar construction. It is essentially a skeleton gate, which ordinarily lies uplifted along the top of the lock-wall, but can be swung across, lowered, and gradually closed against the water by letting down panels. In its ordinary position it lies high above the masonry—conspicuous from some distance out at sea as a large cantilever bridge, swung in air.
Peculiar difficulties have been encountered in establishing the foundations of the locks. The lowest of each flight are planted in deep morasses, and could only be settled by removing vast masses of estuary slime to a depth of 80 feet below sea-level. The sea was cut off and a dredger introduced, which gradually cleared its way down to the bottom rock. But the troubles which the American engineers will remember are those which have presented themselves in the Culebra cutting. The channel is nine miles long. Its average depth is between 100 and 200 feet, but at one point it reaches 490 feet. The formation of the ground varies extraordinarily. At some points it is rock; at others rock gives place to contorted layers of brilliantly colored earth which is almost as restless as quicksand. Unfortunately, it is at places where the cutting is deepest that its banks are most unstable. The sides of the lowest 40 feet of the excavation—the actual water channel—are cut vertically and not to a slope; in a firm formation this reduces the amount of excavation, but in loose material it must apparently have increased the risk of slides. But, however this may be, slips on a gigantic scale were inevitable. The cutting is an endeavor to form precipitous slopes of crumbling material under a tropical rain-fall: it may be likened to molding in brown sugar under the rose of a watering-pot. The banks have been in a state of constant movement, and are broken up into irregular shelves and chasms, so that at some points the channel resembles a natural ravine rather than an artificial cutting. One thing is certain,—that for some years to come the channel will only be kept open by constant assiduous dredging. But it is, of course, easier to dredge out of water than to excavate in the dry. The material excavated from the Culebra channel will aggregate nearly one hundred million cubic yards. Some of it has been utilized in reclaiming land; much has been carried out to sea and heaped into a break-water three miles long, which runs out from the Panama or southern end of the Canal, and will check a coast-ways current that might, if uncontrolled, silt up the approach. The Canal is a triumph, not of man's hands, but of machinery. Regiments of steam shovels attack the banks, exhibiting a grotesque appearance of animal intelligence in their behavior. An iron grabber is lowered by a crane, it pauses as if to examine the ground before it, in search of a good bite, opens a pair of enormous jaws, takes a grab, and, swinging round, empties its mouthful onto a railway truck. The material is loosened for the shovels by blasts of dynamite and, all the day through, the air is shaken by explosions. Alongside each row of shovels stands a train in waiting; over a hundred and fifty trains run seaward each day loaded with spoil. The bed of the Canal is ribboned with railway tracks, which are shifted as required by special track-lifting machines. The masonry work of the locks is laid without hands. High latticed towers—grinding mills and cranes combined—overhang the wall that is being built up. They take up stone and cement by the truck-load, mix them and grind them—in fact, digest them—and, swinging the concrete out in cages, gently and accurately deposit it between the molding boards. How sharp is the contrast between this elaborate steam machinery and the hand-labor of the fellahín who patiently dug out the Suez Canal! But there are, so to speak, edges to be trimmed: this mass of machinery is to be guided and controlled, and there is work to employ a staff of over thirty thousand men. Some four thousand of them are Americans, who form a superior service, styled "gold employees" in order to avoid racial implications. Their salaries are calculated in American dollars. The remainder, classed as "silver employees," are paid in Panama dollars, the value of which is half that of the American. Two series of coins are current, one being double the value of the other; and, since the corresponding coins of the two series are of about the same size, newcomers are harassed by constant suspicions of their small change. The "silver employees" number about twenty-six thousand. Some of them are immigrants from Europe—mostly from Italy and the north of Spain—but the great majority are negroes, British subjects from Jamaica and Trinidad. It was foreseen that if negroes from the Southern States were employed, the high wages rates might unsettle the American cotton labor market: so it was decided to recruit from British colonies, and it is not too much to say that, so far as the Canal is hand-made, it is mainly the work of British labor. Several hundreds of Hindus have found their way here; they are chiefly employed upon the fortifications, because, it is said, they are unlikely to talk about them. These British colored laborers, with their families, constitute the bulk of the population of the Canal Zone: the town of Panama swarms with them, and one sees few of any other class in the streets of Colon. The American engineers have thus been working with a staff that can claim the protection of the British Minister; and it is pleasing to an Englishman to hear on every side the heartiest tributes to the energy, tact, and good sense of England's representative, Sir Claude Mallet. At the outset the negro laborers were exceedingly suspicious of the American authorities, and were ready to strike on the smallest provocation: they have refused to take their rations until Sir Claude has tasted them. He possesses the complete confidence of the British labor force, and indeed the Hindu immigrants, who deposit money at the Consulate, will hardly wait to obtain receipts for it.
Speaking of rations, it may be mentioned that the Canal authorities undertake to feed all their employees, and a large commissariat establishment, including extensive cold-storage depots at Colon, is one of the most prominent features of their administration. Every morning a heavy trainload of provisions leaves Colon, dropping its freight as it passes the various labor settlements. In numerous eating-houses meals are provided at very moderate charges, and at Panama and Colon large, up-to-date hotels are maintained by the American Government. These are used very extensively by the Canal staff, and give periodic dances, which are crowded with young people. The vagaries of the one-step are sternly barred by a puritan committee, and, to one who expects surprises, the style of dancing is disappointingly monotonous. But these hotels are also of great use in conciliating the American taxpayers. Tourists come by thousands, and elaborate arrangements are made for their education by special sight-seeing trains, by appreciative guides, and by courses of lectures. The Canal staff is also housed by the State—in wooden structures, built upon piles, and protected by mosquito-proof wire screening. The accommodation for bachelors is somewhat meager; but married couples are treated very liberally, and their quarters are brightened by pretty little gardens. The rates of pay are high, and there are numerous concessions which to one of Indian experience appear exceedingly generous. But the expenditure throughout is on a lavish scale: the Canal will not cost much less than eighty million pounds. The money that is drawn from the American taxpayers is, however, for the most part returned to them. Practically the whole of the machinery is of American manufacture; the food is American; the stores that are sold in the shops are mainly American; and the only money that is lost to the States is that which is saved by the foreign laborers. Very few of these have any intention of remaining under the American flag, or will, indeed, be permitted to remain.
Residence within the Canal Zone, apart from the towns of Panama and Colon, is only to be permitted to the permanent working staff of the Canal and to the military force in occupation. It should be added that the salaries of the American "gold employees," liberal though they may appear, do not tempt them to remain in service. One is astonished to learn that nearly half the American staff changes annually: young men come to acquire a little experience and save a little money, which may help them to a start in their own country. Service on the Canal works leads to no pension; and the medal which is to be granted to all who remain two years in employ is but moderately attractive to men whose objects are severely practical. The chief controlling authorities are all in the military service of the State.
In the Northern States of America the British love of cleanliness has become a gospel of life, and the sanitation of the Canal Zone is a model of scientific and successful thoroughness. To India it is also a model of hopeless generosity, nearly three million pounds having been spent in improving the health conditions of this small area. The agreement which reserves the towns of Panama and Colon to the administration of the republic of Panama provides for American interference in matters that may concern general health, and the Canal authorities have taken the fullest advantage of this provision. The streets of both towns have been paved; insanitary dwellings have been ruthlessly demolished; water-works have been provided by loans of American money, the water rate being collected by American officials. The meanest house is equipped with a water-closet and a shower-bath. Panama and Colon are now models of cleanliness, and from their appearance might belong to a North American State. Efficiency is the watchword, and in cleansing these towns the American health officers have not troubled themselves with the compromises which would temper the despotism of British officials. Americans can hardly be imagined as stretching their consciences by such a concession as that, for instance, which in British India exempts gentlemen of position from appearance in the civil courts. Efficiency is not popular with those who do not practise it, and the Latin races of Southern and Central America have no love for their northern neighbors. The Americans, like the Germans, would increase their popularity did they appreciate the value of personal geniality in smoothing government.
Within the Canal Zone the jungle has been cut back from the proximity of dwelling-houses; surface water, whether stagnant or running, is regularly sterilized by doses of larvicide; all inhabited buildings are protected by mosquito-proof screening, and, in some places, a mosquito-catching staff is maintained. At the time of my visit not a mosquito was to be seen; but this was during the season of dry heat. During the rainy months mosquitos are, it seems, still far from uncommon; and the latest sanitary rules emphasize the importance of systematically catching them. Medical experience has shown that if houses are kept clear of mosquitos, there is very little fever, even in places where the water pools and channels are left unsterilized. Wire screening, supplemented by a butterfly net, is the great preventive. But we can not attain the good without an admixture of evil: behind the wire screening the indoor atmosphere becomes very oppressive. Yellow fever, the scourge of the isthmus in former days, has been completely eradicated. Admissions to hospital for malarial fever amount, it must be confessed, to several thousands a year. But, judging from the terrible experiences of the French Company, were it not for these precautions fever would incapacitate for long periods the whole of the staff.
The hospital, a heritage from the French, is a village of wooden buildings set upon a hill overlooking the Gulf of Panama, in the midst of a charming study in tropical gardening. It is managed with an energy which explores to the uttermost the medical experiences of other tropical countries, and is not afraid of improving upon time-honored methods. The daily dose of quinine is seldom less than forty-five grains, and patients are not allowed to leave their beds until their temperature has remained normal for five days at least. Complaints of deafness are disregarded; if the patient turns of a blue color he may be consoled by a dose of Epsom salts. It is claimed that by this drastic treatment the relapses are prevented which, in India and elsewhere, probably account for at least nine attacks out of ten.
Democracies are not always fortunate in the selection of their executives. But Mr. Roosevelt's Government was gifted with the wit to find, in the United States Army, men who could carry out this big work, and with the good sense to employ them. So much is told of the commanding influence of Colonel Goethals, the chief in command; of the administrative talents of Colonel Gorgas, the head of the sanitary department; of the engineering skill of Colonel Sibert, the protagonist of the Gatun dam, that an Englishman must wish to claim kinship with these American officers who are making so large a mark upon the surface of the earth. Devotion to the great work in hand has exorcised meaner feelings, and you will hear little of the "boost" which we are tempted to associate with the other side of the Atlantic. I asked Colonel Sibert whether his initial calculations had needed much correction as the operation developed. "Our guesses" he replied, "have been remarkably fortunate." The medical staff relate with delight how a British doctor, sent by the Indian Government to study their methods, being left to himself for half an hour, succeeded in catching quite a number of mosquitoes of a very noxious kind within the mosquito-proof precincts of a hospital ward.