Kitabı oku: «Polly's Southern Cruise», sayfa 10
“That made Bob so mad that he stood right up, grabbed the Hun and hustled him back again to the ruin. I had no choice but to turn with my load and return also. We had hardly reached this comparative security when the Germans who were out to find their comrades, heard us and reached the spot we had just abandoned.
“‘They’ll be in here next!’ whispered Bob. ‘Got your gun ready?’
“I had placed the officer back under the low shelter of the fallen timbers, and then roped the Hun to a huge post, which had been a corner stud of the barn, leaving the gag in his mouth; his head and his arms secured, to prevent his chewing the ropes or fumbling with his harness. Then I took my station near the aperture by which any one would have to enter the ruin. Bob squatted on the other side of the heap.
“We had not long to wait. In only too short an interval, the heads of our enemy came into view. They were not as circumspect as Bob and I had been, for they did not advance with guns cocked and ready, hence I found it an easy matter to pluck the gun directly out of the hand of the first comer. At the same moment, as if he caught my idea, Bob fell upon him and closed his mouth with a big flat hand. The surprised man was so frightened that he forgot to yell for help, and his other two comrades came on without warning until it was too late to retreat.
“The captured man did give a cry but it was muffled and so unintelligible that his pals might have taken it to come from prisoners he had found within the ruin. But the two who followed the first capture were alert, and poked the muzzles of their rifles almost in my face without being able to see what they were up against. I dropped suddenly and rolled over against the hulk of the man who came first. The blow against his legs and in the pit of his stomach made him double over me and go headlong into the Hun who sat roped against the post. Instantly I was on him and had him at a disadvantage. It took but a jiffy to force back his arms and make him let go his clutch on the gun. I laughed at the simple task we had had, when right behind me sounded the report of a rifle. It was so close to my head that I jumped and let go the hold on my prisoner.
“But the bullet meant for me found its rest in the German I had just released. He rolled over with a groan, and I turned to fight the third man whose gun I thought had fired at me. To my astonishment I saw Johann in silent combat with the enemy. He had crept in just in time to see the Hun aim at me, and he had jumped the man so unexpectedly that the rifle went off wild and hit the wrong man.
“In a few seconds we had all the prisoners roped and willing to follow wherever we commanded – even to the ends of the earth. And Jo insisted upon taking our officer upon his own broad back. We managed to secure the Lieutenant to his back by means of bits of harness found in the ruins of the old barn, and having secured the important order in my own breast-pocket, we started out, driving the four prisoners before us.
“It was almost dawn when we reached our own line, and great was the welcome we got as we came in ‘bringing our sheaves with us.’ But, as I say, Bob and I got the medals, for doing what really Johann brought to a pass. Without his presence at the very moment when he was needed most, I would have been a dead man and Bob would have been at the mercy of three lively Huns. And it was Jo who turned the table for us.”
When Bill had finished his story, the girls cheered for Jo. He was just approaching with the next course, but when he saw all the eager smiling faces turned his way, and realized that Beel had told the story of the old ruins, he set the heavy tray upon the seat of a chair and fled. Scouts were sent to find him and bring him back, but not a trace of him could they see. He had found a better hiding place than his seester’s dress in which he had travelled back to his home in Belgium that day.
“Well, let’s finish our dinner, children, and then we will take up the hunt for Jo. It will be better fun than hunting the slipper,” remarked Mr. Dalken.
The dinner continued merrily, every one pleased at the discovery of a real hero on the crew of the yacht, and Mr. Dalken pleased to hear of Jo’s courage and simple childlike bravery without thought of recompense. But he also had a plan.
Later in the evening, while the young folks were dancing and trying their best to forget the warm climate of the Equator, Mr. Dalken slipped away and remained absent for some time. He had gone to find Jo and have a heart to heart talk with him.
Thus he learned that Jo had signed up to take this voyage in order to earn more money to send to his sister who now was in a French hospital in the north of France, suffering from nervous collapse and lack of nutrition. His aged mother had died from exposure at the time the enemy had swarmed over Belgium and had driven every native forth from home and friends.
“Well, Jo, I am going to communicate with a relative who is doing reconstruction work in France now, and I shall ask her to visit your sister and see if she is able to travel. If she is I shall send her the money to bring her over to you, and henceforth you shall work for me – not for the Captain, or the chef, or any other boss, but for me. Do you like the plan?”
Johann sat and stared for a few moments, then he jumped up and shouted. “Do I like heem! Oh, Meester Boss, I love heem! And my seek seester – ah, I love you, Beeg Boss!” And to Mr. Dalken’s astonishment Johann threw both arms about his neck and wept tears of joy upon the nice black dinner coat.
But Mr. Dalken never mentioned this to others, for he appreciated the embrace which came spontaneously from the heart of this great big giant of a young Belgian whose gratitude was unbounded. And he took Johann’s hand and shook it in a friendly way, to seal the compact. Just as he ended the hand-shaking, the chef came in.
“O-oh, Hon’able Master, muchee warm t’night! Most hon’able company feel plenty sweat mebbe – me pour nice cool jlink, eh, Hon’able Boss?”
“I wish you would, please, and throw in plenty of ice,” laughed Mr. Dalken, turning and leaving the little room.
“Come, now, Mos’ Hon’able So’jer in French – pour plenty ice for our Mos’ Hon’able Boss,” commanded the chef, thus placing Johann upon a pedestal from which he could look down upon all the other members of the crew thenceforth and forever. For the Oriental had heard the story of the medals and bowed down in hero worship and named Jo “Mos’ Hon’able Jo” thereafter. To the delighted Belgian it was as acceptable an honor as the medal was to “Beel.”
CHAPTER XIII – HIGH LIFE AT THE CANAL
After the first day at the Canal Zone, not one member of Mr. Dalken’s party had time in which to plan for anything beyond the Canal. Bill and Bob returned late that first night and reported to their companions at the Barracks that “Beeg Jo” was on board the White Crest; the officer who had been rescued and carried back to camp on Johann’s back during the world war was now one of the officers in charge of the American Post at Panama. Thus one can readily understand the result of such information.
All the second day the tourists were entertained by Bill and Bob, and were shown about the country in touring cars which had been pressed into service by the eager youths. Not only did the yacht-party see everything worth seeing at Colon and Cristobal, but they saw more of the country round about the Atlantic side of the Canal than most visitors do who land there.
After dinner that night the entire party was escorted to the Hop at Government Headquarters, where dancing formed the programme of the evening’s entertainment. The coolness of the air made the dancing all the more enjoyable, and the visitors declared they had never had such a pleasant time.
Before the ladies said good-night to return to the yacht the government men had promised them an aeroplane trip the next morning. Mr. Dalken demurred somewhat when it was first proposed, but his objections were soon overruled by the girls who were thrilled at the prospect of going up in a great army plane.
Finally it was agreed that Mr. Dalken with his two men friends should go up first and test the safety of the plane. If he felt assured that it was quite safe for younger persons he would consent to their going up.
The entire party made for the field where the hangars of the two ’planes were to be seen. One ’plane was a small affair which carried but two passengers, but the other ’plane was a large one with a capacity for seven passengers besides the engineer and his assistant.
The air sail of about twenty minutes was completed and Mr. Dalken landed again upon terra firma. It was his first flight of any distance or height, and he had enjoyed it thoroughly. He was enthusiastic in his praise of the manner in which the ’plane had been handled by the experienced men.
But a sudden darkness swept over the sky and the natives were seen to scamper off for shelter, while the officers and aeronauts hastened their guests to the hangars until the squall of rain should be over. It fell just as it had fallen one day at Jamaica; it came down in torrents for a few minutes, then the sun shone forth again in dazzling brightness.
The girls were eager to get into the aeroplane and take their trip, but the pilot looked troubled and shook his head.
“What is the matter, Bill?” asked his companion.
“I don’t like the looks of the sky – we’re not through with the squall, I’m thinking.”
“I think it would be heaps of fun to be above the clouds when it rains down here,” ventured Eleanor, coaxingly, to Mr. Dalken.
“You wouldn’t say that if you ever went up while a tropical squall twisted the plane this way and that,” remarked Bob, who had heard her speech.
“I’m afraid we shall have to call it off for today, ladies,” announced the pilot, with evident regret in his tone.
“Well, then, we shall have all the more to look forward to to-morrow,” returned Polly, pleasantly, but Eleanor was annoyed at the delay.
“I don’t see why the nasty old weather had to come just now and spoil all the fun!” pouted she.
“As long as we do not advise taking the ladies up to-day, why not come with us for a visit to our sugar plantation,” suggested Bob.
“What is there to see there?” pouted Eleanor, still angry.
“Well, Bill and I have staked a little cane plantation over there and we haven’t inspected our property for two weeks. We were so busy practicing for the ball game, and then you came on the scene. If you’ve never visited a sugarcane plantation it will prove to be interesting, I’m sure.”
As nothing else had been planned to take the place of the aeroplane trip that day, the girls accepted the offer to inspect the small plantation.
Having traveled swiftly over the rich country where so little farming was done because of the exhausting heat, and the prolific crops of nature-grown fruits and herbs, the two seven-passenger cars came to a very pretty place. Bill and Bob who were driving, turned in to a rough road more like a country lane, and passed acres of cane sugar. The two young owners pointed with pride to their property, and well they might.
“The man of whom we leased this acreage said he had a yield of from six to eight tons of sucrose an acre every year. But he had more land than he could cultivate, hence he leased us this acreage and agreed to keep an eye on our men and the work, whenever he could. The richness of the soil and the climate gives the cane grown here an unusual amount of saccharine to the acre,” Bill explained, as his hearers looked over the vast fields of cane and admired his ambitions.
“Gee, Bill! I don’t know but that I’ll go in with you boys on sugar raising. I’m sure I’d like it down here,” said Jack Baxter. “How about it, Ray, want to go fifty-fifty in this?”
Mr. Dalken laughed heartily. “If Ray knows you as well as I do, he’ll understand that you fall for every new project placed before you. If some one caught you in the right mood and told you that your fortune was to be had in digging a Canal through South America, from the Pacific to the Atlantic, you’d agree with them and start in to dig. But you’d get tired of it in a week and shirk the work.”
“Why, Dalky, you slander my ideals!” declared Jack.
“Do I? What about Grizzly Slide and your determination to take up mining out on the peaks of the Rockies? Then in New York you went so far as to furnish an apartment for the sake of studying interior decorating,” said Mr. Dalken.
“Oh, no, Dalky!” laughed Eleanor, quickly. “He never furnished that apartment for the study of furniture, but only for the study of Polly.”
As this temporary infatuation of Jack’s for Polly had been one of the amusing incidents of the past year, his friends all laughed merrily.
“Well, Mr. Dalken, no need to worry lest Jack buy out a partnership share with us, because we haven’t anything to sell. We leased the plantation on a basis which forbids any one sinking money in the scheme. If this year’s cane turns out well, and we reap any profits, then we shall feel like moneyed men – not now.”
As the cars drove on to visit the large plantation of the man who had leased the small one to the soldier boys, the latter explained that cane took about twelve months to mature; then after the first cutting another crop came on; the second crop was called ratoons. Sometimes it was possible, weather and cane both agreeing, to cut a third crop.
From the plantations Bill and Bob drove their guests to the big mills where the grinding was done. The cars passed several huge stand-pipes which were filled with water from artesian wells. This water was carried over the plantations in pipes and at regular intervals there was an open flume. Into the conduit the water was emptied daily and this form of trough carried the necessary moisture down the rows of cane to which it gave the stipulated quantity of water. All this work was regulated by automatic appliances easily handled and kept in order.
Bob now explained the method of planting cane. “They do not use seed, you know. The stalk is cut into sections of about two feet in length and these pieces are dropped into furrows and covered with soil.”
At the mill the visitors saw great piles of cane: some being cut, some being stripped, and some being piled upon great flat trucks all waiting to be taken to the freight cars which would carry them to the boats at Panama or at Colon.
The noise made by the great machines as they crushed, rolled, or poured the sugar from the cane, made conversation impossible. Bill next led his friends along beside the carrier which constantly moved the cane through the trough to feed the crushing machine. At the other side of this great machine the sweet juice poured forth in torrents.
The next process was that of pumping the cold juice into hot pans and then boiling the contents by steam. The skimming and liming work, and finally the feeding into the drying pans by means of coils of pipes, proved interesting but very tiresome because the heat of the mill was suffocating to the Northerners. Late in the afternoon the cars sped back to Colon and the two young planters were induced to stay to dinner on the White Crest.
“To-morrow we will take you up in the ’planes and have you enjoy a long ride, your last day at our Post,” remarked Bob at dinner.
“I feel perfectly safe in permitting the girls to go after having been up and seeing for myself how careful you boys are,” replied Mr. Dalken, graciously.
“I never thought I would enjoy a ride in the air, as I have always felt timid about going up in a ’plane,” said Mr. Fabian. “But I am so thrilled by the trial that I want Mrs. Fabian to try it.”
“No, thank you, sir! I am quite satisfied with good old Mother Earth,” laughed his wife.
Thus it happened on the following day that the two older ladies in the party preferred to stay down, but Mrs. Courtney and the girls, together with Jack and Ray, went forth to meet the aviators on the plain where the government hangars stood. They had two ’planes waiting and ready for the sail. A large seven-passenger machine and a smaller one which held the pilot and two others.
Into the large ’plane went Mrs. Courtney and Nancy Fabian and Ruth Ashby, after them went the two young men, Jack and Ray. At last the pilot Bob and his mechanician got in. Bill with Polly and Eleanor got in the small ’plane.
As the two aeroplanes began to ascend, Mr. Dalken called out: “Don’t go far! And don’t remain away more than half an hour!”
Those left behind stood and talked with a few of the army men who had accompanied Bill and Ray to the field. But after waiting for half an hour and no signs of returning ’planes could be seen or heard, the men said they thought Bill and Bob had descended near Panama in order to treat their company to afternoon tea.
Soon after this Mr. Dalken heard the faint far-off sound of a motor in the air, but no sight of it could be seen. Finally a speck was visible in the sky and in a short time the large ’plane descended upon the field, but not one vestige of the smaller one.
“Why!” exclaimed Bob, after he had assisted the ladies to get out of his ’plane. “Aren’t the others back yet?”
“No, did you miss them?” asked Mr. Dalken.
“I don’t know which direction Bill went. We tried to keep up with them, but that little ’plane is a hum-dinger for speed and it soon outstripped us. The last we saw of it was when it was speeding over Miraflores lock – right after that it disappeared and we saw no more of it. I flew over the same place but it was not there.”
“I hope nothing happened to them!” ventured Mrs. Courtney anxiously.
Before the group could decide upon any action, the sky suddenly clouded over again and the rain began to empty the rest of its water upon the section where the most damage might be done. Hence the aeroplane was rushed into its hangar and the storm-stayed visitors hurried into the empty hangar usually occupied by the small ’plane.
It was almost six o’clock when the rain ceased and permitted the tourists to return to their vessel. Jack and Ray went to the barracks with Bob because they were invited guests to dinner that evening.
Seven o’clock rang and darkness began to fall, yet no word had come from the absent aviators and every one began to worry over what might have befallen them.
“If we do not hear from them within the hour I shall go after them. The trains will probably run to Panama all night, and I will go there first and start a general search,” said Mr. Dalken.
The rain had ceased entirely now, and the night settled down, but no word or return of the absent girls. Then Mrs. Courtney took Mr. Dalken aside and made a suggestion.
“Suppose you accompany me to the telegraph station at Colon? From there we will send out wires to all the small and large stations on the line of the Canal. We may hear from some one in that way, and should we not get any favorable report you can go on to Panama.”
With a few words of explanation the two then left the White Crest and made their way to the station at Colon. Here they asked many questions of the telegraph operator and found out that there were many places all along the Canal where the stranded aviators might have secured shelter during the storm and also for the night.
But Mrs. Courtney said she would feel better if the messages were sent broadcast in order to reach some one who would reply. Hence they began to fill out the blanks for the man to use. Just as they had decided what to write, the instrument in the office began to click.
“I think this wire is from your two girls; is your name Mr. Dalken, from the yacht called the White Crest?” asked the man.
“Yes, yes! what do they say?” exclaimed Mr. Dalken anxiously.
CHAPTER XIV – IN AND ABOUT PANAMA
“Now what do you think of that!” exclaimed Mr. Dalken, after reading the message he had received from the stranded aviators who had landed beyond the last lock of the Canal Zone.
Mrs. Courtney took the message and read it to herself, then murmured: “This is disappointing: I did so want to have the girls on board when we went through the locks.”
“Well,” sighed Mr. Dalken, “we may as well give orders to the Captain to start early in the morning and meet the runaways at Panama – as Polly says in her telegram.”
“If only she had told us where they would stop overnight, we could wire there and tell them to get back here immediately. They should be able to use the railroad, as long as they have been able to get to a telegraph station,” said Mrs. Courtney, a trifle annoyed at such inconsideration on the girls’ part.
“I think we will give them their way this time, and have them miss the gorgeous trip through the Canal. It will serve them good and right!” declared Mr. Dalken, also impatient at such doings.
But the “girls” – meaning Polly and Eleanor – had no cause for disappointment or impatience. In the first place they did not see how they were to be held accountable for the aeroplane’s engine failing to work just about the time they reached the vast park which borders both sides of Miraflores Lock. In fact, they considered it an act on the part of Providence that the ’plane had such a wonderful stretch of lawn upon which to descend, instead of falling down in Gatun Lake, or upon the rocky hills to be seen everywhere around.
Because of an easy conscience, therefore, the two girls enjoyed an unusual dinner at an interesting old Spanish restaurant in Panama; and then accompanied the young aviator, – who had successfully brought his disabled ’plane to the nearby park before mentioned, – to the Tivoli Hotel, where a professional chaperone agreed to look after them in order to satisfy Mrs. Courtney’s concession to social requirements.
“I think I shall have to be running along, ladies, if I am to have that ’plane ready for work in the morning,” declared Bill, as they reached the hotel verandah.
“And you really think it will take the yacht from five to seven hours to make the trip through?” asked Polly, anxiously.
“Oh, yes! Even if everything runs smoothly, which it seldom does, you know, where we have to depend upon native labor to drive the mules and tow the boats. Better allow seven hours, at least, I think.”
“And you hope to be here for us at ten?” added Eleanor.
“At ten, unless the engine goes on strike again,” laughed Bill.
“Well, then, you hurry along and forbid a strike, while we go to bed. I’m tired with all the day’s excitement,” said Polly, trying to stifle a yawn.
Thus unceremoniously sent about his business, Bill laughed and lifted his cap. In another minute he was out of sight down the old cobbled street.
Polly and Eleanor found it quite unnecessary to be rocked to sleep that night; and it seemed but a few moments after they fell asleep before a knock on the door of their suite roused them to action. It proved to be a message from Bill, left at the hotel in his passing by to have breakfast. The message told the girls the ’plane was in fine condition for their return trip that morning.
The girls dressed hurriedly and then hastened to the diningroom to breakfast. By nine-thirty they were awaiting their escort who called for them shortly after they came out upon the wide piazza.
As they passed through the ancient old city of Panama they were interested in various sights which Bill pointed out and about which he told the prevalent legends.
After they reached the aeroplane, now waiting upon a stretch of sandy field near the Canal Park, Bill assisted the girls to their places and advised them to adjust their veils as he proposed making a speedy flight in order to meet the yacht before it had gone very far on its trip through the locks.
Soon, thereafter, the girls were looking down upon a bird’s-eye view of the old Spanish town they had just left. The ’plane followed the course of the canal, while the aviator pointed out Gatun Lock and the big dam, with the concrete work built on a tremendous scale. The white walls contrasted beautifully with the sweeps of smooth, green, velvety turf which stretched from the canal on both sides to the low foot hills of the dark, blue mountains beyond. There were six locks in all, with the canal between looking like an ordinary stream to the girls in the aeroplane. And the negroes, with their mules working at the locks, appeared like busy, black ants on the earth far below.
The crew on the White Crest caught sight of the aeroplane before Polly and Eleanor saw the yacht; the captain saluted the fliers with a shrill blast of the siren and attracted Bill’s attention. After that the ’plane hovered near the vessel as it made its way through the locks and finally came out into the Bay of Panama.
Bill landed his passengers safely, and conducted them to the pier where the White Crest was anchored.
Of course, the girls were scolded well by Mr. Dalken, who said he had aged twenty years because of them and their escapades, but the laugh which greeted this statement was not very sympathetic.
Finally Bill reluctantly bid the yachting party goodbye and returned to his ’plane in order to reach the Atlantic side and the government offices as soon as possible.
The heat during the early part of the afternoon was overpowering, hence one and all agreed to remain on the yacht until the air became cooler. But instead of riding at anchor the yacht circled the Bay in order to find a breeze.
“Bill told us that whales in the Gulf of Panama were quite a common sight, but I forgot about it until just now,” remarked Polly.
“We’ll watch for one to-morrow when we sail away,” said Ruth, eagerly.
The sunset that evening was superb but it was difficult to say that, in the South during that trip, there were any clear evenings without its beautiful sunset.
Twilight swept a soft gray mantle up from the sea and covered the shoreline from view before the party went indoors to the saloon; then Mr. Dalken called for the attention of his friends.
“I have been studying this map carefully,” began he, waving a memorandum which he held in his hand; “and I find that there are very few decent ports for us to make between here and Quito. Even Quito must be reached by landing first at Guayaquil and then taking the railroad inland and climb to the City of the Equator.”
“Is there any special reason for visiting Quito?” asked Jack.
“Why, of course! Don’t we all want to visit the city so famous for its age and antiquities? Remember, Jack, you are a mere outsider on this trip, and not one of the seekers after wisdom and adventure. Your day for dancing and playing the gallant to the young ladies ended when we bade goodbye to Palm Beach. Down in the towns of Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Chile, it will be my turn to lead in the Grand March,” declared Mr. Dalken.
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Dalky,” advised Polly, sending Jack a contemptuous glance for his interruption. “He wants to be heard from in planning this campaign, but he really does not know a thing about South America that he hasn’t heard from us!”
At this remark from Polly, Jack folded his arms as if to signify he was through forever with girls, and sat tilted back in his deck chair, but paying no attention to anything said or done. His associates laughed goodnaturedly at his expression, then turned their attention to Mr. Dalken once more.
“As I was saying a long time back, we will have to travel to Quito by means of a shaky little airline of a railroad – I call it airline because it evidently runs on the rim of the clouds, from all I can gather of its construction. But it will prove to be a novel experience for us all, especially so to me, as I prefer to keep on solid earth where railroads are concerned.”
“As your investments prove!” retorted Jack. “I’ve never known you to take a flier, nor heard of you traveling in the clouds when speculating in transportation stocks.”
The laugh was now at Mr. Dalken’s expense, as his friends well knew what large railroad interests he held in North America, but no one was aware of the fact that one of his secret reasons for coming to South America was to examine the safety of certain railroad interests offered him through a broker who acted for the Valparaiso and North Coast Company – a new enterprise about to be started without delay, in order to link the various shipping ports along the shore to the city where the trans-Andean railroad had its terminus.
“If Jack would only subside for a short time we might be able to hear the rest of that itinerary,” sighed Mr. Fabian. “Thus far I have only a faint idea of the outline of the first leg of the voyage.”
“Are there two legs?” exclaimed Jack, instantly. “Oh! where are they? I have never seen such a leg, and it will add to my fund of education.”
Polly and Eleanor laughed at the play of words, but Nancy felt too mature to laugh at such a childish joke. She said rather jeeringly: “Poor Jack! ‘A fool always laughs at his own wit.’ Are you not aware that ‘leg’ is a nautical term?”
Jack’s chair-legs came down hard upon the floor, and he sat bolt upright as he showed a livelier interest in this sparring match. “Hoh! I may not be versed in nautical names, but at least I am not guilty of having read the type from every one of Dalky’s tomes on South America. I know of certain young ladies who pride themselves on their geography, especially when touring South of the Equator, who lugged those same tomes from the shelves in Dalky’s library and now shamelessly preen their feathers of knowledge.”
“Children, if you can’t keep quiet and let Mr. Dalken tell us of the proposed trip, you’ll have to go to bed!” declared Mrs. Courtney, frowning at Jack and the girls.
“Or we can take our plans and go out on deck where we need not be annoyed by infants’ prattle,” added Mr. Fabian.
“No, NO! Please don’t do that,” cried Polly, anxiously. “We’ll make Jack keep quiet, if we have to gag him!”
“Now see that you keep your word, Poll,” advised Mrs. Courtney, shaking a finger at the irrepressible Jack.
“Then I’ll continue,” added Mr. Dalken. “The first port of any size shown on my map is Buenventura, in Colombia. Since stopping at Colon, I’ve heard so much about Colombia and its mediaeval customs and peoples of the interior, that I half wish we had arranged to land at Barranquilla, which is on the coast of the Caribbean Sea; thence we could have taken passage on one of the wood-burning river boats that poke along the length of the Magdalena River as far as Bogota. From that place we would have crossed the Andes via mule-train and arrived at Buenventura to take the yacht from there on down the coast. However, we may be able to come back by that route – that is, providing the females and Jack are sufficiently hardened to mountain-life by the time we have finished the Amazon River.”
