The Moving Picture Boys at Panama; Or, Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XI

  ALONG THE CANAL

  "Blake, did you hear that?" asked Joe, after a pause, during whichhe and his chum could hear the low buzz of conversation from theother balcony.

  "Yes, I heard it. What of it?"

  "Well, nothing that I know of, and yet--"

  "Yet you're more suspicious than I was," broke in Blake. "I don'tsee why."

  "I hardly know myself," admitted Joe. "Yet, somehow, that tickingbox, and what you saw in that letter--"

  "Oh, nonsense!" interrupted Blake. "Don't imagine too much. Youthink that curious box is some attachment for a moving picturecamera; do you?"

  "Well, it might be, and--"

  "And you're afraid he will get ahead of you in your invention of afocus tube; aren't you?" continued Blake, not giving his companiona chance to finish what he started to say. For Joe had recentlyhappened to hit on a new idea of a focusing tube for a movingpicture camera, and had applied for a patent on it. But there wassome complication and his papers had not yet been granted. He wasin fear lest someone would be granted a similar patent before hereceived his.

  "Oh, I don't know as I'm afraid of that," Joe answered slowly.

  "Well, it must be that--or something," insisted Blake. "You hearAlcando and someone else talking about a machine, and you at oncejump to the conclusion that it's a camera."

  "No, I don't!" exclaimed Joe. He did not continue the conversationalong that line, but he was doing some hard thinking.

  Later that evening, when Mr. Alcando called at the room of the twochums to bid them goodnight, he made no mention of his visitor onthe balcony. Nor did Blake or Joe question him.

  "And we start up the Canal in the morning?" asked the Spaniard.

  "Yes, and we'll make the first pictures going through the Gatunlocks," decided Blake.

  "Good! I am anxious to try my hand!" said their "pupil."

  With their baggage, valises, trunks, cameras, boxes of undevelopedfilm, other boxes to hold the exposed reels of sensitivecelluloid, and many other things, the moving picture boys and Mr.Alcando went aboard the government tug _Nama_ the next morning.With the exception of some Army engineers making a trip ofinspection, they were the only passengers.

  "Well, are you all ready, boys?" asked the captain, for he hadbeen instructed by his superiors to show every courtesy andattention to our heroes. In a sense they were working for UncleSam.

  "All ready," answered Blake.

  "Then we'll start," was the reply. "I guess--"

  "Oh, one moment, I beg of you!" cried Mr. Alcando. "I see a friendcoming with a message to me," and he pointed along the pier, wherethe tug was tied. Coming on the run was a man who bore everyappearance of being a Spaniard.

  "You are late," complained Mr. Alcando, as the runner handed him aletter. "You almost delayed my good friend, the captain of thistug."

  "I could not help it," was the answer. "I did not receive itmyself until a few minutes ago. It came by cable. So you are off?"

  "We are off!" answered Mr. Alcando.

  Then the other spoke in Spanish, and later on Blake, who undertookthe study of that language so as to make himself understood in afew simple phrases knew what it was that the two men said. Forthe runner asked:

  "You will not fail us?"

  "I will not fail--if I have to sacrifice myself," was the answerof Mr. Alcando, and then with a wave of his hand the other wentback up the pier.

  "All right?" again asked Captain Watson.

  "All right, my dear sir, I am sorry to have delayed you," answeredMr. Alcando with more than his usual politeness.

  "A little delay doesn't matter. I am at your service," thecommander said. "Well, now we'll start."

  If either Blake or Joe felt any surprise over the hurried visit,at the last minute, of Mr. Alcando's friend, they said nothing toeach other about it. Besides, they had other matters to think ofjust then, since now their real moving picture work was about tobegin.

  In a short time they were moving away from the pier, up the harborand toward the wonderful locks and dam that form the amazingfeatures (aside from the Culebra Cut) of the great Canal.

  "Better get our cameras ready; hadn't we, Blake?" suggested Joe.

  "I think so," agreed his chum. "Now, Mr. Alcando, if you want topick up any points, you can watch us. A little later we'll let yougrind the crank yourself."

  I might explain, briefly, that moving pictures are taken not bypressing a switch, or a rubber bulb, such as that which works acamera shutter, but by the continuous action of a crank, orhandle, attached to the camera. Pressing a bulb does well enoughfor taking a single picture, but when a series, on a longcelluloid strip, are needed, as in the case for the "movies," anentirely different arrangement becomes absolutely necessary.

  The sensitive celluloid film must move continuously, in a somewhatjerky fashion, inside the dark light-tight camera, and behind thelens. As each picture, showing some particular motion, is taken,the film halts for the briefest space of time, and then goes on,to be wound up in the box, and a new portion brought before thelens for exposure.

  All this the crank does automatically, opening and closing theshutter, moving the film and all that is necessary.

  I wish I had space, not only to tell you more of how movingpictures are made, but much about the Panama Canal. As to theformer--the pictures--in other books of this series I have donemy best to give you a brief account of that wonderful industry.

  Now as to the Canal--it is such a vast undertaking and subjectthat only in a great volume could I hope to do it justice. And ina story (such as this is intended to be), I am afraid you wouldthink I was trying to give you pretty dry reading if I gave youtoo many facts and figures.

  Of course many of you have read of the Canal in thenewspapers--the controversy over the choice of the route, thediscussion as to whether a sea level or a lock canal was best, andmany other points, especially whether the Gatun Dam would be ableto hold back the waters of the Chagres River.

  With all that I have nothing to do in this book, but I hope youwill pardon just a little reference to the Canal, especially thelock features, since Joe and Blake had a part in at least filmingthose wonderful structures.

  You know there are two kinds of canals, those on the level, whichare merely big over-grown ditches, and those which have to go overhills and through low valleys.

  There are two ways of getting a canal over a hill. One is to buildit and let the water in to the foot of the hill, and then to raisevessels over, the crest of the hill, and down the other side towhere the canal again starts, by means of inclined planes, ormarine railways.

  The other method is by "locks," as they are called. That is, thereare built a series of basins with powerful, water-tight gatesdividing them. Boys who live along canals well know how lockswork.

  A boat comes along until it reaches the place where the lock is.It is floated into a basin, or section, of the waterway, and agate is closed behind it. Then, from that part of the canal whichis higher than that part where the boat then is, water is admittedinto the basin, until the boat rises to the level of the higherpart of the canal. Then the higher gate is opened, and the vesselfloats out on the higher level. It goes "up hill," so to speak.

  By reversing the process it can also go "down hill." Of coursethere must be heavy gates to prevent the higher level waters fromrushing into those of the lower level.

  Some parts of the Panama Canal are eighty-five feet higher thanother parts. In other words, a vessel entering the Canal at Colon,on the Atlantic side of the Isthmus, must rise eighty-five feet toget to the level of Gatun Lake, which forms a large part of theCanal. Then, when the Pacific end is approached, the vessel mustgo down eighty-five feet again, first in one step of thirty and athird feet, and then in two steps, or locks, aggregatingfifty-four and two-thirds feet. So you see the series of locks ateither end of the great Canal exactly balance one another, thedistance at each end being eighty-five feet.

  It is just like going up stairs at one end o
f a long board walkand down again at the other end, only the steps are of water, andnot wood.

  The tug bearing Blake, Joe and Mr. Alcando was now steaming overtoward Toro Point break-water, which I have before alluded to.This was built to make a good harbor at Colon, where violentstorms often occur.

  "I want to get some pictures of the breakwater," Blake had said,since he and his chum were to present, in reels, a story of acomplete trip through the Canal, and the breakwater was really thestarting point. It extends out into the Caribbean Sea eleventhousand feet.

  "And you are taking pictures now?" asked Mr. Alcando, as Blake andJoe set up a camera in the bow of the boat.

  "That's what we're doing. Come here and we'll give you lessonnumber one," invited Blake, clicking away at the handle. "I willgladly come!" exclaimed the Spaniard, and soon he was deep in themysteries of the business.

  There was not much delay at the breakwater, as the boys wereanxious to get to the Canal proper, and into the big locks. Alittle later their tug was steaming along the great ditch, fivehundred feet wide, and over forty feet deep, which leads directlyto the locks. This ditch, or start of the Canal proper, is aboutseven miles long, and at various points of interest along the waya series of moving pictures was taken.

  "And so at last we are really on the Panama Canal!" cried Joe ashe helped Blake put in a fresh reel of unexposed film, Mr. Alcandolooking on and learning "points."

  "That's what you are," the captain informed them, "and, just aheadof you are the locks. Now you'll see something worth 'filming,' asyou call it."