The entrance was at either side or at the back, as one preferred, but the seats were arranged in a circle around the body, with the exception of the driver’s chair. So roomy was the car that from six to eight passengers could be carried with comfort, or even more in case of emergency.
All of these things were more easily understood by observation than I can hope to explain them with the pen. Perhaps I have omitted to describe them to you as clearly as I should; but I must plead in extenuation a lack of mechanical knowledge. That you will all ride in similar cars some day I have no doubt, and then you will understand all the details that I, a plain sailor, have been forced to ignore because of my ignorance of mechanics.
“But,” said Uncle Naboth, whose eyes were fairly bulging with amazement, “I don’t yet see what drives the blamed thing through water.”
Moit smiled for almost the first time since I had known him, and the smile was one of triumphant pride.
He entered the automobile, touched some buttons, and with a whirring sound a dozen little scoop-shaped flanges sprang from the rim of each wheel. There was no need for farther explanation. We could see at once that in water the four wheels now became paddle-wheels, and their rapid revolution would no doubt drive the machine at a swift pace.
The paddles were cleverly shaped, being made of the same metal employed everywhere in the construction of this astonishing invention, and they stood at just the right angle to obtain the utmost power of propulsion.
“Aluminum?” questioned Mr. Perkins, pointing to the metal.
“No, sir. This is perhaps my most wonderful discovery, and you will pardon me if I say it is a secret which I am unwilling at this time to divulge. But I may tell you that I have found an alloy that is unequalled in the known world for strength, durability and lightness. It weighs a little more than pure aluminum, but has a thousand times its tensile strength. You may test one of these blades, which seem to the eye to be quite delicate and fragile.”
Uncle Naboth leaned over and gingerly tested one of the wheel blades with his thumb and finger. Then he exerted more strength. Finally he put his heel upon it and tried to bend it with the weight of his body. It resisted all efforts with amazing success.
And now the inventor pushed some other buttons, or keys, and the metal blades all receded and became once more a part of the rims of the wheels.
“When we get to San Pedro, gentlemen,” said he, “it will give me pleasure to take you for a ride in my machine, both on land and water. Then you will be sure to appreciate its perfection more fully.”
He began to replace the canvas cover, apologizing as much to his beloved machine as to us for its shabbiness.
“All of my money was consumed by the machine itself,” he explained, “and I was forced to use this cloth to make a cover, which is needed only to protect my invention from prying eyes. The metal will never rust nor corrode.”
“Is this material, this alloy, easy to work?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“It is very difficult,” he returned. “Steel crumbles against it with discouraging readiness, so that my tools were all of the same metal, annealed and hardened. Even these had to be constantly replaced. You must not imagine, sir, that I obtained all of this perfection at the first trial. I have been years experimenting.”
“So I imagine, Mr. Moit.”
“By a fortunate coincidence,” he went on, dreamily, “my money, which I had inherited from my father, lasted me until all the work was complete. I had thought of nothing but my machine, and having at last finished it and made thorough tests to assure myself that it was as nearly perfect as human skill can make it, I awoke to find myself bankrupt and in debt. By selling my tools, my workshop, and everything else I possessed except the machine itself I managed to pay my indebtedness and have two hundred dollars left. This was not enough to get myself and my car shipped to California by rail; so I was at my wits’ end until you, sir,” turning to me, “kindly came to my rescue.”
During the pause that followed he finished covering up his machine, and then Uncle Naboth asked, bluntly:
“If you are sure the blamed thing will work, why didn’t you run it overland to California? That has been done more ‘n once, I’m told, and as you use compressed air the expense wouldn’t be a circumstance.”
That had occurred to me too, and I awaited the man’s reply with much curiosity.
“Sir,” he answered, “you must not forget that I have devoted years to this work — years of secret and constant toil — and that my whole heart is involved in the success of my perfected machine. But you can readily understand that I have not dared to patent it, or any of its parts, until all was complete; for an imperfect patent not only fails to protect one, but in this case it would give other designers of automobiles the ideas I had originated. A patent is never a safeguard if it can be improved or stolen. As I have said, when at last my work was finished I had no money with which to obtain patents, of which no less than nineteen are required to protect me.”
“And have you, at this time, no patents at all?” I asked, surprised at such neglect.
He shook his head.
“Not one. There, gentlemen, stands one of the most important mechanical inventions the world has ever known, and its inventor has no protection whatever — as yet. If I attempted to run the machine overland to the Pacific coast, a dozen automobile experts would see it and promptly steal my ideas. Such a risk was too great to run. I must manage to reach my rich and selfish uncle, prove to him how wonderful my invention is, offer him a half interest in it, and so procure the money to protect it and to establish a manufactory. Do you understand now why I have acted in so puzzling a way — puzzling, at least, to one not aware of my dilemma?”
“It is quite clear to me,” I replied, beginning to think my passenger was not mad, after all. “But have you not been foolish to confide all this to us?”
He smiled pleasantly, and the smile made his face really attractive.
“I am not especially stupid, believe me,” said he, “and I am a fair judge of human nature. You will pardon me if I say that not a man on this ship is at all dangerous to me.”
“How is that?” I asked, slightly discomfited.
“No man among you is competent to steal my invention,” he asserted, coolly, “even if you were disposed to do so, which I doubt. It would require a dishonest person who is a mechanical expert, and while there are many such between Chelsea and California, I am sure there is none on this ship who would wrong me, even if he possessed the power. I feel entirely secure, gentlemen, in your company.”
This was diplomatic, at least, for we were naturally pleased at the tribute to our good faith, even if inclined to resent the disparagement of our mechanical genius. However, we regarded Duncan Moit in a more friendly light and with vastly increased respect from that time forth.
It was growing dark by this time, and presently Nux announced that dinner was served. So we repaired to the mess cabin, and while testing Bryonia’s superb talents as a cook beguiled the hour by canvassing the future possibilities of the Moit Convertible Automobile.
CHAPTER FOUR
WE COME TO GRIEF
Fortune seemed to favor the voyage of the Gladys H. All the way to Hatteras the weather was delightful and the breeze fresh and constant. There was not a moment when the sails were not bulging to some extent and in spite of the old ship’s labored motion we made excellent time.
However, I followed my instructions, keeping well in toward the coast, and so crept steadily down to Key West.
Here an important proposition confronted us: whether to enter the Gulf of Mexico and follow its great circle near to the shore — a method that would require weeks — or run across to Cuba and then attempt the passage of the Caribbean by the short cut to Colon or Porto Bella. We had canvassed this alternative before I left harbor; but Mr. Harlan had maintained that I must decide the question for myself, being guided by the actions of the bark and the condition of t
he weather.
Both these requirements seemed favorable for the short cut. The ship had behaved so far much better than I had expected, and the good weather seemed likely to hold for some time longer.
So after a conference with Ned Britton — for Uncle Naboth refused to “mix up in the business” or even to offer an opinion — I decided to take the chances and follow the shortest route. After reaching Colon I would keep close to land way down to the Horn.
So we stood out to sea, made Cuba easily, and skirted its western point to the Isles de Pinos. Still the skies were clear and the breeze favorable, and with good courage we headed south in a bee-line for Colon.
And now we were in the Caribbean, that famous sea whose very name breathes romance. It recalls to us the earliest explorers, the gold seekers and buccaneers, the fact that scarce an inch of its rippling surface is unable to boast some tragedy or adventure in the days of the Spanish Main, when ships of all nations thronged the waters of the West Indies.
For three whole days luck was our bedfellow; then, as Uncle Naboth drily remarked, it “went a fishin’” and left us to take care of ourselves.
With gentle sighs our hitherto faithful breeze deserted us and our sails flapped idly for a time and then lay still, while the ship floated upon a sheet of brilliant blue glass, the tropic sun beat fiercely down upon us, and all signs of life and animation came to an end.
No sailor is partial to calms. A gale he fights with a sense of elation and a resolve to conquer; a favoring breeze he considers his right; but a glassy sea and listless, drooping sails are his especial horror. Nevertheless, he is accustomed to endure this tedium and has learned by long experience how best to enliven such depressing periods.
Our men found they possessed a violinist — not an unskilled fiddler by any means — and to his accompanying strains they sang and danced like so many happy children.
Uncle Naboth and Ned Britton played endless games of penocle under the deck awning and I brought out my favorite books and stretched myself in a reclining chair to enjoy them.
Duncan Moit paced deliberately up and down for the first two days, engrossed in his own musings; then he decided to go over his machine and give it a careful examination. He removed the cover, started his engines, and let them perform for the amusement of the amazed sailors, who formed a curious but respectful group around him.
Finally they cleared a space on the deck and Moit removed the guy-ropes that anchored his invention and ran his auto slowly up and down, to the undisguised delight of the men. He would allow six or eight to enter the car and ride — sixteen feet forward, around the mainmast, and sixteen feet back again — and it was laughable to watch the gravity of their faces as they held fast to the edge, bravely resolving to endure the dangers of this wonderful mode of locomotion. Not one had ever ridden in an automobile before, and although Moit merely allowed it to crawl over its confined course, the ride was a strange and fascinating experience to them.
I must allow that the performances of this clever machine astonished me. The inventor was able to start it from his seat, by means of a simple lever, and it was always under perfect control. The engines worked so noiselessly that you had to put your ear close in order to hear them at all, and the perfection of the workmanship could not fail to arouse my intense admiration.
“If this new metal is so durable as you claim,” I said to Moit, “the machine ought to last for many years.”
“My claim is that it is practically indestructible,” he answered, in a tone of conviction.
“But you have still the tire problem,” I remarked. “A puncture will put you out of business as quickly as it would any other machine.”
“A puncture!” he exclaimed. “Why, these tires cannot puncture, sir.”
“Why not?”
“They are not inflated.”
“What then?”
“It is another of my inventions, Mr. Steele. Inside each casing is a mass of sponge-rubber, of a peculiarly resilient and vigorous character. And within the casing itself is embedded a net of steel wire, which will not allow the vulcanized rubber to be cut to any depth. The result is an excellent tire that cannot be punctured and has great permanency.”
“You do not seem to have overlooked any important point,” I observed, admiringly.
“Ah, that is the one thing that now occupies my mind,” he responded, quickly. “That is why I have been testing the machine today, even in the limited way that is alone possible. I am haunted by the constant fear that I have overlooked some important point, which another might discover.”
“And have you found such a thing?”
“No; to all appearances the device is perfect. But who can tell what may yet develop?”
“Not I,” with a smile; “you have discounted my mechanical skill already. To my mind the invention seems in every way admirable, Mr. Moit.”
For nine days we lay becalmed, with cloudless skies above and a tranquil sea around us. During the day we rested drowsily in the oppressive heat, but the nights were always cooler and myriads of brilliant stars made it nearly as light as day. Ned had taken in every yard of canvas except a square sail which he rigged forward, and he took the added precaution to lash every movable thing firmly to its place.
“After this, we’ve got to expect ugly weather,” he announced; and as he knew the Caribbean well this preparation somewhat dismayed me. I began to wish we had entered the Gulf of Mexico and made the roundabout trip; but it was too late for regrets now, and we must make the best of our present outlook.
Personally I descended into the hold and examined with care the seams, finding that the calking had held securely so far and that we were as right and tight as when we had first sailed. But even this assurance was not especially encouraging, for we had met with no weather that a canoe might not have lived through without shipping more than a few drops of sea.
The ninth day was insufferably hot, and the evening brought no relief. Ned Britton’s face looked grave and worried, and I overheard him advising Duncan Moit to add several more anchor ropes to those that secured his machine.
We awaited the change in the weather anxiously enough, and toward midnight the stars began to be blotted out until shortly a black pall overhung the ship. The air seemed vibrant and full of an electric feel that drew heavily upon one’s nerves; but so far there had been no breath of wind.
At last, when it seemed we could wait no longer, a distant murmur was heard, drawing ever nearer and louder until its roar smote our ears like a discharge of artillery. The ship began to roll restlessly, and then the gale and the waves broke upon us at the same instant and with full force.
Heavily weighted and lazy as the bark was, she failed to rise to the first big wave, which washed over her with such resistless power that it would have swept every living soul away had we not clung desperately to the rigging. It seemed to me that I was immersed in a wild, seething flood for several minutes; but they must have been seconds, instead, for presently the water was gone and the wind endeavoring to tear me from my hold.
The square sail held, by good luck, and the ship began to stagger onward, bowing her head deep and submitting to constant floods that washed her from end to end. There was not much that could be done to ease her, and the fervid excitement of those first hours kept us all looking after our personal safety. Along we went, scudding before the gale, which maintained its intensity unabated and fortunately drove us along the very course we had mapped out.
The morning relieved the gloom, but did not lessen the force of the storm. The waves were, rolling pretty high, and all faces were serious or fearful, according to the disposition of their owners. In our old Saracen, or even the Flipper, I would not have minded the blow or the sea, but here was a craft of a different sort, and I did not know how she might stand such dreadful weather.
I got Ned into the cabin, where we stood like a couple of drenched rats and discussed the situation. On deck our voices could not be heard.
“Ar
e the small boats ready to launch?” I asked.
“All ready, sir; but I doubt if they’d live long,” he replied. “However, this ‘ere old hulk seems to be doin’ pretty decent. She lies low, bein’ so heavy loaded, an’ lets the waves break over her. That saves her a good deal of strain, Sam. If she don’t spring a leak an’ the cargo holds steady, we’ll get through all right.”
“Tried the pumps?”
“Yes; only bilge, so far.”
“Very good. How long will the gale last?”
“Days, perhaps, in these waters. There’s no rule to go by, as I knows of. It’ll just blow till it blows itself out.”
He went on deck again, keeping an eye always on the ship and trying to carry just enough canvas to hold her steady.
Duncan Moit and Uncle Naboth kept to the cabin and were equally unconcerned. The latter was an old voyager and realized that it was best to be philosophical; the former had never been at sea before and had no idea of our danger.
On the third morning of this wild and persistent tempest the boatswain came to where Ned and I clung to the rigging and said:
“She’s leaking, sir.”
“Badly?”
“Pretty bad, sir.”
“Get the pumps manned, Ned,” said I; “I’ll go below and investigate.”
I crawled into the hold through the forecastle cubby, as we dared not remove the hatches. I took along a sailor to carry the lantern, and we were not long in making the discovery that the Gladys H. was leaking like a sieve. Several of the seams that Mr. Harlan had caused to be calked so carefully had reopened and the water was spurting through in a dozen streams.
I got back to my cabin and made a careful examination of the chart. According to my calculations we could not be far from the coast of Panama. If I was right, another six hours would bring us to the shore; but I was not sure of my reckoning since that fearful gale had struck us. So the question whether or no the ship could live six hours longer worried me considerably, for the pumps were of limited capacity and the water was gaining on us every minute.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 654