A Dream of Daring

by Gen LaGreca

  The banker seemed distracted.

  “Tom? . . . Say, old boy . . .”

  Tom gazed at the old carriage house as if he had reached a temple. The chipped paint and worn planks of the small building showed its neglect in favor of a newer, larger structure nearby where the plantation’s coaches and carriages were now kept.

  “Tom?”

  Tom glanced at Nash, as if suddenly remembering his existence. “Okay, I’ll talk to Jones.”

  Barnwell summoned a servant, who swung open the wide door. A grin formed on Tom’s face at the reunion with his progeny.

  Nash, Cooper, and the senator walked into a space that was empty except for a dilapidated coach, an old relic apparently not meriting transfer to the new location, and a strange new device unlike anything they had ever seen. The two objects seemed to illustrate the past and the future, but nothing of interest in the present to the men, who looked curious but unexcited.

  Tom watched them surveying the mechanical object that was ten feet long and five feet wide. Slowly, they walked around it, with the crunch of their steps on the dirt floor the only sound. They bent down, cocked their heads, and peered at various parts of the device.

  The object was a conglomerate of iron and steel, pipes and valves, gears and belts, wheels and shafts, and levers and pedals that formed a vehicle. In the rear, it had a steering wheel, a driver’s seat between two large cleated wheels, and a hitch for attaching implements behind the device. On top of the frame, spanning from the driver’s seat to the front of the vehicle, was a long metal cover that seemed to encase the invention’s motor. In front, two smaller wheels supported the device. Two long rods on hinges rested along either side of the body and could be pivoted forward and hitched to a horse for hauling the device.

  Tom took his top hat and pointed it at the metal concoction as if he were presenting a royal coach to a king. “Gentlemen, this is a motor plow. It’s actually much more than that. It’s a traction vehicle for pulling various farm implements, or a tractor for short.”

  “It’s what?” asked Nash.

  “It’s the new age,” said Tom.

  “Maybe you’d like to explain,” said Barnwell.

  With a flick of his wrist, Tom tossed his hat on the seat of the device and faced his audience. “This vehicle can be used for tilling and planting. But the even bigger news is the engine.”

  “Are you saying this thing can pull better than a horse?” asked Cooper.

  “I’m saying the horse is doomed.”

  “Where’s the furnace and boiler?” asked Nash.

  “This is no steam engine.”

  “No horse? No steam? Impossible!” said Cooper.

  “Steam takes too long to heat. The fire is too dangerous, the water tank is too heavy, and it’s impractical to have to chop wood or stoke coals at every turn. Steam won’t do at all for a quick-starting, fast moving, lighter-weight, easy-to-use vehicle that will transform the world.” Tom spoke without boasting, as if he were just stating facts.

  “Transform the world, eh?” Cooper was skeptical.

  “Once it’s fine-tuned, yes.”

  “The world’s as it’s always been and always will be,” jibed Nash. “No contraption can change that.”

  Tom didn’t seem to hear the remark. “This new engine is unlike any other. It’s an engine that carries its own power plant inside of it.”

  He patted the device as a proud father would stroke a newborn. He didn’t notice that the others received his news with blank faces.

  “The engine uses an entirely new principle of power,” explained Tom. “It works on oil, on the exquisitely timed and orchestrated explosion of petroleum fuel within the engine.” His prior boredom with the reception had vanished from his face. “This explosion is harnessed so that the energy produced from it is used to drive the wheels. Gentlemen, this is no steam engine. It’s far more useful than steam could ever be.”

  “And the engine’s in there?” Cooper pointed to the covered area in front of the driver’s seat.

  “In there.” Tom nodded.

  “Let’s see,” said Barnwell.

  Tom opened a small black box by the driver’s seat and reached underneath various papers to grab a few tools. He lifted the engine cover from its grooves and, with Barnwell’s help, removed the bulky casement to reveal the workings.

  The men stared quietly, their faces curious as the enthusiastic inventor explained his creation.

  “You see the engine block here, with two cylindrical chambers in it. The explosions occur inside the chambers in a very carefully timed sequence. First, a combustible fuel—I use kerosene—flows into a chamber, then the fuel is compressed, then an electrical spark ignites it and expands it, and finally the spent fuel leaves the chamber, and the cycle begins again. These four phases that occur in each cylinder—the introduction of the fuel, its compression, its explosion, and its removal—drive a piston in the chamber to move up and down. The piston is connected to a crankshaft, which is connected to the wheels.” Tom pointed to the parts as he spoke. The others came closer, stretching their necks to see.

  “And that, gentlemen, is the whole of it. A lightning-quick stream of fuel combustions and exhausts in the chambers cause the changes in pressure and volume that drive the pistons up and down, which in turn move the wheels of an incredibly powerful vehicle. This is a new kind of power for a new age!”

  His audience was speechless, their eyes wary. Tom didn’t seem to notice or care about their reactions. He continued, engrossed in his subject.

  “This is the tank that holds the kerosene.” He pointed to a long cylindrical vessel with a cap. “And here’s another tank.” He pointed to a smaller vessel. “It holds gasoline.”

  “What’s that?” asked Nash.

  “A by-product in the petroleum mixture that’s more flammable than kerosene. Some inventors have written about its superior ignition properties, which can be used for starting this type of engine, so I obtained some and tried it in my device.”

  The remark about a useful petroleum product called gasoline left the men’s faces blank.

  “And here’s the ignition crank.” He bent down and pointed to a handle below the engine, between the front wheels. “The crank triggers an electrical spark that ignites the gasoline and starts the engine.” He sprang up and walked to the vehicle’s cab. “These levers and pedals by the driver regulate the amount of fuel and air going into the engine. They also get the device in gear, control the speed and direction, and put the tractor in neutral to stop the motor. The wheel is used for steering, like the reins on a horse.”

  Tom finished his description and smiled proudly. “That’s the basic idea of the self-propelled personal vehicle. I’ve plowed and harrowed fields with it on my own property.” He lifted the papers in the black box by the driver. “These are diagrams and instructions that show how to start the engine and operate the vehicle,” he said, waving the papers in his hand. “Anyone can do it.” He flipped through the papers. “And these drawings illustrate the tractor performing field jobs with various attachments, from plowing to harrowing to seeding to cultivating. I also have calculations showing the incredible productive output of the machine over manual labor.” He dropped the papers and tools back in the small compartment, then faced his puzzled audience. “This vehicle is powerful beyond imagination. With one small, inexpensive tank of fuel, a mere few gallons, a man can till acres.”

  Cooper cast a doubtful look at Tom, as if the young man in formal clothes seemed too refined to have created the imposing mechanical object before them. “You fabricated this thing yourself?”

  “I did. I conceived the project when I studied engineering in college, and I worked on it while I had a job designing and repairing motors for a large mill company in Pennsylvania. When I was with the mill, I must’ve seen every kind of engine ever made.”

  And where’d you see this one?” asked Barnwell.

  “Nowhere.”

  “Nowhere?”
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  “There are experiments going on here and in Europe, but no one’s ever put a portable engine like this to wide-scale practical use before.”

  “And you will?” asked Nash in disbelief.

  “I hope to.”

  “What’s this contest you’re entering?” asked Cooper.

  “The North has investment money, and I need more of it than my bank can safely risk. I need it for research, design, manufacturing, sales. You see, getting all the engine parts to work, and work in harmony—getting the right grade of fuel, the right electrical sparking mechanism to ignite the fuel, the right mix of air with the fuel for combustion, the right valves to let the fuel in and out of the chambers, the right timing mechanism for sequencing the explosions, the right steering levers and pedals for the driver’s easy use, the right cooling system to prevent overheating, the right lubricating system to keep the parts running smoothly—the right everything—is daunting. But it’ll be done,” Tom said confidently. “This is just the beginning.”

  The men looked astonished as the young inventor expended his own sizable energy, waving his hands, moving around the device, and pointing to parts as he made his points.

  “I need to hire skilled machinists and open a factory to design and make the parts. It’ll take years to develop a product that will be reliable, safe, simple, powerful, durable, and affordable. But this is the start, right here. My tractor works. It shows what can be done. With design improvements it’ll be ready to manufacture and sell all over the country—and the world.” Tom gazed at the conglomerate of metal as if it were gold. “The first internal-combustion tractor!”

  The men exchanged questioning glances.

  “The contest is for the best new invention. It’s an event that draws investors from all over the country. They hover around, talk to the inventors, study the entries. I hope to find supporters.”

  “All this trouble for a plow? Why bother? Why not just keep using horses?” queried Nash.

  “It’s not just a plow. It’s the new age.”

  “Has anyone actually seen this thing work?” asked Nash.

  “Not I,” said the senator. “I hauled it here by horse.”

  “I’ve been working on this in private, in isolated fields on my land where nobody goes, not even my field hands.”

  “Let’s get it outside and see how it works,” urged Nash. “If it works.”

  Tom shook his head. “Today’s affair is hardly the right occasion. Besides, it has no brake yet, and the engine’s roar scares horses and startles people that aren’t used to the sound. I need to show it to you in a level field away from the house. I’ll demonstrate it when I get back.”

  “Do you have a patent on this contraption?” asked Cooper.

  “I was making changes constantly, until the final days before this trip, so I had to wait till I had some stability in the design and a workable prototype. Now, I’m ready to apply.”

  “Do you really think anyone will invest in this thing?” asked Barnwell.

  “Absolutely. Why, the implications are tremendous! First, there’s the engine. A compact, powerful, self-propelled engine that runs on cheap fuel—the perfect replacement for the horse!”

  The others looked dubious.

  “It could operate horseless carriages and motored wagons of every kind at a fraction of the expense and trouble we have now. It could be used not only on the farm but also in the city—for transportation, deliveries, hauling. It could eliminate the costly, time-consuming upkeep of draft animals. And farmers could redirect the acreage they use for grazing to produce cash crops instead.

  “The same kind of engine could power boats and trains. It could be used wherever steam or animals are used, but far more conveniently and less expensively.” Tom’s eyes widened as if the vision he saw were bursting from them. “Gentlemen, the internally powered engine will completely change the way we view transportation and farming.”

  The men listened, their puzzled faces shifting from the device to its creator. They stared in amazement at a facet they had never seen of the quiet young man who had joined their circle eighteen months ago.

  “Now, if we apply this engine to farming in the form of a tractor, like the one I have here, the possibilities are vast,” said Tom. “Hitch a plow to the vehicle, and it’ll turn the soil. Hitch a harrow, and it’ll break up and smooth the surface. Hitch a disc that’ll make a ridge in the soil for a hopper to gravity-drop seed into, followed by a roller to smooth the soil over the planting, and it’ll plant seed in rows.”

  As he spoke, Tom moved to the rear of the device, kneeling and gesturing to show the placement of the tools he envisioned.

  “If you space the wheels to rest between planting rows and keep the engine high off the ground, a tractor like this could straddle the growing plants and turn the soil. Weeding and cultivating could be done mechanically.”

  Tom rose. With his arms outstretched and his fingers almost touching the dilapidated old coach on one side of him and the new tractor on the other, he looked like a bridge between two worlds.

  “Gentlemen, the new age is coming. That’s why I aim to develop this thing.”

  “Does this mean you’ll be moving up North?” Nash asked hopefully.

  “I want to develop it here, where I can test it on cotton.”

  “You sure have some big plans there, Tom,” said Cooper with a mocking grin. “I mean, a new age?”

  “What’s wrong with the age we have?” asked Nash.

  “How can you be so sure of what you’re saying?” added Cooper.

  “Because my tractor works. It works. The rest is details—thousands of tedious details and years of laboring through them. But there’s a new principle at work in this engine, and there’s no denying that. There’s no going back.” He smiled, his eyes bright with confidence. “With the tractor, an entire field can be worked by one man in one day. All it takes is a small, maneuverable engine able to move wheels and haul farm equipment.”

  His thoughts were a world away as he gestured, his face pensive.

  “Today we have mechanized textile mills that substantially increase production over manual methods. Just imagine that kind of machine power in a small, personal vehicle. Picture that out in the fields. I tell you, there’ll be a day when one machine will perform the work of a hundred hands. It will empty the fields of men!”

  “Empty the fields of men?” repeated Cooper, his curiosity now tinged with displeasure.

  “We don’t need to empty the fields,” added Nash. “We have plenty of hands that we need to occupy. Whatever would we do with them?”

  “Why, a man’s lot will change with changing times,” Tom replied excitedly. “Machines will work the fields, and men will no longer have to break their backs and waste their lives digging dirt and picking crops. There’ll be plenty of other jobs to do. The new age will need workers to operate the machines. It’ll need mechanics, inventors, engineers, architects, mathematicians, and builders to design the machines, to erect the factories, and to produce greater and greater advances to move mankind forward.”

  “What about the slaves?” Cooper asked accusingly. “Where do they stand in your wild scheme?”

  Tom seemed to look through the men to the vision that filled his mind, making him powerless to speak to anything else. “The new age is science. It has no place for slaves.”

  A biting silence greeted his pronouncement. If Tom hadn’t been consumed with his own thoughts, he might have felt as if he had been slapped.

  Nash broke the awkward pause, his voice growing bolder as he spoke, as if he had suddenly found a playing field on which he could score a point. “Let me explain something to you, my friend. Slavery is completely intertwined with life here, and you’re not going to change that.”

  “Slavery is inextricably linked with the economy worldwide,” added Cooper. “Thanks to slavery, we have cotton. And thanks to cotton, men are better clothed, their comfort better promoted, their industry more highly stimul
ated, and civilization more rapidly advanced.”

  “You mean you need slavery to advance civilization?” asked Tom.

  “Look here,” said Cooper, “we don’t rhapsodize about any new age here. We don’t even think that humbug.”

  Barnwell, who had remained quiet, now squeezed Tom’s shoulder affectionately. “You’ve been away so long, Tom, you forgot how things work here. What I mean is, they’re children. We look after them. They need our help and would be completely lost without it. Why, it’s right honorable of us to take care of them,” he declared. “They can’t do the work you’re talking about. Mathematicians! Engineers! Imagine!” He roared with laughter. “It’s like expectin’ a baby to build a steamboat. They’re like children, I tell you.”

  “Isn’t that because you treat them that way?” asked Tom.

  “Our slaves are treated better than any workers up North,” said Cooper. “You want to make wage laborers out of them? We give them much more than that here. We don’t fire them. We feed them. We house them. We care for them when they’re sick. We look after their young. And we keep them comfortable in their advancin’ years. I tell you, havin’ our protection and security is the superior system to wage labor.”

  “You mean having no choice about your life is superior to having a choice?” asked Tom quietly.

  “You listen, boy, and listen good,” said Cooper. “You got something new, we’re open-minded; we’ll give it a look. But if any tractor gets developed here, it’ll be by us, for us, and serving us and our ways.”

  “No men can make the tractor kowtow to their notions of how the world should run. The tractor will come with its own notions.”

  “There’s a word for your talk,” Cooper said sharply, his voice low, his finger pointing in Tom’s face.

  “Now, now, Ted,” said Barnwell soothingly. “Tom needs time to adjust to life here. This new age isn’t coming tonight, is it?” He laughed. “I reckon we’ll have lots of time to discuss it.”

  He put his arm around Cooper’s shoulder and steered him toward the door. “Let’s get back to the guests, Ted. Tomorrow I’ll take you around and show you the plantation journals. Bret Markham, the overseer, kept the books in right good order, everything recorded, every penny accounted for. He may look unscrubbed, but he’s a fine man. Intelligent, I tell you.”