RAPID TRANSIT.
If Phaeton Rogers was not an immediate success as a rider of horses, he
certainly did what seemed some wonderful things in the way of inventing
conveyances for himself and other people to ride.
One day, not long after our adventures with Dobbin, Ned and I found him
sitting under the great plane-tree in the front yard, working with a
knife at some small pieces of wood, which he put together, making a
frame like this:
[Illustration: RAPID TRANSIT BY CABLE.]
"What are you making, Fay?" said Ned.
"An invention," said Phaeton, without looking up from his work.
"What sort of invention? A new invention?"
"It would have to be new or it wouldn't be an invention at all."
"But what is it for?"
"For the benefit of mankind, like all great inventions."
"It seems to me that some of the best have been for the benefit of
boykind," said Ned. "But what is the use of trying to be too smart? Let
us know what it is. We're not likely to steal it, as Lem Woodruff
thinks the patent-lawyer stole his idea for a double-acting washboard."
Phaeton was silent, and worked away. Ned and I walked out at the gate
and turned into the street, intending to go swimming. We had not gone
far when Phaeton called "Ned!" and we turned back.
"Ned," said he, "don't you want to lend me the ten dollars that Aunt
Mercy gave you last week?"
Their Aunt Mercy was an unmarried lady with considerable property, who
was particularly good to Ned. When Phaeton was a baby she wanted to
name him after the man who was to have been her husband, but who was
drowned at sea.
Mrs. Rogers would not consent, but insisted upon naming the boy
Fayette, and Aunt Mercy had never liked him, and would never give him
anything, or believe that he could do anything good or creditable. She
was a little deaf, and if it was told her that Phaeton had taken a
prize at school, she pretended not to hear; but whenever Ned got one
she had no trouble at all in hearing about it, and she always gave him
at least a dollar or two on such occasions. For when Ned was born she
was allowed to do what she had wanted to do with Fayette, and named him
Edmund Burton, after her long-lost lover. Later, she impressed it upon
him that he was never to write his name E. B. Rogers, nor Edmund B.
Rogers, but always Edmund Burton Rogers, if he wanted to please her,
and be remembered in her will. She never called him anything but Edmund
Burton. Whereas, she pretended not to remember Fayette's name at all,
and would twist it in all sorts of ways, calling him Layit and Brayit,
and Fater and Faylen, and once she called him Frenchman-what's-his-name,
which was as near as she ever came to getting it right.
"Why should I lend you my ten dollars?" said Ned. "For the information
you kindly gave us about your invention?"
"Oh, as to that," said Phaeton, "I've no objection to telling you two
about it, now that I have thought it all out. I did not care to tell
you before, because I was studying on it."
"All right; go ahead," said Ned, as we seated ourselves on the grass,
and Phaeton began.
"It is called the Underground Railway. You see, there are some
places--like the city of New York, for instance--where the buildings
are so close together, and land is worth so much, that they can't build
railroads enough to carry all the people back and forth. And so they
have been trying, in all sorts of ways, to get up something that will
do it--something different from a common railroad."
"Balloons would be the thing," said Ned.
"No; balloons won't do," said Phaeton. "You can't make them 'light
where you want them to. I've thought of a good many ways, but there was
some fault in all of them but this last one."
"Tell us about the others first," said Ned.
"I'll show you _one_ of them," said Phaeton, and he drew from his
pocket a small sheet of paper, which he unfolded.
[Illustration: RAPID TRANSIT BY CAR.]
"This," said he, "represents the city of New York. _A_ is some place
far up-town where people live; _B_ is the Battery, which is down-town
where they do the business. I suppose you both know what a mortar is?"
"A cannon as big around as it is long," said Ned.
"And shoots bomb-shells," said I.
"That's it," said Phaeton. "Now here, you see, is a big mortar up-town;
only, instead of shooting a bomb-shell, it shoots a car. This car has
no wheels, and has a big knob of India-rubber on the end for a buffer.
When you get it full of people, you lock it up tight and touch off the
mortar. This dotted mark represents what is called the line of flight.
You see, it comes down into another sort of mortar, which has a big
coiled spring inside, to stop it easy and prevent it from smashing.
Then the depot-master puts up a long step-ladder and lets the people
out."
Ned said he should like to be the one to touch off the mortar.
"And why wasn't that a good plan?" said I.
"There are some serious objections to it," said Phaeton, in a knowing
way. "For instance, you can't aim such a thing very true when the wind
is blowing hard, and people might not like to ride in it on a windy
day. Besides, some people have a very strong prejudice, you know,
against any sort of fire-arms."
"There wouldn't be much chance for a boy to catch a ride on it," said
Ned, as if that were the most serious objection of all. "But tell us
about the real invention."
"The real invention," said Phaeton, "is this," and he took up the
little frame we had seen him making. Taking an India-rubber string from
his pocket, he stretched it from one of the little posts to the other,
and fastened it.
"Now," said he, "suppose there was a fly that lived up at this end, and
had his office down at that end. He gets his breakfast, and takes his
seat right here," and he laid his finger on the string, near one of the
posts. "I call out, 'All aboard!' and then----"
Here Phaeton, who had his knife in his hand, cut the string in two
behind the imaginary fly.
"Where is the fly now?" said he. "At his office doing business--"
"I don't understand," said Ned.
"I've only half explained it," said Phaeton. "Now, you see, it's easy
enough to make a tunnel under-ground and run cars through. But a tunnel
always gets full of smoke when a train goes through, which is very
disagreeable, and if you send a train every fifteen minutes, all the
passengers would choke. So, you see, there must be something instead of
an engine and a train of cars. I propose to dig a good tunnel wherever
the road wants to go, and make it as long as you please. Right through
the centre I pass an India-rubber cable as large as a man's leg, and
stretch it tight and fasten it to great posts at each end. All the men
and boys who want to go sit on at one end, as if on horseback. When
everything is ready, the train-despatcher takes a sharp axe, and with
one blow clips the cable in two behind them, and zip they go to the
other end before you can say Jack Robinson."
Ned said he should like to be train-despatcher.
"They'd all have to hang on like time," said I.
"Of course they would," said Phaeton; "but there are little straps for
them to take hold by."
"And would there be a tub at the other end," said Ned "to catch the
passengers that were broken to pieces against the end wall?"
"Oh, pshaw!" said Phaeton. "Don't you suppose I have provided for
that?"
The fact was, Phaeton had spent more study on the question of landing
his passengers safely than on any other part of his invention. It was
not the first instance since the days of the hand-mill that made the
sea salt, in which it had been found easy to set a thing going, but
difficult to stop it.
"There are several ways," said he, continuing his explanation, "to let
the passengers off safely. I haven't decided yet what I'll adopt. One
way is, to have a sort of brake to squeeze down on the cable and make
it stop gradually. I don't exactly like that, because it would wear out
the cable, and these cables are going to cost a great deal of money.
Another way is, to throw them against a big, soft mattress, like pins
in a bowling-alley. But even that would hurt a little, I guess, no
matter how soft you made the mattress. The best way is, to have it drop
them in a tank of water."
"What! and get all wet?" said Ned.
"Don't be in a hurry," said Phaeton. "Each one would wear an
India-rubber water-proof garment (a sort of over-dress), covering him
all over and fastened up tight. Of course, these would be provided by
the company."
"But wouldn't it use up a cable every time you cut it?" said Ned.
"Not at all; it could be stretched again by hitching a team of horses
to the end and drawing it back, and then we should solder it together
with melted India-rubber. Probably a dozen teams would be at work at
night stretching cables for use next day. You see, we should have as
many cables as the business of the road required."
I have never known whether Phaeton was sincere in all this, or whether
he was simply fooling Ned and me. I have since suspected that he had a
purpose which did not appear at the time. At any rate, we took it all
in and believed it all, and looked upon him as one of the world's great
inventors.
"And what do you want the ten dollars for?" said Ned.
"Well, you know nothing can be done without more or less money," said
Phaeton. "The first thing is, to get up a model to send to the
Patent-Office, and get a patent on it."
"What's that?" said Ned.
"What's what?"
"A model."
"A model," said Phaeton, "is a little one, with tunnel and all
complete, to show how it works."
"But a tunnel," said Ned, "is a hole in the ground. You can't send a
hole in the ground to the Patent-Office, no matter how small you make
it."
"Oh, pshaw! Don't you understand? There would be a little wooden tube
or shell, painted red, to represent the brick-work that the real tunnel
would be arched in with."
"Well, what then?"
"I suppose it would cost about ten dollars to get up a model. If it's
going to the Patent-Office it doesn't want to be botched up with a
pocket-knife."
"Of course not," said Ned. "But the model will be only a beginning. It
will take a great deal more money than that to build the real thing."
"Now you talk business," said Phaeton. "And I'm ready to talk with you.
I've thought it all out. I got an idea from the way that Father says
Mr. Drake manages to build so many houses."
"Let's hear about it."
"There are two ways to get the thing into operation. One is, to try it
first in this town. You know we boys could dig the tunnel ourselves,
and it wouldn't cost anything."
"Yes, I suppose so--if enough boys would take hold."
"Then we could give a mortgage on the tunnel, and so raise money to buy
the cable, and there you are."
"That's all very fine," said Ned; "but they foreclose mortgages. And if
there was a mortgage on our tunnel, and they foreclosed it while we
were in there, what would become of us? How should we ever get out?"
Phaeton laughed.
"I'll tell you how we'll fix it," said he. "We'll have a secret shaft
leading out of the tunnel, and not let the man we give the mortgage to
know anything about it."
Ned didn't exactly know whether he was being quizzed or not.
"What's the other way of getting the thing into operation?" said he.
"The other way," said Phaeton, "is to go to New York and see Uncle
Silas, and have him get up a company to start it there."
"I think I like that way best," said Ned. "But, to tell you the truth,
I had made arrangements to do something else with that ten dollars."
Phaeton looked disappointed.
"Then why didn't you say so in the first place?" said he, as he put his
things into his pocket and turned to walk away.
"Don't get mad, Fay," said Ned. "Perhaps we can get another ten."
"Where can we get it?"
"Of Aunt Mercy."
"You might, but I can't."
"Well, I'll try to get it for you, if you'll let me take your machine."
"All right," said Phaeton. "When will you go?"
"I might as well go this evening as any time," said Ned.
So it was agreed that he should visit his Aunt Mercy that evening, and
see if she would advance the money for a model. I was to go with him,
but Phaeton was to be kept entirely in the background.
"Do you suppose Fay can really make anything out of this machine?" said
Ned to me, as we were on the way to his Aunt Mercy's.
"I should think he might," said I. "For he is certainly a genius, and
he seems to have great faith in it."
"At any rate, we might as well get fifteen dollars while we are about
it," said Ned.
"I suppose we might," said I.