THE MOIT CONVERTIBLE AUTOMOBILE
The flat-boat came alongside within the hour. On it was a big object
covered with soiled canvas and tied ’round and ’round with cords like a
package from the grocer. Beside it stood Moit, motionless until the
barge made fast and Ned Britton—who at my request had ordered the
windlass made ready—had the tackle lowered to hoist it aboard.
Then the inventor directed his men in a clear-headed, composed way that
made the task easy enough. The big bundle appeared not so heavy as it
looked, and swung up without much strain on the tackle.
I found a place for it just abaft the forecastle, where it would not
interfere with the sailors in working the ship. In a brief space of time
Duncan Moit had screwed hooks in the planking and lashed his bulky
contrivance so firmly to the deck that no ordinary pitch or roll of the
ship could possibly affect its security.
Then he carried his trunk and several packages to his cabin, which I had
assigned him next my own, and after that I lost sight of him in the
responsible duties of our preparations to hoist anchor.
Luncheon was served while we waited for the tide, but there was as yet
no sign of Uncle Naboth. I really did not know whether to expect him or
not. He might have changed his mind, I reflected; for unless it was a
business matter my uncle and partner was wont to be extremely erratic in
his decisions. And he had no business at all to join me on this voyage
except, as he had said, that he was tired of the land and wished to
relieve his restlessness by a smell of salt water.
He was no sailor at all, nor even a navigator; but he had sailed so many
years as supercargo and trader that he was seldom contented for long on
land, and like myself he dreaded the long wait until Spring when our
beautiful new craft would be ready for her maiden trip.
So for a time I thought it probable that he would come alongside; and
then I thought it probable he would not. If he ran across Captain
Steele, my father was liable to discourage him from making so long and
so useless a voyage when no profit was to be had from it. My case was
different, for I was a boy still full of a youthful energy and
enthusiasm that needed a safety-valve. Moreover, I was pardonably proud
of my new position, being for the first time the captain of a ship in
name and authority, although I was forced to acknowledge to myself that
Ned Britton was the real captain and that without him I would be very
helpless indeed.
Two o’clock came, and then three o’clock; but there was no evidence of
Uncle Naboth.
I gave a sigh of regret and unfeigned disappointment then, and nodded to
Ned to weigh anchor, for the tide was beginning to turn.
My new men worked cheerily and with a will, and soon the anchor was
apeak, our mainsail set and we were standing out to sea on our doubtful
attempt to round the Horn and reach the blue waters of the Pacific.
We had left the bay and were standing well out from the coast, when I
happened to glance over the rail and notice a small launch coming toward
us from the harbor at full speed. They were unable to signal from that
distance, but I brought a powerful glass and soon made out the form of
Uncle Naboth standing upright in the middle of the little craft and
gracefully waving a red handkerchief.
I had Ned luff and lay to, laughing to think how nearly the little uncle
had missed us, and before long the launch covered the distance between
us and came alongside.
Uncle Naboth was gorgeous in appearance. He was dressed in a vividly
checked suit and wore a tourist cap perched jauntily atop his iron-gray
locks. His shirt bosom was wonderfully pleated, his shoes of shiney
patent-leather, and he wore yellow kid gloves that wrinkled dreadfully.
Moreover—the greatest wonder of all, to me—my uncle was smoking a big,
fat cigar instead of his accustomed corn-cob pipe, and he had a kodak
slung over one shoulder and a marine-glass over the other.
First of all my uncle sent his traps up the side. Then he began a long
but calm argument with the crew of the launch, who were greatly excited,
and this might have continued indefinitely had not Ned become impatient
and yelled a warning that he was about to tack. At this Uncle Naboth
thrust some money in the hand of the skipper and leisurely ascended the
ladder while a chorus of curses and threats fell upon his unheeding
ears.
“Nearly missed you, Sam, didn’t I?” he said, nodding cheerfully as the
sails filled and we headed into the breeze again. “Close shave, but no
alum or bay-rum.”
“What made you late, Uncle?”
“Had to do a lot to git my outfit ready,” he said, puffing his cigar,
smoothing out his gloves and at the same time casting a critical eye
over the deck. “First time in my life, nevvy, that I’ve went to sea on a
pleasure-trip. No business to look after, no worry, no figgerin’. Jest
sailin’ away o’er the deep blue sea with a jolly crew is the life for
me. Eh, Sam?”
“Right you are, Uncle. You’re just a passenger, and a mighty welcome
one. I’m glad you caught us.”
“Stern chase, but not a long one. What do you s’pose, Sam? I had to pay
them pirates in that half-grown steamboat thirty dollars to get me
aboard.”
“Thirty dollars!”
“Dreadful, wasn’t it? And then they wanted sixty. Took me for a tourist
gent ’cause I looked the part. But I was bound to come, an’ they was
onto my anxiousness, so it might be expected as they’d soak me good an’
plenty. Where’d you say you was bound for, Sam?”
“Down the coast, around the Horn, and up the Pacific to San Pedro.”
“Sounds interestin’.”
His bright little eye had been observant.
“What’s aboard, my lad?”
“Steel beams for some new buildings in Los Angeles.”
“Loaded rather heavy, ain’t she?”
“Too heavy, Uncle.”
“H-m-m. Not any too tight, either, I take it. Hull old an’ rotten;
plenty o’ paint to cover up the worm-holes.”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Will you make it, Sam?”
“Can’t say, Uncle Naboth. But I’ll try.”
“Cargo insured?”
“No; that’s the worst of it. The owners insure themselves, because the
tub won’t pass at Lloyd’s. If we sink it’s a big loss. So we mustn’t
sink.”
“Iron won’t float, nevvy.”
“I’m going to hug the coast, mostly. If trouble comes I’ll beach her.
You may be in for a long cruise, Uncle.”
He nodded quite pleasantly.
“That’s all right. I take it we’ll manage to get home by Spring, an’
that’s time enough fer us both. But I can see she ain’t a race-hoss,
Sam, my boy.”
Indeed, the ship was not behaving at all to suit me. With a favorable
breeze and an easy sea the miserable old hulk was sailing more like a
water-logged raft than a modern merchantman.
Her sails and cordage were new and beautiful, and her paint spick and
span; but I noticed my sailors wagging their heads with disappointment
as the _Gladys H._ labored through the water.
Uncle Naboth chuckled to himself and glanced at me as if he thought it
all a good joke, and I the only victim. But I pretended to pay no
attention to him. Being, as he expressed it, a “loafin’ land-lubber,” I
installed him in the last of the roomy cabins aft, all of which opened
into the officers’ mess-room. Ned Britton had the cabin opposite mine,
and Mr. Perkins the one opposite to that occupied by Duncan Moit. For my
part, I was pleased enough to have such good company on a voyage that
promised to be unusually tedious.
Moit had kept well out of our way until everything was snug and
ship-shape, and then he came on deck and stood where he could keep a
tender eye on his precious machine. I introduced him to Uncle Naboth and
the two “passengers” shook hands cordially and were soon conversing
together in a friendly manner.
I had decided to take my sailors into my confidence in the very
beginning, so I called all hands together and made them a brief speech.
“My lads,” said I, “we need not look forward to a very good voyage, for
you have doubtless discovered already that the _Gladys H._ is not a
greyhound. To be honest with you, she’s old and leaky, and none too
safe. But she’s got a valuable cargo aboard, that must be safe delivered
if we can manage it, and we are all of us well paid to do our duty by
the owners. My instructions are to hug the land and make a harbor if bad
weather comes. At the worst we can run the ship on the shingle and save
the cargo in that way—for the cargo is worth a dozen such tubs. It’s a
somewhat risky undertaking, I know, and if any of you don’t like your
berths I’ll put you ashore at the first likely place and you can go home
again. But if you are willing to stick to me, I’ll take as good care of
you as I can, and your money is sure because the Interocean Forwarding
Company is back of us and good for every penny. What do you say, my
lads?”
They were a good-natured lot, and appreciated my frankness. After a
little conference together the boatswain declared they were all content
to see the venture to the end and do the best they could under the
circumstances. So a mutual understanding was established from the
beginning, and before the end came I had cause to be proud of every man
aboard.
The weather was warm and pleasant, and as I sat with our passengers and
Ned on the deck in the afternoon Uncle Naboth got his eye on the
overgrown grocery package and said to Moit:
“What sort of an automobile have you got?”
The man had been dreaming, but he gave a start and his eyes lighted with
sudden interest. The abstracted mood disappeared.
“It is one of my own invention, sir,” he replied.
“What do you call it?”
“The Moit Convertible Automobile.”
“Heh? Convertible?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I guess,” said Uncle Naboth, “I’m up agin it. ‘Convertible’ is a word I
don’t jest catch the meaning of. Latin’s a little rusty, you know; so
long since I went to school.”
“It means,” said Moit, seriously, “that the machine is equally adapted
to land and water.”
My uncle stared a little, then looked away and began to whistle softly.
Ned Britton sighed and walked to the rail as if to observe our motion.
For my part, I had before entertained a suspicion that the poor fellow
was not quite right in his mind, so I was not surprised. But he appeared
gentlemanly enough, and was quite in earnest; so, fearing he might
notice the rather pointed conduct of my uncle and Ned, I made haste to
remark with fitting gravity:
“That is a very desirable combination, Mr. Moit, and a great improvement
on the ordinary auto.”
“Oh, there is nothing ordinary about the machine, in any way,” he
responded, quickly. “Indeed, it is so different from all the other motor
vehicles in use that it cannot properly be termed an automobile. Some
time I intend to provide an appropriate name for my invention, but until
now the machine itself has occupied my every thought.”
“To be sure,” I said, rather vaguely.
“Most automobiles,” began my uncle, lying back in his chair and giving
me a preliminary wink, “is only built to go on land, an’ balks whenever
they gets near a repair shop. I was tellin’ a feller the other day in
New York, who was becalmed in the middle of the street, that if he’d
only put a sail on his wagon and wait for a stiff breeze, he could tell
all the repair men to go to thunder!”
“But this has nothing to do with Mr. Moit’s invention,” I said, trying
not to smile. “Mr. Moit’s automobile is different.”
“As how?” asked my uncle.
Mr. Moit himself undertook to reply.
“In the first place,” said he, his big eyes looking straight through me
with an absorbed expression, as if I were invisible, “I do not use the
ordinary fuel for locomotion. Gasoline is expensive and dangerous, and
needs constant replenishing. Electricity is unreliable, and its storage
very bulky. Both these forces are crude and unsatisfactory. My first
thought was to obtain a motive power that could be relied upon at all
times, that was inexpensive and always available. I found it in
compressed air.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Uncle Naboth.
I am sure he knew less about automobiles than I did, for I owned a small
machine at home and had driven it some while on shore. But Mr. Perkins
prided himself on being familiar with all modern inventions, and what he
did not know from personal experience he was apt to imagine he knew.
“Compressed air,” he observed, oracularly, “is what blows the sails of a
ship.”
The inventor turned on him a look of wonder.
“This seems to me like a clever idea,” I hastened to say. “But I can’t
see exactly, sir, how you manage to use compressed air for such a
purpose.”
“I have a storage tank,” Moit answered, “which is constantly replenished
by the pumps as fast as the air is exhausted, which of course only
occurs while the machine is in action.”
“But you need something to start the engines,” I suggested. “Do you use
gasoline for that purpose?”
“No, sir. I have a glycerine explosive which is so condensed that an
atom is all that is required to prime the engines. In a little chamber
that contains about a pint I can carry enough explosive to last me for a
year. And wherever there is air I have power that is perpetual.”
“That’s great!” cried Uncle Naboth, with an enthusiasm so plainly
assumed that Ned and I had much ado to keep from laughing outright.
“In other ways,” continued Duncan Moit, “I have made marked improvements
upon the ordinary motor car. Will you allow me, gentlemen, to show you
my machine, and to explain it to you?”
We were glad enough of this diversion, even Ned Britton, who could not
have run a sewing-machine, being curious to examine our crazy
passenger’s invention.
Moit at once began to untie the cords and remove the soiled canvas,
which consisted of parts of worn-out sails stitched clumsily together.
But when this uninviting cover was withdrawn we saw with astonishment a
machine of such beauty, completeness and exquisite workmanship that our
exclamations of delight were alike spontaneous and genuine.
Moit might be mad, but as a mechanic he was superb, if this was indeed a
creation of his own hands.
An automobile? Well, it had four massive wheels with broad rubber tires,
a steering gear (of which only the wheel was visible) and a body for the
passengers to ride in; but otherwise the world-pervading auto-fiend
would not have recognized the thing.
It seemed to be all of metal—a curious metal of a dull silver hue—not
painted or polished in any place, but so finely constructed that every
joint and fitting appeared perfect. It was graceful of design, too,
although the body was shaped like the hull of a boat, with the wheels so
placed that the structure was somewhat more elevated from the ground
than ordinarily. This body was about a foot in thickness, having an
inner and outer surface composed of beautifully rivetted plates of the
strange metal.
Moit explained that part of this space was used for vacuum chambers,
which were kept exhausted by the pumps when required and made the
machine wonderfully light. Also, within what corresponded with the
gunwale of a boat, were concealed the parts of the adjustable top,
which, when raised into position and hooked together, formed a
dome-shaped cover for the entire body. These parts were almost entirely
of glass, in which a fine wire netting had been imbedded, so that while
the riders could see clearly on all sides, any breakage of the glass was
unlikely to occur. In any event it could only crack, as the netting
would still hold the broken pieces in place.
The engines were in a front chamber of the body. There were four of
them, each no bigger than a gallon jug; but Moit assured us they were
capable of developing twenty-five horse-power each, or a total of one
hundred horse-power, owing to the wonderful efficiency of the compressed
air. All the other machinery was similarly condensed in size and so
placed that the operator could reach instantly any part of it.
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 discomfitted.
“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.