In a large building, not far from the lens-house in which Roland Clewe
had pursued the experiments which had come to such a disappointing
conclusion, there was a piece of mechanism which interested its inventor
more than any other of his works, excepting of course the photic borer.
This was an enormous projectile, the peculiarity of which was that its
motive power was contained within itself, very much as a rocket contains
the explosives which send it upward. It differed, however, from the
rocket or any other similar projectile, and many of its features were
entirely original with Roland Clewe.
This extraordinary piece of mechanism, which was called the automatic
shell, was of cylindrical form, eighteen feet in length and four feet in
diameter. The forward end was conical and not solid, being formed of a
number of flat steel rings, decreasing in size as they approached the
point of the cone. When not in operation these rings did not touch one
another, but they could be forced together by pressure on the point
of the cone. This shell might contain explosives or not, as might be
considered desirable, and it was not intended to fire it from a cannon,
but to start it on its course from a long semi-cylindrical trough, which
would be used simply to give it the desired direction. After it had been
started by a ram worked by an engine at the rear end of the trough, it
immediately bean to propel itself by means of the mechanism contained
within it.
But the great value of this shell lay in the fact that the moment it
encountered a solid substance or obstruction of any kind its propelling
power became increased. The rings which formed the cone on its forward
end were pressed together, the electric motive power was increased in
proportion to the pressure, and thus the greater the resistance to this
projectile the greater became its velocity and power of progression,
and its onward course continued until its self-containing force had been
exhausted.
The power of explosives had reached, at this period, to so high a point
that it was unnecessary to devise any increase in their enormous energy,
and the only problems before the students of artillery practice related
to methods of getting their projectiles to the points desired. Progress
in this branch of the science had proceeded so far that an attack upon
a fortified port by armored vessels was now considered as a thing of the
past; and although there had been no naval wars of late years, it was
believed that never again would there be a combat between vessels of
iron or steel.
The recently invented magnetic shell made artillery practice against all
vessels of iron a mere mechanical process, demanding no skill whatever.
When one of these magnetic shells was thrown anywhere in the vicinity
of an iron ship, the powerful magnetism developed within it instantly
attracted it to the vessel, which was destroyed by the ensuing contact
and explosion. Two ironclads meeting on the ocean need each to fire but
one shell to be both destroyed. The inability of iron battle-ships
to withstand this improvement in artillery had already set the naval
architects of the world upon the work of constructing warships which
would not attract the magnetic shell--which was effective even when laid
on the bottoms of harbors--and Roland Clewe had been engaged in making
plans and experiments for the construction of a paper man-of-war, which
he believed would meet the requirements of the situation.
When Clewe determined to follow Margaret Raleigh's advice and give up
for a time his work with the Artesian ray, his thoughts naturally
turned to his automatic shell. Work upon this invention was now almost
completed, but the great difficulty which its inventor expected to meet
with was that of inducing his government to make a trial of it. Such a
trial would be extremely expensive, involving probably the destruction
of the shell, and he did not feel able or willing to experiment with it
without governmental aid.
The shell was intended for use on land as well as at sea, against cities
and great fortified structures, and Clewe believed that the automatic
shell might be brought within fifty miles of a city, set up with its
trough and ram, and projected in a level line towards its object,
to which it would impel itself with irresistible power and velocity,
through forests, hills, buildings, and everything, gaining strength
from every opposition which stood in the direct line of its progress.
Attacking fortifications from the sea, the vessel carrying this great
projectile could operate at a distance beyond the reach of the magnetic
shell.
Now that the automatic shell itself was finished, and nothing remained
to be done but to complete the great steel trough in which it would lie,
Roland Clewe found himself confronted with a business which was very
hard and very distasteful to him. He must induce other people to do what
he was not able to do himself. Unless his shell was put to a practical
trial, it could be of no value to the world or to himself.
In one of the many conversations on the subject; Margaret had suggested
something which rapidly grew and developed in Roland's mind.
“It would be an admirable thing to tunnel mountains with,” said she. “Of
course I mean a large one, as thick through as a tunnel ought to be.”
In less than a day Clewe had perfected an idea which he believed might
be of practical service. For some time there had been talk of a new
railroad in this part of the State, but one of the difficulties in the
way was the necessity of making a tunnel or a deep cut through a small
mountain. To go round this mountain would be objectionable for many
reasons, and to go through it would be enormously expensive. Clewe knew
the country well, and his soul glowed within him as he thought that
here perhaps was an opportunity for him to demonstrate the value of his
invention, not only as an agent in warfare, but as a wonderful assistant
in the peaceful progress of the world.
There was no reason why such shells should not be constructed for the
express purpose of making tunnels. Nothing could be better adapted for
an experiment of this kind than the low mountain in question. If the
shell passed through it at the desired point, there would be nothing
beyond which could be injured, and it would then enter the end of a
small chain of mountains, and might pass onward, as far as its motive
power would carry it, without doing any damage whatever. Moreover, its
course could be followed and it could be recovered.
Both Roland and Margaret were very enthusiastic in favor of this trial
of the automatic shell, and they determined that if the railroad company
would pay them a fair price if they should succeed in tunnelling
the mountain, they would charge nothing should their experiment be a
failure. Of course the tunnel the shell would make, if everything
worked properly, would not be large enough for any practical use; but
explosives might be placed along its length, which, if desired, would
blow out that portion of the mountain which lay immediately above the
tunnel, and this great cut could readily be enlarged to any desired
dimensions.
Clewe would have gone immediately to confer with the secretary of the
railroad company, with whom he was acquainted but that gentleman was at
the sea-side, and the business was necessarily postponed.
“Now,” said Clewe to Margaret, “if I could do it, I'd like to take a
run up to the polar sea and see for myself what they have discovered.
Judging from Sammy's infrequent despatches, the party in general must be
getting a little tired of Mr. Gibbs's experiments and soundings; but I
should be intensely interested in them.”
“I don't wonder,” answered Margaret, “that they are getting tired; they
have found the pole, and they want to come home. That is natural enough.
But, for my part, I am very glad we can't run up there. Even if we
had another Dipsey I should decidedly oppose it. I might agree that we
should go to Cape Tariff, but I would not agree to anything more. You
may discover poles if you want to, but you must do it by proxy.”
At this moment an awful crash was heard. It came from the building
containing the automatic shell. Clewe and Margaret started to their
feet. They glanced at each other, and then both ran from the office at
the top of their speed. Other people were running from various parts
of the Works. There was no smoke; there was no dust. There had been no
explosion, as Clewe had feared in his first alarm.
When they entered the building, Clewe and Margaret stood aghast. There
were workmen shouting or standing with open mouths; others were running
in. The massive scaffolding, twenty feet in height, on which the shell
had been raised so that the steel trough might be run under it, lay in
splinters upon the ground. The great automatic shell itself had entirely
disappeared.
For some moments no one said anything; all stood astounded, looking at
the space where the shell had been. Then Clewe hurried forward. In the
ground, amid the wreck of the scaffolding, was a circular hole
about four feet in diameter. Clasping the hand of a man near him, he
cautiously peered over the edge and looked down. It was dark and deep;
he saw nothing.
Roland Clewe stepped back; he put his hands over his eyes and thought.
Now he comprehended everything clearly. The weight of the shell had
been too great for its supports. The forward part, which contained the
propelling mechanism, was much heavier than the other end, and had
gone down first, so that the shell had turned over and had fallen
perpendicularly, striking the ground with the point of the cone. Then
its tremendous propelling energy, infinitely more powerful than any
dynamic force dreamed of in the preceding century, was instantly
generated. The inconceivably rapid motion which forced it forward like
a screw must have then commenced, and it had bored itself down deep into
the solid earth.
“Roland, dear,” said Margaret, stepping quietly up to him, tears on her
pale countenance, “don't you think it can be hoisted up again?”
“I hope not,” said he.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, astonished.
“Because,” he answered, “if it has not penetrated far enough into the
earth to make it utterly out of our power to get it again, the thing is
a failure.”
“More than that,” thought Margaret; “if it has gone down entirely out of
our reach, the thing is a failure all the same, for I don't believe he
can ever be induced to make another.”