Then the lads stored the powder in a safe place, and soon were busy about several matters in the shop.
CHAPTER V
OFF TO SANDY HOOK
“What’s the idea of this government test of the big gun, Tom?” asked Ned. “I got so excited about that near-explosion the other day, that I didn’t think to ask you all the particulars.”
“Why, the idea is to see if the gun will work, and do all that the inventor claims for it,” was the answer. “They always put a new gun through more severe tests than anything it will be called on to stand in actual warfare. They want to see just how much margin of safety there is.”
“Oh I see. And is this one of the guns that are to be used in fortifying the Panama Canal?”
“Well, Ned, I don’t know, exactly. You see, the government isn’t telling all its secrets. I assume that it is, and that’s why I’m anxious to see what sort of a gun it is.
“As a matter of fact, I’m going into this thing on a sort of chance, just as dad did when he invested in Mr. Peterson’s opal mine.”
“Do you think anything will come of that, Tom?”
“I don’t know. If we get down to Panama, after I have made my big gun, we may take a run over, and see how he is making out. But, as I said, I’m going into this big cannon business on a sort of gamble. I have heard, indirectly, that Uncle Sam intends to use a new type of gun in fortifying the Panama Canal. It’s about forty-nine miles long, you know, and it will take many guns to cover the whole route, as well as to protect the two entrances.”
“Not so very many if you make a gun that will shoot thirty miles,” remarked Ned, with a smile.
“I’m not so sure I can do it,” went on Tom. “But, even at that, quite a number of guns will be needed. For if any foreign nation, or any combination of nations, intend to get the canal away from us, they won’t make the attack from one point. They’ll come at us seven different ways for Sunday, and I’ve never heard yet of a gun that can shoot seven ways at once. That’s why so many will be needed.
“But, as I said, I don’t know just what type the Ordnance Department will favor, and I want to get a line. Then, even if I invent a cannon that will outshoot all the others, they may not take mine. Though if they do, and buy a number of them, I’ll be more than repaid for my labor, besides having the satisfaction of helping my country.”
“Good for you, Tom! I wish it was time to go to Sandy Hook now. I’m anxious to see that big gun. Do you know anything about it?”
“Not very much. I have heard that it is not quite as large as the old sixteen-inch rifle that they had to throw away because of some trouble, I don’t know just what. It was impractical, in spite of its size and great range. But this new gun they are going to test is considerably smaller, I understand.
“It was invented by a General Waller, and is, I think, about twelve inches across at the muzzle. In spite of that comparatively small size, it fires a projectile weighing a thousand pounds, or half a ton, and takes five hundred pounds of powder. Its range, of course, no one knows yet, though I have heard it said that General Waller claims it will shoot twenty miles.”
“Whew! Some shot!”
“I’m going to beat it,” declared Tom, “and I want to do it without making such a monstrous gun that it will be difficult to cast it.
“You see, Ned, there is, theoretically, nothing to prevent the casting of a steel rifled cannon that would be fifty inches across at the muzzle, and making it a hundred feet long. I mean it could be done on paper—figured out and all that. But whether you would get a corresponding increase in power or range, and be able to throw a relatively larger projectile, is something no one knows, for there never has been such a gun made. Besides, the strain of the big charge of powder needed would be enormous. So I don’t want merely to make a giant cannon. I want one that will do a giant’s work, and still be somewhere in the middle-sized class.”
“I see. Well, you’ll probably get some points at Sandy Hook.”
“I think so. We go day after tomorrow.”
“Is Mr. Damon going?’
“I think not. If he does I’ll have to get another pass, for mine only calls for two persons. I got it through a Captain Badger, a friend of mine, stationed at the Sandy Hook barracks. He doesn’t have anything to do with the coast defense guns, but he got the pass to the proving grounds for me.”
Tom and his chum talked for some time about the prospects for making a giant cannon, and then the young inventor, with Ned’s aid, made some powder tests, using some of the explosive that had so nearly caught fire.
“It isn’t just what I want,” Tom decided, after he had put small quantities in little steel bombs, and exploded them, at a safe distance, and under a bank of earth, by means of an electric primer.
“Why, Tom, that powder certainly burst the bombs all to pieces,” said Ned, picking up a shattered piece of steel.
“I know, but it isn’t powerful enough for me. I’m going to send for samples of another kind, and if I can’t get what I want I’ll make my own powder. But come on now, this stuff gives me a headache. Let’s take a little flight in the Humming Bird. We’ll go see Mr. Damon,” and soon the two lads were in the speedy little monoplane, skimming along like the birds. The fresh air soon blew away their headaches, caused by the fumes from the nitro-glycerine, which was the basis of the powder. Dynamite will often produce a headache in those who work with it.
Two days later Tom and Ned set off for Sandy Hook.
This long, neck-like strip of land on the New Jersey coast is, as most of you know, one of the principal defenses of our country.
Foreign vessels that steam into New York harbor first have to pass the line of terrible guns that, back of the earth and concrete defenses, look frowningly out to sea. It is a wonderful place.
On the Sandy Hook Bay side of the Hook there is a life-saving station. Right across, on the sea side, are the big guns. Between are the barracks where the soldiers live, and part of the land is given over to a proving ground, where many of the big guns are taken to be tested.
Tom and Ned reached New York City without incident of moment, and, after a night spent at a hotel, they went to the Battery, whence the small government steamer leaves every day for Sandy Hook. It is a trip of twenty-one miles, and as the bay was rather rough that day, Tom and Ned had a taste of a real sea voyage. But they were too experienced travelers to mind that, though some other visitors were made quite ill.
A landing was made on the bay side of the Hook, it being too rough to permit of a dock being constructed on the ocean side.
“Now we’ll see what luck we have,” spoke Tom, as he and Ned, inquiring the way to the proving grounds from a soldier on duty, started for them. On the way they passed some of the fortifications.
“Look at that gun!” exclaimed Ned, pointing to a big cannon which seemed to be crouched down in a sort of concrete pit. “How can they fire that, Tom? The muzzle points directly at the stone wall. Does the wall open when they want to fire?”
“No, the gun raises up, peeps over the wall, so speak, shoots out its projectile, and then crouches down again.”
“Oh, you mean a disappearing gun.”
“That’s it, Ned. See, it works by compressed air,” and Tom showed his chum how, when the gun was loaded, the projectile in place, and the breech-block screwed fast, the officer in charge of the firing squad would, on getting the range from the soldier detailed to calculate it, make the necessary adjustments, and pull the lever.
The compressed air would fill the cylinders, forcing the gun to rise on toggle-jointed arms, so that the muzzle was above the bomb-proof wall. Then it would be fired, and sink back again, out of sight of the enemy.
The boys looked at several different types of big rifled cannon, and then passed on. They could hear firing in the distance, some of the explosions shaking the ground.
“They’re making some tests now,” said Tom, hurrying forward.
Ned followed until, passing a
sort of machine shop, the lads came to where a sentry paced up and down a concrete walk.
“Are these the proving grounds?” asked Tom. “This is the entrance to them,” replied the soldier, bringing his rifle to “port,” according to the regulations. “What do you want?”
“To go in and watch the gun tests,” replied Tom. “I have a permit,” and he held it out so the soldier could see it.
“That permit is no good here;” the sentry exclaimed.
“No good?” faltered Tom.
“No, it has to be countersigned by General Waller. And, as he’s on the proving grounds now, you can’t see him. He’s getting ready for the test of his new cannon.”
“But that’s just what we want to see!” cried Tom. “We want to get in there purposely for that. Can’t you send word to General Waller?”
“I can’t leave my post,” replied the sentry, shortly. “You’ll have to come another time, when the General isn’t busy. You can’t get in unless he countersigns that permit.”
“Then it may be too late to witness the test,” objected the young inventor. “Isn’t there some way I can get word to him?”
“I don’t think so,” replied the sentry. “And I’ll have to ask you to leave this vicinity. No strangers are allowed on the proving grounds without a proper pass.”
CHAPTER VI
TESTING THE WALLER GUN
Tom looked at Ned in dismay. After all their work and planning, to be thus thwarted, and by a mere technicality! As they stood there, hardly knowing what to do, the sound of a tremendous explosion came to their ears from behind the big pile of earth and concrete that formed the bomb-proof around the testing ground.
“What’s that?” cried Ned, as the earth shook.
“Just trying some of the big guns,” explained the sentry, who was not a bad-natured chap. He had to do his duty. “You’d better move on,” he suggested. “If anything happens the government isn’t responsible, you know.”
“I wish there was some way of getting in there,” murmured Tom.
“You can see General Waller after the test, and he will probably countersign the permit,” explained the sentry.
“And we won’t see the test of the gun I’m most interested in,” objected Tom. “If I could only—”
He stopped as he noticed the sentry salute someone coming up from the rear. Tom and Ned turned to behold a pleasant-faced officer, who, at the sight of the young inventor, exclaimed:
“Well, well! If it isn’t my old friend Tom Swift! So you got here on my permit after all?”
“Yes, Captain Badger,” replied the lad, and then with a rueful face he added: “But it doesn’t seem to be doing me much good. I can’t get into the proving grounds.”
“You can’t? Why not?” and he looked sharply at the sentry.
“Very sorry, sir,” spoke the man on guard, “but General Waller has left orders, Captain Badger, that no outsiders can enter the proving grounds when his new gun is being tested unless he countersigns the permits. And he’s engaged just now. I’m sorry, but—”
“Oh, that’s all right, Flynn,” said Captain Badger. “It isn’t your fault, of course. I suppose there is no rule against my going in there?” and he smiled.
“Certainly not, sir. Any officer may go in,” and the guard stepped to one side.
“Let me have that pass, Tom, and wait here for me,” said the Captain. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” and the young officer, whose acquaintance Tom had made at the tests when the government was purchasing some aeroplanes for the army, hurried off.
He came back presently, and by his face the lads knew he had been successful.
“It’s all right,” he said with a smile. “General Waller countersigned the pass without even looking at it. He’s so excited over the coming test of his gun that he hardly knows what he is doing. Come on in, boys. I’ll go with you.”
“Then they haven’t tested his gun yet?” Asked Tom, eagerly, anxious to know whether he had missed anything.
“No, they’re going to do so in about half an hour. You’ll have time to look around a bit. Come on,” and showing the sentinel the counter-signed pass, Captain Badger led the two youths into the proving grounds.
Tom and Ned saw so much to interest them that they did not know at which to look first. In some places officers and firing squads were testing small-calibre machine guns, which shot off a round with a noise like a string of firecrackers on the Chinese New Year’s. On other barbettes larger guns were being tested, the noise being almost deafening.
“Stand on your tiptoes, and open your mouth when you see a big cannon about to be fired,” advised Captain Badger, as he walked alongside the boys.
“What good does that do?” inquired Ned.
“It makes your contact with the earth as small as possible—standing on your toes,” the officer explained, “and so reduces the tremor. Opening your mouth, in a measure, equalizes the changed air pressure, caused by the vacuum made when the powder explodes. In other words, you get the same sort of pressure down inside your throat, and in the tubes leading to the ear—the same pressure inside, as outside.
“Often the firing of big guns will burst the ear drums of the officers near the cannon, and this may often be prevented by opening the mouth. It’s just like going through a deep tunnel, or sometimes when an elevator descends quickly from a great height. There is too much outside air pressure on the ear drums. By opening your mouth and swallowing rapidly, the pressure is nearly equaled, and you feel no discomfort.”
The boys tried this when the next big gun was fired, and they found it true. They noticed quite a crowd of officers and men about a certain large barbette, and Captain Badger led them in that direction.
“Is that General Waller’s gun?” asked Tom.
“That’s where they are going to test it,” was the answer.
Eagerly Tom and Ned pressed forward. No one of the many officers and soldiers grouped about the new cannon seemed to notice them. A tall man, who seemed very nervous and excited, was hurrying here and there, giving orders rapidly.
“How is that range now?” he asked. “Let me take a look! Are you sure the patrol vessels are far enough out? I think this projectile is going farther than any of you gentlemen have calculated.”
“I believe we have correctly estimated the distance,” answered someone, and the two entered into a discussion.
“That excited officer is General Waller,” explained Captain Badger, in a low voice, to Tom and Ned.
“I guessed as much,” replied the young inventor. Then he went closer to get a better look at the big cannon.
I say big cannon, and yet it was not the largest the government had. In fact, Tom estimated the calibre to be less than twelve inches, but the cannon was very long—much longer in proportion than guns of greater muzzle diameter. Then, too, the breech, or rear part, was very thick and heavy.
“He must be going to use a tremendous lot of powder,” said Tom.
“He is,” answered Captain Badger. “Some of us think he is going to use too much, but he says it is impossible to burst his gun. He wants to make a long-range record shot, and maybe he will.”
“That’s a new kind of breech block,” commented Tom, as he watched the mechanism being operated.
“Yes, that’s General Waller’s patent, too. They’re going to fire soon.”
I might explain, briefly, for the benefit of you boys who have never seen a big, modern cannon, that it consists of a central core of cast steel. This is rifled, just as a small rifle is bored, with twisted grooves throughout its length. The grooves, or rifling, impart a twisting motion to the projectiles, and keep them in a straighter line.
After the central core is made and rifled, thick jackets of steel are “shrunk” on over the rear part of the gun. Sometimes several jackets are put on, one over the other, to make the gun stronger.
If you have ever seen a blacksmith put a tire on a wheel you will understand what I mean. The tire is he
ated, and this expands it, or makes it larger. It is put on hot, and when it cools it shrinks, getting smaller, and gripping the rim of the wheel in a strong embrace. That is what the jackets of steel do to the big guns.
A big rifled cannon is loaded from the rear, or breech, just as is a breech-loading shotgun or rifle. That is, the cannon is opened at the back and the projectile is put in by means of a derrick, for often the projectiles weigh a thousand pounds or more. Next comes the powder—hundreds of pounds of it—and then it is necessary to close the breech.
The breech block does this. That block is a ponderous piece of steel, quite complicated, and it swings on a hinge fastened to one side of the rear of the gun. Once it is swung back into place, it is made fast by means of screw threads, wedges or in whatever way the inventor of the gun deems best.
The breech block must be very strong, and held firmly in place, or the terrific force of the powder would blow it out, wreck the gun and kill those behind it. You see, the breech block really stands a great part of the strain. The powder is between it and the projectile, and there is a sort of warfare to see which will give way—the projectile or the block. In most cases the projectile gracefully bows, so to speak, and skips out of the muzzle of the gun, though sometimes the big breech block will be shattered.
With eager eyes Tom and Ned watched the preparations for firing the big gun. The charge of powder was hoisted out of the bomb-proof chamber below the barbette, and then the great projectile was brought up in slings. At the sight of that Tom realized that the gun was no ordinary one, for the great piece of steel was nearly three feet long, and must have weighed nearly a thousand pounds. Truly, much powder would be needed to send that on its way.
“I’m afraid, General, that you are using too much of that strong powder,” Tom heard one officer say to the inventor of the gun. “It may burst the breech.”
“Nonsense, Colonel Washburn. I tell you it is impossible to burst my gun—impossible, sir! I have allowed for every emergency, and calculated every strain. I have a margin of safety equal to fifty per cent.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 194
