Bright Ideas: A Record of Invention and Misinvention

by Herbert Strang

  *II*

  Templeton placidly resumed his job; Eves remounted the bench and againtook up the newspaper. After a minute or two he exclaimed:

  "I say, what do you think of this? 'Our worthy mayor, AldermanNoakes'----"

  "Who?"

  "Alderman Noakes. Recalls sweet memories, eh, old sport? That summeridyll in our early youth--law! what ages ago it seems! 'But ah! how itwas sweet!' That's Browning, old man; not my own, I assure you. I seemto see, down the dim vista of departed years, the figure of our Noakes,smothered in half-consumed carbon, otherwise soot; and again the sameNoakes, sprawling in a purling stream; and yet again the same Noakes,affectionately embracing his mother earth--various phases of Noakesconcurrent with the flow of ideas in the cerebellum of----"

  "Oh, dry up, Tom! You really are an awful ass sometimes."

  "Who are you a-talking to, young feller? I was just pointing out thatthe name Noakes, on the principle of the association of ideas--but let'ssee what it says. 'Our worthy mayor, Alderman Noakes, accompanied bythe bailiff and reeves, will on December 21, for the four hundred andfifty-second time in the history of this ancient borough, perform thequaint ceremony of anointing the British Stone.' The worthy mayor mustbe a hoary old Methuselah if he's performed the ceremony four hundredand fifty-one times: he might be the great-grandfather ten times removedof that old rascal we knew. And if he's even so distantly related asthat, he's probably a rascal too, and deserves to be kept waiting."

  "Waiting? What for?"

  "Why, for that model of urbanity and fur collar who wanted you to dosomethink to this 'ere car and look alive, young feller. He said he wasgoing to call on the mayor, you remember."

  "He's part of the show, perhaps. I wonder what that ceremony is. Whata ramshackle old car that was! But all existing cars will be scrappedwhen I get my two-way motor going."

  "That's the latest, is it?"

  "Yes: I've great hopes of it. I've partly drawn up thespecification--I'm going to take out a patent--but I can't finish ituntil I get a nozzle that's being specially manufactured to my order."

  "Rum thing, Bob, that most of your thingummy-bobs seldom do getfinished: what? But we've had some splendid rags out of them all thesame."

  "Now that's not fair," cried Templeton, swinging round, and speakingwith a heat pardonable in an earnest inventor. "My road yacht iscomplete; it's out there in the yard at this very moment."

  "That thing old Rabbit-skin was poking his nose into! What's the idea?"

  "Well, it's not exactly new; it's an adaptation of the sand yacht. Withpetrol scarce, I asked myself, why waste petrol when the wind can beharnessed for nothing an hour?"

  "Jolly patriotic, and sporting too, old son. How's it work?"

  "Well, you see, it's a light chassis and a skeleton body with amainsail, rigged sloop fashion, which gives me several miles an hour ina light wind; it's good for twelve or fourteen in a fair breeze on agood road on the flat. What it can do in the kind of wind we haveto-day I don't know."

  "But hang it all, what if you're becalmed? And what about hills, andbridges, and all that?"

  "You've spotted my main difficulty--to obtain the maximum sail areaconsistent with the stability of the craft and the limitations of roadnavigation. Of course I've got an auxiliary motor for use in calms anduphill; but bridges aren't such a nuisance as the hedges; they constrictthe roads confoundedly. I have to stick to the highway ... I say, oldchap, just answer that telephone call for me, will you? Another fiveminutes will see me through."

  Eves walked across to the telephone box in the corner. The followingconversation ensued.

  "Hullo!"

  "Are you Mr. Wilkins?"

  "Am I Wilkins, Bob?" (in a whisper).

  "Say you're the British Motor Garage," said Templeton. "Wilkins isout."

  "Are you there? Righto! We're the British Motor Garage."

  "Well, I say, sorry to trouble you, but Noakes's 'phone is out of order.Tell him he can cut his tender thirty per cent.: no other offers."

  "Hold on a jiff." Eves moved from the mouthpiece and turned towardsTempleton. "Noakes again, Bob. Our worthy mayor. You're to give him amessage, something about cutting a tender."

  "Tell him I know nothing about Noakes."

  "Righto! Leave it to me.... Hullo! A tender cut, you said?"

  "Can't you hear? I said, tell Noakes he can cut his tender by thirtyper cent."

  "All right; I've got it now. But who's Noakes, and what have we to dowith him?"

  "Aren't you Mr. Wilkins?"

  "Wilkins is out. I'm speaking from his shop."

  "Oh, hang!"

  "He's cut off, Bob," said Eves, ruefully, hanging up the receiver. "Iwanted to ask him about Methuselah. You've done at last?"

  "Yes, thank goodness!"

  "Well, clean yourself, and come along. Hullo! Here's another visitor."

  A tall, lean, loosely-built man was hurriedly crossing the yard towardsthe shop door.

  "Good morning to you," he said, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm just offthe train from London, and there's never a bit of a car, and what'll Ido at all, when I've to be at the Upper Edgecombe camp before twelve?I'll be glad now if so be you can tend me the loan of a car."

  "You're the second man within ten minutes or so who has wanted to get tothe camp in a hurry," said Templeton.

  "Do you say that, now? And what like might the first be, if you pleaseto tell me?"

  Templeton was considering how to begin a serious description; but Evesforestalled him.

  "A fur-lined coat, a bristly moustache, and a voice like a corncrake.That's near enough for anythink."

  "It is that," said the stranger, his blue eyes twinkling for an instant.His expression became grave as he added: "Sure it's mighty unlucky,without you have a car. They told me in the town I'd get one here, ornowhere at all."

  "I'm sorry I haven't one handy," said Templeton. "Ours are out."

  "I say, Bob, what about the road yacht?" said Eves, who had beenattracted by the civility of the Irishman, and with quick wit had jumpedto the conclusion that he was on the same errand as the boor. "There'sa spanking wind."

  "Well, if he doesn't mind risking it," said Templeton, dubiously.

  "'Deed now, I'll be after risking anything."

  "Anythink?" said Eves.

  "You'll have his measure taken," said the Irishman, smiling again. "Andif it's a five-pound note----"

  "Don't mention it," said Templeton. "Tom, just lock up, will you? whileI get ready."

  He hastened across the yard, opened the bonnet of the car, and spent afew minutes with the inner mysteries. By the time he had satisfiedhimself that the engine was in working order the other two had joinedhim.

  "I've only a quart of petrol," he said. "Wilkins has taken the rest, andour monthly allowance isn't due till to-morrow. The camp's about elevenmiles, and we've nearly half an hour; but there's a stiff hill that willuse most of the petrol; it's an old Ford and can barely do fifteen milesto the gallon."

  "I'll run up the hill on my two feet to lighten the car," said thestranger, eagerly; "and sure I'd have run the whole way from the stationif I were twenty years younger."

  "You must have been a stayer in your time, sir," said Eves.

  "Maybe I was that, the time I did a Marathon, and was not the lasteither. Only for being five and forty I wouldn't be troubling you, fora matter of eleven miles. But it's a sail I see you have. There's anice breeze from the west, surely, and if the car doesn't upset on usI'm thinking we'd do without petrol only for the hill."

  "Faith removes mountains," said Eves. "You've a pretty good share ofit."

  "Faith, and I have then. And if so be the car upsets on us, sure we'llhave a bit of fun, and maybe that'll make up for the disappointment."

  Eves chatted with the genial Irishman during the few minutes in whichTempleton was making his final preparations. These completed, Templetonran the machine out into the roadwa
y. It was a strange-looking object.The body was little more than a skeleton framework, affording seatingaccommodation for three, and the necessary protection for the workingparts. The drive was on the front wheels; the steering gear connectedwith the back wheels. A strong single mast was stayed just behind thedriver's seat. A bowsprit projected some five feet beyond the radiator.There were two sails, mainsail and jib. As Templeton unfurled these,Eves noticed that the former had been recently patched.

  "Torn in a gale, Bob?" he asked.

  "No. The other day a wretched farm wagon claimed more than its fairshare of the road, and as of course I wouldn't give way there was whatsome people call a contretemps. Look here, Tom, you must manage themainsail; I can deal with the jib. Get in: we've no time to spare."

  Templeton got into the driver's seat, the other two men into the seatsbehind. The car was started on petrol, and ran at a moderate pace overthe half-mile of narrow road that led to the main street of the littletown. Dodging the market traffic, Templeton steered the car out at thefurther end, and as soon as he was clear of the town slowed down andgave the word to hoist the sails. These bellied out in the briskfollowing wind; the strange vehicle gathered way; and, looking over hisshoulder with a smile of gratification, Templeton said:

  "Now we're off. Look out for gybing at the corners, Tom."