CHAPTER X

Contract with Ormerod, Grierson & Co. Engine for Evan Leigh, Son & Co. Engine for the Oporto Exhibition. Getting Home from Portugal.

Icould do nothing with the engine in England unless it was put on the market as a condensing engine. This fact was finally revealed to me, and I applied myself to meet the requirement. The question as it addressed itself to me was, not “How do you work your air-pump?” but “Howare you goingto work your air-pump?” My friends Easton, Amos & Sons told me frankly that in their judgment I could not do it at all. Their opinion was expressed very decidedly, that as a condensing engine the high-speed engine was not to be thought of. This was not surprising, seeing that the beam Wolff engines made by them ran at only 25 revolutions per minute, which was the speed of beam-engines generally, and all stationary engines were beam-engines; but it was discouraging. I made up my mind that they did not know everything, and I would show them a thing or two as soon as I got a chance. This I found easier to get than I expected, when I had matured a satisfactory system of condensation. My first plan was to use an independent air-pump running at the usual slow speed and driven by a belt, the speed being reduced by intermediate gearing.

I was able very readily to make an agreement on this basis with the firm of Ormerod, Grierson & Co., of Manchester, for the manufacture of the engines and governors, and we started on our first order on the first day of January, 1864.

The ground occupied by these works bordered on the Duke of Bridgewater’s canal from Liverpool to Manchester, where I one day saw a cow and a woman towing a boat, a man steering.

A railway ran through these works, parallel with the canal, at about 300 feet distance, but it was not at all in the way. It was built on brick arches, and the construction was such that the passing of trains was scarcely heard. The arches were utilized for the millwright shop, pattern shop, gear-cutting shop, and the storage of lumber and gear-wheel patterns, the number and size of which latter astonished me.

On a previous visit Mr. Grierson had shown me several things of much interest. The one most worthy of being related was a multiple drill, capable of drilling ninety holes, ³⁄₄ inch diameter, simultaneously. This had been designed and made by themselves for use in building a lattice-girder bridge, for erection over the river Jumna, near Delhi, to carry a roadway below and a railway above. The English engineers then made all bridge constructions on this system, having no faith in the American truss. One length of this bridge still stood in their yard, where it had been completely riveted up for testing, after which all the rivets would have to be cut out. The other lengths had been shipped in pieces. The advantage of this multiple drill was twofold—the ability to drill many holes simultaneously and the necessary accuracy of their pitch.

I was especially interested in the massiveness of this tool and impressed with the importance of this feature. The drills rotated in place, and the table carrying the work was fed upward by two hydraulic presses. The superintendent told me that they never broke a drill, and that to exhibit its safety in this respect they had successfully drilled a single hole ¹⁄₁₆ of an inch in diameter through one inch of steel. He attributed this success partly to the steady feed, but chiefly to absolute freedom from vibration. He said a toolmaker had had an order for a similar drill, and on visiting this one pronounced its great weight to be absurd. He made one weighing about half as much, which proved a failure, from the liability of the drills to break. This gave me one of the most valuable lessons that I ever received.

We soon had our first engine running successfully, in spite of some annoyances. I insisted on having the joints on the steam-chest and cylinder heads made scraped joints, but the foreman put them together with the white and red lead putty just thesame, so that work was thrown away, and when we wanted to open a joint we had to resort to the familiar wedges. The pipes were of cast iron, with square holes in the flanges. The ends were left rough. They were put together with the same putty. The joints were encircled by clips, which prevented the putty from being forced outward to any great extent in screwing the flanges together. What went inside had to work its way through as it was broken off by the rush of steam and hot water. When the engine was started we could not get much vacuum. On taking the pipes apart to find what the matter was, we discovered that the workmen had left a wooden plug in the condenser-nozzle, where it had been put to prevent anything from getting in during its transportation. The proper mode of protection would of course have been to bolt a board on the flange.

The worst trouble was from a blunder of my own. My exhibition engine had cast-iron valves running on cast-iron seats, and the friction between these surfaces under the steam pressure was so little that it did not injure the governor action appreciably. But I could not let well enough alone. Mr. Lee had told me that in the steam fire-engines they used gun-metal valves on steel seats, which I thought must have some wonderful advantages, so at considerable additional expense I fitted up my first engine in the same way. The governor worked very badly. I had the pleasure of demonstrating the fact that brass on steel is the very best combination possible for producing friction. I went back to cast-iron valves, when the trouble disappeared.

We had an order for an engine to drive the works of Evan Leigh, Son & Co. Mr. Leigh was quite a famous man, the inventor of Leigh’s top roller, used universally in drawing-machines. I was told he was the only man then living who had invented an essential feature in spinning machinery. I struck out a new design, which proved quite successful. They wished to give 100 revolutions per minute to their main line of shafting running overhead through the center of their shop. I planned a vertical engine, standing on a bed-plate, which carried also an A frame.

The engine-room was located at the end of the shop. The line of shaft passed through a wall-box and then 3 feet further to its main bearing at the top of this upright frame. The latterwas stayed from the wall by two ample cast-iron stays. The fly-wheel was outside this frame and carried the crank-pin. The shaft was continued quite stiff through the wall-box, with long bearings. By this plan I got rid of gears. Belts for taking power from a prime mover were then unknown in England. The fly-wheel was only 10 feet in diameter, with rim 8×10 inches, and was of course cast in one piece. It proved to be ample. The engine was the largest I had yet made, 22 inches diameter of cylinder by 36 inches stroke, making 100 revolutions. I was still tied to 600 feet piston travel per minute. I did not venture to suggest any greater speed than that; could not have sold an engine in Lancashire if I had.

I introduced in this engine a feature which I afterwards sincerely wished I had not done, though not on my own account. This was a surface condenser. It worked well, always maintaining a good vacuum. I shall have more to say respecting this engine later, which will explain my regret about the condenser. I had about this time the pleasure of a visit from two American engineers, Robert Briggs and Henry R. Towne, who were traveling together in England, and were at the trouble to look me up. I took them to see this engine, and I am sorry to say they were not so much carried away with the novel design as I was. But if I had the same to do again I do not think I could do better.

The last time I saw that engine I found no one in the engine-room. I inquired of some one where the engineer was, and was told I would find him in the pipe-shop. I found him there at work. He told me he had not been staying in the engine-room for a long time, he had “nowt to do,” and so they gave him a job there.

When I went with Ormerod, Grierson & Co., they were deep in the execution of a large order known as the Oporto Crystal Palace. Portugal was behind every other country in Europe in its arts and manufactures. In fact, it had none at all. At Oporto there was a large colony of English merchants, by whom all the trade of the port was carried on. These had conceived the idea of holding at Oporto an international exposition, which idea was put into execution. Our firm had secured the contract for all the iron-work for a pretty large iron and glass building, and for the power and shafting for the Machinery Hall.

I was soon called on for the plans for an Allen engine to be shown there. This was to be a non-condensing engine, 14×24, to make 150 revolutions per minute, and which accordingly was made and sent, with two Lancashire boilers. I went on to attend the opening of the exposition on the first of May, 1865, and see that the engine was started in good shape.

I sailed from London on a trading-steamer for Oporto, and on the voyage learned various things that I did not know before. One of these was how to make port wine. I asked the captain what his cargo consisted of. He replied: “Nine hundred pipes of brandy.” “What are you taking brandy to Portugal for?” “To make wine.” “But what kind of brandy is it that you take fromEngland?” “British brandy.” “What is it made from?” “Corn.” By this word he meant wheat. In England Indian corn is called maize. I do not know whether “corn” included barley and rye or not.

We had the pleasure in Oporto of meeting a Portuguese inventor. In England there then existed the rude method of announcing at each principal seaport the instant of noon by firing a cannon by an electric current from the Greenwich Observatory. The more accurate method now in use substitutes sight for sound. This inventor proposed planting a cannon for this purpose in an opening in a church tower, of which there were plenty. The hammer, by the fall of which a pill of fulminate was to be exploded and the cannon fired, was to be held up by a string. The rays of the sun were focused by a burning-glass on a point, which at the instant that the sun reached the meridian would reach this string. The string would be burned off, and the cannon would go off. In the rare case for Oporto of a cloudy day, or if for any reason the automatic action failed, it would be the duty of a priest, after waiting a few minutes to be sure of the failure, to go up and fire the gun. The enthusiastic inventor urged it on the English. It was thought, however, that the more feeble power of the sun’s rays in the higher latitude of England would not warrant the application of this ingenious invention there, and besides neither perforated church towers nor idle priests were available for the purpose.

In order to get the full point of the following story it mustbe remembered that at that time there was not a stationary steam-engine in Portugal. English enterprise and capital had recently built a line of railway between Lisbon and Oporto, and the locomotives on that line furnished the only exhibition of steam power in the country. To the educated classes of the Portuguese, therefore, the steam-engine to be shown at the Oporto Crystal Palace was the object of supreme interest.

In one respect they used to have on the Continent a way of managing these things which was better than ours. The exhibitions were completely ready on the opening day. For example, in the French Exposition of 1867, which was the last one I attended, the jurors commenced their work of examination on the day after the opening, and completed it in three weeks. The only exception, I think, was in the class of agricultural machinery, the examination of whichhadto wait for the grain to grow. No imperial decree could hasten that. So the Oporto Exposition was to be complete in all its departments when the King of Portugal should declare it to be open.

I arrived in Oporto a week before the day fixed for the opening, and found a funny state of affairs existing in the engineering department. A very capable and efficient young man had been placed by our firm in charge of their exhibit. I found his work finished. The engine and shafting were in running order. Only the boilers were not ready, in explanation of which I heard this statement: Some time previously an Englishman had presented himself, bearing a commission, duly signed by the executive officials, constituting him “Chief Engineer of the Oporto Exposition,” and demanded charge of our engine and boilers, which were all there was for him to be chief engineer of. Our man very properly refused to recognize him, telling him that he had been placed in charge of this exhibit by its owners, and he should surrender it to nobody. But the new man had a pull. The managers were furious at this defiance of their authority. On the other hand, the guardian of our interests was firm. Finally, after much altercation and correspondence with Manchester, a compromise had been arranged, by which our representative retained charge of the engine and shafting, and the boilers were handed over to the “chief engineer.”

I was introduced to this functionary, and received his assurance that the boilers would be “in readiness to-morrow.” This promise was repeated every day. Finally the morning of the opening day arrived. The city put on its gala attire. Flags and banners waved everywhere. The people were awakened to a holiday by the booming of cannon and the noise of rockets, which the Portuguese sent up by daylight to explode in the air. The King and Queen and court came up from Lisbon, and there was a grand opening ceremonial, after which a royal procession made the circuit of the building.

At the hour fixed for the opening the “chief engineer” was just having a fire started under the boilers for the first time. I was, of course, pretty nervous, but our man said to me: “You go and witness the opening ceremonies. They will last fully two hours, and we shall doubtless be running when you get back.” When at their conclusion I hurried through the crowds back to Machinery Hall, there stood the engine motionless. The door to the boiler-room was shut as tightly as possible, but steam was coming through every crevice. I could not speak, but looked at our man for an explanation. “The fool,” said he, “did not know enough to pack the heads of his drum-bolts; he can get only two pounds of steam, and it blows out around all the bolts, so as to drive the firemen out of the boiler-room.” There was no help for it. The boilers had to be emptied and cooled before a man could go inside and pack those bolt-heads.

Attaching a Steam-drum to a Lancashire Boiler.

I must stop here and explain how a steam-drum is attached to a Lancashire boiler, or, at least, how it was in those days. The accompanyingsectionwill enable the reader to understand the description. The “drum” was of cast iron. The upper part, not shown, was provided with three raised faces on its sides, to twoof which branch pipes were bolted, each carrying a safety-valve, while the steam-pipe was connected to the third. The manhole was in the top. A cast-iron saddle was riveted on the boiler, and was provided at the top with a broad flange turning inward. This flange and the flange at the base of the drum had their surfaces planed, and a steam-joint was made between them with the putty. Square bolt-holes were cored in the flange of the saddle, and corresponding round holes were bored in the flange of the drum. The bolts were forged square for a short distance under the heads, so that they would be held from turning in the square holes. These bolts were inserted from the inside of the saddle, and were packed by winding them, under the heads, with long hemp well filled with this putty. As the nut on the outside was tightened the putty was squeezed into the square hole around the bolt, and soon became hard. This packing was what the “chief engineer” had omitted. The reader is now prepared to appreciate the situation.

It was not long before the royal procession appeared at the extreme end of the hall, the King and Queen in advance, and a long line of the dignitaries of state and church, with a sprinkling of ladies, following at a respectful distance. Slowly, but inevitably, the procession advanced, between the rows of silent machinery and mad exhibitors, until, arriving near us, the King stopped. An official immediately appeared, of whom the King inquired who was present to represent the engine, or at least I suppose he did, for in reply I was pointed out to him. He stepped briskly over to me, and what do you think he said? I defy any living Yankee to guess. With a manner of the utmost cordiality, and speaking in English as if it were his native tongue, he said: “I am extremely sorry that the neglect of some one has caused you to be disappointed to-day.”Medisappointed! It almost took my breath away. Without waiting for me to frame a reply (I think he would have had to wait some time), His Majesty continued cheerily: “No doubt the defect will be remedied directly, and your engine will be enabled to run to-morrow.” Then, looking the engine over quite leisurely, he observed: “It certainly presents a fine appearance. I expect to visit the exposition again after a few days, when I shall have more leisure,and will then ask you to explain its operation to me.” He then turned and rejoined the Queen, and the procession moved on, leaving me with food for reflection for many a day. I had met a gentleman, a man who under the most sudden and extreme test had acted with a courtesy which showed that in his heart he had only kind feelings towards every one. An outside imitation must have been thrown off its guard by such a provocation as that. In reflecting on the incident, I saw clearly that in stopping and speaking to me the King had only one thought, and that was to say what he could to relieve my feelings of disappointment and mortification. He had evidently been informed that I could not get any steam, and took pains and went out of his way to do this; showing a kindly and sympathetic feeling that must express itself in act and conduct even towards a stranger. I left the next day for England with some new ideas about the “effete monarchies,” and with regret that I should see His Majesty no more.

One or two observations on the Portuguese peasantry may be interesting. They did not impress me so favorably as did their King. On my first arrival I wished to have the engine turned over, that I might see if the valve motions were all right. The engineer ordered some men standing around to do this. Six of them laid hold of the flywheel, three on each side, and tugged away apparently in earnest. It did not move. I looked at the engineer in surprise. He said, “I will show you what is the matter,” ordered them all away, and himself pulled the wheel around with one hand. Then he explained: “I only wanted you to see for yourself what they are good for. We have had to bring every laborer from England. These men are on the pay-roll, and spend their time in lounging about, but no Portuguese man will work. Women do all the work in this country.”

The exposition buildings were located on a level spot on a hilltop overlooking the river Douro, at an elevation, I judged, of about 200 feet. They wished to surround them with a greensward. Between the heat and the light soil, the grass could be made to grow only by continual watering, and this is the way they did it. About 400 women and children brought up water from the river in vessels on their heads. All day long this procession was movingup and down the hill, pouring the water on the ground, performing the work of a steam-pump and a 2-inch pipe.

I went to Portugal without a passport. Our financial partner told me it would be quite unnecessary. He himself had just returned from Oporto, where he went without a passport, and found that half a crown given the custom-house inspector on his arrival and departure was all he needed. I understood the intimation that if I got a passport, the fee of, I believe, a guinea would not be allowed me. So, although I went from London and could very conveniently have obtained a passport at the United States legation, I omitted to do it.

On landing at Oporto the two-and-sixpenny piece opened the kingdom of Portugal to me quite readily. Getting out, the process was different. I found that the steamer on which I had come from London would not return for a week or more after the opening of the exposition, and I was impatient to get back. A line between Liverpool and Buenos Ayres made Lisbon a port of call, and a steamer was expecteden routeto Liverpool in the course of three or four days after the opening; so I determined to come by that. The morning after the opening I was awakened early by a telegram informing me that the steamer had arrived at Lisbon during the preceding night, having made an unexpectedly quick run across the South Atlantic, and would sail for Liverpool that evening. The railroad ran only two trains a day, and my only way to get to Lisbon in time was to take the nine-o’clock train from Oporto. The station was on a hill on the opposite side of the Douro. There was only one bridge across the river, and that was half a mile up the stream from the hotel and from the station. Oporto boasted no public conveyance. So I hired a couple of boys to take my trunk down to the river, row me and it across, and carry it up the hill to the station. I got off with two minutes to spare.

On applying at the steamship office in Lisbon for a passage ticket, I was informed by the very gentlemanly English clerk that they were forbidden to sell a ticket to any one without a passport. “However,” he added, “this will cause you no inconvenience. The United States legation is on the second block below here. I will direct you to it, and you can obtain a passport without any trouble.” By the way, how did he recognize me as an American, and how wasit that I was always recognized as an American? I never could explain that puzzle.

On knocking at the door of the legation, it was opened by a colored man, who informed me that this was a fête day, and that the minister was attending a reception at the palace (this was the first time I ever heard of a royal reception in the forenoon), but if I would call again at three o’clock the passport would be ready for me. So, leaving with him my address, I left, to amuse myself as best I could till three o’clock.

On presenting myself at that hour I was informed by the same darkey that the minister would not give me a passport; that he had bidden him tell me he knew nothing about me; I might be an American or I might not: at any rate, he was not going to certify that I was. I had got into the country without a passport, and I would have to get out without one for all him. I inquired if the minister were at home. “Yes, sir,” replied the darkey, “he is at home, but he will not see you; he told me to tell you so,” and with that he bowed me out and shut the door.

I went back to the steamship office and reported my failure to my friend the clerk. He drew a long whistle. “Not see you! What’s he here for? He must be drunk; that’s it, he’s drunk.” After a minute’s reflection he added: “We must see the Secretary of State; I am well acquainted with him, and he will get you out of this mess directly. If you will kindly wait till I have finished my correspondence, which will occupy me for about half an hour, I will take you to his office. You can amuse yourself with this copy of theTimes,” handing it to me.

When we reached the office of the Secretary of State we found the door locked. “Oh,” said he, “I had forgotten, this is a saint’s day, and the public offices are closed. We must go to his house.” We found the Secretary at home. I was introduced, and the Englishman told my case, of course in Portuguese. As he proceeded I saw the official brow darken. I woke up to the enormity of my offense. Little kingdom, big dignity. I had defied their laws and corrupted their official. The case looked serious. The Secretary, in fact, found it so serious that he did not feel like taking the sole responsibility of its decision, but sent out for two others of His Majesty’s advisers to consult with him. The assembling of thiscourt caused a delay of half an hour, during which I had time to conjure up all sorts of visions, including an indefinite immurement in a castle and a diplomatic correspondence, while the deuce would be to pay with my business at home.

Finally the officials sent for arrived. The instant they entered the room I was recognized by one of them. He had accompanied the King to the opening of the exposition the day before, which the pressure of public business or some game or other had prevented the Secretary of State from doing. In fact, he had headed the procession behind their Majesties and so had seen the graciousness of the King’s favor to me.

He spoke a few words to the Secretary of State, when, presto, everything was changed. The court did not convene, but instead cordial handshaking with the man on whom the beams of royal favor had shone.

I left my smiling friends with a passport or something just as good, added my twelve pounds sterling to the account of the ship, and had time before it sailed to eat a sumptuous dinner at the hotel. I was in the land of olives, and ate freely of the unaccustomed delicacy, in consequence of which I lost my dinner before the ship was well out of the Tagus and have never cared much for olives since.

I was full of wrath against the United States minister, and determined to send a protest to the State Department as soon as I reached Manchester. But there I found something else to attend to and dropped the matter. I read, however, with satisfaction, a few months after, that the item of the salary of the minister to Portugal had been cut out of the appropriation bill by the House of Representatives.

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