Sam Steele's Adventures in Panama

“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.”