The Rocket: The Story of the Stephensons, Father and Son Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  ROBERT'S RETURN—A CURIOUS ENCOUNTER—THE PRIZE ENGINE.

  One step forward; yes, a great one too, Stephenson thought. His belovedlocomotive was to have a chance of being properly introduced to thegreat English public, and he felt that it needed only to be known to bevalued. The building of it was a matter of no small moment, and hewanted, above all things, a tried and skilful hand to superintend andput into its construction every conceivable improvement. It must be thebest engine yet built.

  Where should he find the right man? No one would answer like his sonRobert, so Robert he determined to send for. Robert, you remember, wentto South America three years before. There he had regained his health,and on receiving his father's letter, he made immediate preparations toreturn to England.

  A CURIOUS ENCOUNTER.]

  On his way, at a poor little comfortless inn, in a poor littlecomfortless sea-port on the Gulf of Darien, where he was waiting to takeship, he met two strangers, one evidently an Englishman, who by hisshabby appearance looked as if the world had gone hard with him. Afellow-feeling drew the young man towards his poor countryman, and oninquiry who should it prove to be but the old Cornwall tin-miner,Captain Trovethick, whose first steam-carriage had awakened so muchcuriosity in London nearly a quarter of a century before!

  He had sown his idea to the winds. Others had caught it up, cherishedit, pondered over it, examined it, dissected it, improved it, embodiedit, and by patient study and persistent endeavour had reduced it to apractical force. And Robert Stephenson was now on his way to inaugurateit as one of the great commercial values of the kingdom, and of theworld. The poor inventor, what had he done meanwhile? While othersworked, had he slept? Oh no. He had tried an easier and a shorter cut tofame and fortune. You remember he left his "dragon," as some peoplecalled his locomotive, in London, quite careless what became of it, andwent scheming and speculating in other things. Several years after, in ashop window, it attracted the attention of a French gentleman passingby. He was from Peru, and had just come to England to get a steam-enginefor pumping water from some gold-diggings in the New World. Delightedwith the model, he bought it for twenty guineas. Taking it with him toLima, an engine was built on the plan of it, which worked admirably. Thegentleman was then sent back to England to hunt up and bring out theinventor himself. The captain was found, and came forth from hisobscurity into sudden notice and demand. The gentleman engaged him tomake five pumping-engines according to his model; which he did, andshipped them to Lima, the captain himself soon following.

  At Lima he was received with great honours and a public rejoicing. Aguard of honour was appointed to wait on him; and, in view of the wealthhe was supposed to be able to engineer from their mines, a massivesilver statue of him, as the benefactor of Peru, began to be talked of.

  Of course poor Trovethick thought his fortune made, and no doubt lookedback with pity on his humble English life. Friends at home spread thenews of his successes; and when they stated that the smallest estimateof his yearly income amounted to one hundred thousand pounds, no wonderhe was pronounced a success! Tardier steps to fortune seemed tedious,and many of his old associates perhaps sighed over the wholesome toil ofa slower-paced prosperity.

  Years passed on, and the poor captain next turns up at Cartagena,penniless and pitiable! In crossing the country, he had lost everything.Fording rivers, penetrating forests, and fighting wild beasts, had lefthim little else than a desire to reach England again; and RobertStephenson gave him fifty pounds to get home with. Sudden fortunes areapt as suddenly to vanish, while those accumulated by the carefulhusbandry of economy, industry, and foresight reward without waste: socharacter is stronger than reputation—for one is built on what we are,the other on what we seem to be; and, like a shadow, reputation may belonger or shorter, or only a distorted outline of character. One holdsout because it is real; the other often disappears because it is but ashadow.

  Robert reached home in December 1827, right heartily welcomed, we maywell believe, by his father, who was thankful to halve the burden ofresponsibility with such a son. To build the prize locomotive was _his_work.

  Stephenson had long been a partner in a locomotive factory at Newcastle,which had hitherto proved a losing concern to the owners. There waslittle or no market for their article; but they struggled on, year afteryear, waiting for better times. Nobody saw better times but Stephenson.He saw them ahead, shooting through the gloomy clouds of indifferenceand prejudice. And now he calculated it was very near. So he sent Robertto Newcastle to take charge of the works there, and construct an enginethat would make good all his words.

  It was a critical moment, but he had no fears of the result. Robertoften came to Liverpool to consult with his father, and long andinteresting discussions took place between father and son concerning thebest mode of increasing and perfecting the powers of the mechanism. Onething wanted was greater speed; and this could only be gained byincreasing the quantity and the quality of the steam. For this effect agreater heating surface was necessary, and mechanics had long beenexperimenting to find the best and most economical boiler forhigh-pressure engines.

  Young James, son of that Mr. James who, when the new Liverpool andManchester route was talked of, was the first to discover andacknowledge George Stephenson's genius, made the model of an improvedboiler, which he showed to the Stephensons. Perhaps he was one of theboys who went to Killingworth with his father to see the wonders of"Puffing Billy," and whose terrors at the snorting monster were onlysoothed by a pleasant and harmless ride on his back. Whether this gavehim a taste for steam-engines we do not know. At any rate he introduceshimself to our notice now with a patented model of an improved boiler inhis hand, which Stephenson thinks it may be worth his while to maketrial of. "Try it," exclaimed the young inventor—"try it, and there willbe no limit to your speed. Think of thirty miles an hour!"

  SECTION OF THE FIRST BOILER IN USE.]

  "Don't speak of thirty miles an hour," rejoined Stephenson; "I shouldnot dare talk about such a thing aloud." For I suppose he could hardlyforget how Parliament committees had branded him as a fool and a madmanfor broaching such beliefs.

  SECTION OF A TUBULAR BOILER.]

  The improved boiler was what is called a multi-tubular boiler. You donot understand that, I suppose. An iron boiler is cast, six feet long,and three feet and a third in diameter. It is to be filled half full ofwater. Through this lower half there run twenty-five copper tubes, eachabout three inches in diameter, open at one end to the fire, throughwhich the heat passes to the chimney at the other end. You see thiswould present a great deal of heating surface to the water, causing itto boil and steam off with great rapidity. The invention was not asudden growth, as no inventions are. Fire-tubes serving this use startedin several fertile minds about the same time, and several personsclaimed the honour of the invention; but it was Stephenson's practicalmind which put it into good working order and made it available. For hetold Robert to try it in his new locomotive.

  He did. The tubes were of copper, manufactured by a Newcastlecoppersmith, and carefully inserted into the ends of the boiler byscrews. Water was put into the boiler, and in order to be sure there wasno leakage, a pressure was put on the water; when, lo, the watersquirted out at every screw, and the factory floor was deluged! PoorRobert was in despair. He sat down and wrote to his father that thewhole thing was a failure.

  A failure indeed! Back came a letter by the next post telling him to "goahead and try again!" The letter, moreover, suggested a remedy for thedisaster—fastening the tubes into the boiler by fitting them snugly intoholes bored for the purpose, and soldering up the edges. And it provedto be precisely what Robert himself had thought of, after the firstbitter wave of disappointment had subsided. So he took heart and went towork again. Success crowned his efforts. A heavy pressure was put on thewater, and not a drop oozed out. The boiler was completely water-tight.

  This is pre
cisely the kind of boiler now in use: some have fifty tubes;the largest engines one hundred and fifty.

  THE FAILURE.]

  Various other improvements were incorporated into the new engine, which,as you do not probably understand much about machinery, would notparticularly interest you.

  At last the new engine was finished. It weighed only four tons and aquarter—little less than two tons under the weight required by the offerof the directors. The tender, shaped like a waggon, carried the fuel inone end and the water in the other.

  It was forthwith put on the Killingworth track, fired up, and startedoff. Robert must have watched its operations with intense anxiety.Nothing could have met his expectations like the new boiler. It in factoutdid his highest hopes. The steam made rapidly, and in what seemed tohim then marvellous quantities. Away went a letter to Liverpool thatvery evening.

  TUBES OF A MODERN ENGINE.]

  "The 'Rocket' is all right and ready," wrote the young man joyfully.That was the engine's name, "Rocket,"—on account of its speed, perhaps."Puffing Billy" was quite cast into the shade.

  It was shortly afterwards shipped to Liverpool, in good time for thegrand trial.

  THE "ROCKET."]

  The trial, rapidly approaching, elicited a great and general interest.The public mind was astir. The day fixed was the first of October.Engineers, mechanics, and scientific men, from far and near, flocked toLiverpool. The ground where the exhibition was to take place was a levelpiece of railroad two miles long, a little out of the city. Each enginewas to make twenty trips, at a rate of speed not under ten miles anhour, and three competent men were appointed as judges.

  Four engines were entered on the list,—the "NOVELTY," the "SANS-PAREIL,"the "ROCKET," the "PERSEVERANCE."

  Several others were built for the occasion in different parts of thekingdom, or rather projected and begun, but were not finished in time.

  In order to afford ample opportunity for their owners to get them ingood working order, the directors postponed the trial till October 6th.The day arrived, and a glance at the country around showed that anunusual occasion was drawing people together. Multitudes from theneighbouring towns assembled on the ground at an early hour. The roadwas lined with carriages, and a high staging afforded the ladies anopportunity of witnessing the novel race.

  The "Novelty" and "Sans-pareil," though first on the list, were notready at the hour appointed. What engine was? The "Rocket." Stephenson,next on the roll, was called for by the judges, and promptly the little"Rocket" fired up at the call. It performed six trips in aboutfifty-three minutes.

  The "Novelty" then proclaimed itself ready. It was a light, trim engine,of little more than three tons weight, carrying its fuel and water withit. It took no load, and ran across the course sometimes at the rate oftwenty-five miles an hour. The "Sans-pareil" also came out.

  The "Perseverance," not able to go faster than five or six miles anhour, withdrew from the contest. As the day was now far spent, furtherexhibition was put off till the morrow.

  What exciting discussions must have taken place among rival competitorsand their friends! What a scrutiny of the merits and demerits, thevirtues and defects of opposing engines!

  Before the appointed hour the next day, the bellows of the "Novelty"gave out; and as this was one of its merits—a bellows to increase thedraught of the air-blast—its builders were forced to retire from thelist.

  Soon after, a defect was discovered in the boiler of the "Sans-pareil."Mr. Hackworth begged for time to mend it; as there was no time, hisrequest could not be granted, and he too withdrew his claims.

  The "Rocket" alone stood its ground. The "Rocket," therefore, was againcalled for. Stephenson attached to it a carriage large enough to hold aparty of thirty, and drove his locomotive along the line at the rate oftwenty-five and thirty miles an hour, to the amazement and delight ofevery one present.

  The next morning it was ordered to be in readiness to answer the variousspecifications of the offer. It snorted and panted, and steamed over therace-ground in proud trim, drawing about thirteen tons weight. In twentytrips, backward and forward, its greatest speed was twenty-nine miles anhour—three times greater than Nicholas Wood, one of the judges, declaredto be possible. Its average rate was fifteen miles—five miles beyond therate specified for the prize. The performance appeared astonishing.Spectators were filled with wonder. The poor directors began to see fairweather; doubts were solved, disputes settled; the "Rocket" had clearedthe track for them. There could no longer be any question how to run theroad. George Cropper, who had steadily countenanced stationary engines,lifted up his hands exclaiming, "Stephenson has at last deliveredhimself!"

  The two other locomotives, however, were allowed to reappear on thestage; but both broke down, and the "Rocket" remained victor to thelast. It had performed and more than performed all it promised,fulfilled all the conditions of the directors' offer, and wasaccordingly declared to have nobly earned the prize—five hundred pounds.

  But the money was little, compared with the profound satisfaction whichthe Stephensons felt at this public acknowledgment of the worth of theirlifelong labours. George's veracity, skill, intelligence, had all beendoubted, denied, derided by men of all classes. Even old friends turnedagainst him, and thought his mind was crazed by "one idea." He had tostruggle on alone; faithful to his convictions, patiently biding histime, yet earnestly pleading his cause on every suitable occasion. Hehad a blessing for the world; and he knew when it felt its want of it,it would have it. That time had come. The directors flocked around himwith flattering congratulations. All shyness and coolness vanished.Friends were no longer few. The shares of the company immediately roseten per cent. Men and means were at his disposal. George Stephenson wasa happy man.

  The "Rocket" had blown stationary engines to the winds. And Steam thatday, on the land as well as on the water, took its place as one of thegrand moving powers of the world.