“That’s the only time,” smiled the inventor. “It enters the cylinders just as gasolene does in a gasolene motor, and is ignited or exploded by an electric spark. This gives the impetus to the engines, and then the gas is cut off and the compressed air turned on.”
The boys looked dazed. The Lockyer seemed to be in truth a wonderful vessel. But as yet she had not entered the water. Even making due allowances for an inventor’s enthusiasm, it began to appear to the boys, however, as if they were on board a craft that would make history in time to come.
“Now forward,” said Mr. Lockyer, leading the way through the cabin to the room in which the explosion of the released gas had occurred, “we have the torpedo room. Two tubes for launching two Whitehead torpedoes are provided. Compressed air is used here, too, you see. But a charge of gas is exploded in the tube to fire the torpedoes.”
He indicated a maze of complicated pipes and valves leading to the rear of the torpedo tubes. Steel racks lined the sides of the place, which was in the extreme bow of the craft and, therefore, shaped like a cone. These supports were for the torpedoes. Resting places for ten—five on each side—had been provided.
Many other features there were about the craft which it would only become wearisome to catalogue here. They will be introduced as occasion arises and fully explained. As they emerged from the torpedo room, a heavy-set man in workman’s clothes, with a foot rule in one hand and a wrench in the other, came forward, advancing through the door in the bulkhead. As it so happened, Ned was in front and the newcomer rudely shoved him aside on his way through the door.
“Get out o’ my way,” he growled. “Don’t you see I’m in a hurry? Where’s Mr. Lockyer?”
“Here I am, Anderson,” rejoined the inventor, stepping forward. He had just completed a careful examination of the room in which the explosion of gas had occurred. This investigation confirmed his first decision that little damage had been done to the craft, thanks to young Sim’s plucky work.
But as Mr. Lockyer’s gaze lit on Anderson an angry expression came into his eyes, replacing his look of satisfaction at the discovery that no damage had been done.
“Ah, I want to speak to you, Anderson,” he said, with a sarcastic intonation in his voice; “but when last I saw you, you were in too much of a hurry to stop. You and your men were all running for dear life, leaving this lad here unconscious in the gas-filled torpedo room.”
“I wasn’t running away,” muttered Anderson. “I was looking for you, and I——”