On the 28th the racing became furious. Several accidents occurred. Edge, driving the only English car, wrecked his machine on a culvert, the sharp curve of which flung the car into the air and broke its springs. Another ruined his chances by running over and killing a boy. But Fournier, Antony, De Knyff, and Girardot managed to avoid mishaps for that day, and covered the ground at a tremendous pace. At Düsseldorf Girardot won the lead from Fournier, to lose it again shortly. Antony, driving at a reckless speed, gained ground all day, and arrived a close second at Hanover, the halting-place, after a run averaging, in spite of bad roads and dangerous corners, no less than 54 miles an hour!

The chauffeur in such a race must indeed be a man of iron nerves. Through the great black goggles which shelter his face from the dust-laden hurricane set up by the speed he travels at he must keep a perpetual, piercingly keen watch. Though travelling at express speed, there are no signals to help him; he must be his own signalman as well as driver. He must mark every loose stone on the road, every inequality, every sudden rise or depression; he must calculate the curves at the corners and judge whether his mechanician, hanging out on the inward side, will enable a car to round a turn without slackening speed. His calculations and decisions must be made in the fraction of a second, for a moment’s hesitation might be disaster. His driving must be furious and not reckless; the timid chauffeur will never win, the careless one will probably lose. His head must be cool although the car leaps beneath him like a wild thing, and the wind lashes his face. At least one well-tried driver found the mere mental strain too great to bear, and retired from the contest; and we may be sure that few of the competitors slept much during the nights of the race.

At four o’clock on the 29th Fournier started on the third stage, which witnessed another bout of fast travelling. It was now a struggle between him and Antony for first place. The pace rose at times to eighty miles an hour, a speed at which our fastest expresses seldom travel. Such a speed means huge risks, for stopping, even with the powerful brakes fitted to the large cars, would be a matter of a hundred yards or more. Not far from Hanover Antony met with an accident—Girardot now held second place; and Fournier finished an easy first. All along the route crowds had cheered him, and hurled bouquets into the car, and wished him good speed; but in Berlin the assembled populace went nearly frantic at his appearance. Fournier was overwhelmed with flowers, laurel wreaths, and other offerings; dukes, duchesses, and the great people of the land pressed for presentations; he was the hero of the hour.

Thus ended what may be termed a peaceful invasion of Germany by the French. Among other things it had shown that over an immense stretch of country, over roads in places bad as only German roads can be, the automobile was able to maintain an average speed superior to that of the express trains running between Paris and Berlin; also that, in spite of the large number of cars employed in the race, the accidents to the public were a negligible quantity. It should be mentioned that the actual time occupied by Fournier was 16 hours 5 minutes; that out of the 109 starters 47 reached Berlin; and that Osmont on a motor cycle finished only 3 hours and 10 minutes behind the winner.

In England such racing would be undesirable and impossible, owing to the crookedness of our roads. It would certainly not be permissible so long as the 12 miles an hour limit is observed. At the present time an agitation is on foot against this restriction, which, though reasonable enough among traffic and in towns, appears unjustifiable in open country. To help to convince the magisterial mind of the ease with which a car can be stopped, and therefore of its safety even at comparatively high speeds, trials were held on January 2, 1902, in Welbeck Park. The results showed that a car travelling at 13 miles an hour could be stopped dead in 4 yards; at 18 miles in 7 yards; at 20 miles in 13 yards; or in less than half the distance required to pull up a horse-vehicle driven at similar speeds.

Uses.—Ninety-five per cent of motors, at least in England, are attached to pleasure vehicles, cycles, voiturettes, and large cars. On account of the costliness of cars motorists are far less numerous than cyclists; but those people whose means enable them to indulge in automobilism find it extremely fascinating. Caricaturists have presented to us in plenty the gloomier incidents of motoring—the broken chain, the burst tyre, the “something gone wrong.” It requires personal experience to understand how lightly these mishaps weigh against the exhilaration of movement, the rapid change of scene, the sensation of control over power which can whirl one along tirelessly at a pace altogether beyond the capacities of horseflesh. If proof were wanted of the motor car’s popularity it will be seen in the unconventional dress of the chauffeur. The breeze set up by his rapid rush is such as would penetrate ordinary clothing; he dons cumbrous fur cloaks. The dust is all-pervading at times; he swathes himself in dust-proof overalls, and mounts large goggles edged with velvet, while a cap of semi-nautical cut tightly drawn down over neck and ears serves to protect those portions of his anatomy. The general effect is peculiarly unpicturesque; but even the most artistically-minded driver is ready to sacrifice appearances to comfort and the proper enjoyment of his car.

In England the great grievance of motorists arises from the speed limit imposed by law. To restrict a powerful car to twelve miles an hour is like confining a thoroughbred to the paces of a broken-down cab horse. Careless driving is unpardonable, but its occasional existence scarcely justifies the intolerant attitude of the law towards motorists in general. It must, however, be granted in justice to the police that the chauffeur, from constant transgression of the law, becomes a bad judge of speed, and often travels at a far greater velocity than he is willing to admit.

The convenience of the motor car for many purposes is immense, especially for cross-country journeys, which may be made from door to door without the monotony or indirectness of railway travel. It bears the doctor swiftly on his rounds. It carries the business man from his country house to his office. It delivers goods for the merchant; parcels for the post office.

In the warfare of the future, too, it will play its part, whether to drag heavy ordnance and stores, or to move commanding officers from point to point, or perform errands of mercy among the wounded. By the courtesy of the Locomobile Company we are permitted to append the testimony of Captain R. S. Walker, R.E., to the usefulness of a car during the great Boer War.

“Several months ago I noticed a locomobile car at Cape Town, and being struck with its simplicity and neatness, bought it and took it up country with me, with a view to making some tests with it over bad roads, &c. Its first trip was over a rough course round Pretoria, especially chosen to find out defects before taking it into regular use. Naturally, as the machine was not designed for this class of work, there were several. In about a month these had all been found out and remedied, and the car was in constant use, taking stores, &c., round the towns and forts. It also performed some very useful work in visiting out-stations, where searchlights were either installed or wanted, and in this way visited nearly all the bigger towns in the Transvaal. It was possible to go round all the likely positions for a searchlight in one day at every station, which frequently meant considerably over fifty miles of most indifferent roads—more than a single horse could have been expected to do—and the car generally carried two persons on these occasions. The car was also used as a tender to a searchlight plant, on a gun-carriage and limber, being utilised to fetch gasolene, carbons, water, &c., &c., and also to run the dynamo for charging the accumulators used for sparking, thus saving running the gasolene motor for this purpose. To do this the trail of the carriage, on which was the dynamo, was lowered on to the ground, the back of the car was pulled up, one wheel being supported on the dynamo pulley and the other clear of the ground, and two bolts were passed through the balance-gear to join it. On one occasion the car ran a 30 c.m. searchlight for an hour, driving a dynamo in this way. In consequence of this a trailer has been made to carry a dynamo and projector for searchlighting in the field, but so far this has not been so used. The trailer hooks into an eye, passing just behind the balance-gear. A Maxim, Colt, or small ammunition cart, &c., could be attached to this same eye.

“Undoubtedly the best piece of work done by the car so far was its trial trip with the trailer, when it blew up the mines at Klein Nek. These mines were laid some eight months previously, and had never been looked to in the interval. There had been several bad storms, the Boers and cattle had been frequently through the Nek, it had been on fire, and finally it was shelled with lyddite. The mines, eighteen in number, were found to be intact except two, which presumably had been fired off by the heat of the veldt fire. All the insulation was burnt off the wires, and the battery was useless. It had been anticipated that a dynamo exploder would be inadequate to fire these mines, so a 250 volt two h.p. motor, which happened to be in Pretoria, weighing about three or four hundredweight, was placed on the trailer; a quarter of a mile of insulated cable, some testing gear, the kits of three men and their rations for three days, with a case of gasolene for the car, were also carried on the car and trailer, and the whole left Pretoria one morning and trekked to Rietfontein. Two of us were mounted, the third drove the car. At Rietfontein we halted for the night, and started next morning with an escort through Commando Nek, round the north of the Magaliesburg, to near Klein Nek, where the road had to be left, and the car taken across country through bush veldt. At the bottom the going was pretty easy; only a few bushes had to be charged down, and the grass, &c., rather wound itself around the wheels and chain. As the rise became steeper the stones became very large, and the car had to be taken along very gingerly to prevent breaking the wheels. A halt was made about a quarter of a mile from the top of the Nek, where the mines were. These were reconnoitered, and the wire, &c., was picked up; that portion which was useless was placed on top of the charges, and the remainder taken to the car. The dynamo was slid off the trailer, the car backed against it; one wheel was raised slightly and placed against the dynamo pulley, which was held up to it by a man using his rifle as a lever; the other wheel was on the ground with a stone under it. The balance gear being free, the dynamo was excited without the other wheel moving, and the load being on for a very short time (that is, from the time of touching lead on dynamo terminal to firing of the mine) no harm could come to the car. When all the leads had been joined to the dynamo the car was started, and after a short time, when it was judged to have excited, the second terminal was touched, a bang and clouds of dust resulted, and the Klein Nek Minefield had ceased to exist. The day was extremely hot, and the work had not been light, so the tea, made with water drawn direct from the boiler, which we were able to serve round to the main body of our escort was much appreciated, and washed down the surplus rations we dispensed with to accommodate the battery and wire, which we could not leave behind for the enemy.

“On the return journey we found this extra load too much for the car, and had great difficulty getting up to Commando Nek, frequently having to stop to get up steam, so these materials were left at the first blockhouse, and the journey home continued in comfort.

“A second night at Rietfontein gave us a rest after our labour, and the third afternoon saw us on our way back to Pretoria. As luck would have it, a sandstorm overtook the car, which had a lively time of it. The storm began by blowing the sole occupant’s hat off, so, the two mounted men being a long way behind, he shut off steam and chased his hat. In the meantime the wind increased, and the car sailed off ‘on its own,’ and was only just caught in time to save a smash. Luckily the gale was in the right direction, for the fire was blown out, and it was impossible to light a match in the open. The car sailed into a poort on the outskirts of Pretoria, got a tow from a friendly cart through it, and then steamed home after the fire had been relit.

“The load carried on this occasion (without the battery, &c.) must have been at least five hundredweight besides the driver, which, considering the car is designed to carry two on ordinary roads, and that these roads were by no means ordinary, was no mean feat. The car, as ordinarily equipped for trekking, carries the following: Blankets, waterproof sheets, &c., for two men; four planks for crossing ditches, bogs, stones, &c.; all necessary tools and spare parts, a day’s supply of gasolene, a couple of telephones, and one mile of wire. In addition, on the trailer, if used for searchlighting: One 30 c.m. projector, one automatic lamp for projector, one dynamo (100 volts 20 ampères), two short lengths of wire, two pairs of carbons, tools, &c. This trailer would normally be carried with the baggage, and only picked up by the car when wanted as a light; that is, as a rule, after arriving in camp, when a good many other things could be left behind.”

Perhaps the most useful work in store for the motor is to help relieve the congestion of our large towns and to restore to the country some of its lost prosperity. There is no stronger inducement to make people live in the country than rapid and safe means of locomotion, whether public or private. At present the slow and congested suburban train services on some sides of London consume as much time as would suffice a motor car to cover twice or three times the distance. We must welcome any form of travel which will tend to restore the balance between country and town by enabling the worker to live far from his work. The gain to the health of the nation arising from more even distribution of population would be inestimable.

A world’s tour is among the latest projects in automobilism. On April 29, 1902, Dr. Lehwess and nine friends started from Hyde Park Corner for a nine months’ tour on three vehicles, the largest of them a luxuriously appointed 24 horse-power caravan, built to accommodate four persons. Their route lies through France, Germany, Russia, Siberia, China, Japan, and the United States.

HIGH-SPEED RAILWAYS.

A century ago a long journey was considered an exploit, and an exploit to be carried through as quickly as possible on account of the dangers of the road and the generally uncomfortable conditions of travel. To-day, though our express speed is many times greater than that of the lumbering coaches, our carriages comparatively luxurious, the risk practically nil, the same wish lurks in the breast of ninety-nine out of a hundred railway passengers—to spend the shortest time in the train that the time-table permits of. Time differences that to our grandfathers would have appeared trifling are now matters of sufficient importance to make rival railway companies anxious to clip a few minutes off a 100-mile “run” simply because their passengers appreciate a few minutes’ less confinement to the cars.

During the last fifty years the highest express speeds have not materially altered. The Great Western Company in its early days ran trains from Paddington to Slough, 18 miles, in 15-1/2 minutes, or at an average pace of 69-1/2 miles an hour.

On turning to the present regular express services of the world we find America heading the list with a 50-mile run between Atlantic City and Camden, covered at the average speed of 68 miles an hour; Britain second with a 33-mile run between Forfar and Perth at 59 miles; and France a good third with an hourly average of rather more than 58 miles between Les Aubrais and S. Pierre des Corps. These runs are longer than that on the Great Western Railway referred to above (which now occupies twenty-four minutes), but their average velocity is less. What is the cause of this decrease of speed? Not want of power in modern engines; at times our trains attain a rate of 80 miles an hour, and in America a mile has been turned off in the astonishing time of thirty-two seconds. We should rather seek it in the need for economy and in the physical limitations imposed by the present system of plate-laying and railroad engineering. An average speed of ninety miles an hour would, as things now stand, be too wasteful of coal and too injurious to the rolling-stock to yield profit to the proprietors of a line; and, except in certain districts, would prove perilous for the passengers. Before our services can be much improved the steam locomotive must be supplanted by some other application of motive power, and the metals be laid in a manner which will make special provision for extreme speed.

Since rapid transit is as much a matter of commercial importance as of mere personal convenience it must not be supposed that an average of 50 miles an hour will continue to meet the needs of travellers. Already practical experiments have been made with two systems that promise us an ordinary speed of 100 miles an hour and an express speed considerably higher.

One of these, the monorail or single-rail system, will be employed on a railroad projected between Manchester and Liverpool. At present passengers between these two cities—the first to be connected by a railroad of any kind—enjoy the choice of three rival services covering 34-1/2 miles in three-quarters of an hour. An eminent engineer, Mr. F. B. Behr, now wishes to add a fourth of unprecedented swiftness. Parliamentary powers have been secured for a line starting from Deansgate, Manchester, and terminating behind the pro-Cathedral in Liverpool, on which single cars will run every ten minutes at a velocity of 110 miles an hour.

A monorail track presents a rather curious appearance. The ordinary parallel metals are replaced by a single rail carried on the summit of A-shaped trestles, the legs of which are firmly bolted to sleepers. A monorail car is divided lengthwise by a gap that allows it to hang half on either side of the trestles and clear them as it moves. The double flanged wheels to carry and drive the car are placed at the apex of the gap. As the “centre of gravity” is below the rail the car cannot turn over, even when travelling round a sharp curve.

The first railway built on this system was constructed by M. Charles Lartigue, a French engineer, in Algeria, a district where an ordinary two-rail track is often blocked by severe sand-storms. He derived the idea of balancing trucks over an elevated rail from caravans of camels laden on each flank with large bags. The camel, or rather its legs, was transformed by the engineer’s eye into iron trestles, while its burden became a car. A line built as a result of this observation, and supplied with mules as tractive power, has for many years played an important part in the esparto-grass trade of Algeria.

In 1886 Mr. Behr decided that by applying steam to M. Lartigue’s system he could make it successful as a means of transporting passengers and goods. He accordingly set up in Tothill Fields, Westminster, on the site of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral, a miniature railway which during nine months of use showed that the monorail would be practical for heavy traffic, safe, and more cheaply maintained than the ordinary double-metal railway. The train travelled easily round very sharp curves and climbed unusually steep gradients without slipping.

Mr. Behr was encouraged to construct a monorail in Kerry, between Listowel, a country town famous for its butter, and Ballybunion, a seaside resort of increasing popularity. The line, opened on the 28th of February 1888, has worked most satisfactorily ever since, without injury to a single employé or passenger.

On each side of the trestles, two feet below the apex, run two guide-rails, against which press small wheels attached to the carriages to prevent undue oscillation and “tipping” round curves. At the three stations there are, instead of points, turn-tables or switches on to which the train runs for transference to sidings.

Road traffic crosses the rail on drawbridges, which are very easily worked, and which automatically set signals against the train. The bridges are in two portions and act on the principle of the Tower Bridge, each half falling from a perpendicular position towards the centre, where the ends rest on the rail, specially strengthened at that spot to carry the extra weight. The locomotive is a twin affair; has two boilers, two funnels, two fireboxes; can draw 240 tons on the level at fifteen miles an hour, and when running light travels a mile in two minutes. The carriages, 18 feet long and carrying twelve passengers on each side, are divided longitudinally into two parts. Trucks too are used, mainly for the transport of sand—of which each carries three tons—from Ballybunion to Listowel: and in the centre of each train is a queer-looking vehicle serving as a bridge for any one who may wish to cross from one side of the rail to the other.

Several lines on the pattern of the Ballybunion-Listowel have been erected in different countries. Mr. Behr was not satisfied with his first success, however, and determined to develop the monorail in the direction of fast travelling, which he thought would be most easily attained on a trestle-track. In 1893 he startled engineers by proposing a Lightning-Express service, to transport passengers at a velocity of 120 miles an hour. But the project seemed too ideal to tempt money from the pockets of financiers, and Mr. Behr soon saw that if a high-speed railway after his own heart were constructed it must be at his own expense. He had sufficient faith in his scheme to spend £40,000 on an experimental track at the Brussels Exhibition of 1897. The exhibition was in two parts, connected by an electric railway, the one at the capital, the other at Tervueren, seven miles away. Mr. Behr built his line at Tervueren.

The greatest difficulty he encountered in its construction arose from the opposition of landowners, mostly small peasant proprietors, who were anxious to make advantageous terms before they would hear of the rail passing through their lands. Until he had concluded two hundred separate contracts, by most of which the peasants benefited, his platelayers could not get to work. Apart from this opposition the conditions were not favourable. He was obliged to bridge no less than ten roads; and the contour of the country necessitated steep gradients, sharp curves, long cuttings and embankments, the last of which, owing to a wet summer, could not be trusted to stand quite firm. The track was doubled for three miles, passing at each end round a curve of 1600 feet radius.

The rail ran about four feet above the track on trestles bolted down to steel sleepers resting on ordinary ballast. The carriage—Mr. Behr used but one on this line—weighed 68 tons, was 59 feet long and 11 feet wide, and could accommodate one hundred persons. It was handsomely fitted up, and had specially-shaped seats which neutralised the effect of rounding curves, and ended fore and aft in a point, to overcome the wind-resistance in front and the air-suction behind. Sixteen pairs of wheels on the under side of the carriage engaged with the two pairs of guide rails flanking the trestles, and eight large double-flanged wheels, 4-1/2 feet in diameter, carried the weight of the vehicle. The inner four of these wheels were driven by as many powerful electric motors contained, along with the guiding mechanism, in the lower part of the car. The motors picked up current from the centre rail and from another steel rail laid along the sleepers on porcelain insulators.

The top speed attained was about ninety miles an hour. On the close of the Exhibition special experiments were made at the request of the Belgian, French, and Russian Governments, with results that proved that the Behr system deserved a trial on a much larger scale.

The engineer accordingly approached the British Government with a Bill for the construction of a high-speed line between Liverpool and Manchester. A Committee of the House of Commons rejected the Bill on representations of the Salford Corporation. The Committee had to admit, nevertheless, that the evidence called was mainly in favour of the system; and, the plans of the rail having been altered to meet certain objections, Parliamentary consent was obtained to commence operations when the necessary capital had been subscribed. In a few years the great seaport and the great cotton town will probably be within a few minutes’ run of each other.

A question that naturally arises in the mind of the reader is this: could the cars, when travelling at 110 miles an hour, be arrested quickly enough to avoid an accident if anything got on the line?

The Westinghouse air-brake has a retarding force of three miles a second. It would therefore arrest a train travelling at 110 miles per hour in 37 seconds, or 995 yards. Mr. Behr proposes to reinforce the Westinghouse with an electric brake, composed of magnets 18 inches long, exerting on the guide rails by means of current generated by the reversed motors an attractive force of 200 lbs. per square inch. One great advantage of this brake is that its efficiency is greatest when the speed of the train is highest and when it is most needed. The united brakes are expected to stop the car in half the distance of the Westinghouse alone; but they would not both be applied except in emergencies. Under ordinary conditions the slowing of a car would take place only at the termini, where the line ascends gradients into the stations. There would, however, be small chance of collisions, the railway being securely fenced off throughout its entire length, and free from level crossings, drawbridges and points. Furthermore, each train would be its own signalman. Suppose the total 34-1/2 miles divided into “block” lengths of 7 miles. On leaving a terminus the train sets a danger signal behind it; at 7 miles it sets another, and at 14 miles releases the first signal. So that the driver of a car would have at least 7 miles to slow down in after seeing the signals against him. In case of fog he would consult a miniature signal in his cabin working electrically in unison with the large semaphores.

The Manchester-Liverpool rail will be reserved for express traffic only. Mr. Behr does not believe in mixing speeds, and considers it one of the advantages of his system that slow cars and waggons of the ordinary two-rail type cannot be run on the monorail; because if they could managers might be tempted to place them there.

A train will consist of a single vehicle for forty, fifty, or seventy passengers, as the occasion requires. It is calculated that an average of twelve passengers at one penny per mile would pay all the expenses of running a car.

Mr. Behr maintains that monorails can be constructed far more cheaply than the two-rail, because they permit sharper curves, and thereby save a lot of cutting and embankment; and also because the monorail itself, when trestles and rail are specially strengthened, can serve as its own bridge across roads, valleys and rivers.

Though the single-rail has come to the front of late, it must not be supposed that the two-rail track is for ever doomed to moderate speeds only. German engineers have built an electric two-rail military line between Berlin and Zossen, seventeen miles long, over which cars have been run at a hundred miles an hour. The line has very gradual curves, and in this respect is inferior to the more sinuous monorail. Its chief virtue is the method of applying motive power—a method common to both systems.

The steam locomotive creates its own motive force, and as long as it has fuel and water can act independently. The electric locomotive, on the other hand, receives its power through metallic conductors from some central station. Should the current fail all the traffic on the line is suspended. So far the advantage rests with the steamer. But as regards economy the superiority of the current is obvious. In the electric systems under consideration—the monorail and Berlin-Zossen—there is less weight per passenger to be shifted, since a comparatively light motor supersedes the heavy locomotive. The cars running singly, bridges and track are subjected to less strain, and cost less to keep in repair. But the greatest saving of all is made in fuel. A steam locomotive uses coal wastefully, sending a lot of latent power up the funnel in the shape of half-expanded steam. Want of space prevents the designer from fitting to a moving engine the more economical machinery to be found in the central power-station of an electric railway, which may be so situated—by the water-side or near a pit’s mouth—that fuel can be brought to it at a trifling cost. Not only is the expense of distributing coal over the system avoided, but the coal itself, by the help of triple and quadruple expansion engines should yield two or three times as much energy per ton as is developed in a locomotive furnace.

Many schemes are afoot for the construction of high-speed railways. The South-Eastern plans a monorail between Cannon Street and Charing Cross to avoid the delay that at present occurs in passing from one station to the other. We hear also of a projected railway from London to Brighton, which will reduce the journey to half-an-hour; and of another to connect Dover and London. It has even been suggested to establish monorails on existing tracks for fast passenger traffic, the expresses passing overhead, the slow and goods trains plodding along the double metals below.

But the most ambitious programme of all comes from the land of the Czar. M. Hippolyte Romanoff, a Russian engineer, proposes to unite St. Petersburg and Moscow by a line that shall cover the intervening 600 miles in three hours—an improvement of ten hours on the present time-tables. He will use T-shaped supports to carry two rails, one on each arm, from which the cars are to hang. The line being thus double will permit the cars—some four hundred in number—to run to and fro continuously, urged on their way by current picked up from overhead wires. Each car is to have twelve wheels, four drivers arranged vertically and eight horizontally, to prevent derailment by gripping the rail on either side. The stoppage or breakdown of any car will automatically stop those following by cutting off the current.

In the early days of railway history lines were projected in all directions, regardless of the fact whether they would be of any use or not. Many of these lines began, where they ended, on paper. And now that the high-speed question has cropped up, we must not believe that every projected electric railway will be built, though of the ultimate prevalence of far higher speeds than we now enjoy there can be no doubt.

The following is a time-table drawn up on the two-mile-per-minute basis.

A man leaving London at 10 a.m. would reach—

What would become of the records established in the “Race to the North” and by American “fliers”?

And what about continental travel?

Assuming that the Channel Tunnel is built—perhaps a rather large assumption—Paris will be at our very doors. A commercial traveller will step into the lightning express at London, sleep for two hours and twenty-four minutes and wake, refreshed, to find the blue-smocked Paris porters bawling in his ear. Or even if we prefer to keep the “little silver streak” free from subterranean burrows, he will be able to catch the swift turbine steamers—of which more anon—at Dover, slip across to Calais in half-an-hour, and be at the French capital within four hours of quitting London. And if M. Romanoff’s standard be reached, the latest thing in hats despatched from Paris at noon may be worn in Regent Street before two o’clock.

Such speeds would indeed produce a revolution in travelling comparable to the substitution of the steam locomotive for the stage coach. As has been pithily said, the effect of steam was to make the bulk of population travel, whereas they had never travelled before, but the effect of the electric railway will be to make those who travel travel much further and much oftener.

SEA EXPRESSES.

In the year 1836 the Sirius, a paddle-wheel vessel, crossed the Atlantic from Cork Harbour to New York in nineteen days. Contrast with the first steam-passage from the Old World to the New a return journey of the Deutschland, a North German liner, which in 1900 averaged over twenty-seven miles an hour between Sandy Hook and Plymouth, accomplishing the whole distance in the record time of five days seven hours thirty-eight minutes.

This growth of speed is even more remarkable than might appear from the mere comparison of figures. A body moving through water is so retarded by the inertia and friction of the fluid that to quicken its pace a force quite out of proportion to the increase of velocity must be exerted. The proportion cannot be reduced to an exact formula, but under certain conditions the speed and the power required advance in the ratio of their cubes; that is, to double a given rate of progress eight times the driving-power is needed; to treble it, twenty-seven times.

The mechanism of our fast modern vessels is in every way as superior to that which moved the Sirius, as the beautifully-adjusted safety cycle is to the clumsy “boneshaker” which passed for a wonder among our grandfathers. A great improvement has also taken place in the art of building ships on lines calculated to offer least resistance to the water, and at the same time afford a good carrying capacity. The big liner, with its knife-edged bow and tapering hull, is by its shape alone eloquent of the high speed which has earned it the title of Ocean Greyhound; and as for the fastest craft of all, torpedo-destroyers, their designers seem to have kept in mind Euclid’s definition of a line—length without breadth. But whatever its shape, boat or ship may not shake itself free of Nature’s laws. Her restraining hand lies heavy upon it. A single man paddles his weight-carrying dinghy along easily at four miles an hour; eight men in the pink of condition, after arduous training, cannot urge their light, slender, racing shell more than twelve miles in the same time.

To understand how mail boats and “destroyers” attain, despite the enormous resistance of water, velocities that would shame many a train-service, we have only to visit the stokeholds and engine-rooms of our sea expresses and note the many devices of marine engineers by which fuel is converted into speed.

We enter the stokehold through air-locks, closing one door before we can open the other, and find ourselves among sweating, grimy men, stripped to the waist. As though life itself depended upon it they shovel coal into the rapacious maws of furnaces glowing with a dazzling glare under the “forced-draught” sent down into the hold by the fans whirling overhead. The ignited furnace gases on their way to the outer air surrender a portion of their heat to the water from which they are separated by a skin of steel. Two kinds of marine boiler are used—the fire-tube and the water-tube. In fire-tube boilers the fire passes inside the tubes and the water outside; in water-tube boilers the reverse is the case, the crown and sides of the furnace being composed of sheaves of small parallel pipes through which water circulates. The latter type, as generating steam very quickly, and being able to bear very high pressures, is most often found in war vessels of all kinds. The quality sought in boiler construction is that the heating surface should be very large in proportion to the quantity of water to be heated. Special coal, anthracite or Welsh, is used in the navy on account of its great heating power and freedom from smoke; experiments have also been made with crude petroleum, or liquid fuel, which can be more quickly put on board than coal, requires the services of fewer stokers, and may be stored in odd corners unavailable as coal bunkers.

From the boiler the steam passes to the engine-room, whither we will follow it. We are now in a bewildering maze of clanking, whirling machinery; our noses offended by the reek of oil, our ears deafened by the uproar of the moving metal, our eyes wearied by the efforts to follow the motions of the cranks and rods.

On either side of us is ranged a series of three or perhaps even four cylinders, of increasing size. The smallest, known as the high-pressure cylinder, receives steam direct from the boiler. It takes in through a slide-valve a supply for a stroke; its piston is driven from end to end; the piston-rod flies through the cylinder-end and transmits a rotary motion to a crank by means of a connecting-rod. The half-expanded steam is then ejected, not into the air as would happen on a locomotive, but into the next cylinder, which has a larger piston to compensate the reduction of pressure. Number two served, the steam does duty a third time in number three, and perhaps yet a fourth time before it reaches the condensers, where its sudden conversion into water by cold produces a vacuum suction in the last cylinder of the series. The secret of a marine engine’s strength and economy lies then in its treatment of the steam, which, like clothes in a numerous family, is not thought to have served its purpose till it has been used over and over again.

Reciprocating (i.e. cylinder) engines, though brought to a high pitch of efficiency, have grave disadvantages, the greatest among which is the annoyance caused by their intense vibration to all persons in the vessel. A revolving body that is not exactly balanced runs unequally, and transmits a tremor to anything with which it may be in contact. Turn a cycle upside down and revolve the driving-wheel rapidly by means of the pedal. The whole machine soon begins to tremble violently, and dance up and down on the saddle springs, because one part of the wheel is heavier than the rest, the mere weight of the air-valve being sufficient to disturb the balance. Now consider what happens in the engine-room of high-powered vessels. On destroyers the screws make 400 revolutions a minute. That is to say, all the momentum of the pistons, cranks, rods, and valves (weighing tons), has to be arrested thirteen or fourteen times every second. However well the moving parts may be balanced, the vibration is felt from stem to stern of the vessel. Even on luxuriously-appointed liners, with engines running at a far slower speed, the throbbing of the screw (i.e. engines) is only too noticeable and productive of discomfort.

We shall be told, perhaps, that vibration is a necessary consequence of speed. This is true enough of all vehicles, such as railway trains, motor-cars, cycles, which are shaken by the irregularities of the unyielding surface over which they run, but does not apply universally to ships and boats. A sail or oar-propelled craft may be entirely free from vibration, whatever its speed, as the motions arising from water are usually slow and deliberate. In fact, water in its calmer moods is an ideal medium to travel on, and the trouble begins only with the introduction of steam as motive force.

But even steam may be robbed of its power to annoy us. The steam-turbine has arrived. It works a screw propeller as smoothly as a dynamo, and at a speed that no cylinder engine could maintain for a minute without shaking itself to pieces.

The steam-turbine is most closely connected with the name of the Hon. Charles Parsons, son of Lord Rosse, the famous astronomer. He was the first to show, in his speedy little Turbinia, the possibilities of the turbine when applied to steam navigation. The results have been such as to attract the attention of the whole shipbuilding world.

The principle of the turbine is seen in the ordinary windmill. To an axle revolving in a stationary bearing are attached vanes which oppose a current of air, water, or steam, at an angle to its course, and by it are moved sideways through a circular path. Mr. Parsons’ turbine has of course been specially adapted for the action of steam. It consists of a cylindrical, air-tight chest, inside which rotates a drum, fitted round its circumference with rows of curved vanes. The chest itself has fixed immovably to its inner side a corresponding number of vane rings, alternating with those on the drum, and so arranged as to deflect the steam on to the latter at the most efficient angle. The diameter of the chest and drum is not constant, but increases towards the exhaust end, in order to give the expanding and weakening steam a larger leverage as it proceeds.

The steam entering the chest from the boiler at a pressure of some hundreds of pounds to the square inch strikes the first set of vanes on the drum, passes them and meets the first set of chest-vanes, is turned from its course on to the second set of drum-vanes, and so on to the other end of the chest. Its power arises entirely from its expansive velocity, which, rather than turn a number of sharp corners, will, if possible, compel the obstruction to move out of its way. If that obstruction be from any cause difficult to stir, the steam must pass round it until its pressure overcomes the inertia. Consequently the turbine differs from the cylinder engine in this respect, that steam can pass through and be wasted without doing any work at all, whereas, unless the gear of a cylinder moves, and power is exerted, all steam ways are closed, and there is no waste. In practice, therefore, it is found that a turbine is most effective when running at high speed.

The first steam-turbines were used to drive dynamos. In 1884 Mr. Parsons made a turbine in which fifteen wheels of increasing size moved at the astonishing rate of 300 revolutions per second, and developed 10 horse-power. In 1888 followed a 120 horse-power turbine, and in 1892 one of 2000 horse-power, provided with a condenser to produce suction. So successful were these steam fans for electrical work, pumping water and ventilating mines, that Mr. Parsons determined to test them as a means of propelling ships. A small vessel 100 feet long and 9 feet in beam was fitted with three turbines—high, medium, and low pressure, of a total 2000 horse-power—a proportion of motive force to tonnage hitherto not approached. Yet when tried over the test course the Turbinia, as the boat was fitly named, ran in a most disappointing fashion. The screws revolved too fast, producing what is known as cavitation, or the scooping out of the water by the screws, so that they moved in a partial vacuum and utilised only a fraction of their force, from lack of anything to “bite” on. This defect was remedied by employing screws of coarser pitch and larger blade area, three of which were attached to each of the three propeller shafts. On a second trial the Turbinia attained 32-3/4 knots over the “measured mile,” and later the astonishing speed of forty miles an hour, or double that of the fast Channel packets. At the Spithead Review in 1897 one of the most interesting sights was the little nimble Turbinia rushing up and down the rows of majestic warships at the rate of an express train.