A. D. 2000

“Gentlemen, if you will follow me,” said Lieutenant Sibley, “I will show you over the vessel.”

Descending the companion-way, the entrance to which could be closed by an air-tight door, the party proceeded about the vessel.

Longitudinally and horizontally, from apex to apex of the cones, was a steel deck dividing the vessel into two equal parts. The first forty-five feet of each cone contained the tubes of compressed air and oxygen. There were in each end about 2,500 feet of five-inch steel tubes, one-half inch thick, containing over 4,500 cubic feet of air under a pressure of 1,500 pounds per square inch. This was sufficient, as Lieutenant Sibley explained, to sustain active life for the entire crew for two hours. “But we have other facilities,” continued the Lieutenant, “by which the vitiated air is deprived of its carbonic acid, and then recharged with the lipthalene gas from the receivers and oxygen from the pipes, giving about eight hours of active life to the inmates of the vessel when totally deprived of air externally.”

The store-rooms, mess-rooms, and quarters of the men were visited. Small though these rooms were, they were made with every convenience, and given every useful contrivance which this great age of invention could produce.

The Tracer was not a war vessel, but belonged to the Geographical Bureau, and was used in charting the Central Sea. Her complement was small: two engineers, two pilots, one electrician, cook, assistant cook, captain’s boy, two helpers, and two officers. Everything was so admirably arranged, and machinery played such a wonderful part in the power required to handle the vessel, that a larger force was not only unnecessary, but would have been detrimental to a satisfactory working of the vessel.

Cobb called attention to the steel partitions between the rooms, and asked why so much strength was required.

“There are,” answered Lieutenant Sibley, “twelve partitions, dividing the vessel into twenty-six compartments. In case of accident to the outer shell, whereby water might gain ingress, that particular compartment can instantly be closed and the flow of water confined to it. Before going down into the engine-room, I will give you some idea of this remarkable vessel. The Tracer, when fully submerged, displaces 1,000 tons of water. The shell of the vessel is of 1½-inch steel, covered externally by an aluminum armor of .3 of an inch in thickness, and weighs 570,000 pounds. The steel deck upon which we stand weighs 500,000; the steel partitions, braces, and iron-work weigh 195,000; the engines and machinery, 200,000; compressed air pipes, 125,000; the water cylinders, which you will soon see, weigh 100,000; all other parts, stores, lipthalite, etc., are allowed 50,000 pounds. Now, added to all this, is an immense aluminum-covered iron weight of 150,000 pounds attached to the bottom of the vessel, and which can instantly be freed and dropped from the ship into the sea, by simply breaking an electrical connection. This circuit is accessible from all parts of the vessel. Let us descend into the engine-rooms, and I will there explain why I have been so particular in giving you these weights.”

Following the Lieutenant down the narrow ladder into the depth below, Cobb, Rawolle, and Lyman were soon facing the powerful but small engines of the Tracer.

The room was large, clean, warm, and brightly illuminated by electricity. Here, Mr. Lochridge, the first engineer, was introduced by Lieutenant Sibley.

Cobb had seen the engines of many of the first-class vessels of his day, had noted their power and huge dimensions; but never before had he perceived such beautiful specimens of strength combined with size; nor did the finest workmanship he had ever seen approach to the perfection of the engines he saw beating and pulsating before him.

Cobb looked them carefully over before venturing any remark. He noted an absence of steam and heat, the peculiar construction of the boilers, and many other, to him, new inventions.

“I believe, Mr. Rawolle,” he finally said, turning to him, “that you informed me last evening that no steam was used at the present day, but in its place, lipthalite?”

“That is our fuel and vapor nowadays,” broke in Mr. Lochridge.

He led the way to two receivers, bearing some slight resemblance to the boilers of a steamer.

“Here are our boilers and furnaces combined,” he continued; “and these,” as he laid his hand upon two very peculiarly constructed frontal additions, which had quite a number of straight pipes running into the large receiver, “are our furnaces, if you choose to call them by such a designation; we call them generators. Lipthalite is our fuel and gas developer.”

Mr. Lochridge stooped down and took from a case, containing many more, a stick of dark-brown material about four feet long by one inch in diameter, and handed it to Cobb for his inspection, saying:

“That is lipthalite. These rods are placed in those tubes, and, by proper mechanism, pushed through into the field of an arc light situated in the generator. Gas is evolved in great quantities, but the composition burns only while in the field of the arc. Little heat is developed. The gas is delivered to the cylinders in the same manner as was steam in your day.”

“What is the volume of gas as compared with the solid base? and is it cheaper and as efficient as vapor of water?”

“I expected that question, Mr. Cobb,” returned Mr. Lochridge, “and will explain it. One cubic foot of water, as you know, produces nearly 1,700 cubic feet of steam; one cubic inch of gunpowder makes about 1,500 cubic inches of carbonic acid and nitrogen gases; while one cubic inch of lipthalite will evolve 500 cubic feet of lipthalene, a combination of nitrogen, carbonic acid, and other gases. The ratio between water and lipthalite, evolved into gas, is as 1 to 500. In other words, to operate the engines of this vessel at a given speed for one hour, requires, of coal and water, one and thirty-one tons respectively; while of lipthalite, twenty-three pounds. Leaving out the question of water, of which there is a plentiful supply surrounding the vessel, the gain in a twenty-four hours’ run for lipthalite over coal is as 1 is to 96; or one ton of lipthalite is used where ninety-six tons of coal would have been required.”

“It is a wonderful discovery!” exclaimed Cobb, and a far-away, dreamy expression came into his eyes. For an instant his mind went back to the days, long years ago, when he had spent hours in his laboratory, at the Presidio, searching for this very same agent – the storage of great power in small volume – and his partial success in the discovery of meteorite. Then his thoughts led him to the remembrance that his new explosive had been sent to Washington. What had become of it? Lost, lost, years ago!

“Do you comprehend the advance in science that has been made in a hundred years?” and Rawolle broke his reverie by gently touching him on the arm.

“Can I help it? Could anyone have dreamed of such a power as this?”

Yes. He had dreamed of it; and many, many times. But too modest to venture the knowledge that his thoughts and work had been centered on such a grand invention, he turned to Mr. Lochridge, and abruptly asked:

“Is lipthalite turned into gas by explosion?”

“By no means,” quickly returned that gentleman; “by inflammation, and inflammation alone, and not very fast, either. In our generators, here, it is at the rate of about two hundred and fifty feet of these sticks per hour.”

“Strange that I should have worked on this very principle!” he said, half aloud; then turning to Lieutenant Sibley, he exclaimed:

“You spoke of water cylinders; where are they?”

“Under the grating, Mr. Cobb.”

Mr. Lochridge raised the grated flooring, and showed three iron cylinders, each divided into halves, with piston-rods and cylinder-heads. They were about four feet in diameter by twenty-three feet long.

“These, gentlemen,” he continued, “are connected by pipes with the outside of the vessel. Water can be admitted into any one or all of these cylinders, and, in two minutes, driven out by the pistons. Should these pistons fail, from any cause, to work, pumps connected with the cylinders could perform the same duty in ten minutes. I gave you the weights a few minutes ago; what did I make them?” taking a piece of paper and pencil from his pocket, and making a few notes. “Yes; 1,940,000 pounds, or just thirty tons less than our displacement. The water cylinders have a capacity of fifty tons. By allowing thirty tons of water to enter the cylinders, our weight is equal to our displacement, and we sink. Allowing all loss of weight aboard ship during a cruise, and which never exceeds twenty tons, we can always decrease our buoyancy and sink to the bottom, if necessary. Now, here,” pointing to the left, and along the walls of the vessel, “are the dynamos for the electric lights, fans for circulating the fresh air, steering apparatus, electric heaters, exhaust pumps for expelling the vitiated air and drawing in the fresh, and many other inventions, the uses of which you can learn at your leisure.”

The engine-room of the Tracer was indeed a curiosity-shop to Junius Cobb. Pipes in every direction; electric wires crossed and recrossed one another; peculiar machines occupied each side of the room, and a hundred other things, strange to him, were upon either side. Leaving the engine-room, Lieutenant Sibley led the way to the instrument-room of the ship. Here a new treat awaited Cobb.

Situated just at the junction of the main shell and the forward cone, was the pilot’s, or instrument, room. In an easy-chair, in front of a box about two feet square, and resting on the table, sat Mr. Irwin, the first pilot of the Tracer. On either side of him, and fastened to the walls of the room, were a great number of delicate instruments, some of which were familiar to Cobb. At either side of the box on the table were several rows of push-buttons; to the left, a fine compass, and to the right, speaking tubes and bells.

“You met Mr. Cobb at breakfast, did you not, Irwin?” questioned Lieutenant Sibley, as the pilot arose and greeted the entrance of the party with a smile.

“Yes, I had that pleasure,” he returned, bowing. “Have you been over the ship?” to Cobb.

“We have taken it all in, Mr. Irwin,” said Lyman, answering for the party.

“How is the course? and where are we now?” asked the Lieutenant.

“It is now 9:35, and we are headed northeast by east. Cairo is to our rear ninety-five miles. We are over Princeton, thirty miles north of Evansville,” was the reply.

“You may make Louisville. What time will we get there?”

Consulting his chart a moment, Mr. Irwin replied:

“Louisville is on our course now, and distant one hundred and eighty-eight miles. We will make it at 14:12.”

“Now, Irwin, I wish you would explain the mysteries of your castle to Mr. Cobb, and then bring the gentleman to my cabin. You will excuse us a few minutes, will you not, Mr. Cobb? I have some official papers for Mr. Rawolle’s inspection. Mr. Lyman, will you come along, too?” to that gentleman.

As they left the room, Mr. Irwin turned to Cobb, and held a few minutes’ conversation regarding the remarkable experience of the latter; then, rising, he pointed to the right wall and said:

“These are instruments used aboard submarine vessels of to-day. There is a thermometer for interior temperature, that for exterior temperature; here are electric dials giving the humidity in various parts of the ship. These dials to the left show the motion of the fans, dynamos, and all other moving machinery aboard. The interior pressure is here noted,” placing his hand upon a barometer, “and the exterior, there. The purity of the air is indicated by this little delicate meter. The speed of the vessel is shown on that reel, which is connected, electrically, with the log. These little bells,” pointing to twenty-four little bells overhead, “will quickly give warning of the entrance of water into any of the chambers. The equilibrium of the ship is denoted automatically by this alcohol cross combined with a double pendulum. The lipthalene pressure is given here. The many buttons and tubes communicate to all parts of the ship. Those two buttons release the iron weight at the bottom of the vessel, and these twelve buttons regulate the entry and exit of the water in the six water cylinders. The speed is regulated here, and the vessel steered by this little wheel;” and he pointed out the various instruments as he mentioned their uses. Cobb carefully examined every instrument as it was mentioned to him. Turning to Mr. Irwin, he asked:

“But where is your steersman – your lookout, I mean? Cooped up in this little room, you can see nothing around the ship. Even on deck, especially in rough weather, you would be too low down to have much of a view of your surroundings.”

“The explanation is most simple. Look into that box, if you please, and let your head fill the opening, to darken the interior.”

He smiled as he noted Cobb’s perplexed expression.

Obeying Mr. Irwin’s request, Cobb fitted his face to the opening and gazed inside the box. He saw the sea rising and falling in its swell, vessels passing in various directions, the faint blue outlines of the shore to the northwest, and – click, the scene changes: now other vessels in view, and a clear circle of the horizon, denoting a great expanse of water. Again a clicking sound, and —

“My God!” he cried, starting back; “a ship! a ship is almost upon us!”

Like lightning, Irwin sprang to the camera and glanced in; then quickly reaching out his hand, his fingers touched a button, and the hoarse marine whistle of the Tracer thundered forth its warning; seizing the tiller-wheel, he threw it hard aport, and then, without pausing, pressed another button, and the large gongs of the ship pealed out their summons to its crew that danger was imminent. Even as the alarm sounded, came a shock, a shiver, a slight careening of the vessel, and as Irwin took his white face from the camera, the grateful exclamation:

“Thank God! we are safe! Look! the monster passes by!”

Into the camera Cobb again peered; the dark, black stern of a large freighter was passing to the southwest.

Lieutenant Sibley and the crew of the Tracer were quickly huddled at the door of the pilot’s room.

“Lieutenant,” said Irwin, with a salute, “I confess that we have had a very narrow escape from being run down by a heavy freighter. Explaining these instruments to Mr. Cobb, I failed to note the approach of the vessel.”

The alarm having subsided, the subject was fully discussed, and Mr. Irwin was exonerated by the Lieutenant. All parties then returned to their various occupations.

Mr. Irwin then turned to Cobb and said:

“It was very negligent of me not to carefully survey the field for approaching vessels. The Tracer carries but a single mast, and sits so low in the water, that these many merchant ships, with their sleepy crews, often fail to sight her until too late to make a proper clearing.” Then returning to the subject upon which they had been speaking when Cobb’s excited exclamation had burst forth, he continued:

“I see that you have understood the object of the little dark box on the table. It is a camera-obscura. The single mast of the Tracer is of aluminum, strong, slight, and hollow, and rises to a height of twenty-eight feet. A lens at the top revolves by pushing this button; thus a perfect image of the surrounding water and all upon it is thrown on the white ground within the box. Sitting here and looking in the box, I note the proximity of objects and steer the vessel. The mast also serves to carry an arc light for night traveling, and our flag by day. Further, our air is drawn down through pipes in its interior; for, during heavy seas, we must have the air inlets far above the deck, which is constantly washed by the rollers.”

Some further conversation was indulged in, and then Cobb thanked Mr. Irwin for his kindness, excused himself, and was soon seated, with Lieutenant Sibley, in the latter’s cozy cabin.

Lunch having been disposed of, Rawolle, taking out his watch, remarked to Cobb: “In a few minutes we will be directly over Louisville, Kentucky; and in these few minutes, I will briefly explain the effects of the great cataclysm of 1916, as I promised to do: The gas strata of the Ohio basin,” he began, “extending from above Pittsburgh to the Mississippi River, with pockets innumerable and ramifications in every direction, contained millions of millions of cubic feet of gas under varying pressures from nil to many atmospheres. The catastrophe at Dillenback’s ignited the gas in what appeared to have been the main strata. Explosion followed explosion throughout the region now occupied by the Central Sea. The earth was rent and broken, and the great vacuums, caused by the annihilation of the gases, took away the support of the upper crust, and then atmospheric pressure completed the ruin. The earth sank and crushed into these voids until a new foundation was reached. In some sections the fall of the crust was frightful, terrific. In the vicinity of Cincinnati but one shock was felt, but that shock was terrible, horrible, annihilating. The earth sank 196 feet at one fall. Not a living soul escaped the shock of impact upon the underlying strata. The city was an inconceivable mass of ruins, and in two days, was covered with water. So it was over a region of 100,000 square miles, the earth sinking everywhere, but to different depths and with different rates of depression. Pittsburgh sank 377 feet, but so slowly that few lives were lost, though the destruction of property was very great. At the mouth of the Ohio the earth sank only one foot, increasing toward the east. Millions of lives were sacrificed and untold wealth lost, for the great depression commenced immediately to fill with the waters from the streams flowing into the Ohio basin, and from the underlying strata. Even the Mississippi turned its waters into the old mouth of the Ohio and flowed east, leaving but a small, shallow stream to flow in its old bed until augmented by the streams and rivers emptying into it below Cairo. Even with all these waters it was an insignificant river until it reached the Arkansas and received the mass of water from that river. But in 1918 the river was diverted back to its proper channel; though later on the dam was removed, owing to the rise in the Central Sea, and the natural outlet being at Cairo. This, in brief, Mr. Cobb, is the effect of a single accident in a gun factory, in 1916; though who can tell but that it might have occurred later on from some other cause?”

“But did not those who were not injured by the shocks and falling buildings have time to move their effects before the waters overtook them? for, surely, this immense sea did not fill up in a few days,” ventured Cobb.

“Along the Ohio, from this side of Louisville to above Cincinnati, scarcely any property was saved. The depression was such that the submergence came very quickly. But this was not the case in the surrounding country. In one week the shocks were over and the earth quiet. People recovered from their fears a little, and looked about them. Later on they commenced to rebuild, and it was not until a year after that they found a new foe against which they could not combat: the country was below the level of any outlet, natural or artificial, and was filling up into an inland sea. Surveys were made, and in 1918 the true condition of the country ascertained. Then, and only then, was it found that the region now covered by the Central Sea was destined to be lost to mankind. Human ingenuity could not solve the problem of drainage. There was no drainage. Far below the bed of the Mississippi, the only possible outlet, the country was doomed to inundation. The survey was completed and the true limits established. All within that area began to be abandoned. Property, wherever possible, was removed; but the buildings, at least those which could not be taken apart and moved, still remain under the sea as monuments of a once densely populated area. To be sure, the removal was not rapid. The exact time was known, from the surveys made, when the waters would gain their maximum height, or reach to any particular point.”

“Such an immense basin must have required a considerable time to fill up?” inquired Cobb.

“It did – years. It was a gala day at Cairo, and a day of rejoicing throughout the land, when, on the 14th of August, 1939, the Central Sea reached the dam at that city, and passed over in a gently increasing stream. The dam was removed, the channel opened, and navigation from the ocean to this immense body of water, through the mouth of the old Ohio River, was unobstructed.”

“Why,” exclaimed Cobb, in astonishment, “that was twenty-three years after the disturbances! It took longer to fill up than I had imagined.”

“The area lost,” continued Rawolle, “was about one hundred thousand square miles; the volume nearly one hundred and seventy-five trillion cubic feet. The water-shed of the Ohio produced ten billion cubic feet per day, all of which flowed into the Central Sea. The first two years the Mississippi discharged a like amount into the sunken area. It was estimated that over ninety trillion cubic feet of water were pushed up, so to speak, from the strata of the earth by the subsidence of the upper crust. Thus, one hundred trillion cubic feet of water rushed into the doomed basin of the Ohio in the first two years, making inundation very rapid during that time, and frightfully rapid during the first week. The Ohio water-shed supplied nearly four trillion cubic feet per year, which, to complete the seventy-five trillion necessary to fill the sea, took twenty-one years.”

“This is a most wonderful occurrence, and did I not have ocular proof of its reality, I admit I should be loath to believe it a possibility;” and Cobb seemed lost in a reverie of the marvelous events which had transpired during his long sleep on Mt. Olympus.

The tinkling of a bell caused Lieutenant Sibley, who had been writing at his desk, to look up and say:

“I presume we are near Louisville.”

Then, going to the tube, he answered Mr. Irwin, in the pilot-room, and was informed that the vessel was then over the city of Louisville.

The Tracer was soon brought to a rest, and Cobb witnessed the peculiar arrangements made for descending to the bottom of the sea. He watched every movement and noted every detail, and saw with what wonderful facility a thousand-ton ship could be made to obey a man’s will.

The mast of the Tracer was dropped until its top rested upon the deck of the vessel, its top closing automatically to prevent the ingress of water. A large circular float containing air-valves, and attached to a long hose, was loosened from its fastenings on the deck. The water cylinders were opened, and as they partially filled, the vessel lost its superiority of displacement and began to sink; the large float, with its air-valves, and attached to the hose, remained upon the top of the water, permitting air to be drawn down into the vessel by suction. Thus a constant supply of fresh air was obtained without recourse to the compressed air in store. In fact, the latter was never used except in emergencies or when it was desired, as in the case of war, to keep the approach of the vessel a secret.

The sensation of falling was apparent, but it was indescribably peculiar; neither pleasing, nor yet distasteful – such a feeling as when, in his boyhood days, he had sat upon the board of a swing and let the “old cat die.”

Passing with Lieutenant Sibley and the others into the pilot’s room, he saw the ease with which the descent was regulated, and noted the instrument showing the depth of submersion.

Mr. Irwin pressed a button, and Cobb felt the tremor of a forward movement. The displacement being but a trifle less than the weight of the vessel, the movements of the ship were now regulated by its engines and double rudders.

Stepping to the side of the room, the Lieutenant threw open the steel covering of a bull’s-eye, and then pressed the button near it. A brilliant flash shot out, and the rays penetrated the water for a considerable distance in every direction.

“There!” cried Lieutenant Sibley, with an involuntary wave of his hand. “Behold the city of the dead, Louisville! – Louisville, once such a grand city, now a silent, slime-covered, submerged testimony of nature’s conquering power over man’s puny will.”