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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (April 18, 1915)
The following story of the sink ing of a submarine is of peculiar interest because of the accident to the F-4 off Honolulu harbor and because it was written by Morgau Robertson, who died only the other day. It" appeared in the collection, of sea stories by Mr. Robertson, entitled, "Down to the Sea." TIE United States submarine torpedo-boat Diver had conn to the BUrface to blow out, to recharge her storage battery and to restore her supply of compressed air to Its work ing pressure of 2000 pounds to the square Inch. The first two were ac complished, but, there being something wrong with the air compressor motor, the last was delayed while a machinist and two electricians swore over It or under it, for It was at arm's length overhead and the boat. In the awash, or diving condition, ran along under her gasoline engine. Breen, temporary commander, raised Ills boyish, face up through the con ning tower hatch, the hinged r which was held upright by a strong spring, and looked around at the night. It was pitch dark and starless, but, over to the east the upper limb of a full moon was Just appearing above the horizon. The hinged lid of the hatch prevented a view astern; the engine exhaust drowned the lesser sounds of the sea, A curious, rushing sound mingled with the puffing- of the exhaust, a voice high above and astern sang out. "Some thing under the bow, sir!" and a huge bulk of blacker darkness struck the Email, semi-submerged craft a glanc ing blow from astern, heeled it a little, and bore it under. Breen was washed downward by the Inrush of water, but held a grip on the conning tower lad der and found voice to call out: "Stop the engine! Shut off the gas!" Then, Bg&lnst that almost solid col umn of descending salt water, he fought his way upward until, face above the hatch again, but looking now into the blackness of the deep sea, he seized the hand hold of the hatch lid and pulled it down. It closed with a force that would have shivered anything but armor steel and Breen, half drowned, fell to the floor of the handling-room. As he raised himself he could hear faintly through the steel walls from tne void without, the lessening pulsa tions of a steamer's screw. "Run down!" he gasped, choking the water from his lungs and supporting himself by the ladder, for the boat was rolling 20 degrees. "Anything carried away?" "Seems not. Lieutenant," answered the chief electrician "nothing but the auxiliary motor. I've burned it out had my hand on the switch when the Jar came. But we're sinking, sir." "We've taken in more than the re serve buoyancy, surely," said Breen, looking at the depth indicator, which already marked 40 feet. The hand moved, as he looked, to 50, 60 and more. "Blow out every tank!" he ordered. Tfte ballast and trimming tanks were emptied and the scant store of com pressed air was further lessened there by, but. though the indicator hand moved more slcwly. It moved as stead ily and as surely. The boat was still sinking. "Start the motor and connect up the pumps!" said Breen. "What am I thinking about wasting time and air over tanks with all this water wash ing about?" "Can't, sir," answered ' a machinist from the neighborhood of the engine. '"The motor's soaked through, A lot came down the air pipe 'fore I could close It and all the rest has come aft too." Breen looked and became thoughtful of face. The depressed engine com partment now held the water taken in and the lower half of the armature was immersed. A sunken submarine, with main motor short circuited by water and auxiliary motor burned out, without means to pump, to move or to compress air for power, is in a serious plight. But Breen's face cleared In a moment. "Man the hand pump I" he said. "My God!" he added. In a semi -whisper as he glanced at the Indicator. It marked 100! As many men as could And room for their hands on the pump brake put forth their strength, but could force very little water out against the press ure of the sea. They looked at Breen, doubt and anxiety showing in their faces. "Out with the torpedoes!" he said bravely and cheerfully. "We had a reserve buoyancy of 300 and we're carrying several thousand pounds of steel and guncotton that we won't need right away. Disconnect the levers and unscrew the detonator!" Whitehead torpedoes mechanical flsh are merely aimed and started by the craft that, carries them. They propel themselves by their own motive power, steer themselves In the direc tion orlginaly pointed, and at an un derwater depth automatically chosen If they hit nothing within a practical radius, lock their engines and rise by a reserve buoyancy to float and be re covered. Breen's last order carried a meaning to thesa men that was reflect ed back in their pale faces as they re moved the starting levers and the small fan wheel which, by the tor pedo's motion, would bring the de tonator into action. "Any port in a storm," muttered one. "They're good libebuoys on a pinch." They withdrew the Whitehead always carried in the tube, prepared It like the others. Inserted it, and closed the breech; then, opening the bow port, they turned on the compressed air, and a cough, a thud and an inrush of water testified that the torpedo was out. They blew out the tube, closed the port, opened the breech and hauled forward another torpedo, while Breen studied the depth Indicator. "One hundred and ten!" he called, "and still sinking! Out with, them all quickly!" The sinking boat was now slightly "by the stern" from the expenditure of the water that had replaced the torpe do, which water is, under normal condi tions, retained In a tank and shifted aft to others as torpedoes are hauled forward. In order to maintain the horl. zontal trim of the boat; but they were expending weights now, and it mattered not if the boat stood on her tail for a time, provided she floated.' She did give promise of the erect attitude, reaching an angle of ten degrees with the release of the third torpedo, but at this moment there was a shock and a shudder through the steel hull, then a bumping, scraping sound. "Good!" exclaimed Breen. "We've reached the bottom, 123 feet down. Three hundred and fifty's the crush ing point." "But we're scraping along with the tide, sir," answered one of the men, "and we may go deeper." "Then we'll find the torpedoes right above us." said Breen promptly. "Out with the other two." Out they went, one after the other, and after them the water in the tube. The boat lifted her bow to an angle of 25 degrees, but the scraping and bump, ing of the propeller guard on the bot tom continued, and the depth indicator told them that she was now. ISO feet below the surface and dragging down hill. The men at the handpump quit the fruitless laboV and joined them. They looked into one another's pale faces. Only Breen's showed decision. "Draw lots," he said, bringing forth a box of matches from his pocket, "as to who goes first." "You mean last, sir, don't you?" asked the engineer. "It makes no difference who goes first on the chance of swimming up over a hundred feet to find a torpedo at night, but some one must remain to fire out the last man, sir." "I remain," said Breen. "No argu ments about this. I am the com mander, and should have kept a better lookout." "But, Lieutenant," said the other en gineer, "can't we ehoot the boat up on a slant by the engine? The spark ers are out of water." "The conning tower hatch would still be under water and we would be far away from the torpedoes. They are now right above us. We know that much. Who goes first, now?" "I will," said one of the trimming tank men. "But, Lieutenant," he added, "we can swim up in two minutes. I should, think, and I've held my breath three; but how'll we know which way to swim? It's night up there. We can't see." "If your head ami stomach don't tell you, let your knife hang loose by the lanyard. It'll hang down. Swim parallel. Hold on. Keep your shoes on" th nuan was shedding them "take all weights out that you can. Put your coats on, all of you. It's, a cold night up above. You'll need your coats riding a torpedo." "Good-by, sir. Good-by, boys all round. No time to' &hace hands. If I find a Whitehead. I'll keep singin" out," He threw open the breech of the tube and crawled In. A man stood with his hand n the compressed air valve; another stood by the bow port lever; Breen hiroeelf was at the.breeoh.. "Take a good breath when your hoar the breech closed," he called in. ana was answered. Then he slammed to the swinging breech door, locked it and waved, his hand to his men. They knew the drill. Water was admitted at once, the bow port was lifted, con pressed air was turned on, there was the usual cough and thud and inrush of water and a man under a pressure of four atmospheres was swimming somewhere through water black as night, guided only by his knife lan yard, or the feel of his fcead and stom ach. The tube was blown out and another man said good-by and crawled In. He was ejected. Them the performance was repeated, again and, again, while Breen watched the dials that told of depth and inclination, and listened for a cessation of the scraping sound of the propeller guard. There was none, and. both inclination and. depth reg isters showed increase. He himself ejected the last man and stood up, alone, in a boat 140 feet be low the surface of the sea, her bow lifted to an angle of 30 degrees from the horizontal, her main motor drowned and her auxiliary motor burned. There was one chance in a million that he would be rescued; but, as he stood on the slanting floor of the handling room the hope of this one chance came to him, for the scraping and . bumping had ceased. He looked at the depth indicator and waited. No; she was not rising from the expenditure of weights, as he had hoped for a moment; the propeller guard must have caught on some pro jection on the bottom, and was holding her from drifting further with the tide. This was proved to him by a new and faint sound coming through the steel walls of his coffin the sound of rust ling water passing by. But it soon gave way to the bumping and scrap ing; and when, two hours later, this grew fainter and finally ceased and he again looked at the depth indicator he saw a, reading of 300. He was 50 fathoms below the surface. Breen's emotions for the next few hours need noj be recorded. They were mainly concerned with that one chance in a million, and ended In prayer; but following the prayer came the much used and abused homely, but practical, reflection that the Lord helps those who help themselves, and he arose from the floor where he had thrown himself and looked around first, at the air pressure indicators. All but two registered at zero: he had two tanks at 2000 pounds pressure and he could have blown out a few more torpedoes, or men, or tanks of water, but not that water washing about aft. He thought of the storage battery be neath the flooring 90 large Jars of sul. phuric acid, in danger from contact with that washing salt water and re moving the hatch inspected it. He found that the last Jars aft lifted six Inches above the water level, and know ing that they were designed for an inclination of 45 degrees, was reassured on this point. Salt water and sulphuric acid are a bad combination in a closed compartment; and his air was already bad enough from the fumes of smok ing insulation and the leakage of gas oline from the engine. He looked at the burned out motor overhead in the handling room. It worked the air compressor and one of the bilge pumps, the other being con nected to the main motor, under water and equally useless. He had a Naval officer's knowledge of electricity and motors, acquired at Annapolis, and this told him that it would be hopeless, even for an expert mechanic, to attempt re winding that small motor with the dried out wjres of the other. He studied the main motor, nearly buried in water. When dry It worked with 70 horsepower. It would pump out, against the pressure of the sea, the water that kept the boat down. If clear of this water it would dry out Iri time. In wfiat time? Breen had 15 days' supply of food and water for a crew of eight 120 days' supply for him self. His air supply was Bhort, but suffocation is a long death. The lower part of the armature and fully half the height of the field mag nets were still immersed. He needed more weight forward or less aft; and as his eye roved about the maze of fixtures pipes, valves and machinery it rested upon the useless gasoline engine a 2000-pound weight. Remov ing his coat, he first made sure that the gas feed valve was screwed tight, then. 3.elvlnfir for wrenches, spanners and (hammers in the engineer's locker, attacked the engine. lie was working for life, and such work is exhilarating for a time. Breen sang while he worked. Two weeks later lie was not singing. Ills clothing a greasy envelope of rags and shreds, his face haggard, his eyes sunken from too close looking into the eyes of death, he dragged forward with bleeding hands the connecting rod of the after cylinder and piled up a. scrapheap of 'similar fragments beside the torpedo tube in the bow. The engine was stripped to the sup porting column that bore the weight of the motor and the pump, and the boat was not yet on an even keel; but the last lower coil of th"e field magnet was lifted from the water by the shift ing of the weight, and when he had cleared the storage battery wires from all contact with water he rewarded himself with a few. deep inhalations from his nearly exhausted compressed air supply and. sat down to wait until the insulation was dry. Being a Government officer, not yet relieved from duty, he had kept the log and. knew the flight of time by this and the clock, and in another week he realized with sinking heart that the motor was not drying out. A little reflection told him why; in the eealed-up hull the atmosphere was sat urated with moisture and no mors evaporation could take place. In a fit of utter and suicidal desper ation he turned on the last few pounds of his air supply and lay down, weary of work, weary of thought, hoping now, If death would not come speedily, that unconsciousness would' that he mflght at least be relieved of the tor ture of headache that now afflicted bim And. unconsciousness came in the form of sweet. refreshing sleep, brought on by the suicidal extrava gance in air. And when he awakened there was a thought, or the remnant of one, a lingering- survival of some thing he had dreamed a phrase re peating Itself and dwindling away, as the details of valve and piping took form before his eyes. It was of gases, this thought of a drying agent for gases something he had studied years ago at school. A drying- agent for gases? What was it? Then it came to him out of the for otten chemistry In his subconscious mind: "Sulphuric acid." He had 90 Jars of it under his feet. He had lead and copper piping in his scrap heap forward. He had two electric fans used for ventilation on the sur face and a blower, fixed In the alrpipe. but available on a pinch all four wired and ready, with a 3600-ampere- hour battery to drive them. Wild with hope he sprang to his feet and went to work. In three hours he had constructed fymi the back of - his coat a cone shaped funnel that stretched around the wire guard of a fan wheel; and this he fitted onto the end of a length of lead pipe, the other end of which was all but immersed In the acid of a battery jar in the hold. With the fan blowing and buzzing Into the funnel and a stream of air ruffling the sur face of the acid he yet went on con triving; and with another fan, un screwed from its shelf and rewired to a new location, he caught this dried air as it rose and drove it aft over the motor. Smiling like a child with a toy, Breen eat down and watched it, his mind intent upon chemistry, that he once had hated, that he had so com pletely forgotten. The air was again very bad; his head was aching as it had ached before, and he needed no clear recollection of .the forgotten science to know that the dominant irritant was the carbonic acid gas from his lungs. How to purify the air he did not know. This boat was not equipped with the apparatus for such purpose that he had read of In plans and specifications, and all the chemistry that would come to him was the old, familiar classroom test for carbonic acid gas, or as he liked to call It now, with his mind on chemistry carbon dioxide. This testing reagent was lime water, but the chemical term for It was beyond him. He went to sleep at last, thinking of lime water lime water . and the chemical name for it As he slept fitfully, with Intervals of half waking thought, chemical terms, long forgotten and bearing no seeming relation to lime water, ran Jumblingly through his head potas sium chlorate, manganese dioxide, chloride of sodium, chlorhydric acid. These persisted through the Jumble and remained when he had awakened. He repeated and remembered them. But what had they to do with lime-water? Nothing that he could remember. Chloride of sodium was common salt, he knew, and he had plenty of It. dis solved In water more than he wanted. Chlorhydrio acid hydrochloric acid muriatic acid an acid containing no oxygen, the' one gas that he needed so badly formed of hydrogen and chloric chloride, chlorine gas. Good so far. Chlorine also a constituent of the salt In his bilge water. But what of It? It was oxygen that he wanted. Potas sium chlorate chlorate of potassium. This contained chloride. Manganese dioxide contained oxygen; but what did it mean? Why should these ele ments and compounds come to hts mind? He had something of blind faith in the relevancy of thought, but he wanted to know only of lime water, with which he could catch the carbon dioxide in the air and free the oxygen. This last thought was an advance, but he could go no further In this direc tion. His mind returned to chlorhydric acid, to hydrogen, to chlorine. How were they made? They were all there in bis sea water. But why these persist ing thoughts? His waking thought of sulphuric acid as a drying agent meant something. Did It mean more? Sul phurio acid, one of the most powerful chemical agents known the most powerful . electrolyte electro electro lysis "Hurrah!" He bounded to his feet. He had it. Electrolysis of water yielded oxygen and hydrogen. But why had man ganese dioxide and potassium chlorate so persisted in his mind? And lime water what had that to do with bis problem, now solved by electrolysis? Slowly the memory of ths school-day lessons learned by rote filtered up from the past of the test tube manufacture of oxygen by the union of these chemi cals in the presence of heat. And lime water, with its affinity for carbon di oxide? There was no lime on board, hence no lime water. But there was water too much. Where was the affin. Ity? It was slower In coming, but It came the old lessons learned by rota and forgotten. "Carbon dioxide is solu ble in water, volume for volume. ' "Ox ygen is but slightly soluble in water about three parts in a hundred " "I see how it Is," he said, with the infantile smile that had come to his boy's face in this trouble. "It's the subllmal self that remembers every thing; and when you've guessed all around the subject it pops out and bits you when you've touched It." He found some spare insulated wire among the stores and rigged two lengths from the pole of the battery, scraping the ends and immersing them in the salt water. A few bubbles arose, then ceased. "Funny how things come back when you need them," he said, s he pulled up the wires. "I want platinum elec trodes and solder and soldering fluid chloride of zinc zinc cut by hydro chloric acid. Wonder if I'll have to make my acid?" He did not. He found a soldering outfit in the locker, then rummaged his scrap heap forward for platinum sparkers and. finding very little of the precious metal, ruthlessly smashed all but three of the electric bulbs that lighted his prison, robbing them of the platinum wires that led the current into the carbons. Clumsily for he was but a theo retical mechanic he soldered the ends of the platinum wires and fragments to the copper ends of his terminals, about half to each, making brushllks electrodes of the largest possible sur face exposure. Then he immersed them, and was gratified at the result. Bubbles arose in generous quantity. "Now, which is which?" he said, as he leaned over them. "Let's think. Water hydrogen and oxygen 1120 two parts hydrogen to one of Oxygen. But the bubbles seem about the same size." He stopped and inhaled deeply of the air over one column of bursting bub bles; a little of this brought on a curi ous feeling of faintness, with a desire to draw a longer breath. "Hydrogen. 6Urely," he said. "Now the other." A half inhalation over the other bubbles sent him back, coughing and choking, with a bitter, astringent taste in his throat. "No," he eaid, as he pulled up the wire. "That is not oxygen. It's some other gas. I must separate them some how." He raqked his brains for the rest of the day until his clock told him that sleeping time had arrived hut could not remember more of his chemistry. He could only fix In his mind a few chemical facts not forgotten; that he was using up the existing oxygen by combining It. in his lungs, with carbon to form carbon dioxide. 10 per cent of which in the air mlsht be fatal; that the hydrogen which he would make, with his oxygen, was non poisonous, like the nitrogen of the air. but that, there being less of it as a diluent, he might suffer from a pre ponderance of oxygen; and that this 'astringent gas that would also evolve from the salt water was a deadly poison to be got rid of. But how? Was it carbon dioxide? He did not need to sleep on the problem; he had already slept upon and solved it. It came to him suddenly in the formu lated sentence of the morning. Water would absorb carbon dioxide, volume for volume, while oxygen would only give up three parts to a hundred. "What a fool I am!" be muttered. "I can simply blow the whole mixture back into the water again and again and get rid of everything but the oxy gen and hydrogen." The motor was dryer to the touch, but still much too damp for use; so, for the present, he left his air-drying apparatus intact and constructed a supplementary pneumatic feed system that would have scandalized a mechan ical or electrical engineer, but was a triumph of driven genius to poor Breen, dying of headache at the bottom of the sea. ' First he reversed the polarity of the fixed blower in the air pipe overhead, so that it worked downward; then he propped up and secured a section of gas feed piping that would catch the mixed bubbles as they burst and de liver the mixture to this blower. Be low this fan he suspended a fairly air tight funnel formed of the seat and one leg of his trousers, and to the fun nel secured another length of copper piping, the lower end of which he ham. mered flat so that it would spread the flow of gases to a fan-shaped stream conducive to a large number of smaller bubbles. This end he immersed in the deepest part of the flooded engine-room, sacri ficed his shirt to form a hood over the bubbles that would rise and under this hood arranged-his original funnel and fan that drove air through the lead pipe to the sulphuric acid. He had con trived an apparatus to manufacture two volumes of hydrogen to one vol ume of oxygen, with an unknown quan tity of poisonous gas that would suck itself into the foul air of the closed hull and drive it, with the mixed gases. In divided stream Into the purifying 3 water and that would force the oxy gen which arose onto the drying sul phuric acid, to be then sent back over the damp motor. Arranging his battery wires in the water he turned on all the fans and tested tho result by his senEe of smell. There was but the slightest bud odor in the blast from the last fan not enough to distress him; and, utterly tired out. Breen went to sleep as happy as a man may be on the cold sea bottom without shirt or trousers, and barely reprieved from lingering death. When he awakened his fans still buz zed merrily, his headache was gone and the motor much dryer to the touch. His problem seemed to have been solved, for there were no more chemical terms or "guesses" remaining from his sleep. Tet, as he felt of the damp motor and noticed the hydrogen bubbles rising and escaping into the air without going throughthe drying process, he frit, and obeyed, a strong impulse to turn them into tho pipe that caught the others. "Can't do any harm to dry the hydro gen." he mused; "and it would mix with the oxygen later, in any case, while the water won't absorb it only the rarbon dioxide." A few moments later he noticed an utter absence of the bad odor in the blast from the acid to the motor and felt only a flight Incremtmt of gratifi cation. It was long after, with a larger experience of and dependence upon the infallibility of subliminal promptlnca that he realized that it was not to dry the hydrogen that he h-id turned It into his pipes. From this on his problems were me chanical; he was Interested in the rapidly drying motor and Its potencies when he dared turn the current Into it. He realized thee potenrlrs ho knew that the 70 horse-power motor could pump out the water and biins her to the surface; but knowing too that under the colls, moisture would remain long after the surface windings were dry and that a short circuiting of the coils might rack the insulation to pieces by tho formation of team, he waited a full week after the last damp ness had apparently gone: then, un coupling the motor from the shaft and turning on the switch, he carefully moved the controller and Rave it mo mentary contact. A thin cloud arotie from the motor and the armature moved an inch. He inspected tho cloud; it seemed to be steam, not smoke, and he tried it again with longer contact. The arma ture moved further, and apaln ha shut off the current, assured himself that there was no burning, and turned it on. Tills time he left It on and stood over the motor, watching the fteamlng armature alowly turn at about the rate of a steamboat's paddle wheel, while the commutator brushes threw out sparklngs six Inches lontr. His theoretical knowledge of elec tricity told blm hat there fpnrks in dicated a waste of current; and ho no ticed that when his body interposed between the motor and the blast of dried air from the last fan In his sys tem the sparks were reduced to minute .points, hardly visible. With nothing to do now until his motor gained power enough to turn the pump, ha busied himself in constructing a hood that would enclose the commutator and brushes, using his undsrshirt for ma terial and singing as he worked. A man may be Joyful at the bottom of the sea, shivering with cold in one garment, provided he is hopeful. And Breen was hopeful his hood was a success; it stopped the extravagant sparkling, but did not save enouFh cur rent to work the pump, which fact lie learned by connecting it. The arma ture moved faster, but stopped short against the small resistance of the in ert water in tho Induction pipe. So he turned off the current, overhauled and lubricated the pump and waited. He was very happy now, singing and talking to himself, while his heart beat a thumping accompaniment to the music, and the steel walls of his sunken prison rang .with his words, delivered in shouts. He was not in the least cast down when two of his lights burned out and he danced for ward In ragtime step, secured the re maining bulb, and danced aft with it, adjusting it Just forward of the motor, where it would Illumine his system of buzzing fans and bursting bubbles. He did not enter up the log this day nor keep further track of the passage of time, being too lofty of soul to con cern blmnelt with such trifles; nor did he go to sleep when the time for it came around. Who would sleep with a 70-horsepower motor dying out and needing attention, with a beautiful plant manufacturing, purifying and drying air sweet, cool air, to be breathed by himself, and no other? How pleasant it felt to his burning face and tingling fingers when be placed himself In its way! The world above, with its millions of men, had millions of cubic miles of air to breathe no better than his, tnat he iiad made for himself. This thought so .leased him that he put it to rhyme, and sang it to the steel walls in the voice of a boatswain's mate in bad weHther. Louder he sang, and louder, until tiie music went out of his votee and left it a screech. There wtro a few hours of this, Concluded, ou fa to 0.).