Marvels of Scientific Invention Part 11

An exceedingly interesting use of the oxyhydrogen flame is in the manufacture of artificial rubies. These stones are made in Paris by a very simple means. The necessary chemicals are prepared and ground to an exceedingly fine powder. This is then allowed to fall through an oxyhydrogen flame. Thus there is no need for a crucible capable of withstanding this high temperature, since the melting takes place as the particles are in the act of falling. When they reach the support prepared to catch them they have cooled somewhat. Stones so called are real rubies--artificial, but not shams. They possess every property of the ruby from the mine.

Another product of the oxyhydrogen flame is the quartz fibres which are used for suspending the needles in the finest galvanometers. The quartz is melted, in this case a crucible being employed. An arrow is then dipped in the liquid quartz and immediately "fired" into the air. The thick treacly liquid is thus drawn out into a thread of such fineness that a microscope is necessary to find it with.

Hotter even than oxyhydrogen is the oxyacetylene flame, which at its hottest point reaches nearly 3500 C. The gas, which is another of the combinations of carbon and hydrogen (its molecules containing two atoms of each), is easily made by allowing water to come into contact with calcium carbide. The latter, which is CaC_{2}, is made by heating c.o.ke and lime together in the intense heat of an electric furnace. This accounts largely for the great heating power of acetylene, for since great heat is necessary to cause the elements to combine great heat is given out by them when they ultimately separate. Here again is the conservation of energy. The heat energy of the electric furnace is largely expended in forcing these two elements into partnership. They are, as it were, given a large amount of capital in the form of heat. It ceases to be sensible heat, becoming latent in the compound, but still it is there. So a lump of calcium carbide, with which many readers are familiar, has vast stores of heat locked up within it. When water comes into contact with the carbide the partnership is broken, but the heat is not liberated then, since another partnership is formed, which still retains the old heat-capital. The calcium in the carbide is displaced by the hydrogen from the water, and so C_{2}H_{2} comes into being, while the rejected calcium consoles itself by entering into combination with the equally forsaken oxygen from the water, forming CaO, which is but another name for lime.

Then the acetylene (C_{2}H_{2}) is mixed with oxygen in the blowpipe and burnt, under which conditions the pent-up heat, borrowed originally from the electric furnace, is brought into play. With this flame the harder metals can be fused and welded. Wrought iron, cast-iron, steel in all its forms, all can be melted by the oxyacetylene flame, almost as easily as snow by a hot iron. The fusion welding of these metals is then carried on just as already described for bra.s.s.

By means of a special blowpipe, wherein an excess of oxygen is introduced at the hot point, hard steel plates can be cut to pieces almost as easily as a grocer cuts cheese. Even thick, hard armour-plate can thus be cut, almost the only way, indeed, in which it can be cut.

And for purposes such as welding and cutting this flame has an interesting and peculiar advantage over all other kinds of heat. When a metal is heated in the air there is usually trouble from oxidation. The domestic poker, for example, after it has been left to get red-hot in the fire is seen to be coated, in the part which has been heated, with scales which will flake off if the thing be struck. Those scales are oxide of iron, caused by the union of iron and oxygen when the poker was hot. But if the heat be applied by the oxyacetylene flame that will not happen. The oxygen and the carbon from the acetylene will burn, and if the supply of the former be properly regulated it will be entirely used up in the process. The hydrogen from the acetylene is, strange to say, unable to unite with oxygen at such a high temperature as that of the oxygen and carbon, so that it pa.s.ses on beyond the oxygen-carbon flame and ultimately burns on its own account with the oxygen from the atmosphere in a second flame surrounding the first. Thus there is a double flame: inside, a little pointed cone of white flame, that is the oxygen and carbon; and outside that a bluish flame, the hydrogen and the atmospheric oxygen. The latter flame forms a kind of jacket entirely enveloping the former. And so when one melts metal by means of the white cone the hydrogen jacket shields the molten metal from oxygen and prevents the oxidation. Only one who knows the bother caused by oxidation whenever metals are heated can realise the wonderful advantage of this.

And now we can turn to even another source, also quite modern, of high temperature.

If the oft-quoted "man in the street" were asked the two commonest things on earth he might possibly name oxygen as one, and so far he would be right, but the chances are much against his naming aluminium as the second. If he did not, however, he would be wrong. Aluminium and oxygen form alumina, of which are const.i.tuted the sapphire, the ruby and other precious stones, but alumina is most commonly found in combination with silica, or silicon and oxygen. This compound is called silicate of aluminium, and of it are formed clay and many rocks. The reason why the metal aluminium was until recently rare and expensive was because of the great difficulty of disentangling the metal from this rather complex combination. And these two commonest elements have, under certain conditions, a rare affinity for each other. They join forces with such energy that great heat is given out in the process. This, again, we may regard as an example of the conservation of energy. Heat had to be used up, apparently, in separating the aluminium and oxygen as they were found together in the natural state. And that heat reappears when they combine together again. This is a most useful principle, for if heat has disappeared anywhere in the course of some operation, we know that in all probability, if we go about it the right way, we can get that heat back again, perhaps in a more convenient form. That is so in this case at all events.

Now aluminium will not readily combine with atmospheric oxygen, but it will readily do so with oxygen from the oxide of a metal. So if we put into a vessel some oxide of iron and some finely powdered aluminium, and give it some heat at one point, just to set the process going, the whole ma.s.s will burn with intense heat. And when the burning is finished the crucible will be found to contain (1) some molten iron, the oxide of iron with the oxygen gone, and (2) some oxide of aluminium or alumina, in the form which we call corundum, a very hard substance which in a powdered form is used for grinding hard metals. We start, you will notice, with a pure metal and an oxide. We finish with a pure metal and an oxide, only the oxygen has changed its quarters, having pa.s.sed from the iron to the aluminium. And in the course of the change a vast amount of pent-up heat has been liberated. Aluminium is thus a fuel, strange though it may seem to say so, just as coal is. Coal, however, is willing to pair off with oxygen from the air, while aluminium, more fastidious, will only accept it as partner when it can steal it from another combination.

But the practical result is eminently satisfactory, for the action of the aluminium and iron oxide is to leave us with a crucible full of molten iron at a very high temperature. And this can be used in various ways.

Tramway rails, for example, can be joined together by it. A mould is formed around the ends of two rails, where they "b.u.t.t" together, and into this mould a quant.i.ty of the melted iron can be poured. So hot is it that it partially melts the ends of the rails, and then, amalgamating with them, it forms a perfectly h.o.m.ogeneous connection between them.

The same method can be applied to the repair of iron structures of all kinds. The propeller shaft of a ship, for example, sometimes breaks on a voyage. Such a catastrophe is fraught with the most serious consequences, unless it can be quickly repaired. Thermit, as this process is called, is perhaps the only means whereby, under certain conditions, this can be accomplished.

The extraordinary heat of the metal produced in this way is demonstrated by the fact that if it be poured on to an iron plate an inch thick it goes clean through it. It melts its way through instantly.

But although such high temperatures are at the command of the modern manufacturer, there are some things--indeed many things--which still baffle him, the diamond, for example. It is true that diamonds of small size have been made, but larger ones have so far defied all efforts.

One very interesting fact about this may be mentioned in concluding this chapter. Sir Andrew n.o.ble, a member of the great firm of Armstrong, Whitworth & Co., of Elswick, tried the experiment of exploding some cordite, a high explosive, inside a steel vessel of enormous strength.

He thus produced what is believed to be the highest temperature ever produced on earth. It is reckoned to have been 5200 C., and the pressure at the same time was, it is calculated, 50 tons per square inch. His intention was not to make diamonds, but Sir William Crookes predicted that diamonds would be the result. For the cordite consisted mainly of carbon, which, as is well known, is the material of which the diamond is formed, and the combination of high temperature and high pressure is just what is needed, so it is believed, to bring the carbon into this particular form. And true enough, on the iron being examined after the explosion, there were seen tiny diamonds. For larger ones even higher temperatures and greater pressures are, no doubt, necessary, and as the diamond, like gold, has a peculiar fascination for mankind, so the efforts to manufacture it will continue. In years to come the means may be found of creating these extreme conditions of temperature and pressure, and so another of the problems of the ages will be solved.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

_By permission of the British Aluminium Co_

A STRIKING FEATURE OF MODERN ALUMINIUM WORKS

For the production of aluminium water power is required. Water is stored at a high level and is then brought down to the factory in pipes. The ill.u.s.tration shows the pipe track recently laid down for this purpose at Kinlochleven in Argyleshire. The six pipes, each of which is thirty-nine inches in diameter, run down the hillsides for one mile and a quarter]

CHAPTER XI

AN ARTIFICIAL COAL MINE

Those countries which are blessed with a plentiful supply of coal are periodically shocked and saddened by a terrible calamity--an explosion in one of the mines, in which often scores of poor fellows lose their lives, and hundreds of widows and orphans find themselves without a breadwinner. One has only to recall that heart-rending calamity of the Courrieres mines in France, where over a thousand lives were lost, to realise how important is the question of the cause and the cure of the colliery explosion.

It used to be thought a settled matter that these were due to the accidental ignition of a gas called, scientifically, "methane," but by the miners "fire-damp." This undoubtedly does collect in many mines, and since it is much the same as the domestic coal-gas (indeed methane forms the bulk of coal-gas) it is not surprising that the explosions were attributed to it. At times shots were fired, to blast down the coal, and although the greatest precautions are taken to prevent any accident resulting, it seems certain that explosions have occasionally followed the firing of shots. But still more dangerous is the adventurous miner who, for some reason, opens his safety lamp. It is lit for him before he enters the workings, and locked up, so that, theoretically, he cannot tamper with it; but it has to be a cleverly devised lock that cannot be picked in some way, and with the carelessness born of long immunity from accident these are got open sometimes, with, it may be, disastrous results.

Even a spark struck from a miner's pick may ignite the gas; or a spark from some electrical machine used in the mine. That is one of the reasons why electrical apparatus is suspect in colliery matters and machines worked by the less convenient and more costly means of compressed air are preferred.

In some such manner the fire-damp is ignited, and then there follows the fiery blast, which, sweeping through the narrow galleries and pa.s.sages which const.i.tute the workings, simply licks up the life of the men whom it encounters. Others, in byways and sheltered corners, escaping the burning cloud of flame, are poisoned by the deadly fumes of carbon monoxide which it leaves when its force is spent. While others, perchance the most unfortunate of all, are saved for a time, but, being imprisoned by falls from the roof and walls, die a lingering death of hunger and slow suffocation. A colliery explosion is one of the ghastliest events imaginable, the only relief from which is the n.o.ble heroism with which the survivors, from the mine managers to the humblest workmen, crowd round the pit-mouth, eager to risk their own lives for the faint chance of saving some below. Not infrequently these brave volunteers only share the fate of the men they would rescue.

Now all that, as I have said, used to be put down to the effect of the fire-damp. But it dawned upon men's minds some years ago that the damage seemed to be out of proportion to the power of the gas. Modern mines are well ventilated by large fans, which impel great volumes of air through all the workings. The air currents are cunningly guided by part.i.tions or "brattices," so that every nook and corner shall be scoured out by the plentiful draught of pure fresh air. Consequently the amount of explosive gas which can collect in any one place is but small. How, then, can so small a volume of gas do so large an amount of damage?

Coupled with this was the fact that explosions take place in flour mills, where there is no gas, and experimenters had found in their laboratories that almost any burnable substance, _if ground up finely enough_ and blown into a cloud, would explode. Coal-dust would naturally do this. Indeed anyone throwing the dust from the bottom of the coal-shovel upon a fire will see for himself how, quickly such dust will burn, and, as has been pointed out in an earlier chapter, an explosion is but rapid burning.

So the blame was largely transferred from the shoulders of the fire-damp to those of the clouds of coal-dust which collect throughout the workings of a mine.

But then a difficulty arose from the fact that there is dust in all mines, yet some districts are quite free from explosions. And such districts are those where there is little or no fire-damp. These two facts seem to be explainable in one way, and in one way only. It must be that the gas first of all explodes feebly, and so, stirring up the dust lying along the roads and pa.s.sages, prepares the way for the powerful, deadly explosion of coal-dust which follows.

But that was only a guess, and the matter was of such importance that it needed something more certain than mere a.s.sumption. So the Mining a.s.sociation of Great Britain decided to have a series of experiments which should settle once and for all what part the coal-dust played in these catastrophes, and how best they could be prevented.

It was at first thought that an old mine might be utilised for the experiments, but there was the difficulty that such always become wet after work has ceased in them, and so the dust would not behave normally. Moreover, the work would be extremely dangerous and the results difficult to observe. Then a culvert was suggested built of concrete, partly buried in the ground, but that too was dismissed.

Finally it was decided to make an imitation mine of steel, using old boiler sh.e.l.ls with the ends taken out.

The sum of 10,000 was subscribed for the purpose by the coal-owners of Great Britain, and the great work was carried out at Altofts, in Yorkshire, close to a colliery where a terrible disaster occurred in 1886.

Here the great tube or gallery was built. Roughly the shape of a letter L, one leg is over 1000 feet long, while the other is 295 feet. The longer leg is 7-1/2 feet in diameter and the shorter 6 feet.

At the end of the shorter part a large fan is installed which can force 50,000 to 80,000 cubic feet of air per minute through the structure, so producing the conditions of a well-ventilated mine. The shorter length has several sharp turns in it for the purpose of breaking the force of the explosion along that part, and so shielding the fan from damage, while a tall chimney is provided there, so that, the door being shut to cut off the fan, the gases from the explosion can find a harmless way out.

Inside the tube, shelves are fixed along the sides so as to reproduce the effect of the timbering in a real mine, upon the beams of which the dust finds lodgment. Props were put up too, just as they would be in the real mine. Everything, in fact, was done to make the place as perfect a replica as possible of actual underground workings.

And then, added to this huge and costly structure, was an outfit of scientific instruments worthy of the important investigations which were to be carried on.

To grasp the purpose and working of these we need to remind ourselves of the aims and intentions of the experiments. First of all it was desired to find out how various quant.i.ties and qualities of coal-dust behaved.

The dust was laid along the floor of the tube and along the shelves. A small gun fired at some point in the tube raised a cloud of this dust just as the gas explosion in the real mine would do. Then another gun was fired to explode the dust-cloud. So far all is quite simple and easy. But to do that would be of no value without the means of finding out exactly what resulted from the explosion. And that is the function of the instruments.

To commence with, there is the great wave or tide of force or pressure which surges along the gallery immediately the cloud bursts into flame.

How fast does that wave travel? How long is it after the explosion before the shattering effects of it are felt a hundred yards away? To solve that problem electrical contact-breakers are fixed at intervals of fifty yards along the gallery. Each of these consists of a cylinder with a piston inside it something like, shall we say, a cycle pump. The piston, held down normally by a spring, is blown upwards by the force of the explosion. The spring is adjustable, and so it can be arranged that the feeble force of the gun cannot lift the piston, but the more powerful coal-dust explosion which follows can.

Thus when the explosion takes place these contact-breakers are operated in succession. The one nearest the seat of the disturbance is operated first; next the one fifty yards farther away; then the one a hundred yards away, and so on. The moments when they work will tell the speed at which the blast travels along the gallery. But it travels with great speed, and so to measure and record the exact moment when each contact-breaker is moved is a matter of no little difficulty.

Electricity, however, makes this, like so many other things, comparatively easy.

There is an apparatus used in astronomical observatories called a chronograph, which registers, within a small fraction of a second, the moment when a star seems to pa.s.s across a wire in the "transit circle,"

the telescope by which the positions of stars are determined and the exact time kept. The observer sits with his eye to the telescope, watching the apparent movement of the star. In his hand he holds a small "push," pressure on which by his fingers operates a minute p.r.i.c.ker, which acts upon a moving strip of paper. The paper travels along with the utmost steadiness and regularity, while a clock drives a sharply pointed p.r.i.c.ker on to it every two seconds. Thus the clock marks out the paper into lengths, each of which represents two seconds. But the other p.r.i.c.ker, worked electrically by the observer's hand, also makes its mark upon the paper, and so, while the regular marks indicate intervals of two seconds, each irregular one marks the time of a transit or pa.s.sing of a star across the wire. An examination of the strip subsequently enables the times of a transit to be seen with great accuracy, from the position of the corresponding mark between two of the _regular_ marks.

And the same principle was applied to the circuit-breakers of this artificial mine. Normally, current flows through the circuit-breaker, but the lifting of the piston breaks the circuit (whence the name of the contrivance), and that breaking of the circuit and consequent cessation of the current operates the chronograph. By a cleverly constructed device, the details of which are too complicated to set out here, each circuit-breaker in turn makes its mark on the same strip, so that the distances apart of these marks show the time taken by the force of the explosion to travel fifty yards. Meanwhile the clock goes on making its regular marks (in this case every half-second), so that they form a scale by which the other intervals can be measured very exactly.

The chronograph used here is more accurate than that in use at Greenwich Observatory, the reason being that in this case the recording currents are sent mechanically by the contact-breakers operated by the explosion itself, while in the case of the astronomer the human element comes in.

To watch a moving speck of light and to tell exactly when it crosses a fine line is by no means easy, and so to tell the time within a tenth of a second, is about the limit of possible accuracy. The instrument we have been referring to, however, can register the time which a gaseous wave moving 3000 feet per second takes to travel fifty feet. In other words, the circuit-breakers can be operated so fast that when only a sixtieth of a second intervenes between the action of one and that of the next the chronograph can duly record the fact.

The records of the chronograph can be made in two ways: one by a pen on a piece of paper tape, and the other by a scratch on a piece of smoked paper.

So by that means the progress of the "force" of the explosion can be measured. It is necessary also to time the movement of the "heat" of the explosion, for the two may not travel together, and the difference between them may let in some light as to the nature and behaviour of the explosion. So for this second purpose a second set of circuit-breakers are used. Each of these consists of a strip of thin tinfoil stretched across the gallery. Being placed edgeways to the moving current of gas, the force of the explosion has no effect upon it, but the heat instantly melts it. Normally, current flows through the strip, and so the melting is signalised by the cessation of the current, which event is recorded by the chronograph.

Thus the speeds at which the force and the heat of the explosion travel are ascertained. Another important fact which needs to be found is the amount of the force, or the pressure, at different points. For this purpose pressure-gauges can be connected to the gallery at the desired spots by means of flexible tubes. This flexible tube is necessary in order that the vibration of the steel sh.e.l.l, due to the explosion, shall not be communicated to the instrument. The pressure, finding its way along the flexible pipe, raises a piston against the force of a spring, and the distance to which it is raised forms, of course, a measure of the pressure inside the gallery at the point to which the tube is connected. The pressure is recorded by the action of the piston in moving a style which just touches against the surface of a moving paper.

There are three styles in all marking this paper. The first is the one just mentioned. The second is held down on to the paper by an electro-magnet energised by current flowing through a fine wire stretched across the gallery just where the explosion originates. This fine wire is broken at the moment of the explosion, whereby the current is cut off and the style raised. It therefore makes its mark until the moment the explosion occurs, and then leaves off. The end of that line, therefore, shows the time of the explosion. Meanwhile the first style is drawing a straight line, but as soon as the pressure begins to be felt by the pressure recorder this style moves and the line slopes upward.