Stan Lynn Part 59

"We must achieve some better means of defence, Blunt," said Uncle Jeff.

"You ought to have a good little piece of artillery here--something that would tell well on a junk--sink her if it was necessary."

"That's what we were planning, uncle," cried Stan; "only we had some rather peculiar notions."

The natural result of this remark was that the lad had to explain and give a full account of his ideas, which was received with a grunt.

"There's a lot in it that sounds well, Stan," said Uncle Jeff after listening for some time in silence, "but too much of the toy-shop and Fifth of November about the rest. That kite-flying would never do."

"Why, it would be so simple, uncle!"

"Very simple indeed, my boy--Simple Simony. Why, Stan, how do you think you are going to fly kites with the enemy in front?"

"But they're only to raise burning things like the pirates' stink-pots."

"I should have a deal more faith in something of that sort. But how would you guide your kite with a fiery tail over the junk you meant to destroy?"

"By means of the string. I could easily manage one, by pulling in and letting out till it was just over a junk; and then I should pull the second string, for of course there would be two; and then I should let one go, and down would fall the fiery sh.e.l.l right upon the junk's deck."

"If it didn't go down splash into the river--eh?"

"Oh, I should manage it better than that," said the lad confidently.

"So I suppose," said Uncle Jeff sarcastically; "and of course the wind would be setting in the right direction--that is to say, straight from you and over the enemy's junks."

"Of course, uncle," said Stan confidently.

"Of course! Why, you too sanguine young enthusiast, the chances would be five-and-twenty to one that the wind would not be right on the day the enemy came. Won't do, Stan. Try again."

"Oh, I can't if you go on like that, uncle," said the lad in an aggrieved tone. "You're not half such a good listener as Mr Blunt. He thinks a good deal of my ideas."

"Then it was quite time I came. He'd spoil you. I will not, you may depend. Now then, let's have a better idea than that."

"Well, uncle," said the boy rather grumpily, "I did think something of having a boat always moored among the reeds--one filled with dangerous combustibles--that I could steal up to after the junks had stopped to kill and plunder us, apply a match, and, after lashing the rudder, cause it to float down with the stream right amongst the junks and set them on fire."

"Splendid idea!" cried Uncle Jeff, clapping his hands.

"You like that, then?" said Stan, brightening up.

"I think the idea would be glorious. Deadly in the extreme to the enemy, but--"

"Oh uncle! don't say _but_," cried the lad, growing crestfallen again.

"Very well, my boy; I will not if you do not wish it. All the same, however, there's a defect in it that would be fatal."

"What's that?" said the boy rather dismally.

"The Chinese are very weak-minded, but they're not idiots."

"No--of course not; but tell me what you mean."

"Pooh! Can't you see for yourself? The enemy would see that the fire-boat was coming, and of course they'd either heave anchor or cast their cables and slip away, if they didn't send your fire-boat to the bottom with a shot from one of their swivel-guns. Try again."

"Oh, it's of no use to try, uncle."

"Yes, it is. You've got gumption enough to make a pot without a hole in the bottom. You're last idea is manageable; the kite-flying was not.

Now then, you've got a better idea than that up your sleeve or in that noddle of yours, I'm sure.--Hasn't he, Blunt?"

"Yes--a far better one."

"I thought so.--Now then, boy, let's have it."

Stan stood looking gloomy and silent.

"Well, why don't you go on?" said Uncle Jeff.

"Because I feel as if you are laughing at me for trying to invent something."

"I am not, Stan--honour bright!" cried Uncle Jeff. "But even if I was laughing, what right have you to kick against it? Every inventor gets laughed at if he brings out something new, and then stupid people who grinned because they had never seen anything like it before are the first to praise. There! out with it, Stan; the third shot must be a good one."

The gloom pa.s.sed off the lad's countenance, and he laid bare his idea of contriving a kind of torpedo to sink off the wharf and connect by means of a wire with an electric battery in the office, ready for firing as soon as one of the junks was well over it.

"Ah! that sounds better," cried Uncle Jeff eagerly; "but could it be done?"

"Oh yes," said Blunt. "I think the idea is capital."

"So do I," said Uncle Jeff; "but there's an old proverb about the engineer being hoist with his own petard, and however willing I might be to blow up a junk full of murderous pirates, I shouldn't like to go up with them."

"Oh, that would be easy enough, uncle," said Stan. "We should have to fill a big, perfectly waterproof canister with powder or some other combustible, make a hole in the side or top, and pa.s.s a copper wire through so that it is right in the powder, then solder up the hole, and after the canister has been sunk, bring the wire ash.o.r.e ready."

"Yes, and what then? I must confess that I know nothing about electricity."

"I'll tell you," said Stan. "You fetch the copper wire ash.o.r.e and bring it in, say, through that window. There! like this piece of string,"

continued the lad, ill.u.s.trating his plans with a string-box which he took from the office table, and after drawing out a sufficiency of the twine, he dropped the string-box outside the window. "Now, uncle," he said, "that thing represents the canister of blasting-powder, and the string is the wire. You see, I shut down the window to hold the wire fast, and bring the end here on to the office table."

"I see," said Uncle Jeff; "but what next?"

"I'll show you directly," continued Stan, with his forehead puckered up in lines as if it were a mental Clapham Junction. "Now then, this stationery-case is my battery of cells, each charged with acid and stuff."

"We don't want to put a dangerous battery on Mr Blunt's table to blow him up," said Uncle Jeff. "He's too useful."

"Of course he is, uncle; but we couldn't blow him up, because the battery isn't dangerous."

"Then what's the good of it?"

"Ah! you don't see yet; you will directly," cried the boy. "There's no danger at all till it is connected with the wire; and the wire, you know, is connected with the canister of explosive, uncle. And don't you see that it will be sunk right away there off the wharf? When we connect the wire with the battery, it is not that which goes off, but the powder in the canister under the junk."

"Oh, I see!" said Uncle Jeff. "Good; but when it is connected what does it do?"

"Sends a current of electricity along the wire."