A week later, in Helmarte Soap Works, the entire team who worked on the machine gathered around their work.
Completed was a generous description.
The boring machine looked rough.
Very rough.
The oak fra still showed chisel marks.
The iron brackets weren’t polished.
Several bolts had clearly been adjusted multiple tis during assembly.
But none of that mattered.
Because it was finished.
And more importantly...
It worked.
The machine had been installed beside the Helmarte Soap Works where the repaired waterwheel provided rotational power.
A wide leather belt stretched from the main drive shaft of the factory to the boring machine.
Workers stood around the machine in anticipation.
Carpenters.
Blacksmiths.
Laborers.
Even several workers from the soap factory had wandered over to see what all the commotion was about.
Hollen folded his arms.
"So?"
Ernest looked toward the team.
"Let’s find out."
A cast iron test cylinder sat clamped between the supports.
The casting itself was intentionally crude.
The inside surface looked uneven and rough.
Exactly what Ernest expected.
Now ca the important part.
He walked toward the drive chanism.
"Everyone clear?"
The workers imdiately stepped back.
A few took several extra steps.
Nobody knew what would happen.
If sothing failed, several hundred kilograms of moving iron could beco dangerous very quickly.
Ernest nodded toward one of the workers.
"Engage the belt."
The man swallowed.
Then pulled the lever.
The leather belt tightened.
For a mont nothing happened.
Then the shaft began turning.
The massive boring bar rotated inside the casting.
Several workers leaned forward.
The machine creaked.
The wooden fra vibrated slightly.
But it held.
Then ca the sound.
Scrrrrkkkk.
tal shaving against tal.
The cutting tool had begun removing material.
One long curl of iron erged from the cylinder.
Then another.
And another.
Silence spread across the crowd. It was like they were witnessing magic.
The cutter continued advancing. Removing iron with every revolution.
One of the older smiths whispered, "It’s cutting."
Another worker laughed nervously.
"Of course it’s cutting."
"No, I an it’s actually cutting."
Hollen stepped closer.
His eyes followed the rotating shaft.
He understood what everyone was seeing.
This wasn’t a forge hamr.
It wasn’t a hand tool.
It wasn’t a craftsman shaping tal through skill alone.
The machine itself was shaping tal.
That realization felt strange.
Almost unsettling.
Several minutes passed.
Eventually Ernest raised a hand.
"Stop."
The worker disengaged the belt.
The machine gradually slowed before coming to a halt.
Everyone crowded around imdiately.
Ernest climbed onto the fra and inspected the cylinder.
Then he reached inside.
His fingers ran along the freshly cut surface.
A smile slowly appeared.
"Well?"
Hollen asked.
Ernest handed him a straightedge.
"Check it."
The forge owner looked confused but complied.
He placed the straightedge against the interior surface.
No major gaps.
No obvious high spots.
Far better than hand filing.
Far better.
One of the smiths took a asuring gauge and checked several locations.
Then checked again.
His eyes widened.
"The diater is nearly identical."
Another worker grabbed the gauge.
Then another.
The results remained the sa.
For a first attempt, it exceeded expectations.
Hollen looked toward Ernest.
"You actually did it."
Ernest shook his head.
"No."
He pointed toward the gathered workers.
"We did it."
The workers exchanged proud smiles.
They deserved it.
For seven days they had cut timber, forged iron, fitted components, adjusted bearings, aligned shafts, and solved dozens of problems nobody had anticipated.
The machine standing before them was the result of all of that effort.
Then Ernest looked back toward the boring machine.
And for a mont, he wasn’t seeing the machine itself.
He was seeing their next project. "With this boring machine done, we can continue our work with the steam engine."
Ernest looked at the workers. "Your efforts are appreciated and with that I’ll give you a monetary bonus for the completion of the boring machine."
Hearing that, the workers exclaid, whistled, and cheered.
"But of course, we have another project. Didn’t I say that in order to build a steam engine, we need to build a boring machine first? Well it’s ti that we move on to that project shall we?"
"Yes sir!"
Without wasting ti, the team imdiately returned to work. Nobody needed convincing.
A week ago, most of them had viewed the boring machine as another one of Ernest’s strange ideas.
Now?
They had seen it work with their own eyes.
The machine had taken a rough casting and transford it into sothing far more precise than hand tools alone could ever achieve.
That changed everything.
Workers who had once been skeptical were now curious.
Very curious.
Several smiths imdiately gathered around the worktable where Ernest’s steam engine drawings had been spread out.
One of them pointed toward the large cylinder sketched in the center.
"So this is what the boring machine was for?"
"Yes."
Ernest nodded.
"The steam engine lives and dies by the quality of this cylinder."
The workers leaned closer.
Actually, many of them were beginning to understand the bigger picture.
The boring machine wasn’t the project.
It was preparation for the project.
Ernest opened another notebook page.
"Before we build anything, we need castings."
He pointed toward several detailed drawings.
"The cylinder cos first."
Then another drawing.
"The piston."
Then another.
"The flywheel."
Several workers exchanged looks.
The flywheel imdiately caught their attention.
It was enormous.
One of the carpenters whistled.
"Gods, that’s bigger than a wagon wheel."
"It needs to be."
Ernest pointed toward the sketch.
"The flywheel stores energy."
The workers looked confused.
He grabbed a piece of charcoal and quickly drew several circles.
"The steam engine doesn’t produce smooth power."
He pointed to one section.
"Steam pushes."
Then another.
"Then it doesn’t."
Then another.
"Then it pushes again."
Understanding slowly spread.
"The flywheel keeps everything moving between those pushes."
One of the senior smiths nodded.
"So it’s like montum."
"Exactly. You are getting it!"
anwhile, Hollen studied the boiler drawings.
This was the part that worried him most.
The cylinder was expensive.
The flywheel was heavy.
But the boiler?
The boiler contained pressure.
And pressure could be dangerous.
"Won’t this explode?"
"No it won’t," Ernest assured. "I have calculated the safety factor of the boiler, which is essentially a pressure vessel. It’ll have the right thickness to withstand several tis the pressure we intend to use."
"There you go again with your weird words," Hollen pointed out.
"Hehe..."
Reviews
All reviews (0)