In any case, high-pressure steam engines require good quality steel and fairly tight tolerances. We have craftsmen that could handle the tolerances, but it would take a long time to build each cylinder.
However, there are also the low-pressure steam engines I sent you the booklet about. In general, a low-pressure steam engine uses steam that is not that much above boiling and works at pressures as low as a few pounds per square inch. Rudy said, “To get useful work out of that weak a head of steam, they use large cylinders and large pistons. A piston head with a diameter of one foot has a surface of 113 square inches. At a steam pressure of ten pounds per square inch, that comes to a stroke force of 1130 pounds or half a ton. Say half of that is lost to friction and other factors . . . that’s still 565 pounds of work. Just over a horsepower, assuming a foot-long cylinder and a cycle time of a couple of seconds. Actually, with a one-foot diameter, four-foot cylinder and a decent flywheel, at ten psi you should get about two and half horse power once it gets going.”
I take Rudy at his word and I believe you should as well. What this means to us is that a wooden cylinder three feet long and a foot across—essentially a barrel with the proper attachments—can provide the work of three or even four steppe ponies. According to the booklet and the experiments they did at the Smith Steam engine factory: “The low-pressure steam engine can be made mostly of wood and leather with iron reinforcements.” That is not true, as I understand it, of the boiler and the pipes. For one thing the highest pressure is always in the boiler not the engine, since the engine is releasing that pressure to get work. The best boiler is steel tubing. But making steel tubing would be prohibitively expensive. We will probably be forced to use a steel pot or even an iron pot and copper tubing to take the steam from the pot to the engine.
Chapter 39
October 1633
“What’s taking so long with the car?” Bernie asked. “We asked for it six months ago.”
Anya hid a grimace. Bernie was increasingly upset about the delay in sending the car.
“According to his last letter, Vladimir says that he’s trying to find an up-timer to come with it,” Natasha said. “There are also other requests he has to deal with. To use the up-timerism, he wrote he has more on his plate than just your car. The politics of the CPE are increasingly fractious. The embassy bureau is concerned that the League of Ostend will defeat the CPE and relieve the pressure that is the only thing keeping Poland from invading us. So, more of his time and energy is being used acquiring political information, and he can’t take the time to find shipping for your car, Bernie.”
“I know that, but we need that engine as an example. The steam engine project is hitting snags all over the place. And I’m pretty sure it’s the tolerances.”
“Tolerances?”
“How tightly the piston sits in the cylinder,” Bernie explained, which wasn’t a particularly good explanation, as far as Anya was concerned.
* * *
“Oh, man.” Bernie sounded worried. “Why him?”
Natasha looked up from her latest letter from Brandy Bates and watched Bernie for a moment. His beard had grown in rather nicely, she thought. His clothing, though, was a disaster, and worse, he was influencing the staff at the Dacha and even people in Moscow.
“Why who?”
“Cass Lowry.” Bernie waved the letter at her. “He used to be a friend of mine when we played football together. I thought he was so cool—and he is clever. He was always coming up with stunts to pull. The thing is . . .” Bernie paused and looked at Natasha, then went on. “He always had . . . I guess you’d call it a sense of entitlement. His stunts usually had a nasty edge to them, getting back at someone who had dissed him. Ah . . . shown a lack of respect for him. He was going to go to college on a football scholarship. Studying was a waste of time.
“I was the same way, I guess. Everything that happened to us was someone else’s fault. I was right with him all through high school. Then, after his football scholarship fell through, Cass blamed me for keeping him from studying.” Bernie looked over at Natasha and gave a shrug. “There may have been some truth to it but other guys on the team did study and went on to college. Somewhere in there, I got over myself and started to grow up. But from the letter, it doesn’t sound like Cass ever did. Now he’s blaming everything on the down-timers and Mike Stearns.” Bernie waved the letter. “That’s what this letter comes down to. I hope no one ever reads this, Natasha. Because it’s pretty rude.”
Natasha knew that quite well. It took some effort to control her expression. Cass Lowry’s comments about “krauts,” “russkies” and “I guess you’re living in the armpit of the universe” had not gone unnoticed. Not in the least. “Brandy says it is because he was the only person who knew cars well enough who was willing to make the trip. Vladimir wanted, very much, to have someone who knew cars travel with your ‘Precious.’”