Читать книгу Nature's Teachings - John George Wood - Страница 4

General Sketch of the Subject.—The Mast of Wood and Iron.—Analogy between the Iron Mast and the Porcupine Quill.—The Iron Yard and its Shape prefigured by the same Quill.—Beams of the Steam-engine.—Principle of the Hollow Tube in place of the Solid Bar.—Quills and Bones of Birds.—Wheat Straws and Bamboos.—Structure of the Boat.—The Coracle, the Esquimaux Boat, and the Bark Canoe.—Framework of the Ship and Skeleton of the Fish.—Compartments of Iron Ship and Skull of Elephant.—The Rush, the Cane, and the Sugar-cane.—“Stellate” Tissue and its Varieties.

HAVING now treated of the raft, the boat, the ship, and their various modes of propulsion and guidance, we come to the subsidiary appliances to navigation, if they may be so called in lack of a better name.

First in importance is necessarily the mast; and the yards, which support the sails, are naturally the next in order. Then there come the various improvements in the building of vessels; namely, the substitution of planks fastened on a skeleton of beams for a mere hollowed log, and the subsequent invention of iron vessels with their numerous compartments, giving enormous strength and size, with very great comparative lightness.

Then we come to the various developments of the ropes or cables, by which a vessel is kept in its place when within reach of ground, whether on shore or at the water-bed. Next come the different forms of anchors which fasten a vessel to the bed of the ocean, of grapnels by which she can be made fast to the shore, or of “drags,” which at a pinch can perform either office, and can besides be utilised in searching for and hauling up objects that are lying at the bottom of the sea.

Next we come to the boat-hook, which is so useful either as a temporary anchor, or as a pole by which a boat can be propelled by pushing it against the shore or the bed of the water; and then to the “punt-pole,” which is only used for the latter purpose.

Lastly, we come to the life-belt and life-raft, which are now occupying, and rightly, so much of the public attention. These subjects will be treated in their order in the present chapter, and I hope to be able to show the reader that in all these points nature has anticipated art.

I presume that most, if not all, of my readers are aware of the rapidly extending use of iron in ship-building, not only in the standing rigging, but in the material of the vessel. First there came iron “knees,” i.e. the angular pieces of wood which strengthen the junctions of the timbers. Formerly these were made of oak-branches, and, as it was not easy to find a bough which was naturally bent at such an angle as was required for a “knee,” such branches were exceedingly valuable. Iron, however, was then employed, and with the best results. It was lighter than the wooden knee, was stronger, could be bent at any angle, and took up much less space.

By degrees iron was used more and more, until vessels were wholly made of that material. Then the masts, and even the yards, were made of iron, and, strange as it may appear, were found to be lighter as well as stronger than those made of wood. Of course, the masts and yards were hollow, and it was found by the engineers that in order to combine lightness with great strength, the best plan was to run longitudinal ridges along the inside of the tube.

A section of one of these masts is given at Fig. B, and taken from the drawings of one of our largest engineering firms. The reader will see that the mast is composed of rather slight material, and that it is strengthened by four deep though thin ribs, which run throughout its length.

When I first saw this mast I was at once struck with the remarkable resemblance between it and the quill of the Porcupine. These quills, as all anglers know, are very light, and of extraordinary strength when compared with their weight. Indeed, they are so light that they are invaluable as penholders to those who are obliged to make much use of their pen. I have used nothing else for a very long time, and the drawing of the Porcupine quill which is here given at Fig. A was made from a small piece cut from the top of the penholder which I have used for some fifteen years, and with which all my largest and most important works were written, including the large “Natural History,” “Homes without Hands,” “Man and Beast,” &c., &c. A portion of the same quill is also shown of its real size.

If the reader will cut a Porcupine quill at right angles, make a thin section of it, and place it under the microscope, or even under an ordinary pocket lens, he will see that the exterior is composed of a very thin layer of horny matter, and the interior filled with a vast number of tiny cells, which are formed much on the same plan as the pith of elder and other plants. The analogies of the pith will be treated in another page.

But were the quill merely a hollow tube filled with pith, it would be too weak to resist the strain to which it is often liable. Consequently it is strengthened by a number of internal ribs, composed of the same horny material as the outer coat, and arranged in exactly the same way as those of the mast.

There are yet other points in the structure of the Porcupine quill which might be imitated with advantage in the mast. In the first place, the internal ribs are much more numerous than those of the mast, but they are very much thinner, and taper away from the base, where the greatest strain exists, to the end, where they come to the finest imaginable edge. This modification of structure enables the outer shell of the quill to be exceedingly thin and light, and, moreover, gives to the whole quill an elasticity which is quite wonderful, considering its weight and strength.

Then, in the iron mast the exterior is quite smooth, whereas in the Porcupine quill it is regularly indented, exactly on the principle of the corrugated iron, which combines great strength with great lightness. And I cannot but think that our iron masts might be made both lighter and stronger if the shell were thinner, the internal ribs made like those of the Porcupine quill, and the shell corrugated instead of being quite smooth. The internal cells of the quill are, of course, not needed in the mast, as they are intended for nutrition, and not for strength.

Being on this subject, we may take the shape of the Porcupine quill, and compare it with that of the ship’s yard. It will be seen that the two are so exactly similar in form that the outline of one would answer perfectly well for the other. The only perceptible difference is, that in the ship’s yard both ends are alike, whereas in the Porcupine quill the end which is inserted in the skin is rounded and slightly bent, while the other end is sharply pointed.

The principal point to be noticed in the form of both quill and yard is, that they become thicker in the centre, that being the spot on which the greatest strain comes, and which, in consequence, needs to be stronger than any other part. While holding and balancing the pole which Blondin uses to preserve his balance when walking on the high rope, I was struck with the fact that the pole, which is heavily weighted at each end, had to be strengthened in the middle, exactly on the principle of the Porcupine quill and the ship’s yard. It could not, of course, be thickened, as the hands could not grasp it, but it had to be furnished with additional strengthening. And the necessity of such strengthening is evident from the fact that on one occasion the pole did break in the middle, so that any one of less nerve and presence of mind must have been killed.

Bearing in mind, then, that in a rod or pole the centre is the part which most requires to be strengthened, we can see, in cases too numerous to mention, how art has followed, though perhaps unconsciously, in the footsteps of nature. Take, for example, the beam of a steam-engine, such as is given in the sketch, and for which the great engine at Chatham acted as model. The reader will observe that in this case the beam is gradually thickened towards the centre, the ends, where the strain is slightest, being comparatively small.

Another point also must be noticed. Equal strength could have been obtained had the beam been solid, but at the expense of weight, and consequent waste of power. Lightness is therefore combined with strength by making the beam consist of a comparatively slight centre, but having four bold ridges, as shown in the section given in the accompanying illustration. This plan, as the reader will see, is exactly the same as that which is adopted in the iron mast and porcupine quill, except that the ridges are external instead of internal. The same mode of construction is employed in ordinary cranes, the principal beam of which is almost identical in form with that of the engine, both being thickest in the centre, and both strengthened with external ridges.

There are also other analogies between the hollow mast and natural objects. Keeping still to the animal world, we find the quill feathers of the flying birds to supply examples of the combination of great strength with great lightness and very little expenditure of material. Their wing bones, too, are hollow, communicating with the lungs, and are consequently light as well as strong.

Passing to the vegetable world, we find a familiar example of this structure in the common Wheat Straw. The ripe ear is so heavy, when compared with the amount of material which can be spared to carry it, that if the stalk were solid it would give way under the mere weight of the ear. Moreover, the full-grown corn has to endure much additional weight when wetted with rain, and to resist much additional force when bowed by the wind, so that a slight and solid stalk would be quite inadequate to the task of supporting the ear.

The material of the stalk is therefore utilised in a different manner, being formed into a hollow cylinder, the exterior of which is coated with a very thin shell of flint, or “silex” as it is scientifically termed. The result of this structure is that the stem possesses strength, lightness, and elasticity, so as to be equal to the burden which is laid upon it.

Then there is the common Bamboo, which is little more than a magnified straw, being constructed in much the same manner, and possessing almost the same constituents of vegetable matter and silex.

Perhaps the most extraordinary of the tubal system is to be found in the remarkable plant of Guiana called by the natives Ourah, and scientifically known by the name of Arundinaria Schomburgkii. Like the bamboo, it grows in clusters, and has a feathery top, which waves about in the breeze. But, instead of decreasing gradually in size from the base upwards, the Ourah, although it runs to some fifty feet in height, is nowhere more than half an inch in diameter. The first joint is about sixteen feet in length, and uniform in diameter throughout.

It is scarcely thicker than ordinary pasteboard, and yet so strong and elastic is it, that it can sustain with ease the weight and strain of its feathery top as it blows about in the breeze. The natives of certain parts of Guiana use this reed as a blow-gun, and I have a specimen, presented to me by the late Mr. Waterton, which is eleven feet in length.

So the reader will see that when engineers found that hollow iron beams were not only lighter, but stronger than solid beams, they were simply copying the hollow beams formed by Nature thousands of years ago.

Another great improvement in ship-building now comes before us.

We have already seen that the earliest boats were merely hollowed logs, just as Robinson Crusoe is represented to have made. But these had many disadvantages. They were always too heavy. They were liable to split, on account of flaws in the wood, and if a large vessel were needed, it was difficult to find a tree sufficiently large, or to get it down to the water when finished.

So the next idea was to build a skeleton, so to speak, of light wooden beams, and to surround it with an outer clothing, or skin, if it may be so termed. As far as I know, the two original types of this structure are the Coracle of the ancient Briton, and the birch-bark Canoe of the North American Indian, and it is not a little remarkable that both exist to the present day, with scarcely any modification.

The Coracle has been already represented on page 22. It is, perhaps, or was in its original form, the simplest boat in existence, next to the “dug-out.” In the times of the very ancient Britons, who were content with blue paint by way of dress, and lived by hunting and fishing, the Coracle was a basin-shaped basket of wicker-work, rather longer than wide, and covered with the skin of a wild ox. This was sufficiently light to be carried by one man, and sufficiently buoyant to bear him down rapids, if he were a skilful paddler, and, of course, formed a considerable step in civilisation.

The modern Coracle is identical in form, and almost in material. The frame is still oval and basin-shaped, and made of wicker, but the outer covering is not the same. An ox-hide is an expensive article in these days, and, especially when wetted, is very heavy. So the modern Coracle builder covers the wicker skin with a piece of tarpaulin, which is much cheaper than the ox-hide, much lighter, is equally water-tight, and has the great advantage of not absorbing moisture, so that it is as light after use as before.

The Esquimaux make a boat on very similar principles. It is simply hideous in form, resembling a huge washing tub in shape, but, as it is only intended for the inferior beings called women, this does not signify.

Best, most perfect, and most graceful of all such boats is the Birch-bark Canoe of the North American Indians, whose shape has evidently been borrowed from that of a fish. I have seen many of these canoes, and have now before me several models which are exactly like the originals, except in point of size. Instead of being mere elongated bowls, like the coracle, they are long and slender, swelling out considerably in the middle, and coming to an almost knife-like edge at each end. Both stem and stern are alike, so that the canoe can be paddled in either direction, and, as one of the paddlers always acts as steersman, no rudder is needed.

The mode of construction is perfectly simple. The labour is divided between the sexes: the women cut large sheets of bark from the birch-trees, scrape and smooth them, and then sew them together, so as to form the outer skin, or “cloak” as it is called, of the canoe. Meanwhile the men are making the skeleton of strips of white cedar-wood, and binding them into shape with thongs made of the inner bark of the same tree, just like the “bass” of our gardeners. The “cloak” is then gradually worked over the skeleton, sewn into its place, and the canoe is finished. A figure of this canoe, as completed, is given in the same illustration as that which represents various forms of boat, page 7.

The last improvement is that which was caused by the necessity for large vessels, when planks or iron plates were fastened over the skeleton. But, in all these cases, the vessel is built on the principle of the thorax of a vertebrate animal, that of the whale or a fish being an admirable example. It only needs to take the skeleton of a whale, turn it on its back, and the ribs will be seen to form an almost exact reproduction of those of any ship being built in the nearest dockyard.

I have now before me the spine and ribs of a herring. The fish was over-boiled, and the flesh fell off the bones as it was being lifted out of the dish, leaving most of the ribs in their places. When held with the spine downwards, and viewed from one end, the resemblance to the framework of a ship is absolutely startling, the ribs representing the beams, and the spine taking the place of the keel. I have also before me a sketch representing a section of a Fijian canoe, and it is remarkable that even the very curve of the ribs of the herring is reproduced in those of the canoe.

Whether the Fijians derived this peculiar and beautiful curve from the ribs of a fish I cannot say, but think it very likely.

A still greater improvement in ship-building now comes before us, and this also has been anticipated both in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. There are so many examples of this anticipation that I can only give one or two.

The improvement to which I refer is that which is now almost universally employed in the construction of iron ships, namely, the making the outer shell double instead of single, and dividing it into a number of separate compartments. Putting aside the advantage that if the vessel were stove, only one compartment would fill, we have the fact that the ship is at the same time enormously strengthened and very light in proportion to her bulk.

Perhaps the best, and certainly the most obvious, example of this principle in the animal world is to be found in the skull of the Elephant. The enormous tusks, with their powerful leverage, the massive teeth, and the large and weighty proboscis, require a corresponding supply of muscles, and consequently a large surface of bone for the attachments of these muscles. Now, were the skull solid in proportion to its requisite size, its weight would be too much for the neck to endure, however short and sturdy it might be. The mode of attaining expanse of surface, together with lightness of structure, is singularly beautiful.

Perhaps some of my readers may not be aware that the bone of the skull consists of an outer and inner plate, with a variable arrangement of cells between them. In many animals, such, for example, as man, where the jaws are comparatively feeble, and the teeth small and light, the size of the skull is practically that of the brain, to which it affords a covering. The same structure may be observed in the skull of the common sparrow, where, as in man, the two bony plates are set almost in contact.

But in the elephant these external and internal plates are set widely apart, and the space between them is filled with bony cells, much resembling those of a honeycomb. They are, in fact, just the same cells as those which exist in the skull of man and sparrow, but they are very much enlarged, and in consequence give a large surface, accompanied with united strength and lightness.

There are many other examples in the animal kingdom, but our limited space will not allow them to be even mentioned.

As to the vegetable examples of this principle, they are so multitudinous that only a very slight description can be given of them.

I suppose that most boys have seen a “cane” (whether they have felt it or not is not to the purpose), and some boys have made sham cigars from pieces of cane. In either case they must have noticed that the cane is not solid, but is pierced with a vast number of holes, passing longitudinally through it, and is, in fact, a collection of little tubes connected and bound together by a common envelope.

The Sugar-cane, if cut across, is seen also to consist of multitudinous cells, which, however, are not hollow, but filled with the sweet liquid from which sugar is obtained by boiling. Then there are many of our common English plants, like the ordinary rush or reed, which are very slight in diameter in comparison with their length, and in which the cells are still further strengthened and lightened by the projection of their sides into a number of points which meet each other, and leave interstices between them. This modification of the cellular system is called “Stellate” (or star-like) Tissue, and two examples of it are given in the illustration, one being taken from the common rush, and the other from the seed-coat of the privet. A very good specimen of stellate tissue may be obtained by cutting a thin section of the white inner peel of the orange.