The Locomotive - Lighthouse Survival Blog
The Locomotive - Lighthouse Survival Blog
The Locomotive - Lighthouse Survival Blog
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1901 T II .<br />
E L ] C M OTIVE. 43<br />
reduced. <strong>The</strong> idea may be of no value to you, or it may have been tried and abandoned ;<br />
but. I call your attention to it, because I have found it useful to myself and others. In<br />
a large plant there is always a more or less divided responsibility, and caution is a good<br />
thing."<br />
Pump Troubles.<br />
Pumps are tricky things, anyhow. <strong>The</strong>re was a time when many of the pump<br />
phenomena that we get up against might have been explained as caused by witchcraft;<br />
but in this century that won't go, and we have to find some hydraulic or kinetic theory<br />
or something else, to fit each particular case, and it does seem at times as though the<br />
homeopathic treatment, with monkey-wrench, packing, and perseverance, was rather<br />
too mild, and we would like to administer a massage- with a ten-pound sledge, and supplement<br />
it with a course of cupola elixir — if we had the time, and didn't need that par-<br />
ticular pump right then and there.<br />
One of my first encounters with a pump was about the time when I had arrived at<br />
the 1 now-it-all stage; and if I had any idea when I went for that pump that there was<br />
any mechanical knowledge in the world worth having that was not already in my pos-<br />
session, I came back, at least, feeling that I was an authority on that particular breed of<br />
pumps. When I reached the place I found a single-cylinder Knowles pump. I had<br />
never seen nor heard of one before, and it may possibly have occurred to me, when the<br />
engineer said he had a machinist there all the day before who "had her all apart and<br />
could't make her pump," that I might get points on so simple a thing as a steam pump<br />
before I got through. "She ran all right until yesterday. She lost her water and<br />
won't catch. <strong>The</strong>re is plenty of water in the well; only ten feet lift; pipes all right<br />
and nothing wrong with the pump, for we had her all apart; only she won't pump."<br />
" Cau you start her up?" I asked. He gave the throttle a turn, and that pump<br />
just gave two or three shivers and then started off like a pneumatic calking tool, mak-<br />
ing about 4,030 one-inch strokes a minute, and was just beginning to walk off the foun-<br />
dation when I got her stopped. I walked around that pump twice; partly because I<br />
didn't know what else to do. I couldn't make out what that rocker-arm arrangement<br />
hitched on to the valve stem was for. I found there was a thing on the piston-rod<br />
w'.iich seemed to be to knock the rocker arm first one way an I then the other. I had<br />
the engineer start it very slowly ; but it only gave little convulsive jerks, as though its<br />
life as a pump was about at an end. I never knew just what inspired me to do it, but I<br />
put two fingers on the rocker arm, possibly to see if I could get them cut off, when<br />
suddenly the pump started off in the most well-behaved manner possible, and it contin-<br />
ued to run so as long as my fingers remained there ; but as soon as I removed them it took<br />
another fit. I finally got it into my head that that rocker arm worked too easily, and I<br />
discovered that the stud on which it was pivoted had a special spring washer under the<br />
nut for the purpose of making sufficient friction to keep the arm in one position until<br />
the pump made a complete stroke and knocked it back again. A half-turn on the nut<br />
made the pump all right. I think, now, that the other fellow must have been awfully<br />
stupid ; still, subsequent experience has proved to me that there are others.<br />
<strong>The</strong> duplex pumps have displaced many of the former annoying and complicated<br />
valve gjars, with auxiliary pistons, which in turn were operated by auxiliary valves<br />
with ports drilled in them which looked like stray blow-holes of no particular impor-<br />
tance — at least, that is what I thought they were when I first saw them. It was at<br />
a big brick works, two miles out. <strong>The</strong>y telephoned in, just about quitting time, to