Kitabı oku: «The Radio Boys at Ocean Point: or, The Message that Saved the Ship», sayfa 3
CHAPTER VI – THE WONDERFUL TUBE
“It’s about getting a vacuum tube,” replied Bob, in answer to the doctor’s question. “The crystal detector is all right when we use the ear pieces. But we got to thinking about a horn so that lots of people could enjoy the concerts at the same time, and we figured that the crystal wouldn’t be quite good enough for that.”
The doctor smiled genially.
“I knew you’d be wanting that sooner or later,” he said. “It’s the second natural step in radio development. While you were still getting familiar with the working of the wireless, the crystal would do very well. But there comes a time to all amateurs when they get to hankering after something that is undeniably better. And the vacuum tube is that thing.”
“It seems funny to me that the vacuum tube could have any use in radio,” put in Jimmy. “I never thought of it in any way but as being used for an electric light.”
“Neither did lots of other people,” replied the doctor, smiling. “Even Mr. Edison himself didn’t realize what its possibilities were. He did, though, discover some very curious things about it. In fact, he made the first step that led to its use for radio. He put a plate in one of his lamps. The plate didn’t touch the filament, but formed part of a circuit of its own with a current indicator attached. Then when he turned on the light and the filament began to glow, the needle of the indicator began to twitch. Since the filament and the plate weren’t touching, the movement of the needle indicated that the electricity must have jumped the gap between the two. But this simply showed that an invisible connection was established between the filament and the plate and nothing more came of it at the time.
“Now, it’s likely that even yet we shouldn’t have had that discovery of Edison’s used for the development of radio if it hadn’t been for the new theory of what electricity really is. That theory is that everything is electricity. This chair I’m sitting on, the railing to this porch, the hat that Jimmy is holding in his hand – all that is electricity.”
Jimmy gave a little jump at this, and held his hat rather gingerly at arm’s length and looked at it suspiciously.
The doctor joined in the laugh that followed.
“Oh, you needn’t be afraid that you’ll get a shock,” he said. “Electricity won’t hurt you as long as it’s at rest. It’s only when it gets stirred up that high jinks are apt to follow.”
Jimmy looked relieved.
“Now,” continued the doctor, “the theory is that all matter is composed of an infinite number of electrons. An electron is the smallest thing that can be conceived, smaller even than the atom which used to be thought of as the unit. There may be millions, billions, quadrillions of them in a thing as big as a hickory nut. And when these electrons get busy you can look out for things to happen.
“Every hot object sends out electrons. That’s the reason that the filament in the electric light tube sends them out.”
“I suppose a red-hot stove would send them out, too,” suggested Joe. “If that is so, I should think that people would have found out about them long ago.”
“Ah, but there’s this difference,” explained the doctor. “The red-hot stove does send them out, but the air stops them. Remember that the atoms of which the air is composed are so large that the poor little electrons have no chance against them. It’s like a baby pushing against a giant. It can’t get by.
“Now the vacuum tube comes along, knocks out the giant of the air, and lets the baby electrons pet past him. The air is pumped out of the tube and the electrons have nothing to stop them. That’s why Mr. Edison saw the needle on the plate begin to move, although the plate wasn’t touching the filament. The electrons jumped across the gap between the filament and the plate because there was nothing to stop them.
“With this discovery of Mr. Edison’s to aid him, a man named Fleming came along, who found that the oscillations caused by the flow of electrons to the plate could be utilized for the telephone by the use of what he called an oscillation valve that permitted the passage of the current in one direction only. That was the second important step.
“But these two steps alone wouldn’t have made radio what it is to-day if it hadn’t been for the wonderful improvement made by DeForest. He mounted a grid of wire between the filament and the plate connected with a battery. He found that the slightest change in the current to the grid made a wonderfully powerful increase in the current that passed from the filament to the plate. Just as when you touch the trigger of a rifle you have a loud explosion, so the grid magnifies tremendously the sound that would otherwise be weak or only ordinary. And by adding one vacuum valve to another the sound can be still further magnified until the crawling of a fly will sound like the tread of an elephant, until a mere whisper can become a crash of thunder, until the ticking of a watch will remind you of the din of a boiler factory, and the sighing of the wind through the trees on a summer night will be like the roar of Niagara.
“But there,” he broke off, with a little laugh, “I’m letting my enthusiasm carry me away. It’s hard to keep calm and cold-blooded when I get to talking about radio.”
“Well, you don’t care to talk about it more than we care to hear about it, you can be sure of that,” said Joe warmly.
“Yes,” chimed in Jimmy, “to me it’s more interesting than a – a pirate story,” he added rather lamely.
“With the advantage,” laughed Dr. Dale, “that the pirate story usually has lots of pain and misery in it for somebody, while the radio has nothing but benefit for everybody. Why, you can scarcely think of any experience in which the radio won’t help. Take an Arctic expedition for instance. It used to be that when a ship once disappeared in the ice floes of the Arctic regions it was lost to the world for years. Nobody knew whether the explorers were alive or dead, were failing or succeeding, were safe and snug on board their ship or were shipwrecked and freezing on some field of ice. Look at the Greeley expedition, when for months the men were freezing and starving to death. If they had had a radio outfit with them, they could have communicated with the outside world, told all about their plight, given the exact place they were in, and help would have gone to them at once. Not a man need have perished. So if a crew were shipwrecked on a desert island, they wouldn’t to-day have to depend on a flag or bonfire to catch the attention of some ship that might just happen to be passing near the island. All they would have to do would be to send out a radio message – provided, of course, they had one from the wrecked ship’s stores or had material to make one – and a dozen vessels would go hurrying toward them. Those naval balloonists that were lost in the wilds of Canada a couple of years ago, that other expedition that perished in the heart of Labrador, and similar cases that might be counted by the dozens – all could have been helped if they had been able to tell their troubles to the outside world. I tell you, boys, we haven’t half begun to realize what the discovery of radio means to the world.
“Now all this leads us back to vacuum tubes, for it’s only with them that all these things would be possible. Perhaps in the future something better yet will be invented, but they’re the best we have at present. I’m heartily in favor of you boys using a tube instead of a crystal, because it will give you vastly more enjoyment in your work. I wouldn’t have more than one at the start, but later on it may be well to have more. I have a catalogue up at my house of the various makes and prices, and if you’ll run up there any time I’ll give it to you. At the same time I’ll show you just how it’s got to be inserted and attached. Maybe also I’ll be able to help you in the making of the horn. I’ll have to go now,” he added, looking at his watch. “It’s surprising how the time flies when we get on this subject. Good-bye, boys, and don’t forget to drop in at the house whenever you can.”
The radio boys watched the minister’s straight, alert figure as he went rapidly up the street.
“Isn’t he all to the good?” asked Bob admiringly.
“You bet he is!” agreed Jimmy emphatically, the others nodding their assent.
CHAPTER VII – BASEBALL BY WIRELESS
For the next week the radio boys worked like beavers. They had pored over the catalogue that, according to his promise, Dr. Dale had lent them, and, acting on his advice, had picked out a tube of well-known make that could be bought for a moderate price. They had had to send to New York for it, because Dave Slocum did not have just that kind in stock, and they were feverish with impatience until it arrived. In the period of waiting they pitched in and helped Jimmy with the horn, and even Herb became sufficiently infected by the energy of the others to turn to and do his share of the work.
The precious tube arrived on Saturday morning, and Bob, who had ordered it, was gloating over it when the other boys came over to the house.
“It’s come at last!” he cried exultantly, holding up the tube for their inspection.
There were exclamations of satisfaction as the others gathered round Bob and examined it.
“And it’s come just in time to get a good christening,” declared Joe. “That is, if we can have everything ready by three o’clock this afternoon.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bob.
“Why, I just read in the morning paper that the broadcasting station is going to send out the big baseball game between the Giants and the Pittsburghs at the Polo Grounds this afternoon,” replied Joe. “They say that they’re going to send out the game play by play, every ball pitched, every strike, every hit, every base stolen, every run scored, so that you can follow the game from the time the first man goes to the bat till the last man goes out in the ninth inning. What do you think of that?”
What they thought of it was evident from the chorus of jubilation that followed. All of them were ardent baseball fans, and in addition to that were good players themselves. Bob was pitcher and Joe first baseman on the High School nine, while Jimmy played a good game at short and Herb took care of the center field garden.
Naturally, with this love of the game, they were keenly interested in the championship races of the big major league ball teams and, during the season, followed the ups and downs of their favorites with the closest attention. That spring the race had been especially hot between the Giants and the Pittsburghs. Both had started out well, and the Giants had cleaned up the majority of games in the East, while the Pittsburghs had been cutting a big swath in the West.
Now the Pittsburghs were coming to New York on their first invasion of the year, and interest ran fever high in the Metropolis and the section round about. The newspapers were devoting columns of space to the teams, and it was certain that there would be a record attendance at the game that afternoon.
“Bully!” cried Herb, as he danced a jig on the receipt of Joe’s news.
“It will be almost as good as sitting in the grandstand behind the home plate,” exulted Jimmy.
“Best thing I’ve heard since Sitting Bull sat down!” exclaimed Bob, as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“First time we’ll ever have seen a championship baseball game without paying for it,” laughed Joe.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it seeing the game,” said Bob. “But it’s certainly the next thing to it. But now let’s get busy so that we’ll be sure to have everything ready by the time the game begins.”
They needed no urging and worked so fast and well that by dinner time they had the tube and horn arranged to their satisfaction. That left them time enough to go around among their friends and invite them to come in and enjoy the game with them. The invitation was accepted with alacrity, and some time before the hour set for the game to begin Bob’s room was filled with expectant boys.
Naturally, Bob, as host, was a little anxious and nervous as the moment approached when his improved set would be put to the test. It would have been a mortifying thing for him to fail.
He felt sure that every attachment and connection had been properly made and that nothing essential had been overlooked. Still, it was with a certain feeling of apprehension that he turned the knob to tune in when his watch told him that it was three o’clock. The day was hot, and “static” was likely to be troublesome.
There was a moment of hissing and whistling while he was getting perfectly tuned. Then he caught it just right, and into the room, clear and strong, came the announcement of the umpire, repeated by the man at the broadcasting station:
“Ladies and gentlemen: The batteries for to-day’s game are Blake and McCarthy for Pittsburgh, Hardy and Thompson for New York. Play ball!”
There was a roar of delight from the boys in the crowded room and a clapping of hands that made Bob’s face flush with pleasure. But he held up his hand for silence, and the excited boys settled back in their chairs, listening intently so as not to miss a feature of the game.
Then followed, play by play, the story of the first inning with the Pittsburghs, as the visiting team, first at bat.
The hum of conversation had ceased in the room, and the boys leaned forward intently, anxious not to lose a syllable.
“Strike one!” came in stentorian tones.
“Ball one!” followed.
“Strike two!”
“Elton singles to center. Allison made a bad return of the ball, and Elton by fast running reached second. Maginn at bat.”
“Strike one!”
“Maginn lays down a sacrifice between first and second and is out at first. Elton gets to third on the play.”
It was evident that the Giant pitcher had not yet got into his stride, for he passed the next two batters, and the bases were filled with only one man out.
“He’s as wild as a March hare,” whispered Jimmy to Herb.
“Sure looks like a run with Krug coming up,” replied Herb. “He can everlastingly lambaste the ball. He’s made two homers this week already.”
“Ball one,” “ball two,” “ball three,” followed in quick succession.
“Looks as if he were going to pass him, too, to get a chance at Hofmeyer,” murmured Joe.
“That would be poor dope, for it would force in a run,” replied Bob. “I guess he simply can’t locate the plate. It’s funny the manager doesn’t take him out.”
“Krug hits a sharp grounder to Helmer,” came the voice. “Helmer shoots the ball to Menken, forcing Ackerson at second, and Menken by a lightning throw gets Krug at first. Three out. One hit, no runs.”
There was a ripple of applause at the snappy double play.
“That pulled the pitcher out of a tight hole all right,” laughed Bob. “Gee, but I bet the Pittsburghs are sore. The bases full and only one man out, and yet they couldn’t score.”
“That’s what makes a baseball game so exciting,” returned Joe. “You can’t be sure of anything. Just when you think the game is all sewed up something happens and the whole thing goes ke-flooey.”
“Can’t you imagine how the Giant rooters are yelling their heads off at the Polo Grounds?” chuckled Jimmy.
The Giants in their turn at bat went out in one, two, three order.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the voice a moment later: “Roberts now pitching for New York.”
“I thought they’d take out Hardy,” commented Herb. “He was as wild as a hawk in that first inning, and the manager isn’t going to take chances.”
In the next three innings neither side scored. Roberts, the new choice of the manager, was pitching like a house afire, and did not let a man reach first. The Pittsburgh pitcher was also on his mettle, and mowed his opponents down almost as fast as they came to the plate.
In the fifth inning, however, the Giants broke the ice.
“Wharton lifts a Texas leaguer back of second,” came the voice. “Krug and Hofmeyer went for it, but the ball fell between them.”
“Strike one!”
“Foul – strike two!”
“Miller lines the ball to right. Maginn, instead of waiting for the ball on the bound, rushes in to make a shoestring catch and the ball gets past him. Elton retrieves the ball and makes a great throw to the plate to catch Wharton, who has rounded third and is racing for home. He slides under the catcher’s arm and scores. Miller in the meantime makes third.”
Again there came the murmur of applause that showed how the boys were wrought up by the play that they saw in their minds’ eye almost as plainly as if it were right before them.
“Helmer hits to Hofmeyer,” went on the voice, “and Miller is run down between third and home, the batter reaching second on the play.”
“Ball one!”
“Ball two!”
“Helmer makes a clean steal of third.”
“Ball three!”
“Guess the Pittsburgh pitcher is getting a little nervous,” whispered Jimmy.
“That steal, together with the error in center, is getting his goat,” assented Herb.
“Allison sends the ball on a line into the right field bleachers for a homer, scoring Helmer in front of him,” the voice announced.
“Gee, but that must have been some clout!” ejaculated Joe. “That fellow sure can kill the ball.”
The pause that followed told them as plainly as words of the yelling and excitement at the grounds that were holding up the game.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the announcement: “Ralston now pitching for the Pittsburghs.”
“Batted the other fellow out of the box!” exclaimed Jimmy gleefully, who made no bones of the fact that he was rooting for the Giants.
“Him for the showers,” agreed Herb, who was also a Giant adherent.
“I guess the Giants have put the game on ice,” exulted Joe.
“Don’t be too sure,” warned Bob. “Those Pittsburghs are fence breakers, and they may stage a rally any minute. It takes more than a three-run lead to make them curl up.”
That they were not going to “curl up” became evident as the game progressed toward its close. They fought like tigers for every advantage, made hair-raising stops and throws and slugged the ball ferociously. But a Giant fielder seemed to be in front of every ball, and when the Pittsburghs came up for their last inning the score was still 3 to 0 in favor of the New York team.
But in that ninth inning!
CHAPTER VIII – A THRILLING CLIMAX
It is certain that the Polo Grounds was a bad place for any one troubled with a weak heart during that ninth inning of the Giant-Pittsburgh game.
That the boys from the Smoky City were “out for blood” was evident from the moment that Elton, the first man up, faced the pitcher.
“Elton swings at the first ball offered and sends a screaming liner to left,” proclaimed the radio voice. “It caromed off the left field wall and was skilfully handled by Miller, who by a quick return was able to hold the runner to two bags.”
“Pretty good beginning,” murmured Herb, shifting a little uneasily in his seat.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Joe reassured him. “One swallow doesn’t make a summer and one hit doesn’t win a ball game.”
“Maginn sends a grasser between second and third,” continued the voice. “Elton scored easily and Maginn reached second on a close decision.”
“That saves Pittsburgh from a shut-out anyway,” muttered Jimmy. “But I guess that’ll be about all.”
In this, however, he was mistaken.
“Wilson drives the ball on a line over second,” went on the voice. “Menken made a great attempt to spear it but couldn’t reach. A quick relay of the ball kept Maginn from getting beyond third, but on the throw-in Wilson reached second.”
“Men on second and third and no man out!” ejaculated Joe.
“Those fellows have got their batting clothes on,” commented Bob. “Did you notice that each one of them offered at the first ball pitched? I guess they’ve solved Roberts at last.”
That the manager of the Giants had reached the same conclusion was evident from the pause that followed and the subsequent notice that Compton had taken Roberts’ place in the box.
“Strike one!”
“Strike two!”
“That begins to sound better,” Jimmy comforted himself.
His satisfaction was of short duration.
“Ackerson hits to deep short. The ball took a high bound and Helmer by a brilliant effort knocked it down, but too late to get the runner at first. Maginn scored and Wilson reached third.”
“That makes two runs,” sighed Herb. “One more and they’ll tie the score.”
“And with two men on bases and nobody out, they’re almost sure to do that much at least,” muttered Bob. “It’s too bad to have the Giants blow the game just when they had it in their kit bags.”
The silence was almost painful as the boys waited for the next announcement.
“Ackerson steals second just beating Thompson’s good throw by a hook slide.”
Almost a groan went up in the crowded room. Some of the boys got so restless that they rose and paced the room, or sat forward in their chairs as though they were straining their eyes to look at the actual diamond.
“A single now will bring in two runs and put Pittsburgh in the lead,” groaned Jimmy.
“And with Krug, their clean-up man at the bat!” said Bob glumly.
“Strike one!”
“Ball one!”
“Ball two!”
“He’s trying to make him bite at bad ones,” commented Herb.
“Strike two!”
“Ball three!”
“Now he’s got Compton in a hole,” murmured Jimmy. “He’s got to put the next ball over.”
“And if he does, I’m afraid that Krug will kill it,” gloomed Joe.
There was a momentary pause.
“Krug hits a terrific drive to the box,” announced the voice. “Compton leaps into the air and spears it with his left hand. He throws to Albers and catches Wilson, who had left the bag, Albers hurls the ball to Menken and gets Ackerson, who was trying to scramble back to second. Triple play, three men out and the Giants win, three to two!”
There was a moment of stupefaction in the crowded room. Then a roar broke out that brought Mrs. Layton up to the room in a hurry under the impression that something dreadful had happened.
“It’s all right, Mother,” laughed Bob. “We’re only excited over the baseball game. It came out so unexpectedly that it took us all off our feet.”
“You seem to be all on your feet, as far as I can judge,” Mrs. Layton smiled back. “But you can make all the noise you want as long as you are happy,” and with a wave of her hand she left them.
“A triple play!” exclaimed Bob hilariously. “The thing that happens only once in a blue moon. Say, fellows, maybe we didn’t pick out a corking game to christen our radio with!”
“And almost as good as though we were right at the grounds,” cried Joe. “I’ve seen many a game, and I never got more real excitement over one than I’ve had this afternoon. I could almost hear my heart beat while I was wondering what Krug was going to do.”
“And just think what it will be when the World’s Series comes along in the fall!” chuckled Jimmy. “We’ll take in every game without going out of Clintonia.”
“That is, if it’s played in the East,” put in Herb. “It may not be so easy if it’s played in the West.”
“It doesn’t matter where it’s played,” rejoined Jimmy. “By the time fall comes, we’ll probably have improved our radio set so that we can listen in on Chicago just as easily as we have to-day on Newark. And, anyway, the results will be sent to the Newark station so that it can be broadcasted all over the East. We’ll take them all in, never you fear, and we won’t have to pay a fortune to speculators for the tickets either. But what is that I smell?” he broke off suddenly, sniffing the air that had become laden with savory odors.
“See his nose twitch,” gibed Joe. “Trust him to forget baseball or anything else when doughnuts are around.”
“Doughnuts!” exclaimed Jimmy, an expression of cherubic bliss coming on his face. “Can it be? Yes, there can be no mistake. It must be – it is – doughnuts!”
“Right the first time,” laughed Bob. “I didn’t want to say anything about it while the game was on, but Mother gave me a tip that she’d start making them so that we could have them fresh and hot by the time we were through. So come ahead downstairs, fellows, and if any of you get away without having your fill of about the niftiest doughnuts ever made, it will be your own fault.”
There was no need of a second invitation, and the boys, with Jimmy in the van, hurried downstairs where several big dishes heaped high with crisp, delicious doughnuts awaited them. They fell to at once, and the table was swept clear as though by magic.
“That puts the finishing touch on a perfect day,” sighed Jimmy, with perfect content.
“Right you are,” agreed Joe. “And say, fellows, wasn’t that a peach of a game?”
