It didn’t look like any bridge she’d ever been on. For one thing, there weren’t any portholes to view the sea, though behind them a bank of large television screens supplied a panoramic, 360-degree view of the sea around them. That labeled “Main Periscope” provided a view of the huge deck from the center of the ship at varying magnifications. In addition, a comfortable leather sofa and, facing it, two leather wing chairs, with a smoked glass coffee table between, were clustered at one end of the compartment. Nearby stood a big polished conference table with a dozen chairs.
Mr. Okada explained the function of the various instruments in language too technical for her to follow and then led them through the door beyond the conference table into another passageway, painted a light green.
“Now, here to the right is Captain Kerry Powell’s stateroom and office. Other officers have their own spacious quarters. The crew occupies individual compartments farther down. Between the two areas is the mess hall, recreation room with card tables, dart board, weight machines, and so on, the laundry, the library, and other service areas.
“And in this room,” said Engineer Okada, opening the door to a compartment in which several large models were on display, “we have working models of the Sun King and its various components on a scale of 1:500. Every major element is duplicated here to show visitors exactly how the ship functions.”
He picked up a wooden pointer and indicated the side of the vessel.
“Kindly observe that although the freeboard is only 614 centimeters, the Sun King draws 2,810 centimeters, or 92 feet, of water. While this may seem considerable– and in fact the harbor here at Simonstown had to be dredged to accommodate it–most modern tankers draw considerably more. Moreover, because of its great diameter, the Sun King at sea is approximately as stable as a small island.”
Okada took hold of the rim of the model and flexed it.
“Articulated,” he explained. “At seven-meter intervals. This is to prevent flexure in high seas that might cause metal fatigue, which eventually could tear the ship apart. It also allowed us to build each unit separately in Japan on an assembly line, for final fitting together here. And, it goes without saying, once it reaches its final destination, it can quickly be broken down into eight sections–like slices of pie–to be towed back here by oceangoing tugs for reassembly and reuse.”
He moved on to the next exhibit.
“Now here see the Sun King’s raison d’etre. This piston is a scale model of one of the ship’s 28,100 pistons. Each is of steel, hollow, 3.5 meters in diameter and 2 meters high. With their supporting frames, connecting rods, crankshafts, gimbels, and ancillary equipment, they take up most of the vessel’s interior below this deck. Each piston moves independently of the others, transferring the power generated by its vertical motion of two connecting
rods, thence to a crankshaft. I need not tell you,” he added with a smile, “that the pistons derive their power from the up-and-down movement of the waves over which the Sun King rides. When wave motion is considerable, as during a storm, the pistons oscillate to the limit of their possible travel, which is 18 meters. Since they move randomly, unfortunately they cannot be linked to common crankshafts. This drawback imposes weight and efficiency penalties because as a result each piston must drive its own electrical generator.”
“That’s true,” broke in Captain Kerry Powell, a ruddy-faced mustachioed son of the sea with a plug of tobacco in his cheek, who had entered the compartment behind them. “But don’t forget to tell our guests that the penalties have compensations.”
“Oh, dear, no,” said Mr. Okada. “Allow me, Madame Red Cloud and gentlemen, to introduce Captain Kerry Powell, the commander of this historic vessel.”
There were handshakes all around.
“Perhaps you will be good enough to continue the explanations, Captain. There’s no one better qualified.”
“Good of you to say so, Toshi. Well, then, as Mr. Okada was telling you, our cellular approach has certain advantages. If a single piston breaks down, it does not affect the others. We can repair it at our leisure. This circumstance, however, required the installation of a lightweight generator for each piston. The electricity thus generated is used mainly for the Alamo’s refrigeration and propulsion.”
“Refrigeration!” exclaimed Jennifer Red Cloud in spite of her resolution to keep silent. “Why on earth would you want to refrigerate an iceberg!”
Captain Powell looked at Ripley Forte in embarrassment. Didn’t she know? And if she didn’t, would Forte want her to be told?
“Tell her, Kerry,” said Forte. “No secrets here.”
“Refrigeration,” said a relieved Kerry Powell, “as you know, has two distinct applications as applied to the Alamo. I will consider only one of them, as demonstrated by the next model.”
He moved across the compartment to a cutaway of a series of enormous telescoping pipes installed at intervals of fourteen meters across the midline of the Sun King.
“There are ninety-eight of these pipes,” he went on. “They can be lowered to a depth of 480 meters. In section they are triangular, as that the knifelike leading edge offers a minimum of resistance, while the flat trailing base of the triangle provides maximum resistance.”
Jennifer Red Cloud shook her head.
“Sounds self-defeating, doesn’t it, Mrs. Red Cloud? But it isn’t. You see, if the Alamo’s course is with the surface current, which is usually a couple of hundred meters deep, we lower the vanes that distance to take full advantage of the push against the flat surface of the vanes. In effect, they act as sails. As you are aware, beneath the warmer surface current there is often a layer of colder water which may range anywhere from 200 to 1,500 meters in depth. Often it is a countercurrent, but sometimes, as with the Benguela Current flowing up the west coast of Africa, both currents go in the same direction. When this happens, we lower the vanes still farther to profit from the additional propulsion of the deep cold waters.
“Colder waters, you will observe. That is the reason, beyond the structural strength of triangular forms, the vanes double as pipes. You see, the surface of the Benguela Current is about 12 degrees Celsius just to the west of Cape Town. Farther north, off Mocamedes Province in southern Angola, it warms to 16 degrees. Off Cunza Sul Province 300 miles still farther north, it becomes 20 degrees. Now observe that beneath these warm, northward-flowing waters there is a second layer with a temperature of 10 degrees, and a third below that of 5 degrees. Both also flow northward, the lowest layer only 450 meters below the surface. When we encounter such ideal conditions, we lower the vanes to their fullest extent to get the extra push. And something else we get”– he said, passing on to the next model –“is this. Here you see the sternmost 180 degrees of the Sun King with a series of water-discharge ports along the periphery. I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you what they’re for.”
“Please do,” said Mrs. Red Cloud. “Of course I understand their significance in a general way, but you make
the details so fascinating.”
“Well, of course, if you say so, ma’am,” said the flattered Kerry Powell. “You’ll remember from the Salvation’s tragic experience that the greatest menace in iceberg transport is catastrophic calving. The next greatest danger is the effect of wave action on the berg’s leading edge, the accumulation of stresses which eventually pound the berg to pieces. The stress and ablation naturally intensify in tropic waters, which melt the berg’s outer shell ice and destroy its crystalline integrity.
“Enter the multipurpose vanes. They suck up cold water from the depths, pass it through the Claude condensator to generate electricity, then out through the ninety-eight stern vents. They thus lay down a curtain of cold water that cools the warmer upper layers, retarding melting on the surface. Furthermore, since cold water sinks, the discharge water also inhibits melting and ablation across the entire leading edge of the berg.”
“But the pumping of such enormous amounts of water must require correspondingly enormous amounts of energy,” Jennifer Red Cloud pointed out.
“Which are provided by the constant wave action on the piston array.”
“But what about the calm waters of the horse latitudes around the equator?” she persisted. “There the sea is often as smooth as glass.”
Captain Powell looked at her with grudging respect. He had begun to believe she had no conception of what he was trying to explain. Obviously, she had just been leading him on.
“Next exhibit, ma’am,” he said. “As you say, the horse latitudes, that is, between 30 degrees north and 30 degrees south of the equator, frequently have a high barometric pressure and consequent calms. As a compensation, there is usually little cloud cover to obscure the equatorial sun. This model shows the Sun King’s weather deck, made up of one-meter-square solar panels. Each computer-controlled panel rotates so that the sun’s rays strike perpendicularly, capturing solar energy and converting it to electricity about 21 percent more efficiently than power derived from waves of 140-centimeter amplitude.”