perfectly quiet, not fifty people know anything about it. But that’s my
way, always been my way. Wait till you’re ready, that’s the idea; and
when you’re ready, zzip!–let her go!”
“Well, Colonel, I’ve never seen a man that I’ve had such unbounded
confidence in as you. When you say a thing right out, I always feel as
if that ends it; as if that is evidence, and proof, and everything else.”
The old earl was profoundly pleased and touched.
“I’m glad you believe in me, Washington; not everybody is so just.”
“I always have believed in you; and I always shall as long as I live.”
“Thank you, my boy. You shan’t repent it. And you can’t.” Arrived in
the ” laboratory,” the earl continued, “Now, cast your eye around this
room–what do you see? Apparently a junk-shop; apparently a hospital
connected with a patent office–in reality, the mines of Golconda in
disguise! Look at that thing there. Now what would you take that thing
to be?”
“I don’t believe I could ever imagine.”
“Of course you couldn’t. It’s my grand adaptation of the phonograph to
the marine service. You store up profanity in it for use at sea.
You know that sailors don’t fly around worth a cent unless you swear
at them–so the mate that can do the best job of swearing is the most
valuable man. In great emergencies his talent saves the ship. But a
ship is a large thing, and he can’t be everywhere at once; so there have
been times when one mate has lost a ship which could have been saved if
they had had a hundred. Prodigious storms, you know. Well, a ship can’t
afford a hundred mates; but she can afford a hundred Cursing Phonographs,
and distribute them all over the vessel–and there, you see, she’s armed
at every point. Imagine a big storm, and a hundred of my machines all
cursing away at once–splendid spectacle, splendid!–you couldn’t hear
yourself think. Ship goes through that storm perfectly serene–she’s
just as safe as she’d be on shore.”
“It’s a wonderful idea. How do you prepare the thing?”
“Load it-simply load it.”
“How?”
“Why you just stand over it and swear into it.”
“That loads it, does it?”
“Yes–because every word it collars, it keeps–keeps it forever. Never
wears out. Any time you turn the crank, out it’ll come. In times of
great peril, you can reverse it, and it’ll swear backwards. That makes a
sailor hump himself!”
“O, I see. Who loads them?–the mate?”
“Yes, if he chooses. Or I’ll furnish them already loaded. I can hire an
expert for $75 a month who will load a hundred and fifty phonographs in
150 hours, and do it easy. And an expert can furnish a stronger article,
of course, than the mere average uncultivated mate could. Then you see,
all the ships of the world will buy them ready loaded–for I shall have
them loaded in any language a customer wants. Hawkins, it will work the
grandest moral reform of the 19th century. Five years from now, all the
swearing will be done by machinery–you won’t ever hear a profane word
come from human lips on a ship. Millions of dollars have been spent by
the churches, in the effort to abolish profanity in the commercial
marine. Think of it–my name will live forever in the affections of good
men as the man, who, solitary and alone, accomplished this noble and
elevating reform.”
“O, it is grand and beneficent and beautiful. How did you ever come to
think of it? You have a wonderful mind. How did you say you loaded the
machine?”
“O, it’s no trouble-perfectly simple. If you want to load it up loud and
strong, you stand right over it and shout. But if you leave it open and
all set, it’ll eavesdrop, so to speak–that is to say, it will load
itself up with any sounds that are made within six feet of it. Now I’ll
show you how it works. I had an expert come and load this one up
yesterday. Hello, it’s been left open–it’s too bad–still I reckon it
hasn’t had much chance to collect irrelevant stuff. All you do is to