By Harry Harrison
A steel road below the ocean isn't any longer a dream. Captain Augustine Washington and his crew of navvies are already using the tunnel below the Atlantic in an heroic feat of building. For Gus, a descendant of the notorious George Washington, carried out as a traitor after the conflict of Lexington, this is often the chance to redeem the kin identify. yet his appealing fiancee has been compelled to finish their engagement, and there's a ruthless and sinister plot to smash the tunnel - and Gus himself...
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Extra resources for A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah!
The hubbub died away as Washington took a drawing from his case and unfolded it and held it up for their inspection. "This is how. You will note that this is a section of tunnel some ninety feet in length and constructed of reinforced concrete. It contains two rail tunnels, side by side, and a smaller service tunnel below. This is what the tunnel we are driving now looks like. The smaller tunnel is known as an adit and is driven first. In this manner we can test the rock and soil that we shall be digging through and know what problems face the larger tunnels.
Waterline weight 198,000 pounds, Mr. Washington, 240 feet from stem to stern, 72 feet from the bottom of the step to the lookout's position top of the central tail fin. An exercise in superlatives, and all of them truthful I must admit. We have a 2,000 horsepower turbine in the tail that does nothing more than pump air for the boundary layer control and deflected, slipstream, increases our lift to triple that of an ordinary wing. Why we'll be airborne at 50 miles an hour and inside 400 feet. Spray-suppressor grooves on both sides of the hull keep down the flying scud and smooth the sea for us.
I can," Gus said, and his voice was hoarse. The two intent men then saw his calm, almost uncomprehending expression change to one that appeared to be that of utter despair, so profound that the priestly physician sprang forward with a cry only to be restrained by the raised hand of his patient who waved him back, at the same time drawing in a deep breath that had the hollow quality of a moan of pain, then exhaling it in what could only be a shuddering sigh. "I remember now," he said. "I remember everything.
A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah! by Harry Harrison