Chapter 20 Tom Swift and His Great Oil Gusher by Victor Appleton
CAPPING THE GUSHER
For a moment the men about the well stared at one another in silent consternation. Then,
“Watch yourselves!” yelled the foreman. “There’s oil coming, and coming fast! Get the capping rigging ready, men, and move lively!”
The hissing sound grew louder. Suddenly the drill came hurtling out of the well, impelled by the tremendous pressure behind it, and shot through the heavy beams of the derrick as though they had been cardboard. Following the drill came a shower of sand and small stones. Those about the well were forced to race for shelter until the last of the debris had been blown out by the force of the escaping gas and the shower ceased.
Then the men came racing back, bringing with them the valve and clamps that were to be used to cap the well after the oil started to flow. As yet, nothing had come from the well but gas, but they knew the oil could not be far off. Under the terrific pressure of the outflowing gas, the heavy derrick began to crumble, and in a short time the whole upper part of it came apart and the stout timbers were whirled aloft and scattered far and wide like so many matchsticks.
The hissing grew louder, and a heavy rumbling sound vibrated along the pipe line, growing steadily louder and more menacing. In a few minutes more this sound had reached a huge crescendo, and then, with a shriek like that of an imprisoned demon liberated, the oil reached the surface and shot a hundred feet into the air in a huge, writhing black geyser that flared out at the top and deluged everything within a radius of hundreds of feet with raw glistening petroleum. As the oil fell, it rapidly collected into large pools, and started running off in every direction where there was a slight slope.
For a few seconds after the tremendous fountain started, Tom stood almost petrified by the magnitude of the spectacle. But the sight of the precious oil running to waste in such huge quantities galvanized Ned and Mr. Damon into action. Mr. Damon danced around, wild with excitement.
“Bless my oil drill!” he shouted. “We’ve struck it! We’ve struck it!”
“That wonderful drill of yours has done the trick!” cried Ned, wringing his friend’s hand.
“We’ve got the oil,” said Tom, who, though pale with excitement, still kept his head. “The thing to do now is to save it.”
The capping outfit with which they hoped to stem the tremendous force of the gusher was of a special design that Tom had worked out. It consisted of an extra heavy gate valve set in a cast steel framework, with heavy steel clamps for holding the entire assembly to the end of the well pipe. In addition to the actual valve and holding mechanism, Tom had contrived an ingenious screw mechanism with which to place the valve over the stream of oil.
“Get busy with that valve,” shouted Tom, his voice rising high above the din.
This was no easy task. In many similar wells, attempts had been made to imprison the oil with heavy timber boxes and framework, but the force of the oil stream is so great that these devices were usually shot up bodily into the air, and only came down in the form of kindling wood. Tom knew this, and in designing his capping mechanism had placed his reliance on steel as being the material best suited to withstand the strain.
Now the time had come when his mechanism was to be put to the test. The riggers soon had the valve and clamping framework as close to the well as they could get, also the sliding carriage, with its rails bolted to concrete foundations that had been prepared for it previously. Everything was now ready for the test, and in feverish excitement they prepared to move the valve over the well.
“Steady, men, steady!” shouted Tom.
The spray of oil and vapor was so dense near the well that it was impossible to get closer than about twenty-five feet and breathe. As it was, every man of the party was soaked and drenched with the clinging oil. Their clothes hung limply about them, and were so saturated and heavy that it was difficult for them even to move.
“Keep your heads, boys,” cautioned Tom, who was now as cool and self-possessed as ever.
Tom had foreseen that his apparatus would have to be worked at some distance from the well, and he had provided a long handle made of piping, which was connected to the screw mechanism. Now the foreman and several of his men began to turn the screw, and the valve moved slowly toward the roaring, spouting stream of oil.
It seemed almost incredible that any mechanism devised by man could withstand that tremendous force. Some of the men actually expected to see the heavy steel castings bent and broken as easily as a man would snap a stick across his knee. But Tom’s designing had been thorough, and he had personally superintended the construction of the mechanism from his plans. Everything was extra heavy and of the best obtainable quality, as it had need to be for such an undertaking as this. When the valve reached the casing, it held true to its place, and the shaft of oil was diverted slightly to one side. The men held their breath as with anxious eyes they followed the progress of the valve across the casing.
Slowly but steadily the drilling crew turned at the screw, slowly the valve moved onward over the casing. The stream of oil roared and hissed as it writhed and twisted about this obstacle, and seemed to be trying to tear it bodily from its anchors. A heavy spray filled the air, and although the men at the screw were half-browned in oil, they stuck gamely to their post.
Farther and farther the column of oil bent, smashing against the steel that barred its path as though determined to destroy it by the force of its mighty onrush. Inexorably the heavy steel carriage, man’s challenge to nature’s might, moved onward, as steady, unhurried, and invincible as fate itself.
Now the column of oil was deflected at an acute angle, farther and farther, until suddenly it divided into two columns, one roaring straight upward again through the valve, while the other was deflected more and more toward the horizontal.
“It’s working all right!” cried Ned exultantly.
“Seems to be,” agreed Tom, watching like a hawk.
Gradually the vertical stream, thin at first, became thicker and heavier, and the other stream grew thinner, until finally the entire shaft of oil was roaring and rushing through the open valve.
Tom and Ned shouted and cheered, while Mr. Damon blessed everything he could think of.
“Bless my dividends!” he cried. “Tom, my boy, you’re a wonder-worker, a magician!”
“I knew you’d do it, old boy!” exclaimed Ned, as he clapped his chum on the shoulder.
“It does look as though we’d won out,” admitted Tom, less exuberant but no less excited than his friends. “But now let’s see if the valve will hold when we close it. The pressure is going to be something fierce.”
The drillers were hardly less elated, and shouted and pounded each other unmercifully. Then they fell to work again, and soon everything was ready for closing the valve.
Tom had made another long handle to connect with the wheel of the valve, but he was too impatient to wait for this to be used. Drawing a long breath, he dashed through the spray of oil close to the well and started turning the hand wheel that operated the gate valve.
From a circular column, the shaft of oil assumed a crescent shape, growing narrower as the gate closed. Thinner and thinner grew the stream, until at length the valve was entirely closed. Then there came a tense moment of waiting. With the tremendous pressure of the imprisoned oil backing up against it, would the valve mechanism stand the strain? Would the framework supporting the valve hold?