Perhaps our readers would like to know what were the first words Susan Richardson uttered after she found her tongue.
"The first thing I'll do, when I get up to-morrow morning, shall be to spin some linen yarn as fine as I can spin it, scour and bleach it the best I know how, weave it, and if I don't make Tom Breslaw as handsome a pair of linen shirts as any man in this state ever had to his back, it will be because I can't."
The children all had to take a turn at the stone-hammer. Rob could strike with it, but could not swing it over his head; besides being younger, he was much less muscular than Clem, who was very large of his age. Sue could lift it to the height of her shoulders, Sally but a few inches. They now began to carry the iron to the shop. Clem and Rob took each an end of the churn-drill, but the girls insisted on taking hold in the middle, and entirely monopolized the conveyance of the drills, wedges, and smaller things,[Pg 64] notwithstanding the boys told them they should think it would look a great deal better for them to go into the house and help their mother get supper. All the satisfaction they got was, "It's nothing to you; mam said we might."
The first work William Richardson did in the shop was with the remnants of the kitchen shovel and tongs he had bought to repair his wife's tongs, and cutting a piece off the old crane, he repaired the andirons.
Sitting on the anvil, he now looked over the iron and steel spread in imposing array by the children over the shop, as a militia captain makes his company take open order on muster-day for the sake of show, reflecting in what way he should make the most of his treasures, when Clem, who had been examining the drills with great interest, striking one upon the other, and listening to the clear, sharp ring thus produced, so different from the dull sound emitted by the iron, said,—
"Father, what is steel?"
The parent, occupied with his reflections, neither heard nor heeded the question.
"Who don't know that, Clem?" replied Robert. "It's what makes father's axe and draw-shave cut: iron won't cut."
"I guess I know that as well as you do. But what makes steel cut any more'n iron? It looks just like it."
"'Cause it's steel."
[Pg 65]
"You know a great deal about it—don't you?"
"What is it, boys?" said the father, rousing up.
"What is steel, father?"
"It's made out of iron refined and hardened, so as to give it temper."
"What do they do to it?"
"I don't know; it's done in England."
"Will the temper stay there forever?"
"Yes; you can draw it most all out if you heat it, but if you put it in cold water it will come back again."
"What makes you, when you want to burn the handle out of your axe, put wet cloths all over the edge of it?"
"Because I don't want to heat the steel and start the temper."
"What if you did? couldn't you put it into cold water and make it come back?"
"Perhaps I shouldn't get the same temper: if the axe cuts well, I prefer to let well enough alone; if I spoiled it, I should have to go clear to the village to get John Drew to temper it over."
"But, father, I seed you take and put the new broad axe in the fire with no cloth on it, nor nothing, and heat it real hot, so when I spit on it it sissed."
"Yes, my son; but I didn't do that to take the handle out, but to draw the temper. It was[Pg 66] so high tempered it broke, and I couldn't do anything with it; so I thought, as it was of no use as it was, I might as well try to draw down the temper, and if I got too much out, it would only be going to Drew after all. Do you understand now, my son?"
"Yes, father; but I heard you tell mother you meant to try to temper an axe."
"I mean to try, dear. That's what I got the iron and steel for."
"Won't you spoil it?"
"I expect I shall, a good many, before I learn."
"Father, I want to see you learn. Can I see you spoil the axes?"
"Yes, child, I shall want you to help me."
"Think you can learn, father?"
"I guess so."
"Then I can learn too. Perhaps there's a man in the steel what lives there and makes it cut."
"If there is, he must have a pretty warm berth sometimes."
"Father, when you learn and I learn, can I make me a hatchet?"
"And me too?" said Robert.
"Yes, I guess so."
Now we intend as briefly as possible to answer Clem's first question. It would be very ridiculous, if a good-looking, nice-feeling boy in[Pg 67] the high school, being asked what made his knife cut, should have to stick his thumb in his mouth, look like a dunce, and say, "I don't know."
We must begin with and say a few things in relation to iron, from which steel is made.
The iron ore is put into the furnace, a layer of iron ore and another of coal, together with lime, either in the shape of oyster-shells or stone lime. It is there melted and run into large junks called pigs. The lime causes all the flint, sand, and earthy matters to melt and separate from the iron, which, being heaviest, drops to the bottom of the furnace, while the slag, that is lighter; floats on top, and is taken off. This is cast iron; you see pigs of it piled up on the wharves in seaports, the outside incrusted with the sand in which it was run, and looking as rough, some of it, as the cinders of a smith's forge. It is highly charged with carbon, coarse, hard, and brittle; can neither be filed, welded, nor worked, under the hammer; is more or less filled with slag and other impurities, and fit only, when melted again and purified, to be cast into pots, pans, stoves, wheels, and various articles. It is now melted two or three times more, and slightly hammered, to beat off some of the slag. Then it is made red hot, and put under steam-hammers. In old times it was hammered by water power, or by men with[Pg 68] sledges. This is done in order to take out the carbon, that renders it hard and brittle.
Probably by this time you wish to know what carbon is, to extract which from the iron has cost so much labor. Should I give you the definition of the books, you would probably want that definition defined.
Many boys have seen a diamond: that is carbon in a solid form: pit coal is solid carbon mixed with sulphur, phosphoros, and other elements. Charcoal is solid carbon in a nearly pure state. Carbon has so strong an affinity for oxygen, that when any of the substances that contain it are burned, they give up their carbon, that instantly mingles with the oxygen of the air.
Thus, when iron is heated, its pores are opened, the carbon on the outside is carried away by the air, and more is liberated from within, to pass off in the same way; the object of the frequent meltings and the hammering is to expose new surfaces to contact with the oxygen of the air, and get rid of the carbon, just as the farmer turns his hay, and brings new surfaces to the sun, to dry off the dew.
As the result of this we have wrought iron, soft, tough, of close and fibrous, instead of a crystalline or granular texture, that may be made red hot and quenched in water without hardening or becoming brittle; may be welded, split, punched,[Pg 69] made into wheel-tires, hoes, shovels, axes, hammers, pitchforks, knives, or razors. But there is one grand defect in this iron, although it is so tractable that it may be worked under the hammer into a thousand different shapes at the will of the smith; may be drawn into wire so fine as to be woven in a loom or made into a watch spring that weighs only the tenth of a grain, and rolled into leaves as thin as paper, insomuch that a pound of raw iron costing a cent affords steel sufficient for seventy thousand watches, worth one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. It is, however, too soft to form a cutting edge that will stand. Make a pitchfork of it, it is harder work to stick it into the hay than it is to pitch the hay, as we know from experience; an axe, it will take all your strength to cut through the bark, and you must grind it every hour; a razor, you can shave but once, and then with tears of agony. Make a hammer of it, and it batters up forthwith; a punch, it bends; a drill, at the first stroke of the sledge it turns.
What next?
Troughs are made of fire-brick, from eight to sixteen feet in length, and two or three feet in depth. The troughs are placed in a furnace, and on the bottom of each of them a mixture of powdered charcoal, ashes, and salt. Bars of wrought iron are laid upon this mixture half an inch apart, to the amount, perhaps, of twelve[Pg 70] tons, and covered with charcoal; then another layer of iron and more charcoal, till the trough is full. The top is covered with cement that has been used before, and damp sand. The fire is then made in such a manner that the heat passes all around the troughs, and is kept up from six to ten days, according to the size of the bars and the purposes for which the contents of the troughs are wanted.
The heat of the furnace opens the pores of the iron, and sets free the carbon contained in the charcoal; and as the cement prevents it from escaping and uniting with the oxygen of the air, it enters the pores of the iron and impregnates it. The fire is now suffered to die out, and the metal is taken from the troughs. It is no longer iron, but steel. We now have that which is the "king of metals," and by the aid of which the skilful mechanic can do what would once have been thought miraculous.
The surface of this material is covered with blisters, hence it is called blistered steel. It resounds when struck. Iron once bent remains so; but steel is so elastic that it may be bent to an angle of forty-five degrees, and will spring back to its original position. It is said that Andrew of Ferrara manufactured swords so elastic, that the point of the blade would bend to touch the hilt, and spring back again uninjured. The quality of steel depends upon the quality of the iron from which it[Pg 71] is made. The English have carried the art to great perfection, nevertheless are obliged to import the iron from which their razor-steel is made from Sweden. This blistered steel is the kind that lay upon the floor of William Richardson's shop, and in the possession of which he so exulted.
Now you have an article that gives to the axe its temper, the fork its point, the mainspring of the watch its elasticity, and to all tools an enduring edge that may be so attempered as to pierce the hardest rocks and crush the hardest stones; that may be welded to iron, and thus economized. Do you think it strange that Will Richardson rejoiced at the acquisition in his circumstances, or reflected long and seriously in respect to the manner in which he should use his treasures to the best advantage?
And now, perhaps, some thoughtful boy may say,—
"Why be at so great expense of labor and material to take carbon from iron, and then set right at work to put it back again?"
Because there is too much in the cast iron, and so it is all taken out, and just the right amount put in.
"Why not, then, when decarbonizing the cast iron, leave just enough in, and save the labor of three processes?"
This has been attempted, but the results have not given satisfaction. It is not so easy to[Pg 72] ascertain when the right amount is left in as when it is put in. The latter can be determined very accurately by means of try-bars, the ends of which are left protruding from the troughs. When, upon drawing one of them out, it is found to be blistered, the process is done. Although blistered steel be so superior to iron, it has imperfections, that impair the quality of edge tools manufactured from it—the result of imperfections in the iron of which it is made. At times there will be differences even in the same bar; one portion will be softer than another, or there will be flaws and shelly places.
When the steel made from such iron is wrought into a tool and ground, the edge is uneven, serrated, softer in one place than another. This amounts to a fatal defect in those articles where great and uniform hardness is required, as in screw-taps, wire-drawers, plates, dies, and stamps for coining and engraving. It is evident, as the carbon is introduced from the surface, that there will be less in the middle than at the outside of the bars; thus the steel is not of a uniform character. In order to obviate this, the bars of steel are made into a fagot heated in a great forge, welded together with a hammer worked by machinery, and drawn into bars, which closes up all the fissures and renders it tough and compact. It is now called shear steel, because shears for dressing cloth were[Pg 73] made of it, and it will take a better polish than blistered steel. But the process is not yet completed. Bars of blistered steel that have been the most highly charged with carbon, and are therefore the hardest, are broken into short pieces,—those being put together that are of a like hardness,—and placed in pots of fire-clay, about thirty pounds in a pot, with covers fitting perfectly tight. The pots are placed in a furnace, and the steel in them melted, when it is poured into cast iron moulds, and made into ingots. These are under a tilt-hammer drawn into bars of all sizes. This is cast steel, and it is evident, must be of uniform quality and hardness. This process was discovered in 1750, by a citizen of Sheffield, and for many years kept a secret. It is of this steel that the best tools, swords, knives, and instruments of all kinds are manufactured. But not even shear steel was within the reach of most of the smiths at the date of our story, very little being imported, save in the form of tools.
There is another property pertaining to steel. When heated to a white heat or cherry red, according to its quality, and quenched in water, it becomes hard as glass, and very brittle. The higher the temperature, and the more suddenly it is cooled, the harder and more brittle it becomes. It is this quality that renders steel the "king of metals," and has given to the smith[Pg 74] power over all material substances. Even the diamond is forced to yield the palm, for recently steel has been tempered to take its place in cutting glass.
The result of William's reflections was, that, in order to draw and work the large iron now in his possession, he must have better tools and a heavy sledge, as he could upon occasion get one of his neighbors to strike for him. John Bradford lived nearest: he knew that John would be glad to accommodate him, and take his pay in blacksmith work; besides, by employing the same person all the time, that individual would acquire facility, and learn to strike fair.
Commencing with the churn-drill, he cut it off just below the great bulb in the middle, "upset" the end by striking it endwise upon the anvil, and by the aid of Clem, with his stone-hammer, formed it into something like the proper shape for the face end of a sledge. He then partially formed the "pean," or top portion, that in a smith's sledge is wedge-shaped. He wished to punch the hole for the handle before cutting off the rest of the drill, in order to hold it by that part, as he had no tongs that were large enough. To make this hole in so thick a piece needed, he thought, a steel punch, or at least a steel-pointed one. The material was at hand in that part of the drill he had just cut off, only wanting to be pointed.
[Pg 75]
There was more length than was either necessary or convenient; but he resolved to point first, and shorten it afterwards. Ignorant of the nature of steel, or the degree of heat it will endure, he supposed, as it was very hard, it should be made all the hotter, blew up the fire, and treated it just as he would a piece of wrought iron. The drill had been imported from England,—as were nearly all the tools in that day,—was pointed with the best of double shear steel, and hardened all that it would bear. The result was, that the moment he struck it with his hammer, it crumbled and fell to pieces, like so much brick, till, as there was but about four inches of the steel, nothing remained except the iron to which it had been welded.
Richardson stood looking at the fragments in utter despair. To lose that steel was almost like losing a limb; but it was gone past redemption. It had cost him something to learn that steel will not bear so much heat as iron. Afraid to meddle with the other end of the drill, he resolved, since it needed very little alteration, to take off the corners and square the end on the grindstone; but it proved so hard that he soon gave up the attempt, and felt that he must run the risk.
"I'll try it," he said; "no doubt John Drew spoiled plenty of steel when he was apprentice, and had a master at his back, to boot."
[Pg 76]
Well aware that the other steel was burned, he watched it narrowly, put on plenty of sand, and before it was white hot, worked it without difficulty.
All he knew in regard to tempering was, that steel becomes hard by being quenched in water while red hot, and if plunged in water after that period, less so; while if suffered to cool of itself, it is not so much harder than iron. He was ignorant of a fact most important to a smith, and by the knowledge of which he is enabled to produce any degree of temper he pleases, after practice and experience of the different qualities of the various kinds of steel; to wit, that the gradations from extreme hardness to extreme softness are denoted by the different colors it assumes while cooling.
Trying with a file the punch that had now cooled on the forge, he found that it was quite soft, and supposed it needed hardening. Heating it as hot as he dared, he plunged it in water, held it there till cold, and then twisted a withe around it for a handle.
He now took a welding heat on his iron, that it might punch the more easily, and set Robert to hold it, while Clem held the punch. So much time was occupied in placing the iron and punch, and instructing the boys how to hold both, that it had cooled, and become harder to punch; nevertheless, he resolved to try it, and[Pg 77] lifting the great beetle, struck with all his might upon the punch. At the second blow it broke in two, as short as a pipe-stem.
Clem, who had followed every motion, seeing the blank look of his father, began to cry; while Rob ran to tell his mother.
"Jackass that I was," he said, "to make that punch so hard. Didn't I know that I could punch hot iron with an iron punch, and have done it?"
Finding that there was still a little steel left, he put it in the fire again, let it cool to a black heat before he quenched it, then punched his hole, and finished the sledge. By patient perseverance, and after many ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in learning to weld steel to iron, and made himself several pairs of tongs of different shapes and sizes, also flat punches of files, but of low temper, also chisels. He did not dare to make them hard, as he did the punch; so he let them become almost cold before quenching.
He shod Montague's horse, making all the nails and two new shoes; but he was all day about it, and had nothing better to pare the hoof than a jack-knife. No matter for that—the thing once done, and done right: facility is the result of practice.