Suppose, like the melons, Gaius mused, the steam was held in so it could not escape around the side of that paddle wheel, but had to turn it to get out, would it? At first the answer was no. Being sensible steam, it would take the easy way out. Why lift a weight when you can lift a small bob! So, put a brick on the bob? It would either turn the wheel, lift the bob, or blow up, whichever was easiest.
If it could blow up, it had quite significant power. You could do something with that power. Put a brick on the bob, and build the walls of the kettle thicker, now the steam had to turn the wheel! Except it wouldn't. It would always go around the side of the paddle.
How could a paddle be enclosed? As far as he could see, it couldn't. You could, in principle, build a housing to encase the paddle, but there would still be gaps between the paddle and the wall. Amongst other things, to do any good, the paddle had to be of a reasonable size, and you could not make anything that large and get it to fit together tightly enough. And even if you could, if the power came from the steam, as everyone said, to get more power you would need more steam. That was a dinky little kettle, but it could not easily be made bigger. To be practical, it would have to be made in parts, and how could you join the parts together?
The short answer was, you couldn't. Superficially, the problem was to keep more steam in and get it to do more work. Fixing the valve was easy, but it was then the problems began. There was no way to make a big enough steam generator, and there was no way to make the steam turn the wheel, rather than fly off into the air.
This steam device looked like a great idea, but a useful steam engine was clearly impossible. Except for that wretched prophecy! Athene, or whoever or whatever that was, seemed convinced it would work. But how?
Chapter 21
Gaius never ceased to be surprised by the fertility of the Black Lands. The sheer lushness of the crops was beyond belief, and almost equally beyond belief was the abrupt end of the lushness that occurred in some places. When the water stopped, the desert began, the harshest place he had ever seen, and the boundary between lushness and desert could be as little as a pace or so wide. This ranch was different. There was a broader boundary, and grapes were being harvested.
This was the property of his family, and Gaius had come to arrange family business, ensuring the shipment of more corn and wine. Egypt, prior to the Roman invasion, had been owned by the Pharaohs, and all workers worked for them. Greece had operated similarly, with workers working for their city state and spending their time dodging the continual wars, and it was in part much for this reason that Roman conquest had been so easy, as just prior to the wars, general corruption led to a breakdown of the economies. During Cleopatra's flirtation with Julius, considerable tracts of land were acquired by certain Roman families, and in particular, by his stub of the Claudian gens. Eventually Augustus claimed all of Egypt as his personal property, but there was one person whom even Augustus could not dominate: Livia. As such, some Claudian property was not appropriated, and his family managed to keep up a good trade with Rome.
The deals were done, all well within his father's guidelines. The Egyptians were also happy, for besides running the ranch, they were permitted a certain level of private enterprise, and since Gaius was expected to join a legion in Judea, a place where their trading activities had lost a number of caravans, they were very content. A Roman tribune could easily arrange for an escort, and even a hint of legionary protection would dissuade most thieves. Killing to steal Roman property was a reasonably quick path to the cross.
The workers were bringing in the grapes in their large wicker baskets, and the juice was quickly pressed out of them. It was so pleasant sitting in the shade; far better than working in the sun! An attractive young woman had brought him a tumbler of beer, and he sat back to sip. It was a strange drink, Egyptian beer, but it grew on you. He watched as another batch of grapes were unloaded and the arms of the press turned. He could see the juice trickling into the container below.
"It's good to watch work," Gaius grinned, then he turned to Timothy and added, "Unless you have others slaving away, you've got to do it yourself!"
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Timothy countered dryly.
"Heavens, no!" Gaius laughed. "Far better to advance by the sweat of someone else's brow."
"Yes, I can see you're really committed to the idea of reducing other people's labour."
"Let me make an observation to you," Gaius smiled. "A press like that gets the same juice as ten treaders, and you don't even have dirty feet in the wine."
"So two people turning the lever produce as much as ten slaves," Timothy pointed out. "Now if that procedure could be replicated. ."
"How many wine presses do you see?" Gaius interrupted.
"Eight. Why?"
"So instead of ten treaders, you have sixteen men using presses. The number of slaves has increased. The difference is, they make more juice, more quickly. So, the number of slaves actually increases. It's just that productivity also greatly increases, and the slave-owner gets richer. So guess what happens."
"What?"
"He can afford to buy more slaves!" Gaius said triumphantly. "So the device built to reduce the need for labour actually increases the demand for slaves."
"There is one small point wrong with your analysis," Timothy offered.
"Which is?"
"You don't need sixteen men on the presses. If you had watched a bit more carefully, there are six. A pair tighten one press, then move on to the next, and eventually come back to tighten it further."
"Shouldn't let it get loose," Gaius shrugged. "That's not efficient."
"It doesn't get loose!" The voice from the beer maid.
"It doesn't?" Gaius turned towards her, then added with a touch of contempt in his voice, "Then why are they tightening it from time to time?"
"When the juice comes out, the grapes need less space," she said, then shrunk back. She might be correct, but she was required to maintain silence. Then she looked up to see her overseer bearing down towards her. She shrunk back even further.
Gaius noticed her action, looked towards the overseer, then smiled at her and said, "Go and get me some more beer. I'll have a word with. ."
"You! Back to your quarters. I'll. ."
"Please?" Gaius said to the overseer. The word might have been polite, but the tone was that of a Claudian used to command.
"I'll see that she gets suitably. ."
"Rewarded?" Gaius interrupted in the same superior tone.
"What?" The overseer was completely puzzled.
"I presume she was to be rewarded for good service," Gaius said coldly, and the menace of his tone could not be missed. "That was your intention, I presume?" he added, his voice now harsh and threatening.
"Well, yes, of course, illustrious. ."
"Good! Make sure it is done. I shall check."
"Er, yes sir." The overseer backed away, then turned and made sure he was somewhere else.
"If you're going to be a slave," Timothy nodded wryly, "being young and pretty almost certainly gets you out of some trouble, if not into other trouble."
"If you're going to make an important observation," Gaius countered, "it helps to make it in front of someone who will appreciate it."
"You're going to claim you're taken with her brains?" Timothy asked curiously.
"I'm claiming nothing!" Gaius replied. "She gave me an idea, and I shall see she is rewarded, not punished. Timothy! Don't you see?"