(Kipling, in McAndrew hymn, the story of the “Auld Fleet Engineer.”)

To see a huge mail liner arrive from overseas, first seen nearly broadside-on some distance out in the Rangitoto Channel; then swinging round impressively into the wider channel leading up to the Auckland wharves, and bear down on you head-on, her rails lined with gaily-dressed passengers, her masts sporting two or three little varied-coloured signal flags and white upper decks and red funnels glistening in the sun's rays, is truly a wonderful sight. And yet, although to thousands of people, the ubiquitous officers and the vessel's outward show of life and colour are a familiar enough sight, only a very few possess even a passing acquaintance with the ship's engine room, with its oily, perspiring greasers, and officers dressed in blue grease-covered overalls.

Together with the railways, New Zealand depends almost entirely on the frequent service of steamships and motor vessels for her well-being and prosperity. Sailing ships may have sufficed in the earlier days; they would not, or could not, suffice for the needs of the present huge outward trade of butter, frozen meat, wool and fruit, and other perishable goods. When a slag boat arrives from Antwerp it is the railway that is called upon to distribute the huge quantities of basic slag to its various and widely spread consignees; similarly, when a steamer puts into Auckland, Wellington, Lyttelton or Dunedin to load produce, it is almost entirely the railways, aided by a few coastal steamers from the outlying ports not yet served by rail, which are called upon to transport the bulk of the produce from inland points to the sea board to fill the capacious holds of the vessels. As the locomotive and engine driver are still the most important combination in our system of land transport, so are the engines and their attendant officers the most important combination in our lines of ocean transport. Without the railway to feed her ports and the great ocean vessels which call and take away her produce, New Zealand would indeed be a bankrupt and poverty-stricken country.

Railways and Ships.

Seeing how closely allied is the railway and the marine engineer in their services to the prosperity of the Dominion, perhaps a few brief sidelights on the little known work of the latter will be of interest to readers of our Magazine. Both have one thing in common—they render an indispensable service to New Zealand. John Bright's famous saying, “Railways have rendered more service and received less gratitude than any other institution in the country,” applies with equal force to the engineering branch of the mercantile marine.

The following impressions were gained on a recent brief visit to the engine room of a typical motor ship, the “Hauraki.” page 50 Motor ships and steamers represent on water the competition between the internal combustion and the steam engine which has become one of the greatest problems of land transport of to-day.

There are several kinds of Diesel engines employed for marine work. The “Aorangi,” for example, has double acting two-stroke engines, while the “Hauraki” has four-stroke single acting engines. There are also other types of Diesel

“And let our barks across the pathless flood Hold different courses.”—Scott.
(Photo, W.W.Stewart.)
A section of Wellington's busy waterfront.

engines employed on other ships—some of more modern design than those employed on the “Hauraki.”

The chief difference of the Diesel engine from other oil engines is that the oil is fed (from an atomizer without previous vaporizing) direct into the cylinders in the form of a spray, and without any form of ignition device as used in ordinary internal combustion engines. The system of cams and tappets in design is not unlike those used on an ordinary motor car engine. In the “Hauraki,” air enters the cylinder only on the charging stroke, being highly compressed on the return stroke. At this stage oil is introduced into the cylinder, and owing to the high temperature of the compressed air, immediately ignites. The explosion then propels the piston downwards as in an ordinary motor car engine. The “Hauraki,” having twin screws, has twin engines. Each has eight cylinders, these being all of 24 inches diameter, and having three valves (instead of two as on a motor car engine); one to admit air, one to admit the charge, and the other is the exhaust aperture. The writer was exceptionally fortunate on the occasion of his visit, as the vessel received orders to shift her original berth to another further down the harbour. This necessitated the vessel doing considerable manoeuvring under her own power out in the stream; and allowed one to get a fine inspection of the whole sequence of operations in the starting, stopping, and reversing of these wonderful engines.

A Den of Noise.

Down amongst that gloomy, greasy conglomeration of complicated machinery, with the smell of burnt oil and the acrid fumes generated by the explosions in the cylinders, page 51 one began unconsciously to express wonder that man, with his ten fragile fingers and puny brain could design, build and control with ease such apparently unwieldy machines.

Compressed air is used to start the engines and the sudden “bang! bang!” as this escaped from the cylinders resembled a barrage of 12 inch guns at close quarters.

As reversing by any form of gear box would not be a practical proposition, a highly ingenious and clever arrangement is used to reverse the engines when the order to go astern is rung down from the bridge above.

To reverse, the cam-shaft falls away about a foot from its normal position. By means of compressed air, it is shifted along several inches, and then raised again; this time a separate and differently timed set of cams comes into use. When re-started, the engines commence to revolve in the opposite direction. One very small control lever sets in motion the whole sequence of operations.

Full Speed Astern.

At one time it appeared that full speed

“A brave vessel …. dashed all to pieces.”—Shakespeare.
(Photo., courtesy J. R. Leitch, Greymouth.)
The steamer “Kaponga” (Union Steamship Company) wrecked on the Grey River Bar (27th May, 1932), South Island, New Zealand.

astern had been ordered from the bridge. First the massive rods of the reversing gear engaged with huge cams controlling the tappet valves. Then, with a loud hissing sound, the engines commenced to move; slowly, at first, then faster and still faster until flying sparks escaped past the piston rings, the fumes from the crude oil and the heat and noise being most pronounced.

Further exploration, down big iron ladders brings the visitor to the floor of the engine room, where several men, clad simply in dungarees, shoes and greasers' caps, stood on the control platform and kept watchful eyes on clusters of gauges, sight feeds, drip feeds, lubricating dials, taps, wheels, valves, and levers all clustered like grapes growing on a vine. The way this little band of men worked in perfect harmony filled one with admiration. Each man did his particular duty scarcely speaking a word to the others, while the engineer-in-charge stood close by and kept an ever watchful eye on the whole complicated mass of intricate machinery.