Then following the arguments that still flourished in the press, came a
tiny little news article and the first message to carry concern to the
hearts of the engineers. The sea had begun to trickle in through one
slight crack. Perhaps it was only because the crevice was located on the
English side of the now famous “ancient ridge” that the article brought
forth any notice at all. But for the engineers it meant the first
warning of possibly ultimate disaster. They could not seal the crack,
and pumps were brought into play. However, as a month wore on, the crack
did not appear to widen to any material extent and the danger cry of a
few pessimists was forgotten.

Finally, it will be remembered, that sounders listening in the rocks
heard the drillers of the other party, and then with wild enthusiasm the
work was pushed on to completion. The long Tube had been dug. Now it
only remained for the sides at the junction to be enlarged and encased
with cast iron, while the work of setting up the great machines designed
to drive the pellet trains through, was also pushed on to its ultimate
end. Man had essayed the greatest feat of engineering ever undertaken in
the history of the planet, and had won. A period of wild celebration
greeted the first human beings to cross each direction below the sea.

Did the volume of water increase that was carried daily out of the Tube
and dumped from the two stations? If it did, the incident was ignored by
the press. Instead, the fact that some “cranks” persisted in calling
man’s latest toy unsafe, only attracted more travel. The Undersea Tube
functioned on regular schedule for three years, became the usual method
of ocean transit.

* * * * *

This was the state of matters, when on the fourth of March last, our
textile company ordered me to France to straighten out some orders with
the France house, the situation being such that they preferred to send a
man. Why they did not use radio-vision I do not care to state, as this
is my company’s business.

Therefore, upon entering my apartment, I was in the midst of packing
when the television phone called me. The jovial features of “Dutch”
Higgins, my one-time college room-mate and now one of the much-maligned
engineers of the Undersea Tube, smiled back at me from the disk.

“Where are you? I thought we had a sort of dinner engagement at my
apartment, Bob.”

“By gollies I forgot, Dutch. I’ll be right over–before it gets cold.”

Then immediately I turned the knob to the Municipal Aerial-car yards,
and ordered my motor, as I grabbed my hat and hurried to the roof. In
due time, of course, I sprang the big surprise of the evening, adding:

“And, of course, I’m going by the Tube, I feel sort of a
half-partnership in it because you were one of the designers.”

A curious half-pained look crossed his face. We had finished our meal,
and were smoking with pushed-back chairs. He finished filling his pipe,
and scowled.

“Well? Why don’t you say something? Thought you’d be–well, sort of
pleased.”

He struck his automatic lighter and drew in a long puff of smoke before
answering.

“Wish you’d take another route, Bob.”

“Take another route?”

“Yes. If you want it straight, the Tube is not safe.”

“You are joking.”

But as I looked into his cold, thoughtful blue eyes, I knew he had never
been more serious.

“I wish that you would go by the Trans-Atlantic Air Liners. They are
just as fast.”

“But you used to be so enthusiastic about the Tube, Dutch! Why I
remember when it was being drilled that you would call me up at all
kinds of wild hours to tell me the latest bits of news.”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes, that was in the days before the crack.”

“Yet you expected to take care of possible leaks, you know,” I
countered.

“But this crack opened after the tunnel had been dug past it, and lately
it has opened more.”

“Are the other engineers alarmed?”

“No. We are easily taking care of the extra water and again the opening
seems to remain at a stationary width as it has for the past three
years. But we cannot caulk it.”

“Are you going to publish these views?”

“No. I made out a minority report. I can do no more.”

“Dutch, you are becoming over-cautious. First sign of old age.”

“Perhaps,” with the old smile.

“But after all it is now more than three years since we have had a talk
on the Tube. After it began to function as well as the Air-Express you
sort of lost interest in it.”

“And the world did too.”

“Certainly–but the public ever was a fickle mistress. Who said that
before me?”

He laughed and blew out a long puff of smoke.

“Everyone, Bob.”

“But as to the Tube, if I cross under the sea, I would want to be as
well informed on the road as I was three years ago. Now in the meantime,
you have dropped interest in the long tunnel while I have become more
interested in textiles–with the result that I have forgotten all I ever
did know–which compared to your grasp of the details, was little
enough.”

* * * * *

But his face showed none of the old-time animation on the subject. What
a different man, I mused to myself, from that enthusiastic engineering
student that I used to come upon dreaming over his blue-prints. He was
considered “half-cracked” in those days when he would enthuse over his
undersea railroad, but his animated face was lit with inspiration. Now
the light was gone.

“Well, Dutch, how about it? Aren’t you going to make me that brief
little sketch of the length plan and cross-section of the Tube? I
remember your sketch of it in college, and it tends to confuse me with
the real changes that were made necessary when the wind-propulsion
method was adopted.”

“All right, old timer. You remember that the Tube was widened at the
sides in order that we could make two circular tubes side by side–one
going each way.”

“I had forgotten that they were circular.”