"Are ye trying to get the secret out av me?" he asked at length.
"Shure, there’s many have done that. They all try and get it out av me.
The blacksmith--him that was working at the forge where I was myself
before I lost the sight in me eyes--he wanted to make the machine for
me. But I’d known him before I was blind and I hadn’t lost the
knowledge with me eyesight."
"Are you making it yourself, then?"
He nodded his head.
"As well as I can," he continued--"but, shure, what can these fingers do
with feeling alone--I must see what I’m doing. Faith, I’ve all the
pieces here now in me pocket, only for the putting of ’em together, and
glory be to God, I’ve tried and tried, but they won’t go. Ye can’t do
it with feelin’ alone."
Some lump threatened to rise in my throat.
"Good God!" I thought--"this is tragedy----" And I looked in vain for
sight in his eyes.
"Would ye like to see the pieces?" he asked.
I assured him that the secret would be safe in my keeping were he so
generous.
"No one about?" he asked.
"Not a soul!"
Then, from his pocket--one by one--he took them out and laid them down
on a grass bank by our side. I watched each piece as he produced it
and, with the placing of them on the bank of grass, I watched his face.
These were the parts in the construction of his intricate mechanism that
he showed to me--a foot of rod iron, a small tin pot that once perhaps
had held its pound of coffee, a strip of hoop iron and an injured lock.
"There," he said proudly--"but if I were to give these to that
blacksmith, he’d steal the secret before my face. I wouldn’t trust him
with ’em and I working these fifteen years."
I thanked God he could not see my face then. The foot of rod iron! The
small tin pot! The injured lock! They stared at me in derision. Only
they and I knew the secret--only they and I could tell it, as they
themselves had told it me. His wits were gone. Perpetual motion! The
wretched man was mad.
Perpetual motion out of these rusty old things--rusting for fifteen
years in the corners of his pockets! Perpetual motion!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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