By Harry Harrison
A steel road less than the ocean isn't any longer a dream. Captain Augustine Washington and his group of navvies are already riding the tunnel less than the Atlantic in an heroic feat of development. For Gus, a descendant of the notorious George Washington, achieved as a traitor after the conflict of Lexington, this is often the chance to redeem the relations identify. yet his appealing fiancee has been pressured to finish their engagement, and there's a ruthless and sinister plot to wreck the tunnel - and Gus himself...
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Extra resources for A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah!
It was the dominating element of Macintosh's features, nay of his entire body for he was slight and narrow and dressed all in gray as he thought this only properly fitting, and his hair was gray while even his skin, when not exposed to the elements for too long a time, also partook of that neutral color. So it was his nose that dominated and due to its prominence, and to his eager attention to details and to bookkeeping, his nickname of "Nosey" might seem to be deserved, though it was never spoken before his face, or rather before his nose.
Under the attack of the water and the cutting blades the eternal floor of the ocean would be stirred and lifted—into the mouths of suction dredgers that sucked at this slurry, raised and carried it far to the side where it was spewed forth in a growing mound. All of this agitation raised a cloud of fine particles in the water that completely obscured vision and was penetrable only by the additional application of scientific knowledge. Sound waves will travel through water, opaque or no, and the returned echoes of the sonar scanner built up a picture on the screen of events ahead in the newly dug trench.
In the Far West he had helped the surgeon many times, poured the ether into the cone on a wounded man's face, and had learned to hold his breath against the escaping, dizzying fumes. He did that now, not knowing what was happening but knowing that if he breathed in as much as one breath more he would lose consciousness. There was no light but as he struggled he became aware that at least two men were leaning their full weight on him, holding him down. Something cold was being fastened on his wrists while something else prisoned his ankles at the same time.
A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah! by Harry Harrison