"William Murdoch?" Joseph thought the na sounded familiar but couldn't imdiately recall where he'd heard it. He figured Murdoch was probably a sowhat skilled British engineer. Since the man had traveled all the way to France, Joseph felt he should be welcoming. "Welco to France, Mr. Murdoch. I'm looking forward to seeing you make a significant contribution to our steam engine project."
Seeing that Dupont had only brought Murdoch, Joseph guessed things might not have gone as planned. He invited them to sit down and anxiously looked at Dupont. "What did Mr. Watt say?"
A look of guilt appeared on Dupont's face as he struggled to speak. "Your Highness, I'm sorry, but I couldn't fulfill your request. Mr. Watt declined my invitation."
Joseph had ntally prepared for this, but he still frowned upon hearing the news. "Was he unhappy with our offer?"
"No, Your Highness. It's not that. In fact, he wasn't concerned about the terms at all..." Dupont briefly explained Watt's situation, and Joseph couldn't help but sigh. "You did your best, Mr. Dupont. There's no need to bla yourself. I'll think of another way."
While Joseph appeared calm, he was actually beginning to worry. He knew that if France wanted to establish a steam engine industry quickly, Watt was crucial!
Joseph wasn't arrogant enough to think he could handle the entire industry on his own. Although he knew so advanced steam engine principles, there was a long way to go before those principles could beco fully functioning machines—especially since he'd never actually built one himself.
Even setting aside the difficulty of turning principles into real machines, he couldn't even produce a modern steam engine if he had the blueprints.
From choosing boiler materials to casting processes, from polishing piston walls to setting the correct tolerances, from designing the crankshaft cross-section to determining the viscosity of the lubrication oil—building a steam engine involved hundreds, if not thousands, of intricate details. If any one of these was not up to standard, the resulting machine would either be riddled with issues or perform poorly.
If Joseph were to tackle these technical challenges himself, he could probably solve them in three to five years, but France couldn't wait that long. Moreover, he couldn't devote all his ti to steam engines.
Watt, however, had the technical expertise and experience necessary to build steam engines in this era. He knew every component, how to produce them, and what tools and materials were required. With Watt, France could quickly establish a basic steam engine production line.
However, since Watt seed destined not to co to France, all the necessary techniques and processes would have to be developed slowly by French engineers. No one knew how long that would take...
Joseph shook his head in frustration, pondering which French engineers might be worth training. anwhile, Murdoch, seated nearby, nervously inched forward and spoke up, "Your Highness, I heard from Mr. Dupont that you're planning to build a steam engine factory?"
"That's correct."
"Perhaps I can be of help."
"Oh? Are you familiar with steam engine manufacturing?"
Murdoch straightened up, his expression confident. "Your Highness, if you believe Mr. Watt is qualified, then I assure you I am as well. Let's just say that anything he knows, I know too. In addition, I hold my own patents."
Joseph was surprised as he studied the middle-aged man before him. "Is that so?"
Dupont quickly added, "Your Highness, I've confird that Mr. Murdoch indeed holds patents in Britain for a beam engine and a steam gun."
It was these two patents that convinced Dupont to bring Murdoch to et the Prince.
"Your Highness, you may have heard of the 'planetary gear system' used in steam engines," Murdoch said, his tone tinged with bitterness. "I invented that technology. However, because I worked for Mr. Watt, and according to my employnt contract, the patent was registered in his na."
"Planetary gears?" Joseph squinted slightly, recognizing the term.
Murdoch, fearing that Joseph might not believe him, raised his voice. "Your Highness, if you need proof, I can describe in detail the process of developing that technology. Oh, and I've also invented a new type of high-pressure steam engine..."
He paused, deflated. "But Mr. Watt was worried that the high power output of the high-pressure steam engine would affect the sales of the company's existing products, so he wouldn't let publish the technology. I haven't been able to apply for a patent yet."
Joseph silently repeated the terms "planetary gears" and "high-pressure steam engine" to himself. Suddenly, sothing clicked, and he blurted out, "Mr. Murdoch, didn't you also invent a gas lamp?"
"Gas lamp?" Murdoch looked shocked. "I do have a process for producing gas from coal, but it's not fully developed... How do you know about that? I've only ntioned it to Mr. Cumnock."
Joseph didn't know anyone nad Cumnock, but he was now certain of Murdoch's identity—the famous Scottish inventor who held several steam engine patents, particularly for high-pressure steam engines, although later generations rembered him primarily as the inventor of the gas lamp.
Years later, it would be Murdoch's gas lamps that illuminated all of London, becoming a symbol of British civilization—gas street lamps!
Seeing that Joseph seed to be showing interest in him, Murdoch continued eagerly, "Your Highness, you may find this hard to believe, but most of Mr. Watt's patents were developed with my input, and so were entirely my inventions. I'm very familiar with steam engine technology. In fact, I've always wanted to start my own steam engine factory but never had the funds. When I heard from Mr. Dupont that you were planning to invest in the steam engine industry, I rushed over imdiately. Your Highness, if you let help you build this factory, I swear I'll do just as well as Mr. Watt, if not better!"
Murdoch had worked at Watt's company for over a decade, with many of his patents taken by Watt, yet he was paid little. His resentnt had been building for years, but he had no choice but to endure it to make a living. It wasn't until over a year later, when he invented a technique for producing gas from coal and earned money from his gas lamp patent, that he finally broke free from Watt.
However, Joseph's steam engine developnt plan presented him with another option!
Joseph hadn't expected that after missing out on Watt, he would gain Murdoch instead. This man's skills were no less impressive than Watt's, and he could help Joseph advance gas lighting technology. Moreover, Murdoch was much younger and more energetic than Watt.
Joseph imdiately stood up, smiling as he nodded to Murdoch. "Congratulations, Mr. Murdoch. You are now the General Manager of the French Royal chanical Company. I look forward to a successful collaboration."
Murdoch was montarily stunned before overwhelming joy washed over him. He had expected to have to work hard to persuade the French Prince, but things had gone so smoothly, and he was directly appointed as General Manager!
He bowed deeply, his hand over his heart. "Thank you for your trust, Your Highness. I won't disappoint you!"
"I'm looking forward to your outstanding performance as well."
Murdoch suddenly rembered sothing and nervously rubbed his hands together. "Your Highness, I hope to obtain patents for the technologies I've invented."
On the way here, he'd heard that France had passed a patent law, and having his patents taken from him had always been a sore spot.
"The patents should rightfully belong to you," Joseph nodded imdiately. "But you'll need to grant the company exclusive rights to use them."
"That's perfectly fine, Your Highness," Murdoch replied, then added, "And, you know, I'll be contributing all my skills to the company. Perhaps... I could be given a 10% stake? I would be extrely grateful."
Joseph imdiately shook his head. "That won't do."
Murdoch's face fell. Considering the 1 million livre investnt, 10% would be worth 100,000, which was indeed too much.
He was about to suggest, "How about 5%?" when Joseph spoke again. "Given your value, you should receive at least 20% of the shares. However, they will be in the form of stock options."
"Twenty percent?!" Murdoch was shocked. It took him a mont to ask, "Stock options?"
"That ans you'll receive 4% of the shares each year for five years. If you resign during that ti, the previously granted shares will be forfeited." Since Murdoch was British, Joseph needed to use so modern techniques to bind him to France. After five years, France would have a mature steam engine developnt team, so whether Murdoch stayed or left wouldn't have much impact.
"Your Highness, I don't know how to thank you!" Murdoch was overjoyed.
Five years wasn't long—he'd worked at Watt's company for over a decade and hadn't received any shares. Compared to that, the French Prince was incredibly generous!
Murdoch silently vowed to build the best steam engines to repay the Prince.
As it was nearing lunchti, Joseph invited Dupont and Murdoch to dine with him. On the way to the dining room, Murdoch couldn't contain his excitent as he shared his plans with the Prince. "Your Highness, choosing Nancy for the factory is a wise decision. There are several mines there that will purchase our products. Once we have the equipnt and personnel in place, we can start producing 25-horsepower high-pressure steam engines. The pumping efficiency will make those mine owners open their wallets imdiately!"
Watt's company steam engines averaged about 15 to 20 horsepower, highlighting the advantage of high-pressure technology.
But Joseph shook his head. "No, our first priority is to produce steam engines that can drive lathes, screw-cutting machines, and milling machines with high precision. The main goal is to improve the efficiency and precision of these machines—power isn't the most important factor."
"But," Murdoch reminded him, "Your Highness, those machines won't be profitable, and the initial investnt..."
Joseph smiled. "You don't need to worry. I'll ensure we have enough funding."
His goal with steam engines was to advance France's industrialization, and machine tools were the "mother machines" of industry. Europe already had such machines, but they were powered by hand or water, resulting in low power and poor precision. Switching to steam power would greatly increase both the speed and accuracy of machining.
For example, automatic boring machines and milling machines would have wide applications in the planned armant factory. Compared to handcrafting weapons and equipnt, the precision and production efficiency would skyrocket, while costs would plumt. Most importantly, it would make it much easier to standardize parts.
Additionally, with automated machining equipnt, they could improve the speed and quality of steam engine production, creating a virtuous cycle. Once this foundation was in place, producing things like water pumps and steam-powered textile machines would naturally follow.
...
South of Paris.
In a field of tall grass about 400 ters north of the Paris Police Academy's training grounds, a black four-pound cannon lay in wait.
A French Guards officer, dressed as an ordinary civilian, glanced southward impatiently, frequently checking his pocket watch.
About ten minutes later, several cannon blasts echoed from the direction of the Police Academy's training grounds, and the officer imdiately perked up, barking at the soldiers sitting nearby. "Get up, you lazy dogs!"
Six or seven artilleryn, also in plain clothes, quickly gathered around. So adjusted the cannon's aim, others secured the wheels, while the rest stood by with gunpowder and cannonballs.
The officer peered through his binoculars at a farmhouse to the north, then glanced at a notebook where he had already calculated the firing paraters. He personally raised the cannon's muzzle, carefully asuring the angle with a protractor.
"Alright, load it," he ordered.
A soldier poured the gunpowder into the cannon's barrel, followed by another who packed it down with a ramrod. Then, another soldier placed the cannonball inside. The first soldier pushed the cannonball to the bottom of the barrel with the ramrod.
More cannon fire echoed from the Police Academy. The officer began timing the interval and quickly estimated that the police were firing about once every three minutes.
He nodded to his fuse lighter.
The young man holding the fuse hesitated as he glanced toward the farmhouse, then looked back at the officer, his expression conflicted. "Sir, it seems there's only one family living there. Are we really going to fire at them?"
"Shut up!" The officer glared at him. "Your job is to follow orders."
"Yes, sir..."
The officer noted that three minutes had passed since the last cannon fire and imdiately barked, "Fire!"
The soldier, conditioned to follow orders without question, pressed the fuse into the touch hole. The cannon roared to life, belching a cloud of smoke that enveloped the area.
A four-pound iron ball whizzed through the air, slamming into the distant farmhouse, sending splinters of wood and straw flying. Half of the rickety structure collapsed.
Almost simultaneously, another cannon blast echoed from the direction of the Police Academy.
The French Guards officer used his binoculars to confirm that the farmhouse had been hit. A cold smile tugged at his lips as he ordered his n to hitch the cannon to a horse and retreat northwest.
Another group of soldiers, already waiting nearby, quickly disassembled the cannon and loaded it onto a cart, which then hurriedly fled into Paris. anwhile, the cannon carriage was hidden in a nearby forest.
At the Police Academy's training grounds, Berthier was discussing the new "concentrated fire" artillery tactic with Dubois. Although Berthier's transfer to the French Guards' engineering battalion had been approved, the order hadn't co through yet, so he'd been spending almost every day at the training grounds. As the Prince had predicted, there were many new tactics here that he found fascinating.
After another round of cannon fire, Dubois frowned and turned to his assistant. "If I'm not mistaken, we were supposed to be training with three cannons this afternoon."
"Yes, sir, two four-pounders and one eight-pounder."
"But there were four shots just now."
"Maybe it was an echo," Berthier suggested.
"Doesn't sound like it," Dubois, a seasoned artilleryman, was very attuned to the sound of cannon fire.
He imdiately signaled to a group of guards at the training grounds. "You lot, co with ."
"Yes, sir!"
When Dubois and his team reached the spot where the French Guards had fired their cannon, they found nothing but the faint sll of gunpowder lingering in the air.
(End of Chapter)
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