HBWnovel Chapter 32: Informing Mr. Fitzwilliam
Chapter 32: Informing Mr. Fitzwilliam
A day later, in the morning.
Matthew stood by the derrick, watching as Dalton’s men moved quickly, preparing for the next phase. The initial cheer of finding oil had been replaced by a determined urgency. They had hit the reservoir, but now the real work began: extracting the crude and turning this discovery into profit.
Dalton barked orders, his voice carrying over the camp. "Alright, boys! We’ve struck it, but we’re far from done! We need to set up the extraction pumps and the storage tanks! Move like your lives depend on it—because they just might!"
The first task was to stabilize the borehole to prevent a collapse as they began extracting oil. Dalton’s crew quickly got to work, reinforcing the walls of the well with steel casing pipes. Each section was carefully lowered into the hole.
The pipes would line the borehole, ensuring that the walls wouldn’t cave in under pressure or allow groundwater to seep in and contaminate the crude.
"Careful with those joints!" Dalton shouted. "If we don’t seal them properly, we’ll end up with leaks!"
Matthew watched closely. The steel casings were secured with thick iron couplings, and a layer of cement was pumped around the outside to seal the casing in place. This would prevent any blowouts or gas leaks as they increased the pressure during extraction.
The next step was to install the pump jack—the heart of their operation.
The pump jack, also known as a "nodding donkey," would use a counterweight system driven by the steam engine to create a continuous up-and-down motion. This would force the oil up through the casing pipe and into a collection tank.
"Jennings, get that steam engine fired up!" Dalton called out, wiping sweat from his brow. "We need steady pressure to get this oil flowing."
Jennings and a few other men began shoveling coal into the furnace of the steam engine. Thick black smoke billowed into the sky as the engine roared to life, the pistons chugging rhythmically. The men connected the engine to the pump jack with a series of belts and gears, ensuring that the movement would be smooth and consistent.@@@@
As the pump jack began its slow, rhythmic motion, the first drops of crude oil started to rise to the surface. The dark liquid flowed through a network of steel pipes, leading to a series of large wooden barrels rigged together to act as makeshift separator tanks.
Matthew chuckled. "Good, once we have filled up enough barrels you can work on that permit for the continuous production. As for me, I will have to go to the town and use a telephone there and contact Mr. Fitzwilliam. Tell him that I struck oil."
"Well, my crew will get you there," Dalton offered and then shouted, "Jennings! Get the wagon ready and take Mr. Hesh into town."
"Yes sir!" Jennings shouted back.
"Thank you, Dalton. I will be on my way now."
Matthew climbed into the wagon, the rough wooden seat creaking under his weight. Jennings snapped the reins, and the horses trotted forward, pulling them away from the bustling camp.
An hour later, they arrived at the small town. Matthew wasted no time, heading straight for the telegraph office. The clerk, a middle-aged man with spectacles perched on his nose, looked up as Matthew entered, the tiny bell above the door jingling.
"I need to send a telegram to Sylvania," Matthew said, pulling out a slip of paper with Fitzwilliam’s contact information. "Make it urgent."
The clerk nodded and quickly began tapping out the message as Matthew dictated:
[STRUCK OIL IN WEST TEJAS STOP FLOW IS STEADY STOP I WON THE BET STOP SEE THE RESULT FOR YOURSELF STOP MATTHEW HESH.]
As the clerk finished sending the telegram, Matthew leaned against the counter.
"How much for it?"
"It will be 3 florin," the clerk answered.
Matthew paid the clerk, sliding the three florin bills across the counter with a nod of gratitude. Now, it was a matter of waiting for Fitzwilliam’s response.