Part 19 (1/2)

As for the nails, they were found, two years afterwards, under a tile!

Locks, screws, door-k.n.o.bs are frequently pulled out by the fluid.

Sometimes metal objects of much larger size, such as forks or agricultural instruments, share the same fate. Violently torn out of the hands of their owners, they start upon an aerial voyage, borne on the incandescent wings of the wrathful lightning.

Workers in the fields have often been warned of the dangers to which they expose themselves beneath a thundery sky, by carrying their implements with the point in the air. Each year the same accidents occur in precisely similar circ.u.mstances.

The electric fluid, invited by the metal point which acts like a little lightning conductor, darts from the clouds upon this centre of attraction, and runs into the ordinary reservoir by the intermedial body of the man, who plays the _role_ of conductor.

Two labourers were spreading manure in a field, when a storm came on.

It was at the beginning of May, 1901. Obliged to give up work, they were thinking of returning home. Each carried an American fork over his shoulder. They had come within 150 metres of the village, when a formidable burst of flame took place over their heads. Instantly the two labourers fell, never to rise again.

In 1903 I made notes of several cases of this kind, from which I shall quote the two following:--

On June 2, a labourer from the hamlet of Pair, commune of Taintrux (Vosges), aged forty, was sharpening a scythe in an orchard close to his house. Suddenly a terrific clap of thunder was heard, and the unfortunate man fell down stone dead.

On the following day, in the same region, at Uzemain, not far from Epinal, a young man, twenty-eight years of age, went to get gra.s.s in the country. All at once he was struck by lightning, and his horse, which he was holding by the bridle, as well. The poor fellow had been guilty of the imprudence of putting his scythe on the cart with its point in the air.

On May 27, in the Vosges, the lightning fell on a labourer, Cyrille Begin, who was driving a cart to which were yoked four horses. The unhappy man was struck, as well as two of the horses.

Some authorities have attributed a doubly preservative influence to umbrellas. The first is undoubtedly to shelter us from the rain; the second, more doubtful, is the gift of preserving us to a certain extent from the strokes of the terrible meteor. Silk, having the property of a veritable repulsion to lightning, one might really believe that umbrellas, whose covers are often made of this fabric, are protectors against the fire of heaven. But the records which we possess are not conclusive; if, now and then, the discharge becomes distributed by means of the ribs, it also very often happens that it runs along the metal parts of the handle to whatever pieces of metal may be on the person, finally striking the soil through the human body.

On July 13, 1884, in the province of Liege, a man and a woman sheltering under the same umbrella were struck by lightning. The man was killed instantly. His garments were in tatters, and the soles torn from his shoes. His pipe was thrown twenty yards away, as well as the artificial flowers in his companion's hat. The latter, who was carrying the umbrella, was stunned.

At a season when, as a rule, thunder is not dreaded--December 9, 1884, to wit--two men, who were walking on either side of a schoolboy holding an umbrella, were killed by lightning. The child was merely thrown down, and got off with a few trifling wounds.

In each of these cases, the person who carried the umbrella suffered less from the electric discharge, but did not escape altogether, nevertheless. It may be remarked, also, that the chief victims were just under the points of the frame, and that in all probability the electricity pa.s.sed through these points.

The fusion of metals is one of the lightning's most ordinary performances; it has occurred at times in considerable quant.i.ties.

On April 2, 1807, a fulminant discharge struck the windmill at Great Marton, in Lancas.h.i.+re. A thick iron chain, used for hoisting up the corn, must have been, if not actually melted, at any rate considerably softened. Indeed, the links were dragged downwards by the weight of the lower part, and meeting, became soldered in such a way that, after the stroke of lightning, the chain was a veritable bar of iron.

How, one asks, can this truly formidable fusion take place during the swift pa.s.sage of the electric spark, which disappears, it may well be said, ”with lightning speed.”

What magic force gives the fiery bolt from the sky the power to transform the atmosphere into a veritable forge, in which kilos of metal are melted in the thousandth part of a second!

Great leaden pipes melt like a lump of sugar in a gla.s.s of water, letting the contents escape.

In Paris, June 19, 1903, lightning broke tempestuously into a kitchen, and, melting the gaspipes, set fire to the place.

On another occasion, the meteor breaking into the workshop of a locksmith, files and other tools hanging from a rack on the wall were soldered to the nails with which the iron ferrules of their handles came in contact, and were with difficulty pulled apart.

A house at Dorking, Suss.e.x, received a visit from lightning on July 16, 1750. Nails, bolts, and divers small objects were soldered together in groups of six, seven, eight, or ten, just as if they had been thrown into a crucible.

”Money melts, leaving the purse uninjured,” says Seneca. ”The sword-blade liquifies, while the scabbard remains intact. The iron in the javelin runs down the handle, which is none the worse.”

We could add other examples, quite as unheard of, as those enumerated by the preceptor of Nero.

A hat-wire melted into nothing, though the paper in which it was wrapped was not burnt.

Knives and forks were melted without the least injury being done to the linen which enveloped them, by the presence of the fluid.