The Hidden Recession

Samuel Croft smiled triumphantly, tapping the brass dial with his knuckle. "Found it! A broken piston ring. The iron snapped across the slot and scored the bore."

Benjamin looked at the gauge, then at Mercer, who was standing twenty feet away, ostensibly reading a technical manual while listening to every word they uttered.

"Do not assume, Samuel," Benjamin warned.

"The cylinder has no pressure, Benjamin! Where else does compression go except past the piston?"

"Through the valves," Patrick suggested quietly from the rear of the stand. "Or through a blown copper head gasket into the water jacket."

Benjamin tapped his chin with the pencil.

Yesterday morning, during the general lecture, Mercer had mentioned an old workshop trick used on marine oil launches when the cylinders ran weak.

"Andrew," Benjamin said. "Bring the hand oiler from the lathe bench."