The drive to whatever’s in the cylinders could be as simple as an eccentric acting as a cam.
The location and flow direction of the safety-valve identified the pump as a compressor, even if of very modest volume and pressure. You’d not want much pressure in a cast-iron, cuboidal reservoir; and it might simply have acted as a flow-smoother for whatever the pump was for.
We don’t know if the “reservoir” fittings and inlet filter are original or by some owner’s custom arrangement.
My guess is that the big screwed-in plug closes a core-print aperture, but also gives structural access.
Rotating the thing by hand does not reveal much. There is little cyclical resistance, no sound of ball-valves opening and closing, no popping or hissing (though that might be thanks to very slow rotation); not even much suction on a finger placed over the inlet.
That the inlet and outlet are opposite each other at the centre of the cylinders, and the lack of obvious valve accesses, suggests possibly a form of “uniflow” or 2-stroke porting.
So let’s be brave and take those covers off…,
[Pauses to do just that, on the dining-room table.]
Felt-tip pen marked the covers for end and orientation.
The nuts are 4BA. That’s narrowed things down a bit: British-made, or at least British-designed.
The released covers offered no resistance beyond slight gasket stick. (“Came orf in me ‘ands, guv”)
The covers have a tiny register and a very shallow annular groove that held a ring-gasket of paper-like material, but are otherwise flat. Replacing those gaskets will be fun as the grooves are probably too shallow for an O-ring, if I could find any that fit.
Two pistons moving oppositely with no end-float or lost motion. Pushing them by fingers rotates the pulley. So the two pistons are likely a single piece of metal moved by a cam in a central aperture.
Bore 1.25″, Stroke 0.5″.
So ~1.2 cubic inches of air per revolution.
Look onto the flat piston face. There’s more…
No nuts, screws, pin-spanner holes, screwdriver slots or other assembly / disassembly aids.
No ports visible in the cylinder wall.
Two rectangular ports in the piston, open to the periphery, like key-ways, at about 12 and 5 o’clock.
As the piston reciprocates it oscillates angularly, by perhaps 20º.
So clearly the piston at each end is also its own sleeve-valve. One “keyway” the inlet, the other the outlet, passage. Gently roating the pulley by a finger while watching the ports reveals the correct direction, as they come in and out of alignment with their appropriate external features on the body.
Just what does drive it? It is guarding its secrets jealously.
The body is a one-piece casting, a Tee-piece with added bosses and support columns.
Removing the reservoir’s “core plug” reveals only a nut that secures the support-column / outlet tube to the reservoir. Two smaller columns, also parts of the casting, hold long round-headed screws for the same purpose.
The second photo shows a round-head screw between the pulley and grease-pot. Removing that did not appear to release anything, but I was reluctant to be heavy-handed.
At barely quarter-inch long that screw may only be an oiling-point. If so, perhaps to lubricate the pulley end journal, while the grease-pot supplies the eccentric or cam or … ; and the cylinder is oiled via the vertical inlet filter.
No other apertures in the body: just the inlet, outlet and two lubrication points.
So the connection between shaft and pistons is still hidden.
The “reservoir” may act as a rather crude oil-separator. No doubt the Owner’s Manual would have told us very firmly what lubricants by which firm to use where.
……
It’s really a rather lovely little machine with an ingenious valve function that could have been partly for near-silent running as well as simplicity and low maintenance; was quite possibly for a very specific application, perhaps in medical or laboratory equipment, or to run air-brushes.
It’s no good… I’ll have to find some way to drive it, with a pressure-gauge fitted, with due respect for that cast-iron box. No big “bar.litres” here…
I have great respect for its designer – whoever he was.
Oh to know who manufactured it, where, when and for what!