Take a circular cylindrical container with a small, short bell-mouthed orifice 
in the base center.   Now fill it and remove the stopper.   As John Falstaff 
would have it, “Broach that bloody keg!” What happens? 

   

  

The water comes out the bottom – if I can be forgiven some complex technical 
verbiage! 





  

It does, indeed, and runs out the orifice in an approximately uniform flow, at 
a speed related to the height of the free surface above the outlet, the square 
root, to be precise.   This was predicted by Galileo and has been supported by 
hundreds of 1,000s of experiments, including my own, conducted in steamy, 
malarial Kwa Zulu Natal, in the 40s one of the Last Outposts of the Empire.   
Our hydro lab instructor was a cultured, gentle Professore Italiano, washed 
ashore on the southern tip of this rough continent by the tides of the recent 
war.   He told us, an unruly bunch of ranchers’ sons, that we should heed his 
hydrodynamics, since his ancestors had designed the aqueducts of the Roman 
Empire .   We were duly impressed. This was class, of which we had little.   
Our ancestors had mainly built railroads, dug gold, imbibed cheap liquor and 
shot the local fauna (and, sadly, sometimes the inhabitants, too).   I enjoyed 
doing hydro experiments with water that, only a few weeks ago, in its younger 
life, had harbored crocodiles and hippopotami.   I don’t suppose too many of my 
fellow engineers thought like that.   And I owe Dottore Luigi much for 
introducing me to the fountain designers of the Renaissance, maestros like 
Nicola Salvi who did the Fontana di Trevi. 





  

Hydraulics engineers calculate this outflow using a “constant” called the 
orifice coefficient, a function of the nozzle shapes involved.   It’s tabulated 
in handbooks, and seldom less than 90%, so is hardly observable by jes lookin’. 
  The orifice always seems to run full.   One can also calculate the entire 
flow in the container, assuming there is not much dissipation, as is normally 
the case.   Enter Signore Bernoulli, as the conservation of potential, kinetic 
and pressure energy. There is a lovely expression, called the Stokes Stream 
Function, that defines stream tubes within the container.   These stream tubes 
have the shape similar to the outer container for the large radius flow, and, 
near the axis, smooth the kinks out to be roughly cylindrical.   Particles 
cannot move from one stream tube to another, so that the velocity can be 
calculated.   There is no problem in conceiving of the rules for this, but a 
computer is needed to take into account the details of the flow boundaries.   
Analytical functions particularly hate right angles, so tiresome computer 
calculations with teeny elements are required to nickel and dime the flow near 
the bottom corners. 





  

It the fluid is set into rotation by paddles (that, to minimize turbulence, 
should not be perforated) then a swirling flow is produced.   There’s one in 
your car, called a fluid drive.   Most of this rotary flow is irrotational, so 
the Laws of Bernoulli hold, roughly.    But the energy of the flow is 
increased; you stirred it up, after all!   The free surface, at constant 
pressure, has a dimpled depression near the axis.   Its radius, r, and depth, 
h, satisfy the condition r 2 h equals constant, defining a kind of curved 
conical cavity like, and beautiful as, a Calla lily.   Near the center, the 
depression gradient flattens out due to viscous effects that prohibit high 
central velocities, as would occur for the simple 1/r vortex flow model.   The 
scale of this inner radius depends on the swirl rate and the kinematic 
viscosity of the fluid.   It’s different for oil or water.   Small, sticky 
flows, like filling your crankcase with oil, behave quite differently from 
vast, slick flows, as in the 500 km Florida Gyre of the Gulf Stream, on which I 
published in the grandiose, but doomed, Coriolis Project.   





  

If Bernoulli holds, then the speed of the outlet flow still obeys that Law.   
This implies that the exit speed is always higher than that of the non-swirling 
flow.   But the angular momentum is conserved, so the direction of the flow is 
no longer vertical. The rate of flux out of the container is reduced by this 
angle.   The question is whether the increased speed is offset by the increased 
inclination.   You just gotta crunch the numbers to see what wins, and 
construct a flow model – inviscid is not too bad, laminar can be treated 
numerically with Navier-Stokes, but turbulence; “Oh, My!”, as Dick Feynman was 
wont to say.   





  

I think that the results are that introducing swirl has a bimodal effect.   
This world is neither monotonous nor monotonic! Sometimes swirl increases the 
outflow, sometimes not. I tried to express this in the Karman parable about the 
Prof who could explain anything, once he knew the result.   Evidently this is a 
fertile field for inspired interpretation.   Voodoo artistes love happenings 
that are sometimes one way and sometimes t’other.   It’s like the Acts of God, 
sometimes they’re Good, sometimes the same things is Bad.   That’s the 
fascinating puzzlement of religion.   But the priests know the answer, ‘cause 
God tole ‘em.   





  

And the merit of philosophy is that it tries to resolve things to rational, 
universal truths.   A worthy goal. 



Peter Lissaman, Da Vinci Ventures 

Expertise is not knowing everything, but knowing what to look for. 

1454 Miracerros Loop South, Santa Fe, New Mexico 87505,USA 
tel:(505)983-7728 

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