



Produced by Dianne Bean





THE MASTERY OF THE AIR

By William J. Claxton




PREFACE

This book makes no pretence of going minutely into the technical and
scientific sides of human flight: rather does it deal mainly with the
real achievements of pioneers who have helped to make aviation what it
is to-day.

My chief object has been to arouse among my readers an intelligent
interest in the art of flight, and, profiting by friendly criticism
of several of my former works, I imagine that this is best obtained by
setting forth the romance of triumph in the realms of an element which
has defied man for untold centuries, rather than to give a mass of
scientific principles which appeal to no one but the expert.

So rapid is the present development of aviation that it is difficult to
keep abreast with the times. What is new to-day becomes old to-morrow.
The Great War has given a tremendous impetus to the strife between the
warring nations for the mastery of the air, and one can but give a rough
and general impression of the achievements of naval and military airmen
on the various fronts.

Finally, I have tried to bring home the fact that the fascinating
progress of aviation should not be confined entirely to the airman and
constructor of air-craft; in short, this progress is not a record of
events in which the mass of the nation have little personal concern, but
of a movement in which each one of us may take an active and intelligent
part.

I have to thank various aviation firms, airmen, and others who
have kindly come to my assistance, either with the help of valuable
information or by the loan of photographs. In particular, my thanks are
due to the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service for permission
to reproduce illustrations from their two publications on the work and
training of their respective corps; to the Aeronautical Society of Great
Britain; to Messrs. C. G. Spencer & Sons, Highbury; The Sopwith Aviation
Company, Ltd.; Messrs. A. V. Roe & Co., Ltd.; The Gnome Engine Company;
The Green Engine Company; Mr. A. G. Gross (Geographia, Ltd.); and M.
Bleriot; for an exposition of the internal-combustion engine I have
drawn on Mr. Horne's The Age of Machinery.



     PART I.  BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS

     I.      MAN'S DUEL WITH NATURE
     II.     THE FRENCH PAPER-MAKER WHO INVENTED THE BALLOON
     III.    THE FIRST MAN TO ASCEND IN A BALLOON
     IV.     THE FIRST BALLOON ASCENT IN ENGLAND
     V.      THE FATHER OF BRITISH AERONAUTS
     VI.     THE PARACHUTE
     VII.    SOME BRITISH INVENTORS OF AIR-SHIPS
     VIII.   THE FIRST ATTEMPTS TO STEER A BALLOON
     IX.     THE STRANGE CAREER OF COUNT ZEPPELIN
     X.      A ZEPPELIN AIR-SHIP AND ITS CONSTRUCTION
     XI.     THE SEMI-RIGID AIR-SHIP
     XII.    A NON-RIGID BALLOON
     XIII.   THE ZEPPELIN AND GOTHA RAIDS

     PART II.  AEROPLANES AND AIRMEN

     XIV.    EARLY ATTEMPTS IN AVIATION
     XV.     A PIONEER IN AVIATION
     XVI.    THE "HUMAN BIRDS"
     XVII.   THE AEROPLANE AND THE BIRD
     XVIII.  A GREAT BRITISH INVENTOR OF AEROPLANES
     XIX.    THE WRIGHT BROTHERS AND THEIR SECRET EXPERIMENTS
     XX.     THE INTERNAL-COMBUSTION ENGINE
     XXI.    THE INTERNAL-COMBUSTION ENGINE (Con't.)
     XXII.   THE AEROPLANE ENGINE
     XXIII.  A FAMOUS BRITISH INVENTOR OF AVIATION ENGINES
     XXIV.   THE WRIGHT BIPLANE (CAMBER OF PLANES)
     XXV.    THE WRIGHT BIPLANE (Cont.)
     XXVI.   HOW THE WRIGHTS LAUNCHED THEIR BIPLANE
     XXVII.  THE FIRST MAN TO FLY IN EUROPE
     XXVIII. M. BLARIOT AND THE MONOPLANE
     XXIX.   HENRI FARMAN AND THE VOISIN BIPLANE
     XXX.    A FAMOUS BRITISH INVENTOR
     XXXI.   THE ROMANCE OF A COWBOY AERONAUT
     XXXII.  THREE HISTORIC FLIGHTS
     XXXIII. THREE HISTORIC FLIGHTS (Cont.)
     XXXIV.  THE HYDROPLANE AND AIR-BOAT
     XXXV.   A FAMOUS BRITISH INVENTOR OF THE WATER-PLANE
     XXXVI.  SEA-PLANES FOR WARFARE
     XXXVII. THE FIRST MAN TO FLY IN BRITAIN
     XXXVIII.THE R.F.C. AND R.N.A.S.
     XXXIX.  AEROPLANES IN THE GREAT WAR
     XL.     THE ATMOSPHERE AND THE BAROMETER
     XLI.    HOW AN AIRMAN KNOWS WHAT HEIGHT HE REACHES
     XLII.   HOW AN AIRMAN FINDS HIS WAY
     XLIII.  THE FIRST AIRMAN TO FLY UPSIDE DOWN
     XLIV.   THE FIRST ENGLISHMAN TO FLY UPSIDE DOWN
     XLV.    ACCIDENTS AND THEIR CAUSE
     XLVI.   ACCIDENTS AND THEIR CAUSE (Cont.)
     XLVII.  ACCIDENTS AND THEIR CAUSE (COnt.)
     XLVIII. SOME TECHNICAL TERMS USED By AVIATORS
     XLIX.   THE FUTURE IN THE AIR





THE MASTERY OF THE AIR




PART I. BALLOONS AND AIR-SHIPS



CHAPTER I. Man's Duel with Nature

Of all man's great achievements none is, perhaps, more full of human
interest than are those concerned with flight. We regard ourselves
as remarkable beings, and our wonderful discoveries in science and
invention induce us to believe we are far and away the cleverest of all
the living creatures in the great scheme of Creation. And yet in
the matter of flight the birds beat us; what has taken us years of
education, and vast efforts of intelligence, foresight, and daring to
accomplish, is known by the tiny fledglings almost as soon as they come
into the world.

It is easy to see why the story of aviation is of such romantic
interest. Man has been exercising his ingenuity, and deliberately
pursuing a certain train of thought, in an attempt to harness the forces
of Nature and compel them to act in what seems to be the exact converse
of Nature's own arrangements.

One of the mysteries of Nature is known as the FORCE OF GRAVITY. It is
not our purpose in this book to go deeply into a study of gravitation;
we may content ourselves with the statement, first proved by Sir Isaac
Newton, that there is an invisible force which the Earth exerts on all
bodies, by which it attracts or draws them towards itself. This property
does not belong to the Earth alone, but to all matter--all matter
attracts all other matter. In discussing the problems of aviation we are
concerned mainly with the mutual attraction of The Earth and the bodies
on or near its surface; this is usually called TERRESTRIAL gravity.

It has been found that every body attracts very other body with a force
directly proportionate to its mass. Thus we see that, if every particle
in a mass exerts its attractive influence, the more particles a body
contains the greater will be the attraction. If a mass of iron be
dropped to the ground from the roof of a building at the same time as a
cork of similar size, the iron and the cork would, but for the retarding
effect of the air, fall to the ground together, but the iron would
strike the ground with much greater force than the cork. Briefly stated,
a body which contains twice as much matter as another is attracted
or drawn towards the centre of the Earth with twice the force of that
other; if the mass be five times as great, then it will be attracted
with five times the force, and so on.

It is thus evident that the Earth must exert an overwhelming attractive
force on all bodies on or near its surface. Now, when man rises from the
ground in an aeroplane he is counter-acting this force by other forces.

A short time ago the writer saw a picture which illustrated in a very
striking manner man's struggle with Nature. Nature was represented as
a giant of immense stature and strength, standing on a globe with
outstretched arms, and in his hands were shackles of great size. Rising
gracefully from the earth, immediately in front of the giant, was
an airman seated in a modern flying-machine, and on his face was a
happy-go-lucky look as though he were delighting in the duel between him
and the giant. The artist had drawn the picture so skilfully that one
could imagine the huge, knotted fingers grasping the shackles were
itching to bring the airman within their clutch. The picture was
entitled "MAN TRIUMPHANT"

No doubt many of those who saw that picture were reminded of the great
sacrifices made by man in the past. In the wake of the aviator there are
many memorial stones of mournful significance.

It says much for the pluck and perseverance of aviators that they have
been willing to run the great risks which ever accompany their efforts.
Four years of the Great War have shown how splendidly airmen have risen
to the great demands made upon them. In dispatch after dispatch from
the front, tribute has been paid to the gallant and devoted work of the
Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval Air Service. In a long and bitter
struggle British airmen have gradually asserted their supremacy in the
air. In all parts of the globe, in Egypt, in Mesopotamia, in Palestine,
in Africa, the airman has been an indispensable adjunct of the
fighting forces. Truly it may be said that mastery of the air is the
indispensable factor of final victory.



CHAPTER II. The French Paper-maker who Invented the Balloon

In the year 1782 two young Frenchmen might have been seen one winter
night sitting over their cottage fire, performing the curious experiment
of filling paper bags with smoke, and letting them rise up towards
the ceiling. These young men were brothers, named Stephen and Joseph
Montgolfier, and their experiments resulted in the invention of the
balloon.

The brothers, like all inventors, seem to have had enquiring minds.
They were for ever asking the why and the wherefore of things. "Why
does smoke rise?" they asked. "Is there not some strange power in the
atmosphere which makes the smoke from chimneys and elsewhere rise in
opposition to the force of gravity? If so, cannot we discover this
power, and apply it to the service of mankind?"

We may imagine that such questions were in the minds of those two French
paper-makers, just as similar questions were in the mind of James
Watt when he was discovering the power of steam. But one of the most
important attributes of an inventor is an infinite capacity for taking
pains, together with great patience.

And so we find the two brothers employing their leisure in what to us
would, be a childish pastime, the making of paper balloons. The story
tells us that their room was filled with smoke, which issued from the
windows as though the house were on fire. A neighbour, thinking such
was the case, rushed in, but, on being assured that nothing serious was
wrong, stayed to watch the tiny balloons rise a little way from the thin
tray which contained the fire that made the smoke with which the bags
were filled. The experiments were not altogether successful, however,
for the bags rarely rose more than a foot or so from the tray. The
neighbour suggested that they should fasten the thin tray on to the
bottom of the bag, for it was thought that the bags would not ascend
higher because the smoke became cool; and if the smoke were imprisoned
within the bag much better results would be obtained. This was done,
and, to the great joy of the brothers and their visitor, the bag at once
rose quickly to the ceiling.

But though they could make the bags rise their great trouble was that
they did not know the cause of this ascent. They thought, however, that
they were on the eve of some great discovery, and, as events proved,
they were not far wrong. For a time they imagined that the fire they had
used generated some special gas, and if they could find out the nature
of this gas, and the means of making it in large quantities, they would
be able to add to their success.

Of course, in the light of modern knowledge, it seems strange that the
brothers did not know that the reason the bags rose, was not because of
any special gas being used, but owing to the expansion of air under the
influence of heat, whereby hot air tends to rise. Every schoolboy above
the age of twelve knows that hot air rises upwards in the atmosphere,
and that it continues to rise until its temperature has become the same
as that of the surrounding air.

The next experiment was to try their bags in the open air. Choosing a
calm, fine day, they made a fire similar to that used in their first
experiments, and succeeded in making the bag rise nearly 100 feet. Later
on, a much larger craft was built, which was equally successful.

And now we must leave the experiments of the Montgolfiers for a
moment, and turn to the discovery of hydrogen gas by Henry Cavendish,
a well-known London chemist. In 1766 Cavendish proved conclusively that
hydrogen gas was not more than one-seventh the weight of ordinary air.
It at once occurred to Dr. Black, of Glasgow, that if a thin bag could
be filled with this light gas it would rise in the air; but for various
reasons his experiments did not yield results of a practical nature for
several years.

Some time afterwards, about a year before the Montgolfiers commenced
their experiments which we have already described, Tiberius Cavallo, an
Italian chemist, succeeded in making, with hydrogen gas, soap-bubbles
which rose in the air. Previous to this he had experimented with
bladders and paper bags; but the bladders he found too heavy, and the
paper too porous.

It must not be thought that the Montgolfiers experimented solely with
hot air in the inflation of their balloons. At one time they used steam,
and, later on, the newly-discovered hydrogen gas; but with both these
agents they were unsuccessful. It can easily be seen why steam was of no
use, when we consider that paper was employed; hydrogen, too, owed its
lack of success to the same cause for the porosity of the paper allowed
the gas to escape quickly.

It is said that the name "balloon" was given to these paper craft
because they resembled in shape a large spherical vessel used in
chemistry, which was known by that name. To the brothers Montgolfier
belongs the honour of having given the name to this type of aircraft,
which, in the two succeeding centuries, became so popular.

After numerous experiments the public were invited to witness the
inflation of a particularly huge balloon, over 30 feet in diameter.
This was accomplished over a fire made of wool and straw. The ascent was
successful, and the balloon, after rising to a height of some 7000 feet,
fell to earth about two miles away.

It may be imagined that this experiment aroused enormous interest in
Paris, whence the news rapidly spread over all France and to Britain.
A Parisian scientific society invited Stephen Montgolfier to Paris in
order that the citizens of the metropolis should have their imaginations
excited by seeing the hero of these remarkable experiments. Montgolfier
was not a rich man, and to enable him to continue his experiments the
society granted him a considerable sum of money. He was then enabled to
construct a very fine balloon, elaborately decorated and painted, which
ascended at Versailles in the presence of the Court.

To add to the value of this experiment three animals were sent up in a
basket attached to the balloon. These were a sheep, a cock, and a duck.
All sorts of guesses were made as to what would be the fate of the "poor
creatures". Some people imagined that there was little or no air in
those higher regions and that the animals would choke; others said they
would be frozen to death. But when the balloon descended the cock was
seen to be strutting about in his usual dignified way, the sheep was
chewing the cud, and the duck was quacking for water and worms.

At this point we will leave the work of the brothers Montgolfier. They
had succeeded in firing the imagination of nearly every Frenchman, from
King Louis down to his humblest subject. Strange, was it not, though
scores of millions of people had seen smoke rise, and clouds float, for
untold centuries, yet no one, until the close of the eighteenth century,
thought of making a balloon?

The learned Franciscan friar, Roger Bacon, who lived in the thirteenth
century, seems to have thought of the possibility of producing a
contrivance that would float in air. His idea was that the earth's
atmosphere was a "true fluid", and that it had an upper surface as the
ocean has. He quite believed that on this upper surface--subject, in his
belief, to waves similar to those of the sea--an air-ship might float if
it once succeeded in rising to the required height. But the difficulty
was to reach the surface of this aerial sea. To do this he proposed to
make a large hollow globe of metal, wrought as thin as the skill of man
could make it, so that it might be as light as possible, and this vast
globe was to be filled with "liquid fire". Just what "liquid fire" was,
one cannot attempt to explain, and it is doubtful if Bacon himself
had any clear idea. But he doubtless thought of some gaseous substance
lighter than air, and so he would seem to have, at least, hit upon the
principle underlying the construction of the modern balloon. Roger Bacon
had ideas far in advance of his time, and his experiments made such an
impression of wonder on the popular mind that they were believed to be
wrought by black magic, and the worthy monk was classed among those who
were supposed to be in league with Satan.



CHAPTER III. The First Man to Ascend in a Balloon

The safe descent of the three animals, which has already been related,
showed the way for man to venture up in a balloon. In our time we marvel
at the daring of modern airmen, who ascend to giddy heights, and, as
it were, engage in mortal combat with the demons of the air. But,
courageous though these deeds are, they are not more so than those of
the pioneers of ballooning.

In the eighteenth century nothing was known definitely of the conditions
of the upper regions of the air, where, indeed, no human being had
ever been; and though the frail Montgolfier balloons had ascended and
descended with no outward happenings, yet none could tell what might
be the risk to life in committing oneself to an ascent. There was, too,
very special danger in making an ascent in a hot-air balloon. Underneath
the huge envelope was suspended a brazier, so that the fabric of the
balloon was in great danger of catching fire.

It was at first suggested that two French criminals under sentence of
death should be sent up, and, if they made a safe descent, then the
way would be open for other aeronauts to venture aloft. But everyone
interested in aeronautics in those days saw that the man who first
traversed the unexplored regions of the air would be held in high
honour, and it seemed hardly right that this honour should fall to
criminals. At any rate this was the view of M. Pilatre de Rozier, a
French gentleman, and he determined himself to make the pioneer ascent.

De Rozier had no false notion of the risks he was prepared to run, and
he superintended with the greatest care the construction of his balloon.
It was of enormous size, with a cage slung underneath the brazier for
heating the air. Befors making his free ascent De Rozier made a trial
ascent with the balloon held captive by a long rope.

At length, in November, 1783, accompanied by the Marquis d'Arlandes as
a passenger, he determined to venture. The experiment aroused immense
excitement all over France, and a large concourse of people were
gathered together on the outskirts of Paris to witness the risky feat.
The balloon made a perfect ascent, and quickly reached a height of
about half a mile above sea-level. A strong current of air in the upper
regions caused the balloon to take an opposite direction from that
intended, and the aeronauts drifted right over Paris. It would have gone
hard with them if they had been forced to descend in the city, but the
craft was driven by the wind to some distance beyond the suburbs and
they alighted quite safely about six miles from their starting-point,
after having been up in the air for about half an hour.

Their voyage, however, had by no means been free from anxiety. We are
told that the fabric of the balloon repeatedly caught fire, which it
took the aeronauts all their time to extinguish. At times, too, they
came down perilously near to the Seine, or to the housetops of Paris,
but after the most exciting half-hour of their lives they found
themselves once more on Mother Earth.

Here we must make a slight digression and speak of the invention of
the hydrogen, or gas, balloon. In a previous chapter we read of the
discovery of hydrogen gas by Henry Cavendish, and the subsequent
experiments with this gas by Dr. Black, of Glasgow. It was soon
decided to try to inflate a balloon with this "inflammable air"--as
the newly-discovered gas was called--and with this end in view a large
public subscription was raised in France to meet the heavy expenses
entailed in the venture. The work was entrusted to a French scientist,
Professor Charles, and two brothers named Robert.

It was quickly seen that paper, such as was used by the Montgolfiers,
was of little use in the construction of a gas balloon, for the gas
escaped. Accordingly the fabric was made of silk and varnished with a
solution of india-rubber and turpentine. The first hydrogen balloon was
only about 13 feet in diameter, for in those early days the method of
preparing hydrogen was very laborious and costly, and the constructors
thought it advisable not to spend too much money over the initial
experiments, in case they should be a failure.

In August, 1783--an eventful year in the history of aeronautics--the
first gas-inflated balloon was sent up, of course unaccompanied by
a passenger. It shot up high in the air much more rapidly than
Montgolfier's hot-air balloon had done, and was soon beyond the clouds.
After a voyage of nearly an hour's duration it descended in a field some
15 miles away. We are told that some peasants at work near by fled in
the greatest alarm at this strange monster which settled in their midst.
An old print shows them cautiously approaching the balloon as it lay
heaving on the ground, stabbing it with pitchforks, and beating it with
flails and sticks. The story goes that one of the alarmed farmers poured
a charge of shot into it with his gun, no doubt thinking that he had
effectually silenced the panting demon contained therein. To prevent
such unseemly occurrences in the future the French Government found
it necessary to warn the people by proclamation that balloons were
perfectly harmless objects, and that the experiments would be repeated.

We now have two aerial craft competing for popular favour: the
Montgolfier hot-air balloon and the "Charlier" or gas-inflated balloon.
About four months after the first trial trip of the latter the inventors
decided to ascend in a specially-constructed hydrogen-inflated craft.
This balloon, which was 27 feet in diameter, contained nearly all the
features of the modern balloon. Thus there was a valve at the top by
means of which the gas could be let out as desired; a cord net covered
the whole fabric, and from the loop which it formed below the neck of
the balloon a car was suspended; and in the car there was a quantity of
ballast which could be cast overboard when necessary.

It may be imagined that this new method of aerial navigation had
thoroughly aroused the excitability of the French nation, so that
thousands of people were met together just outside Paris on the 17th
December to see Professor Charles and his mechanic, Robelt, ascend in
their new craft. The ascent was successful in every way; the intrepid
aeronauts, who carried a barometer, found that they had quickly reached
an altitude of over a mile.

After remaining aloft for nearly two hours they came down. Professor
Charles decided to ascend again, this time by himself, and with a much
lighter load the balloon rose about two miles above sea-level. The
temperature at this height became very low, and M. Charles was affected
by violent pain in his right ear and jaw. During the voyage he witnessed
the strange phenomenon of a double sunset; for, before the ascent, the
sun had set behind the hills overshadowing the valleys, and when he
rose above the hill-tops he saw the sun again, and presently saw it
set again. There is no doubt that the balloon would have risen several
thousand feet higher, but the professor thought it would burst, and he
opened the valve, eventually making a safe descent about 7 miles from
his starting-place.

England lagged behind her French neighbour's in balloon
aeronautics--much as she has recently done in aviation--for a
considerable time, and, it was not till August of the following year
(1784) that the first balloon ascent was made in Great Britain, by Mr.
J. M. Tytler. This took place at Edinburgh in a fire balloon. Previous
to this an Italian, named Lunardi, had in November, 1783, dispatched
from the Artillery Ground, in London, a small balloon made of oil-silk,
10 feet in diameter and weighing 11 pounds. This small craft was sent
aloft at one o'clock, and came down, about two and a half hours later,
in Sussex, about 48 miles from its starting-place.

In 1784 the largest balloon on record was sent up from Lyons. This
immense craft was more than 100 feet in diameter, and stood about 130
feet high. It was inflated with hot air over a straw fire, and seven
passengers were carried, including Joseph Montgolfier and Pilatre de
Rozier.

But to return to de Rozier, whom we left earlier in the chapter, after
his memorable ascent near Paris. This daring Frenchman decided to cross
the Channel, and to prevent the gas cooling, and the balloon falling
into the sea, he hit on the idea of suspending a small fire balloon
under the neck of another balloon inflated with hydrogen gas. In the
light of our modern knowledge of the highly-inflammable nature of
hydrogen, we wonder how anyone could have attempted such an adventure;
but there had been little experience of this newly-discovered gas in
those days. We are not surprised to read that, when high in the air,
there was an awful explosion and the brave aeronaut fell to the earth
and was dashed to death.



CHAPTER IV. The First Balloon Ascent in England

It has been said that the honour of making the first ascent in a balloon
from British soil must be awarded to Mr. Tytler. This took place in
Scotland. In this chapter we will relate the almost romantic story of
the first ascent made in England.

This was carried out successfully by Lunardi, the Italian of whom we
have previously spoken. This young foreigner, who was engaged as a
private secretary in London, had his interest keenly aroused by the
accounts of the experiments being carried out in balloons in France, and
he decided to attempt similar experiments in this country.

But great difficulties stood in his way. Like many other inventors and
would-be airmen, he suffered from lack of funds to build his craft, and
though people whom he approached for financial aid were sympathetic,
many of them were unwilling to subscribe to his venture. At length,
however, by indomitable perseverance, he collected enough money to
defray the cost of building his balloon, and it was arranged that he
should ascend from the Artillery Ground, London, in September, 1784.

His craft was a "Charlier"--that is, it was modelled after the
hydrogen-inflated balloon built by Professor Charles--and it resembled
in shape an enormous pear. A wide hoop encircled the neck of the
envelope, and from this hoop the car was suspended by stout cordage.

It is said that on the day announced for the ascent a crowd of nearly
200,000 had assembled, and that the Prince of Wales was an interested
spectator. Farmers and labourers and, indeed, all classes of people from
the prince down to the humblest subject, were represented, and seldom had
London's citizens been more deeply excited.

Many of them, however, were incredulous, especially when an
insufficiency of gas caused a long delay before the balloon could be
liberated. Fate seemed to be thwarting the plucky Italian at every step.
Even at the last minute, when all arrangements had been perfected as
far as was humanly possible, and the crowd was agog with excitement, it
appeared probable that he would have to postpone the ascent.

It was originally intended that Lunardi should be accompanied by a
passenger; but as there was a shortage of gas the balloon's lifting
power was considerably lessened, and he had to take the trip with a dog
and cat for companions. A perfect ascent was made, and in a few moments
the huge balloon was sailing gracefully in a northerly direction over
innumerable housetops.

This trip was memorable in another way. It was probably the only aerial
cruise where a Royal Council was put off in order to witness the flight.
It is recorded that George the Third was in conference with the Cabinet,
and when news arrived in the Council Chamber that Lunardi was aloft, the
king remarked: "Gentlemen, we may resume our deliberations at pleasure,
but we may never see poor Lunardi again!"

The journey was uneventful; there was a moderate northerly breeze,
and the aeronaut attained a considerable altitude, so that he and
his animals were in danger of frost-bite. Indeed, one of the animals
suffered so severely from the effects of the cold that Lunardi skilfully
descended low enough to drop it safely to earth, and then, throwing
out ballast, once more ascended. He eventually came to earth near a
Hertfordshire village about 30 miles to the north of London.



CHAPTER V. The Father of British Aeronauts

No account of the early history of English aeronautics could possibly be
complete unless it included a description of the Nassau balloon, which
was inflated by coal-gas, from the suggestion of Mr. Charles Green, who
was one of Britain's most famous aeronauts. Because of his institution
of the modern method of using coal-gas in a balloon, Mr. Green is
generally spoken of as the Father of British Aeronautics. During the
close of the eighteenth and the opening years of the nineteenth century
there had been numerous ascents in Charlier balloons, both in Britain
and on the Continent. It had already been discovered that hydrogen gas
was highly dangerous and also expensive, and Mr. Green proposed to try
the experiment of inflating a balloon with ordinary coal-gas, which had
now become fairly common in most large towns, and was much less costly
than hydrogen.

Critics of the new scheme assured the promoters that coal-gas would be
of little use for a balloon, averring that it had comparatively little
lifting power, and aeronauts could never expect to rise to any great
altitude in such a balloon. But Green firmly believed that his theory
was practical, and he put it to the test. The initial experiments
quite convinced him that he was right. Under his superintendence a fine
balloon about 80 feet high, built of silk, was made in South London, and
the car was constructed to hold from fifteen to twenty passengers.
When the craft was completed it was proposed to send it to Paris for
exhibition purposes, and the inventor, with two friends, Messrs. Holland
and Mason, decided to take it over the Channel by air. It is said that
provisions were taken in sufficient quantities to last a fortnight, and
over a ton of ballast was shipped.

The journey commenced in November, 1836, late in the afternoon, as
the aeronauts had planned to cross the sea by night. A fairly strong
north-west wind quickly bore them to the coast, and in less than an hour
they found themselves over the lights of Calais. On and on they went,
now and then entirely lost to Earth through being enveloped in
dense fog; hour after hour went by, until at length dawn revealed
a densely-wooded tract of country with which they were entirely
unfamiliar. They decided to land, and they were greatly surprised to
find that they had reached Weilburg, in Nassau, Germany. The whole
journey of 500 miles had been made in eighteen hours.

Probably no British aeronaut has made more daring and exciting ascents
than Mr. Green--unless it be a member of the famous Spencer family, of
whom we speak in another chapter. It is said that Mr. Green went aloft
over a thousand times, and in later years he was accompanied by various
passengers who were making ascents for scientific purposes. His skill
was so great that though he had numerous hairbreadth escapes he seldom
suffered much bodily harm. He lived to the ripe old age of eighty-five.



CHAPTER VI. The Parachute

No doubt many of those who read this book have seen an aeronaut
descend from a balloon by the aid of a parachute. For many years this
performance has been one of the most attractive items on the programmes
of fetes, galas, and various other outdoor exhibitions.

The word "parachute" has been almost bodily taken from the French
language. It is derived from the French parer to parry, and chute a
fall. In appearance a parachute is very similar to an enormous umbrella.

M. Blanchard, one of the pioneers of ballooning, has the honour of
first using a parachute, although not in person. The first "aeronaut" to
descend by this apparatus was a dog. The astonished animal was placed
in a basket attached to a parachute, taken up in a balloon, and after
reaching a considerable altitude was released. Happily for the dog
the parachute acted quite admirably, and the animal had a graceful and
gentle descent.

Shortly afterwards a well-known French aeronaut, M. Garnerin, had an
equally satisfactory descent, and soon the parachute was used by most
of the prominent aeronauts of the day. Mr. Cocking, a well-known
balloonist, held somewhat different views from those of other inventors
as to the best form of construction of parachutes. His idea was that a
parachute should be very large and rather heavy in order to be able to
support a great weight. His first descent from a great height was also
his last. In 1837, accompanied by Messrs. Spencer and Green, he went up
with his parachute, attached to the Nassau balloon. At a height of about
a mile the parachute was liberated, but it failed to act properly; the
inventor was cast headlong to earth, and dashed to death.

From time to time it has been thought that the parachute might be
used for life-saving on the modern dirigible air-ship, and even on the
aeroplane, and experiments have been carried out with that end in view.
A most thrilling descent from an air-ship by means of a parachute was
that made by Major Maitland, Commander of the British Airship Squadron,
which forms part of the Royal Flying Corps. The descent took place from
the Delta air-ship, which ascended from Farnborough Common. In the car
with Major Maitland were the pilot, Captain Waterlow, and a passenger.
The parachute was suspended from the rigging of the Delta, and when a
height of about 2000 feet had been reached it was dropped over to the
side of the car. With the dirigible travelling at about 20 miles an hour
the major climbed over the car and seated himself in the parachute. Then
it became detached from the Delta and shot downwards for about 200 feet
at a terrific rate. For a moment or two it was thought that the opening
apparatus had failed to work; but gradually the "umbrella" opened, and
the gallant major had a gentle descent for the rest of the distance.

This experiment was really made in order to prove the stability of an
air-ship after a comparatively great weight was suddenly removed from
it. Lord Edward Grosvenor, who is attached to the Royal Flying Corps,
was one of the eyewitnesses of the descent. In speaking of it he said:
"We all think highly of Major Maitland's performance, which has shown
how the difficulty of lightening an air-ship after a long flight can be
surmounted. During a voyage of several hours a dirigible naturally loses
gas, and without some means of relieving her of weight she might have
to descend in a hostile country. Major Maitland has proved the
practicability of members of an air-ship's crew dropping to the ground
if the necessity arises."

A descent in a parachute has also been made from an aeroplane by M.
Pegoud, the daring French airman, of whom we speak later. A certain
Frenchman, M. Bonnet, had constructed a parachute which was intended
to be used by the pilot of an aeroplane if on any occasion he got into
difficulties. It had been tried in many ways, but, unfortunately for the
inventor, he could get no pilot to trust himself to it. Tempting offers
were made to pilots of world-wide fame, but either the risk was thought
to be too great, or it was believed that no practical good would come of
the experiment. At last the inventor approached M. Pegoud, who undertook
to make the descent. This was accomplished from a great height with
perfect safety. It seems highly probable that in the near future
the parachute will form part of the equipment of every aeroplane and
air-ship.



CHAPTER VII. Some British Inventors of Air-ships

The first Englishman to invent an air-ship was Mr. Stanley Spencer, head
of the well-known firm of Spencer Brothers, whose works are at Highbury,
North London.

This firm has long held an honourable place in aeronautics, both in the
construction of air-craft and in aerial navigation. Spencer Brothers
claim to be the premier balloon manufacturers in the world, and, at the
time of writing, eighteen balloons and two dirigibles lie in the works
ready for use. In these works there may also be seen the frame of the
famous Santos-Dumont air-ship, referred to later in this book.

In general appearance the first Spencer air-ship was very similar to
the airship flown by Santos-Dumont; that is, there was the cigar-shaped
balloon, the small engine, and the screw propellor for driving the craft
forward.

But there was one very important distinction between the two air-ships.
By a most ingenious contrivance the envelope was made so that, in the
event of a large and serious escape of gas, the balloon would assume
the form of a giant umbrella, and fall to earth after the manner of a
parachute.

All inventors profit, or should profit, by the experience of others,
whether such experience be gained by success or failure. It was found
that Santos-Dumont's air-ship lost a considerable amount of gas when
driven through the air, and on several occasions the whole craft was in
great danger of collapse. To keep the envelope inflated as tightly as
possible Mr. Spencer, by a clever contrivance, made it possible to force
air into the balloon to replace the escaped gas.

The first Spencer air-ship was built for experimental purposes. It
was able to lift only one person of light weight, and was thus a great
contrast to the modern dirigible which carries a crew of thirty or forty
people. Mr. Spencer made several exhibition flights in his little craft
at the Crystal Palace, and so successful were they that he determined to
construct a much larger craft.

The second Spencer air-ship, first launched in 1903, was nearly 100 feet
long. There was one very important distinction between this and other
air-ships built at that time: the propeller was placed in front of the
craft, instead of at the rear, as is the case in most air-ships.
Thus the craft was pulled through the air much after the manner of an
aeroplane.

In the autumn of 1903 great enthusiasm was aroused in London by the
announcement that Mr. Spencer proposed to fly from the Crystal Palace
round the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral and back to his starting-place.
This was a much longer journey than that made by Santos-Dumont when he
won the Deutsch prize.

Tens of thousands of London's citizens turned out to witness the novel
sight of a giant air-ship hovering over the heart of their city, and
it was at once seen what enormous possibilities there were in the
employment of such craft in time of war. The writer remembers well
moving among the dense crowds and hearing everywhere such remarks as
these:

"What would happen if a few bombs were thrown over the side of the
air-ship?" "Will there be air-fleets in future, manned by the soldiers
or sailors?" Indeed the uppermost thought in people's minds was not so
much the possibility of Mr. Spencer being able to complete his journey
successfully--nearly everyone recognized that air-ship construction had
now advanced so far that it was only a matter of time for an ideal craft
to be built--but that the coming of the air-ship was an affair of grave
international importance.

The great craft, glistening in the sunlight, sailed majestically from
the south, but when it reached the Cathedral it refused to turn round
and face the wind. Try how he might, Mr. Spencer could not make any
progress. It was a thrilling sight to witness this battle with the
elements, right over the heart of the largest city in the world. At
times the air-ship seemed to be standing quite still, head to wind.
Unfortunately, half a gale had sprung up, and the 24-horse-power engine
was quite incapable of conquering so stiff a breeze, and making its way
home again. After several gallant attempts to circle round the dome, Mr.
Spencer gave up in despair, and let the monster air-ship drift with
the wind over the northern suburbs of the city until a favourable
landing-place near Barnet was reached, where he descended.

The Spencer air-ships are of the non-rigid type. Spencer air-ship
A comprises a gas vessel for hydrogen 88 feet long and 24 feet in
diameter, with a capacity of 26,000 cubic feet. The framework is of
polished ash wood, made in sections so that it can easily be taken
to pieces and transported, and the length over all is 56 feet. Two
propellers 7 feet 6 inches diameter, made of satin-wood, are employed to
drive the craft, which is equipped with a Green engine of from 35 to 40
horse-power.

Spencer's air-ship B is a much larger vessel, being 150 feet long and
35 feet in diameter, with a capacity for hydrogen of 100,000 cubic feet.
The framework is of steel and aluminium, made in sections, with cars
for ten persons, including aeronauts, mechanics, and passengers. It is
driven with two petrol aerial engines of from 50 to 60 horse-power.

About the time that Mr. Spencer was experimenting with his large
air-ship, Dr. Barton, of Beckenham, was forming plans for an even larger
craft. This he laid down in the spacious grounds of the Alexandra Park,
to the north of London. An enormous shed was erected on the northern
<DW72>s of the park, but visitors to the Alexandra Palace, intent on
a peep at the monster air-ship under construction, were sorely
disappointed, as the utmost secrecy in the building of the craft was
maintained.

The huge balloon was 43 feet in diameter and 176 feet long, with a gas
capacity of 235,000 cubic feet. To maintain the external form of the
envelope a smaller balloon, or compensator, was placed inside the larger
one. The framework was of bamboo, and the car was attached by about
eighty wire-cables. The wooden deck was about 123 feet in length. Two
50-horse-power engines drove four propellers, two of which were at
either end.

The inventor employed a most ingenious contrivance to preserve the
horizontal balance of the air-ship. Fitted, one at each end of the
carriage, were two 50-gallon tanks. These tanks were connected with a
long pipe, in the centre of which was a hand-pump. When the bow of the
air-ship dipped, the man at the pump could transfer some of the water
from the fore-tank to the after-tank, and the ship would right itself.
The water could similarly be transferred from the after-tank to the
fore-tank when the stern of the craft pointed downwards.

There were many reports, in the early months of 1905, that the air-ship
was going to be brought out from the shed for its trial flights, and the
writer, in common with many other residents in the vicinity of the park,
made dozens of journeys to the shed in the expectation of seeing
the mighty dirigible sail away. But for months we were doomed to
disappointment; something always seemed to go wrong at the last minute,
and the flight had to be postponed.

At last, in 1905, the first ascent took place. It was unsuccessful. The
huge balloon, made of tussore silk, cruised about for some time, then
drifted away with the breeze, and came to grief in landing.

A clever inventor of air-ships, a young Welshman, Mr. E. T. Willows,
designed in 1910, an air-ship in which he flew from Cardiff to London
in the dark--a distance of 139 miles. In the same craft he crossed the
English Channel a little later.

Mr. Willows has a large shed in the London aerodrome at Hendon, and he
is at present working there on a new air-ship. For some time he has been
the only successful private builder of air-ships in Great Britain. The
Navy possess a small Willows air-ship.

Messrs. Vickers, the famous builders of battleships, are giving
attention to the construction of air-ships for the Navy, in their works
at Walney Island, Barrow-in-Furness. This firm has erected an enormous
shed, 540 feet long, 150 feet broad, and 98 feet high. In this shed two
of the largest air-ships can be built side by side. Close at hand is an
extensive factory for the production of hydrogen gas.

At each end of the roof are towers from which the difficult task of
safely removing an air-ship from the shed can be directed.

At the time of writing, the redoubtable DORA (Defence of the Realm Act)
forbids any but the vaguest references to what is going forward in the
way of additions to our air forces. But it may be stated that air-ships
are included in the great constructive programme now being carried
out. It is not long since the citizens of Glasgow were treated to the
spectacle of a full-sized British "Zep" circling round the city prior to
her journey south, and so to regions unspecified. And use, too, is being
found by the naval arm for that curious hybrid the "Blimp", which may be
described as a cross between an aeroplane and an air-ship.



CHAPTER VIII. The First Attempts to Steer a Balloon

For nearly a century after the invention of the Montgolfier and Charlier
balloons there was not much progress made in the science of aeronautics.
True, inventors such as Charles Green suggested and carried out new
methods of inflating balloons, and scientific observations of great
importance were made by balloonists both in Britain and on the
Continent. But in the all-important work of steering the huge craft,
progress was for many years practically at a standstill. All that the
balloonist could do in controlling his balloon was to make it ascend or
descend at will; he could not guide its direction of flight. No doubt
pioneers of aeronautics early turned their attention to the problem of
providing some apparatus, or some method, of steering their craft.
One inventor suggested the hoisting of a huge sail at the side of the
envelope; but when this was done the balloon simply turned round with
the sail to the front. It had no effect on the direction of flight of
the balloon. "Would not a rudder be of use?" someone asked. This plan
was also tried, but was equally unsuccessful.

Perhaps some of us may wonder how it is that a rudder is not as
serviceable on a balloon as it is on the stern of a boat. Have you ever
found yourself in a boat on a calm day, drifting idly down stream, and
going just as fast as the stream goes? Work the rudder how you may, you
will not alter the boat's course. But supposing your boat moves faster
than the stream, or by some means or other is made to travel slower than
the current, then your rudder will act, and you may take what direction
you will.

It was soon seen that if some method could be adopted whereby the
balloon moved through the air faster or slower than the wind, then the
aeronaut would be able to steer it. Nowadays a balloon's pace can be
accelerated by means of a powerful motor-engine, but the invention of
the petrol-engine is very recent. Indeed, the cause of the long delay in
the construction of a steerable balloon was that a suitable engine
could not be found. A steam-engine, with a boiler of sufficient power
to propel a balloon, is so heavy that it would require a balloon of
impossible size to lift it.

One of the first serious attempts to steer a balloon by means of engine
power was that made by M. Giffard in 1852. Giffard's balloon was
about 100 feet long and 40 feet in diameter, and resembled in shape
an elongated cigar. A 3-horse-power steam-engine, weighing nearly 500
pounds, was provided to work a propeller, but the enormous weight was so
great in proportion to the lifting power of the balloon that for a time
the aeronaut could not leave the ground. After several experiments the
inventor succeeded in ascending, when he obtained a speed against the
wind of about 6 miles an hour.

A balloon of great historical interest was that invented by Dupuy du
Lonie, in the year 1872. Instead of using steam he employed a number of
men to propel the craft, and with this air-ship he hoped to communicate
with the besieged city of Paris.

His greatest speed against a moderate breeze was only about 5 miles
an hour, and the endurance of the men did not allow of even this speed
being kept up for long at a time.

Dupuy foreshadowed the construction of the modern dirigible air-ship by
inventing a system of suspension links which connected the car to
the envelope; and he also used an internal ballonet similar to those
described in Chapter X.

In the year 1883 Tissandier invented a steerable balloon which was
fitted with an electric motor of 1 1/2 horse-power. This motor drove
a propeller, and a speed of about 8 miles an hour was attained. It is
interesting to contrast the power obtained from this engine with that
of recent Zeppelin air-ships, each of which is fitted with three or four
engines, capable of producing over 800 horse-power.

The first instance on record of an air-ship being steered back to its
starting-point was that of La France. This air-craft was the invention
of two French army captains, Reynard and Krebs. By special and
much-improved electric motors a speed of about 14 miles an hour was
attained.

Thus, step by step, progress was made; but notwithstanding the promising
results it was quite evident that the engines were far too heavy
in proportion to the power they supplied. At length, however, the
internal-combustion engine, such as is used in motor-cars, arrived, and
it became at last possible to solve the great problem of constructing a
really-serviceable, steerable balloon.



CHAPTER IX. The Strange Career of Count Zeppelin

In Berlin, on March 8, 1917, there passed away a man whose name will be
remembered as long as the English language is spoken. For Count Zeppelin
belongs to that little band of men who giving birth to a work of
genius have also given their names to the christening of it; and so the
patronymic will pass down the ages.

In the most sinister sense of the expression Count Zeppelin may be said
to have left his mark deep down upon the British race. In course of time
many old scores are forgiven and forgotten, but the Zeppelin raids on
England will survive, if only as a curious failure. Their failure was
both material and moral. Anti-aircraft guns and our intrepid airmen
brought one after another of these destructive monsters blazing to the
ground, and their work of "frightfulness" was taken up by the aeroplane;
while more lamentable still was the failure of the Zeppelin as an
instrument of terror to the civil population. In the long list of German
miscalculations must be included that which pictured the victims of
bombardment from the air crying out in terror for peace at any price.

Before the war Count Zeppelin was regarded by the British public as
rather a picturesque personality. He appeared in the romantic guise of
the inventor struggling against difficulties and disasters which would
soon have overwhelmed a man of less resolute character. Even old age
was included in his handicap, for he was verging on seventy when still
arming against a sea of troubles.

The ebb and flow of his fortunes were followed with intense interest
in this country, and it is not too much to say that the many disasters
which overtook his air-ships in their experimental stages were regarded
as world-wide calamities.

When, finally, the Count stood on the brink of ruin and the Kaiser
stepped forward as his saviour, something like a cheer went up from
the British public at this theatrical episode. Little did the audience
realize what was to be the outcome of the association between these
callous and masterful minds.

And now for a brief sketch of Count Zeppelin's life-story. He was born
in 1838, in a monastery on an island in Lake Constance. His love of
adventure took him to America, and when he was about twenty-five years
of age he took part in the American Civil War. Here he made his first
aerial ascent in a balloon belonging to the Federal army, and in this
way made that acquaintance with aeronautics which became the ruling
passion of his life.

After the war was over he returned to Germany, only to find another war
awaiting him--the Austro-Prussian campaign. Later on he took part in the
Franco-Prussian War, and in both campaigns he emerged unscathed.

But his heart was not in the profession of soldiering. He had the
restless mind of the inventor, and when he retired, a general, after
twenty years' military service, he was free to give his whole attention
to his dreams of aerial navigation. His greatest ambition was to make
his country pre-eminent in aerial greatness.

Friends to whom he revealed his inmost thoughts laughed at him behind
his back, and considered that he was "a little bit wrong in his head".
Certainly his ideas of a huge aerial fleet appeared most extravagant,
for it must be remembered that the motor-engine had not then arrived,
and there appeared no reasonable prospect of its invention.

Perseverance, however, was the dominant feature of Count Zeppelin's
character; he refused to be beaten. His difficulties were formidable.
In the first place, he had to master the whole science of aeronautics,
which implies some knowledge of mechanics, meteorology, and electricity.
This in itself was no small task for a man of over fifty years of age,
for it was not until Count Zeppelin had retired from the army that he
began to study these subjects at all deeply.

The next step was to construct a large shed for the housing of his
air-ship, and also for the purpose of carrying out numerous costly
experiments. The Count selected Friedrichshafen, on the shores of Lake
Constance, as his head-quarters. He decided to conduct his experiments
over the calm waters of the lake, in order to lessen the effects of a
fall. The original shed was constructed on pontoons, and it could be
turned round as desired, so that the air-ship could be brought out in
the lee of any wind from whatsoever quarter it came.

It is said that the Count's private fortune of about L25,000 was soon
expended in the cost of these works and the necessary experiments. To
continue his work he had to appeal for funds to all his friends, and
also to all patriotic Germans, from the Kaiser downwards.

At length, in 1908, there came a turning-point in his fortunes. The
German Government, which had watched the Count's progress with great
interest, offered to buy his invention outright if he succeeded in
remaining aloft in one of his dirigibles for twenty-four hours. The
Count did not quite succeed in his task, but he aroused the great
interest of the whole German nation, and a Zeppelin fund was
established, under the patronage of the Kaiser, in every town and city
in the Fatherland. In about a month the fund amounted to over L300,000.
With this sum the veteran inventor was able to extend his works, and
produce air-ship after air-ship with remarkable rapidity.

When, war broke out it is probable that Germany possessed at least
thirteen air-ships which had fulfilled very difficult tests. One had
flown 1800 miles in a single journey. Thus the East Coast of England,
representing a return journey of less than 600 miles was well within
their range of action.



CHAPTER X. A Zeppelin Air-ship and its Construction

After the Zeppelin fund had brought in a sum of money which probably
exceeded all expectations, a company was formed for the construction
of dirigibles in the Zeppelin works on Lake Constance, and in 1909 an
enormous air-ship was produced.

In shape a Zeppelin dirigible resembled a gigantic cigar, pointed at
both ends. If placed with one end on the ground in Trafalgar Square,
London, its other end would be nearly three times the height of the
Nelson Column, which, as you may know, is 166 feet.

From the diagram here given, which shows a sectional view of a typical
Zeppelin air-ship, we may obtain a clear idea of the main features of
the craft. From time to time, during the last dozen years or so, the
inventor has added certain details, but the main features as shown in
the illustration are common to all air-craft of this type.

Zeppelin L1 was 525 feet in length, with a diameter of 50 feet. Some
idea of the size may be obtained through the knowledge that she was
longer than a modern Dreadnought. The framework was made of specially
light metal, aluminium alloy, and wood. This framework, which was stayed
with steel wire, maintained the shape and rigidity of her gas-bags;
hence vessels of this type are known as RIGID air-ships. Externally the
hull was covered with a waterproof fabric.

Though, from outside, a rigid air-ship looks to be all in one piece,
within it is divided into numerous compartments. In Zeppelin L1 there
were eighteen separate compartments, each of which contained a balloon
filled with hydrogen gas. The object of providing the vessel with these
small balloons, or ballonets, all separate from one another, was to
prevent the gas collecting all at one end of the ship as the
vessel travelled through the air. Outside the ballonets there was a
ring-shaped, double bottom, containing non-inflammable gas, and the
whole was enclosed in rubber-coated fabric.

The crew and motors were carried in cars slung fore and aft. The ship
was propelled by three engines, each of 170 horse-power. One engine was
placed in the forward car, and the two others in the after car. To steer
her to right or left, she had six vertical planes somewhat resembling
box-kites, while eight horizontal planes enabled her to ascend or
descend.

In Zeppelin L2, which was a later type of craft, there were four motors
capable of developing 820 horse-power. These drove four propellers,
which gave the craft a speed of about 45 miles an hour.

The cars were connected by a gangway built within the framework. On the
top of the gas-chambers was a platform of aluminium alloy, carrying a
1-pounder gun, and used also as an observation station. It is thought
that L1 was also provided with four machine-guns in her cars.

Later types of Zeppelins were fitted with a "wireless" installation of
sufficient range to transmit and receive messages up to 350 miles. L1
could rise to the height of a mile in favourable weather, and carry
about 7 tons over and above her own weight.

Even when on ground the unwieldy craft cause many anxious moments to
the officers and mechanics who handle them. Two of the line have broken
loose from their anchorage in a storm and have been totally destroyed.
Great difficulty is also experienced in getting them in and out of their
sheds. Here, indeed, is a contrast with the ease and rapidity with which
an aeroplane is removed from its hangar.

It was maintained by the inventor that, as the vessel is rigid, and
therefore no pressure is required in the gas-chamber to maintain its
shape, it will not be readily vulnerable to projectiles. But the Count
did not foresee that the very "frightfulness" of his engine of war would
engender counter-destructives. In a later chapter an account will be
given of the manner in which Zeppelin attacks upon these islands were
gradually beaten off by the combined efforts of anti-aircraft guns and
aeroplanes. To the latter, and the intrepid pilots and fighters, is due
the chief credit for the final overthrow of the Zeppelin as a weapon of
offence. Both the British and French airmen in various brilliant sallies
succeeded in gradually breaking up and destroying this Armada of the
Air; and the Zeppelin was forced back to the one line of work in which
it has proved a success, viz., scouting for the German fleet in the few
timid sallies it has made from home ports.



CHAPTER XI. The Semi-rigid Air-ship

Modern air-ships are of three general types: RIGID, SEMI-RIGID, and
NON-RIGID. These differ from one another, as the names suggest, in the
important feature, the RIGIDITY, NON-RIGIDITY, and PARTIAL RIGIDITY of
the gas envelope.

Hitherto we have discussed the RIGID type of vessel with which the name
of Count Zeppelin is so closely associated. This vessel is, as we have
seen, not dependent for its form on the gas-bag, but is maintained
in permanent shape by means of an aluminium framework. A serious
disadvantage to this type of craft is that it lacks the portability
necessary for military purposes. It is true that the vessel can be taken
to pieces, but not quickly. The NON-RIGID type, on the other hand, can
be quickly deflated, and the parts of the car and engine can be readily
transported to the nearest balloon station when occasion requires.

In the SEMI-RIGID type of air-ship the vessel is dependent for its form
partly on its framework and partly on the form of the gas envelope. The
under side of the balloon consists of a flat rigid framework, to
which the planes are attached, and from which the car, the engine, and
propeller are suspended.

As the rigid type of dirigible is chiefly advocated in Germany, so the
semi-rigid craft is most popular in France. The famous Lebaudy air-ships
are good types of semi-rigid vessels. These were designed for the firm
of Lebaudy Freres by the well-known French engineer M. Henri Julliot.

In November, 1902, M. Julliot and M. Surcouf completed an air-ship for
M. Lebaudy which attained a speed of nearly 25 miles an hour. The craft,
which was named Lebaudy I, made many successful voyages, and in 1905 M.
Lebaudy offered a second vessel, Lebaudy II, to the French Minister of
War, who accepted it for the French nation, and afterwards decided to
order another dirigible, La Patrie, of the same type. Disaster, however,
followed these air-ships. Lebaudy I was torn from its anchorage during
a heavy gale in 1906, and was completely wrecked. La Patrie, after
travelling in 1907 from Paris to Verdun, in seven hours, was, a few days
later, caught in a gale, and the pilot was forced to descend. The wind,
however, was so strong that 200 soldiers were unable to hold down the
unwieldy craft, and it was torn from their hands. It sailed away in a
north-westerly direction over the Channel into England, and ultimately
disappeared into the North Sea, where it was subsequently discovered
some days after the accident.

Notwithstanding these disasters the French military authorities
ordered another craft of the same type, which was afterwards named the
Republique. This vessel made a magnificent flight of six and a half
hours in 1908, and it was considered to have quite exceptional features,
which eclipsed the previous efforts of Messrs. Julliot and Lebaudy.

Unfortunately, however, this vessel was wrecked in a very terrible
manner. While out cruising with a crew of four officers one of the
propeller blades was suddenly fractured, and, flying off with immense
force, it entered the balloon, which it ripped to pieces. The majestic
craft crumpled up and crashed to the ground, killing its crew in its
fall.

In the illustration facing p. 17, of a Lebaudy air-ship, we have a good
type of the semi-rigid craft. In shape it somewhat resembles an enormous
porpoise, with a sharply-pointed nose. The whole vessel is not as
symmetrical as a Zeppelin dirigible, but its inventors claim that
the sharp prow facilitates the steady displacement of the air during
flight. The stern is rounded so as to provide sufficient support for the
rear planes.

Two propellers are employed, and are fixed outside the car, one on
each side, and almost in the centre of the vessel. This is a some what
unusual arrangement. Some inventors, such as Mr. Spencer, place the
propellers at the prow, so that the air-ship is DRAWN along; others
prefer the propeller at the stern, whereby the craft is PUSHED along;
but M. Julliot chose the central position, because there the disturbance
of the air is smallest.

The body of the balloon is not quite round, for the lower part is
flattened and rests on a rigid frame from which the car is suspended.
The balloon is divided into three compartments, so that the heavier air
does not move to one part of the balloon when it is tilted.

In the picture there is shown the petrol storage-tank, which is
suspended immediately under the rear horizontal plane, where it is out
of danger of ignition from the hot engine placed in the car.



CHAPTER XII. A Non-rigid Balloon

Hitherto we have described the rigid and semi-rigid types of air-ships.
We have seen that the former maintains its shape without assistance
from the gas which inflates its envelope and supplies the lifting power,
while the latter, as its name implies, is dependent for its form partly
on the flat rigid framework to which the car is attached, and partly on
the gas balloon.

We have now to turn our attention to that type of craft known as a
NON-RIGID BALLOON. This vessel relies for its form ENTIRELY upon the
pressure of the gas, which keeps the envelope distended with sufficient
tautness to enable it to be driven through the air at a considerable
speed.

It will at once be seen that the safety of a vessel of this type depends
on the maintenance of the gas pressure, and that it is liable to
be quickly put out of action if the envelope becomes torn. Such an
occurrence is quite possible in war. A well-directed shell which pierced
the balloon would undoubtedly be disastrous to air-ship and crew. For
this reason the non-rigid balloon does not appear to have much future
value as a fighting ship. But, as great speed can be obtained from
it, it seems especially suited for short overland voyages, either for
sporting or commercial purposes. One of its greatest advantages is that
it can be easily deflated, and can be packed away into a very small
compass.

A good type of the non-rigid air-ship is that built by Major Von
Parseval, which is named after its inventor. The Parseval has been
described as "a marvel of modern aeronautical construction", and also as
"one of the most perfect expressions of modern aeronautics, not only on
account of its design, but owing to its striking efficiency."

The balloon has the elongated form, rounded or pointed at one end, or
both ends, which is common to most air-ships. The envelope is composed
of a rubber-texture fabric, and externally it is painted yellow, so that
the chemical properties of the sun's rays may not injure the rubber.
There are two smaller interior balloons, or COMPENSATORS, into which can
be pumped air by means of a mechanically-driven fan or ventilator, to
make up for contraction of the gas when descending or meeting a cooler
atmosphere. The compensators occupy about one-quarter of the whole
volume.

To secure the necessary inclination of the balloon while in flight, air
can be transferred from one of the compensators, say at the fore end of
the ship, into the ballonet in the aft part. Suppose it is desired to
incline the bow of the craft upward, then the ventilating fan would
DEFLATE the fore ballonet and INFLATE the aft one, so that the latter,
becoming heavier, would lower the stern and raise the bow of the vessel.

Along each side of the envelope are seen strips to which the car
suspension-cords are attached. To prevent these cords being jerked
asunder, by the rolling or pitching of the vessel, horizontal fins, each
172 square feet in area, are provided at each side of the rear end of
the balloon. In the past several serious accidents have been caused by
the violent pitching of the balloon when caught in a gale, and so severe
have been the stresses on the suspension cords that great damage has
been done to the envelope, and the aeronauts have been fortunate if they
have been able to make a safe descent.

The propeller and engine are carried by the car, which is slung well
below the balloon, and by an ingenious contrivance the car always
remains in a horizontal position, however much the balloon may be
inclined. It is no uncommon occurrence for the balloon to make a
considerable angle with the car beneath.

The propeller is quite a work of art. It has a diameter of about 14
feet, and consists of a frame of hollow steel tubes covered with fabric.
It is so arranged that when out of action its blades fall lengthwise
upon the frame supporting it, but when it is set to work the blades
at once open out. The engine weighs 770 pounds, and has six cylinders,
which develop 100 horse-power at 1200 revolutions a minute.

The vessel may be steered either to the right or the left by means of a
large vertical helm, some 80 square feet in area, which is hinged at the
rear end to a fixed vertical plane of 200 square feet area.

An upward or downward inclination is, as we have seen, effected by
the ballonets, but in cases of emergency these compensators cannot be
deflated or inflated sufficiently rapidly, and a large movable weight is
employed for altering the balance of the vessel.

In this country the authorities have hitherto favoured the non-rigid
air-ship for military and naval use. The Astra-Torres belongs to this
type of vessel, which can be rapidly deflated and transported, and so,
too, the air-ship built by Mr. Willows.



CHAPTER XIII. The Zeppelin and Gotha Raids

In the House of Commons recently Mr. Bonar Law announced that since
the commencement of the war 14,250 lives had been lost as the result of
enemy action by submarines and air-craft. A large percentage of these
figures represents women, children, and defenceless citizens.

One had become almost hardened to the German method of making war on the
civil population--that system of striving to act upon civilian "nerves"
by calculated brutality which is summed up in the word "frightfulness".
But the publication of these figures awoke some of the old horror of
German warfare. The sum total of lives lost brought home to the people
at home the fact that bombardment from air and sea, while it had failed
to shake their MORAL, had taken a large toll of human life.

At first the Zeppelin raids were not taken very seriously in this
country. People rushed out of their houses to see the unwonted spectacle
of an air-ship dealing death and destruction from the clouds. But soon
the novelty began to wear off, and as the raids became more frequent
and the casualty lists grew larger, people began to murmur against the
policy of taking these attacks "lying down". It was felt that "darkness
and composure" formed but a feeble and ignoble weapon of defence. The
people spoke with no uncertain voice, and it began to dawn upon the
authorities that the system of regarding London and the south-east coast
as part of "the front" was no excuse for not taking protective measures.

It was the raid into the Midlands on the night of 31st January,
1916, that finally shelved the old policy of do nothing. Further
justification, if any were needed, for active measures was supplied by
a still more audacious raid upon the east coast of Scotland, upon
which occasion Zeppelins soared over England--at their will. Then the
authorities woke up, and an extensive scheme of anti-aircraft guns and
squadrons of aeroplanes was devised. About March of the year 1916 the
Germans began to break the monotony of the Zeppelin raids by using
sea-planes as variants. So there was plenty of work for our new
defensive air force. Indeed, people began to ask themselves why we
should not hit back by making raids into Germany. The subject was well
aired in the public press, and distinguished advocates came forward
for and against the policy of reprisals. At a considerably later date
reprisals carried the day, and, as we write, air raids by the British
into Germany are of frequent occurrence.

In March, 1916, the fruits of the new policy began to appear, and people
found them very refreshing. A fleet of Zeppelins found, on approaching
the mouth of the Thames, a very warm reception. Powerful searchlights,
and shells from new anti-aircraft guns, played all round them. At length
a shot got home. One of the Zeppelins, "winged" by a shell, began
a wobbly retreat which ended in the waters of the estuary. The navy
finished the business. The wrecked air-ship was quickly surrounded by a
little fleet of destroyers and patrol-boats, and the crew were brought
ashore, prisoners. That same night yet another Zeppelin was hit and
damaged in another part of the country.

Raids followed in such quick succession as to be almost of nightly
occurrence during the favouring moonless nights. Later, the conditions
were reversed, and the attacks by aeroplane were all made in bright
moonlight. But ever the defence became more strenuous. Then aeroplanes
began to play the role of "hornets", as Mr. Winston Churchill, speaking
rather too previously, designated them.

Lieutenant Brandon, R.F.C., succeeded in dropping several aerial bombs
on a Zeppelin during the raid on March 31, but it was not until six
months later that an airman succeeded in bringing down a Zeppelin on
British soil. The credit of repeating Lieutenant Warneford's great feat
belongs to Lieutenant W. R. Robinson, and the fight was witnessed by
a large gathering. It occurred in the very formidable air raid on the
night of September 2. Breathlessly the spectators watched the Zeppelin
harried by searchlight and shell-fire. Suddenly it disappeared behind
a veil of smoke which it had thrown out to baffle its pursuers. Then it
appeared again, and a loud shout went up from the watching thousands.
It was silhouetted against the night clouds in a faint line of fire. The
hue deepened, the glow spread all round, and the doomed airship began
its crash to earth in a smother of flame. The witnesses to this amazing
spectacle naturally supposed that a shell had struck the Zeppelin. Its
tiny assailant that had dealt the death-blow had been quite invisible
during the fight. Only on the following morning did the public learn of
Lieutenant Robinson's feat. It appeared that he had been in the air
a couple of hours, engaged in other conflicts with his monster foes.
Besides the V.C. the plucky airman won considerable money prizes from
citizens for destroying the first Zeppelin on British soil.

The Zeppelin raids continued at varying intervals for the remainder
of the year. As the power of the defence increased the air-ships were
forced to greater altitudes, with a corresponding decrease in the
accuracy with which they could aim bombs on specified objects. But,
however futile the raids, and however widely they missed their mark,
there was no falling off in the outrageous claims made in the German
communiques. Bombs dropped in fields, waste lands, and even the sea,
masqueraded in the reports as missiles which had sunk ships in harbour,
destroyed docks, and started fires in important military areas. So
persistent were these exaggerations that it became evident that the
Zeppelin raids were intended quite as much for moral effect at home as
for material damage abroad. The heartening effect of the raids upon
the German populace is evidenced by the mental attitude of men made
prisoners on any of the fronts. Only with the utmost difficulty were
their captors able to persuade them that London and other large towns
were not in ruins; that shipbuilding was not at a standstill; and that
the British people was not ready at any moment to purchase indemnity
from the raids by concluding a German peace. When one method of
terrorism fails try another, was evidently the German motto. After the
Zeppelin the Gotha, and after that the submarine.

The next year--1917--brought in a very welcome change in the situation.
One Zeppelin after another met with its just deserts, the British navy
in particular scoring heavily against them. Nor must the skill and
enterprise of our French allies be forgotten. In March, 1917, they shot
down a Zeppelin at Compiegne, and seven months later dealt the blow
which finally rid these islands of the Zeppelin menace.

For nearly a year London, owing to its greatly increased defences, had
been free from attack. Then, on the night of October 19, Germany made
a colossal effort to make good their boast of laying London in ruins. A
fleet of eleven Zeppelins came over, five of which found the city. One,
drifting low and silently, was responsible for most of the casualties,
which totalled 34 killed and 56 injured.

The fleet got away from these shores without mishap. Then, at long last,
came retribution. Flying very high, they seem to have encountered an
aerial storm which drove them helplessly over French territory. Our
allies were swift to seize this golden opportunity. Their airmen and
anti-aircraft guns shot down no less than four of the Zeppelins in broad
daylight, one of which was captured whole. Of the remainder, one at
least drifted over the Mediterranean, and was not heard of again. That
was the last of the Zeppelin, so far as the civilian population was
concerned. But, for nearly a year, the work of killing citizens had been
undertaken by the big bomb-dropping Gotha aeroplanes.

The work of the Gotha belongs rightly to the second part of this book,
which deals with aeroplanes and airmen; but it would be convenient to
dispose here of the part played by the Gotha in the air raids upon this
country.

The reconnaissance took place on Tuesday, November 28, 1916, when in a
slight haze a German aeroplane suddenly appeared over London, dropped
six bombs, and flew off. The Gotha was intercepted off Dunkirk by the
French, and brought down. Pilot and observer-two naval lieutenants-were
found to have a large-scale map of London in their possession. The new
era of raids had commenced.

Very soon it became evident that the new squadron of Gothas were much
more destructive than the former fleets of unwieldy Zeppelins. These
great Gothas were each capable of dropping nearly a ton of bombs. And
their heavy armament and swift flight rendered them far less vulnerable
than the air-ship.

From March 1 to October 31, 1917, no less than twenty-two raids
took place, chiefly on London and towns on the south-east coast. The
casualties amounted to 484 killed and 410 wounded. The two worst raids
occurred June 13 on East London, and September 3 on the Sheerness and
Chatham area.

A squadron of fifteen aeroplanes carried out the raid, on June 13, and
although they were only over the city for a period of fifteen minutes
the casualty list was exceedingly heavy--104 killed and 432 wounded.
Many children were among the killed and injured as the result of a bomb
which fell upon a Council school. The raid was carried out in daylight,
and the bombs began to drop before any warning could be given. Later,
an effective and comprehensive system of warnings was devised, and when
people had acquired the habit of taking shelter, instead of rushing
out into the street to see the aerial combats, the casualties began to
diminish.

It is worthy of record that the possible danger to schools had been
anticipated, and for some weeks previously the children had taken part
in "Air Raid Drill". When the raid came, the children behaved in the
most exemplary fashion. They went through the manoeuvres as though it
was merely a rehearsal, and their bearing as well as the coolness of the
teachers obviated all danger from panic. In this raid the enemy first
made use of aerial torpedoes.

Large loss of life, due to a building being struck, was also the feature
of the moonlight raid on September 4. On this occasion enemy airmen
found a mark on the Royal Naval barracks at Sheerness. The barracks were
fitted with hammocks for sleeping, and no less than 108 bluejackets lost
their lives, the number of wounded amounting to 92. Although the raid
lasted nearly an hour and powerful searchlights were brought into
play, neither guns nor our airmen succeeded in causing any loss to
the raiders. Bombs were dropped at a number of other places, including
Margate and Southend, but without result.

No less than six raids took place on London before the end of the month,
but the greatest number of killed in any one of the raids was eleven,
while on September 28 the raiders were driven off before they could
claim any victims. The establishment of a close barrage of aerial guns
did much to discourage the raiders, and gradually London, from being the
most vulnerable spot in the British Isles, began to enjoy comparative
immunity from attack.

Paris, too, during the Great War has had to suffer bombardment from
the air, but not nearly to the same extent as London. The comparative
immunity of Paris from air raids is due partly to the prompt measures
which were taken to defend the capital. The French did not wait, as
did the British, until the populace was goaded to the last point of
exasperation, but quickly instituted the barrage system, in which we
afterwards followed their lead. Moreover, the French were much more
prompt in adopting retaliatory tactics. They hit back without having to
wade through long moral and philosophical disquisitions upon the ethics
of "reprisals". On the other hand, it must be remembered that Paris,
from the aerial standpoint, is a much more difficult objective than
London. The enemy airman has to cross the French lines, which, like his
own, stretch for miles in the rear. Practically he is in hostile country
all the time, and he has to get back across the same dangerous air
zones. It is a far easier task to dodge a few sea-planes over the wide
seas en route to London. And on reaching the coast the airman has to
evade or fight scattered local defences, instead of penetrating the
close barriers which confront him all the way to Paris.

Since the first Zeppelin attack on Paris on March 21, 1915, when two of
the air-ships reached the suburbs, killing 23 persons and injuring 30,
there have been many raids and attempted raids, but mostly by single
machines. The first air raid in force upon the French capital took place
on January 31, 1918, when a squadron of Gothas crossed the lines north
of Compiegne. Two hospitals were hit, and the casualties from the raid
amounted to 20 killed and 50 wounded.

After the Italian set-back in the winter of 1917, the Venetian plain
lay open to aerial bombardment by the Germans, who had given substantial
military aid to their Austrian allies. This was an opportunity not to be
lost by Germany, and Venice and other towns of the plain were subject to
systematic bombardment.

At the time of writing, Germany is beginning to suffer some of the
annoyances she is so ready to inflict upon others. The recently
constituted Air Ministry have just published figures relating to the
air raids into Germany from December 1, 1917, to February 19, 1918
inclusive. During these eleven weeks no fewer than thirty-five raids
have taken place upon a variety of towns, railways, works, and barracks.
In the list figure such important towns as Mannheim (pop. 20,000) and
Metz (pop. 100,000). The average weight of bombs dropped at each raid
works out about 1000 lbs. This welcome official report is but one of
many signs which point the way to the growing supremacy of the Allies in
the air.





PART II. AEROPLANES AND AIRMEN



CHAPTER XIV. Early Attempts in Aviation

The desire to fly is no new growth in humanity. For countless years men
have longed to emulate the birds--"To soar upward and glide, free as
a bird, over smiling fields, leafy woods, and mirror-like lakes," as a
great pioneer of aviation said. Great scholars and thinkers of old, such
as Horace, Homer, Pindar, Tasso, and all the glorious line, dreamt of
flight, but it has been left for the present century to see those dreams
fulfilled.

Early writers of the fourth century saw the possibility of aerial
navigation, but those who tried to put their theories in practice were
beset by so many difficulties that they rarely succeeded in leaving the
ground.

Most of the early pioneers of aviation believed that if a man wanted to
fly he must provide himself with a pair of wings similar to those of a
large bird. The story goes that a certain abbot told King James IV of
Scotland that he would fly from Stirling Castle to Paris. He made for
himself powerful wings of eagles' feathers, which he fixed to his body
and launched himself into the air. As might be expected, he fell and
broke his legs.

But although the muscles of man are of insufficient strength to bear him
in the air, it has been found possible, by using a motor engine, to give
to man the power of flight which his natural weakness denied him.

Scientists estimate that to raise a man of about 12 stone in the air and
enable him to fly there would be required an immense pair of wings over
20 feet in span. In comparison with the weight of a man a bird's weight
is remarkably small--the largest bird does not weigh much more than 20
pounds--but its wing muscles are infinitely stronger in proportion than
the shoulder and arm muscles of a man.

As we shall see in a succeeding chapter, the "wing" theory was
persevered with for many years some two or three centuries ago,
and later on it was of much use in providing data for the gradual
development of the modern aeroplane.



CHAPTER XV. A Pioneer in Aviation

Hitherto we have traced the gradual development of the balloon right
from the early days of aeronautics, when the brothers Montgolfier
constructed their hot-air balloon, down to the most modern dirigible.
It is now our purpose, in this and subsequent chapters, to follow the
course of the pioneers of aviation.

It must not be supposed that the invention of the steerable balloon
was greatly in advance of that of the heavier-than-air machine. Indeed,
developments in both the dirigible airship and the aeroplane have taken
place side by side. In some cases men like Santos Dumont have given
earnest attention to both forms of air-craft, and produced practical
results with both. Thus, after the famous Brazilian aeronaut had won
the Deutsch prize for a flight in an air-ship round the Eiffel tower, he
immediately set to work to construct an aeroplane which he subsequently
piloted at Bagatelle and was awarded the first "Deutsch prize" for
aviation.

It is generally agreed that the undoubted inventor of the aeroplane,
practically in the form in which it now appears, was an English
engineer, Sir George Cayley. Just over a hundred years ago this clever
Englishman worked out complete plans for an aeroplane, which in many
vital respects embodied the principal parts of the monoplane as it
exists to-day.

There were wings which were inclined so that they formed a lifting
plane; moreover, the wings were curved, or "cambered", similar to the
wing of a bird, and, as we shall see in a later chapter, this curve is
one of the salient features of the plane of a modern heavier-than-air
machine. Sir George also advocated the screw propeller worked by some
form of "explosion" motor, which at that time had not arrived. Indeed,
if there had been a motor available it is quite possible that England
would have led the way in aviation. But, unfortunately, owing to the
absence of a powerful motor engine, Sir George's ideas could not be
practically carried out till nearly a century later, and then Englishmen
were forestalled by the Wright brothers, of America, as well as by
several French inventors.

The distinguished French writer, Alphonse Berget, in his book, The
Conquest of the Air, pays a striking tribute to our English inventor,
and this, coming from a gentleman who is writing from a French point
of view, makes the praise of great value. In alluding to Sir George, M.
Berget says: "The inventor, the incontestable forerunner of aviation,
was an Englishman, Sir George Cayley, and it was in 1809 that he
described his project in detail in Nicholson's Journal.... His idea
embodied 'everything'--the wings forming an oblique sail, the empennage,
the spindle forms to diminish resistance, the screw-propeller, the
'explosion' motor,... he even described a means of securing automatic
stability. Is not all that marvellous, and does it not constitute a
complete specification for everything in aviation?

"Thus it is necessary to inscribe the name of Sir George Cayley in
letters of gold, in the first page of the aeroplane's history. Besides,
the learned Englishman did not confine himself to 'drawing-paper':
he built the first apparatus (without a motor) which gave him results
highly promising. Then he built a second machine, this time with a
motor, but unfortunately during the trials it was smashed to pieces."

But were these ideas of any practical value? How is it that he did not
succeed in flying, if he had most of the component parts of an aeroplane
as we know it to-day?

The answer to the second question is that Sir George did not fly, simply
because there was no light petrol motor in existence; the crude motors
in use were far too heavy, in proportion to the power developed, for
service in a flying machine. It was recognized, not only by Sir George,
but by many other English engineers in the first half of the nineteenth
century, that as soon as a sufficiently powerful and light engine did
appear, then half the battle of the conquest of the air would be won.

But his prophetic voice was of the utmost assistance to such inventors
as Santos Dumont, the Wright brothers, M. Bleriot, and others now
world-famed. It is quite safe to assume that they gave serious attention
to the views held by Sir George, which were given to the world at
large in a number of highly-interesting lectures and magazine articles.
"Ideas" are the very foundation-stones of invention--if we may be
allowed the figure of speech--and Englishmen are proud, and rightly
proud, to number within their ranks the original inventor of the
heavier-than-air machine.



CHAPTER XVI. The "Human Birds"

For many years after the publication of Sir George Cayley's articles
and lectures on aviation very little was done in the way of aerial
experiments. True, about midway through the nineteenth century two
clever engineers, Henson and Stringfellow, built a model aeroplane after
the design outlined by Sir George; but though their model was not of
much practical value, a little more valuable experience was accumulated
which would be of service when the time should come; in other words,
when the motor engine should arrive. This model can be seen at the
Victoria and Albert Museum, at South Kensington.

A few years later Stringfellow designed a tiny steam-engine, which he
fitted to an equally tiny monoplane, and it is said that by its aid
he was able to obtain a very short flight through the air. As some
recognition of his enterprise the Aeronautical Society, which was
founded in 1866, awarded him a prize of L100 for his engine.

The idea of producing a practical form of flying machine was never
abandoned entirely. Here and there experiments continued to be carried
out, and certain valuable conclusions were arrived at. Many advanced
thinkers and writers of half a century ago set forth their opinions on
the possibilities of human flight. Some of them, like Emerson, not only
believed that flight would come, but also stated why it had not arrived.
Thus Emerson, when writing on the subject of air navigation about fifty
years ago, remarked: "We think the population is not yet quite fit for
them, and therefore there will be none. Our friend suggests so many
inconveniences from piracy out of the high air to orchards and lone
houses, and also to high fliers, and the total inadequacy of the present
system of defence, that we have not the heart to break the sleep of the
great public by the repetition of these details. When children come into
the library we put the inkstand and the watch on the high shelf until
they be a little older."

About the year 1870 a young German engineer, named Otto Lilienthal,
began some experiments with a motorless glider, which in course of time
were to make him world-famed. For nearly twenty years Lilienthal carried
on his aerial research work in secrecy, and it was not until about the
year 1890 that his experimental work was sufficiently advanced for him
to give demonstrations in public.

The young German was a firm believer in what was known as the
"soaring-plane" theory of flight. From the picture here given we can get
some idea of his curious machine. It consisted of large wings, formed of
thin osiers, over which was stretched light fabric. At the back were
two horizontal rudders shaped somewhat like the long forked tail of
a swallow, and over these was a large steering rudder. The wings were
arranged around the glider's body. The whole apparatus weighed about 40
pounds.

Lilienthal's flights, or glides, were made from the top of a
specially-constructed large mound, and in some cases from the summit of
a low tower. The "birdman" would stand on the top of the mound, full
to the wind, and run quickly forward with outstretched wings. When he
thought he had gained sufficient momentum he jumped into the air, and
the wings of the glider bore him through the air to the base of the
mound.

To preserve the balance of his machine--always a most difficult feat--he
swung his legs and hips to one side or the other, as occasion required,
and, after hundreds of glides had been made, he became so skilful in
maintaining the equilibrium of his machine that he was able to cover a
distance, downhill, of 300 yards.

Later on, Lilienthal abandoned the glider, or elementary form of
monoplane, and adopted a system of superposed planes, corresponding
to the modern biplane. The promising career of this clever German was
brought to an untimely end in 1896, when, in attempting to glide from
a height of about 80 yards, his apparatus made a sudden downward swoop,
and he broke his neck.

Now that Lillenthal's experiments had proved conclusively the efficiency
of wings, or planes, as carrying surfaces, other engineers followed in
his footsteps, and tried to improve on his good work.

The first "birdman" to use a glider in this country was Mr. Percy
Pilcher who carried out his experiments at Cardross in Scotland. His
glides were at first made with a form of apparatus very similar to that
employed by Lilienthal, and in time he came to use much larger
machines. So cumbersome, however, was his apparatus--it weighed nearly
4 stones--that with such a great weight upon his shoulders he could not
run forward quickly enough to gain sufficient momentum to "carry off"
from the hillside. To assist him in launching the apparatus the machine
was towed by horses, and when sufficient impetus had been gained the
tow-rope was cast off.

Three years after Lilienthal's death Pilcher met with a similar
accident. While making a flight his glider was overturned, and the
unfortunate "birdman" was dashed to death.

In America there were at this time two or three "human birds", one of
the most famous being M. Octave Chanute. During the years 1895-7 Chanute
made many flights in various types of gliding machines, some of which
had as many as half a dozen planes arranged one above another. His best
results, however, were obtained by the two-plane machine, resembling to
a remarkable extent the modern biplane.



CHAPTER XVII. The Aeroplane and the Bird

We have seen that the inventors of flying machines in the early days of
aviation modelled their various craft somewhat in the form of a bird,
and that many of them believed that if the conquest of the air was to be
achieved man must copy nature and provide himself with wings.

Let us closely examine a modern monoplane and discover in what way it
resembles the body of a bird in build.

First, there is the long and comparatively narrow body, or FUSELAGE, at
the end of which is the rudder, corresponding to the bird's tail. The
chassis, or under carriage, consisting of wheels, skids, &c., may well
be compared with the legs of a bird, and the planes are very similar
in construction to the bird's wings. But here the resemblance ends: the
aeroplane does not fly, nor will it ever fly, as a bird flies.

If we carefully inspect the wing of a bird--say a large bird, such as
the crow--we shall find it curved or arched from front to back. This
curve, however, is somewhat irregular. At the front edge of the wing
it is sharpest, and there is a gradual dip or <DW72> backwards and
downwards. There is a special reason for this peculiar structure, as we
shall see in a later chapter.

 Now it is quite evident that the inventors of aeroplanes have
modelled the planes of their craft on the bird's wing. Strictly
speaking, the word "plane" is a misnomer when applied to the supporting
structure of an aeroplane. Euclid defines a plane, or a plane surface,
as one in which, any two points being taken, the straight line between
them lies wholly in that surface. But the plane of a flying machine is
curved, or CAMBERED, and if one point were taken on the front of the
so-called plane, and another on the back, a straight line joining these
two points could not possibly lie wholly on the surface.

All planes are not cambered to the same extent: some have a very small
curvature; in others the curve is greatly pronounced. Planes of the
former type are generally fitted to racing aeroplanes, because they
offer less resistance to the air than do deeply-cambered planes. Indeed,
it is in the degree of camber that the various types of flying machine
show their chief diversity, just as the work of certain shipmasters is
known by the particular lines of the bow and stern of the vessels which
are built in their yards.

Birds fly by a flapping movement of their wings, or by soaring. We are
quite familiar with both these actions: at one time the bird propels
itself by means of powerful muscles attached to its wings by means of
which the wings are flapped up and down; at another time the bird, with
wings nicely adjusted so as to take advantage of all the peculiarities
of the air currents, keeps them almost stationary, and soars or glides
through the air.

The method of soaring alone has long since been proved to be
impracticable as a means of carrying a machine through the air, unless,
of course, one describes the natural glide of an aeroplane from a great
height down to earth as soaring. But the flapping motion was not proved
a failure until numerous experiments by early aviators had been tried.

Probably the most successful attempt at propulsion by this method was
that of a French locksmith named Besnier. Over two hundred years ago he
made for himself a pair of light wooden paddles, with blades at either
end, somewhat similar in shape to the double paddle of a canoe. These
he placed over his shoulders, his feet being attached by ropes to the
hindmost paddles. Jumping off from some high place in the face of a
stiff breeze, he violently worked his arms and legs, so that the paddles
beat the air and gave him support. It is said that Besnier became so
expert in the management of his simple apparatus that he was able to
raise himself from the ground, and skim lightly over fields and rivers
for a considerable distance.

Now it has been shown that the enormous extent of wing required to
support a man of average weight would be much too large to be flapped
by man's arm muscles. But in this, as with everything else, we have
succeeded in harnessing the forces of nature into our service as tools
and machinery.

And is not this, after all, one of the chief, distinctions between man
and the lower orders of creation? The latter fulfil most of their bodily
requirements by muscular effort. If a horse wants to get from one place
to another it walks; man can go on wheels. None of the lower animals
makes a single tool to assist it in the various means of sustaining
life; but man puts on his "thinking-cap", and invents useful machines
and tools to enable him to assist or dispense with muscular movement.

Thus we find that in aviation man has designed the propeller, which,
by its rapid revolutions derived from the motive power of the aerial
engine, cuts a spiral pathway through the air and drives the light
craft rapidly forward. The chief use of the planes is for support to
the machine, and the chief duty of the pilot is to balance and steer the
craft by the manipulation of the rudder, elevation and warping controls.



CHAPTER XVIII. A Great British Inventor of Aeroplanes

Though, as we have seen, most of the early attempts at aerial navigation
were made by foreign engineers, yet we are proud to number among the
ranks of the early inventors of heavier-than-air machines Sir Hiram
Maxim, who, though an American by birth, has spent most of his life in
Britain and may therefore be called a British inventor.

Perhaps to most of us this inventor's name is known more in connection
with the famous "Maxim" gun, which he designed, and which was named
after him. But as early as 1894, when the construction of aeroplanes was
in a very backward state, Sir Hiram succeeded in making an interesting
and ingenious aeroplane, which he proposed to drive by a particularly
light steam-engine.

Sir Hiram's first machine, which was made in 1890, was designed to be
guided by a double set of rails, one set arranged below and the other
above its running wheels. The intention was to make the machine raise
itself just off the ground rails, but yet be prevented from soaring by
the set of guard rails above the wheels, which acted as a check on it.
The motive force was given by a very powerful steam-engine of over 300
horse-power, and this drove two enormous propellers, some 17 feet in
length. The total weight of the machine was 8000 pounds, but even with
this enormous weight the engine was capable of raising the machine from
the ground.

For three or four years Sir Hiram made numerous experiments with his
aeroplane, but in 1894 it broke through the upper guard rail and turned
itself over among the surrounding trees, wrecking itself badly.

But though the Maxim aeroplane did not yield very practical results,
it proved that if a lighter but more powerful engine could be made, the
chief difficulty iii the way of aerial flight would be removed. This was
soon forthcoming in the invention of the petrol motor. In a lecture to
the Scottish Aeronautical Society, delivered in Glasgow in November,
1913, Sir Hiram claimed to be the inventor of the first machine which
actually rose from the earth. Before the distinguished inventor spoke of
his own work in aviation he recalled experiments made by his father
in 1856-7, when Sir Hiram was sixteen years of age. The flying machine
designed by the elder Maxim consisted of a small platform, which it
was proposed to lift directly into the air by the action of two
screw-propellers revolving in reverse directions. For a motor the
inventor intended to employ some kind of explosive material, gunpowder
preferred, but the lecturer distinctly remembered that his father said
that if an apparatus could be successfully navigated through the air it
would be of such inevitable value as a military engine that no matter
how much it might cost to run it would be used by Governments.

Of his own claim as an inventor of air-craft it would be well to
quote Sir Hiram's actual words, as given by the Glasgow Herald, which
contained a full report of the lecture.

"Some forty years ago, when I commenced to think of the subject, my
first idea was to lift my machine by vertical propellers, and I actually
commenced drawings and made calculations for a machine on that plan,
using an oil motor, or something like a Brayton engine, for motive
power. However, I was completely unable to work out any system which
would not be too heavy to lift itself directly into the air, and it
was only when I commenced to study the aeroplane system that it became
apparent to me that it would be possible to make a machine light enough
and powerful enough to raise itself without the agency of a balloon.
From the first I was convinced that it would be quite out of the
question to employ a balloon in any form. At that time the light
high-speed petrol motor had no existence. The only power available being
steam-engines, I made all my calculations with a view of using steam as
the motive power. While I was studying the question of the possibility
of making a flying machine that would actually fly, I became convinced
that there was but one system to work on, and that was the aeroplane
system. I made many calculations, and found that an aeroplane machine
driven by a steam-engine ought to lift itself into the air."

Sir Hiram then went on to say that it was the work of making an
automatic gun which was the direct cause of his experiments with flying
machines. To continue the report:

"One day I was approached by three gentlemen who were interested in the
gun, and they asked me if it would be possible for me to build a flying
machine, how long it would take, and how much it would cost. My reply
was that it would take five years and would cost L50,000. The first
three years would be devoted to developing a light internal-combustion
engine, and the remaining two years to making a flying machine.

"Later on a considerable sum of money was placed at my disposal, and the
experiments commenced, but unfortunately the gun business called for
my attention abroad, and during the first two years of the experimental
work I was out of England eighteen months.

"Although I had thought much of the internal-combustion engine it seemed
to me that it would take too long to develop one and that it would be a
hopeless task in my absence from England; so I decided that in my first
experiments at least I would use a steam-engine. I therefore designed
and made a steam-engine and boiler of which Mr. Charles Parsons has
since said that, next to the Maxim gun, it developed more energy for its
weight than any other heat engine ever made. That was true at the time,
but is very wide of the mark now."

Speaking of motors, the veteran lecturer remarked: "Perhaps there was no
problem in the world on which mathematicians had differed so widely as
on the problem of flight. Twenty years ago experimenters said: 'Give us
a motor that will develop 1 horse-power with the weight of a barnyard
fowl, and we will very soon fly.' At the present moment they had motors
which would develop over 2 horse-power and did not weigh more than a
12-pound barnyard fowl. These engines had been developed--I might say
created--by the builders of motor cars. Extreme lightness had been
gradually obtained by those making racing cars, and that had been
intensified by aviators. In many cases a speed of 80 or 100 miles per
hour had been attained, and machines had remained in the air for hours
and had flown long distances. In some cases nearly a ton had been
carried for a short distance."

Such words as these, coming from the lips of a great inventor, give us a
deep insight into the working of the inventor's mind, and, incidentally,
show us some of the difficulties which beset all pioneers in their
tasks. The science of aviation is, indeed, greatly indebted to these
early inventors, not the least of whom is the gallant Sir Hiram Maxim.



CHAPTER XIX. The Wright Brothers and their Secret Experiments

In the beginning of the twentieth century many of the leading European
newspapers contained brief reports of aerial experiments which were
being carried out at Dayton, in the State of Ohio, America. So wonderful
were the results of these experiments, and so mysterious were the
movements of the two brothers--Orville and Wilbur Wright--who conducted
them, that many Europeans would not believe the reports.

No inventors have gone about their work more carefully, methodically,
and secretly than did these two Americans, who, hidden from prying
eyes, "far from the madding crowd", obtained results which brought them
undying fame in the world of aviation.

For years they worked at their self-imposed task of constructing a
flying machine which would really soar among the clouds. They had read
brief accounts of the experiments carried out by Otto Lilienthal, and
in many ways the ground had been well paved for them. It was their great
ambition to become real "human birds"; "birds" that would not only glide
along down the hillside, but would fly free and unfettered, choosing
their aerial paths of travel and their places of destination.

Though there are few reliable accounts of their work in those remote
American haunts, during the first six years of the present century, the
main facts of their life-history are now well known, and we are able
to trace their experiments, step by step, from the time when they
constructed their first simple aeroplane down to the appearance of the
marvellous biplane which has made them world-famed.

For some time the Wrights experimented with a glider, with which
they accomplished even more wonderful results than those obtained
by Lilienthal. These two young American engineers--bicycle-makers by
trade--were never in a hurry. Step by step they made progress, first
with kites, then with small gliders, and ultimately with a large one.
The latter was launched into the air by men running forward with it
until sufficient momentum had been gained for the craft to go forward on
its own account.

The first aeroplane made by the two brothers was a very simple one, as
was the method adopted to balance the craft. There were two main planes
made of long spreads of canvas arranged one above another, and on the
lower plane the pilot lay. A little plane in front of the man was known
as the ELEVATOR, and it could be moved up and down by the pilot; when
the elevator was tilted up, the aeroplane ascended, when lowered, the
machine descended.

At the back was a rudder, also under control of the pilot. The pilot's
feet, in a modern aeroplane, rest upon a bar working on a central
swivel, and this moves the rudder. To turn to the left, the left foot is
moved forward; to turn to the right the right foot.

But it was in the balancing control of their machine that the Wrights
showed such great ingenuity. Running from the edges of the lower plane
were some wires which met at a point where the pilot could control
them. The edges of the plane were flexible; that is, they could be bent
slightly either up or down, and this movement of the flexible plane is
known as WING WARPING.

You know that when a cyclist is going round a curve his machine leans
inwards. Perhaps some of you have seen motor races, such as those held
at Brooklands; if so, you must have noticed that the track is banked
very steeply at the corners, and when the motorist is going round these
corners at, say, 80 miles an hour, his motor makes a considerable
angle with the level ground, and looks as if it must topple over. The
aeroplane acts in a similar manner, and, unless some means are taken to
prevent it, it will turn over.

Let us now see how the pilot worked the "Wright" glider. Suppose the
machine tilted down on one side, while in the air, the pilot would pull
down, or warp, the edges of the planes on that side of the machine which
was the lower. By an ingenious contrivance, when one side was warped
down, the other was warped up, with the effect that the machine would
be brought back into a horizontal position. (As we shall return to
the subject of wing warping in a later chapter, we need not discuss it
further here.)

It must not be imagined that as soon as the Wrights had constructed
a glider fitted with this clever system of controlling mechanism they
could fly when and where they liked. They had to practise for two
or three years before they were satisfied with the results of their
experiments: neglecting no detail, profiting by their failures, and
moving logically from step to step. They never attempted an experiment
rashly: there was always a reason for what they did. In fact,
their success was due to systematic progress, achieved by wonderful
perseverance.

But now, for a short time, we must leave the pioneer work of the Wright
brothers, and turn to the invention of the petrol engine as applied
to the motor car, an invention which was destined to have far-reaching
results on the science of aviation.



CHAPTER XX. The Internal-combustion Engine

We have several times remarked upon the great handicap placed upon
the pioneers of aviation by the absence of a light but powerful motor
engine. The invention of the internal-combustion engine may be said to
have revolutionized the science of flying; had it appeared a century
ago, there is no reason to doubt that Sir George Cayley would have
produced an aeroplane giving as good results as the machines which have
appeared during the last five or six years.

The motor engine and the aeroplane are inseparably connected; one is as
necessary to the other as clay is to the potter's wheel, or coal to the
blast-furnace. This being the case, it is well that we trace briefly the
development of the engine during the last quarter of a century.

The original mechanical genius of the motoring industry was Gottlieb
Daimler, the founder of the immense Daimler Motor Works of Coventry.
Perhaps nothing in the world of industry has made more rapid strides
during the last twenty years than automobilism. In 1900 our road
traction was carried on by means of horses; now, especially in the large
cities, it is already more than half mechanical, and at the present rate
of progress it bids fair to be soon entirely horseless.

About the year 1885 Daimler was experimenting with models of a
small motor engine, and the following year he fitted one of his
most successful models to a light wagonette. The results were
so satisfactory, that in 1888 he took out a patent for an
internal-combustion engine--as the motor engine is technically
called--and the principle on which this engine was worked aroused great
enthusiasm on the Continent.

Soon a young French engineer, named Levassor, began to experiment with
models of motor engines, and in 1889 he obtained, with others, the
Daimler rights to construct similar engines in France. From now on,
French engineers began to give serious attention to the new engine,
and soon great improvements were made in it. All this time Britain held
aloof from the motor-car; indeed, many Britons scoffed at the idea of
mechanically-propelled vehicles, saying that the time and money required
for their development would be wasted.

During the years 1888-1900 strange reports of smooth-moving, horseless
cars, frequently appearing in public in France, began to reach Britain,
and people wondered if the French had stolen a march on us, and if there
were anything in the new invention after all. Our engineers had just
begun to grasp the immense possibilities of Daimler's engine, but the
Government gave them no encouragement.

At length the Hon. Evelyn Ellis, one of the first British motorists,
introduced the "horseless carriage" into this country, and the following
account of his early trips, which appeared in the Windsor and Eton
Express of 27th July, 1895, may be interesting.

"If anyone cares to run over to Datchet, they will see the Hon. Evelyn
Ellis, of Rosenau, careering round the roads, up hill and down dale,
and without danger to life or limb, in his new motor carriage, which he
brought over a short time ago from Paris.

"In appearance it is not unlike a four-wheeled dog-cart, except that the
front part has a hood for use on long 'driving' tours, in the event of
wet weather; it will accommodate four persons, one of whom, on the
seat behind, would, of course, be the 'groom', a misnomer, perhaps, for
carriage attendant. Under the front seat are receptacles, one for tools
with which to repair damages, in the event of a breakdown on the road,
and the other for a store of oil, petroleum, or naphtha in cans, from
which to replenish the oil tank of the carriage on the journey, if it be
a long one.

"Can it be easily driven? We cannot say that such a vehicle would be
suitable for a lady, unless rubber-tyred wheels and other improvements
are made to the carriage, for a grim grip of the steering handle and
a keen eye are necessary for its safe guidance, more especially if the
high road be rough. It never requires to be fed, and as it is, moreover,
unsusceptible of fatigue, it is obviously the sort of vehicle that
should soon achieve a widespread popularity in this country.

"It is a splendid hill climber, and, in fact, such a hill as that of
Priest Hill (a pretty good test of its capabilities) shows that it
climbs at a faster pace than a pedestrian can walk.

"A trip from Rosenau to Old Windsor, to the entrance of Beaumont
College, up Priest Hill, descending the steep, rough, and treacherous
hill on the opposite side by Woodside Farm, past the workhouse, through
old Windsor, and back to Rosenau within an hour, amply demonstrated how
perfectly under control this carriage is, while the sensation of being
whirled rapidly along is decidedly pleasing."

Another pioneer of motorism was the Hon. C. S. Rolls, whose untimely
death at Bournemouth in 1910, while taking part in the Bournemouth
aviation meeting, was deeply deplored all over the country. Mr. Rolls
made a tour of the country in a motor-car in 1895, with the double
object of impressing people with the stupidity of the law with regard
to locomotion, and of illustrating the practical possibilities of the
motor. You may know that Mr. Rolls was the first man to fly across the
Channel, and back again to Dover, without once alighting.



CHAPTER XXI. The Internal-combustion Engine(Cont.)

I suppose many of my readers are quite familiar with the working of a
steam-engine. Probably you have owned models of steam-engines right
from your earliest youth, and there are few boys who do not know how the
railway engine works.

But though you may be quite familiar with the mechanism of this engine,
it does not follow that you know how the petrol engine works, for the
two are highly dissimilar. It is well, therefore, that we include a
short description of the internal-combustion engine such as is applied
to motor-cars, for then we shall be able to understand the principles of
the aeroplane engine.

At present petrol is the chief fuel used for the motor engine. Numerous
experiments have been tried with other fuels, such as benzine, but
petrol yields the best results.

Petrol is distilled from oil which comes from wells bored deep down
in the ground in Pennsylvania, in the south of Russia, in Burma, and
elsewhere. Also it is distilled in Scotland from oil shale, from which
paraffin oil and wax and similar substances are produced. When the oil
is brought to the surface it contains many impurities, and in its native
form is unsuitable for motor engines. The crude oil is composed of a
number of different kinds of oil; some being light and clear, others
heavy and thick.

To purify the oil it is placed in a large metal vessel or "still". Steam
is first passed over the oil in the still, and this changes the lightest
of the oils into vapours. These vapours are sent through a series of
pipes surrounded with cold water, where they are cooled and become
liquid again. Petrol is a mixture of these lighter products of the oil.

If petrol be placed in the air it readily turns into a vapour, and this
vapour is extremely inflammable. For this reason petrol is always kept
in sealed tins, and very large quantities are not allowed to be stored
near large towns. The greatest care has to be exercised in the use of
this "unsafe" spirit. For example, it is most dangerous to smoke when
filling a tank with petrol, or to use the spirit near a naked light.
Many motor-cars have been set on fire through the petrol leaking out of
the tank in which it is carried.

The tank which contains the petrol is placed under one of the seats of
the motor-car, or at the rear; if in use on a motor-cycle it is arranged
along the top bar of the frame, just in front of the driver. This tank
is connected to the "carburettor", a little vessel having a small nozzle
projecting upwards in its centre. The petrol trickles from the tank into
the carburettor, and is kept at a constant level by means of a float
which acts in a very similar way to the ballcock of a water cistern.

The carburettor is connected to the cylinder of the engine by another
pipe, and there is valve which is opened by the engine itself and is
closed by a spring. By an ingenious contrivance the valve is opened when
the piston moves out of the cylinder, and a vacuum is created behind it
and in the carburettor. This carries a fine spray of petrol to be sucked
up through the nozzle. Air is also sucked into the carburettor, and the
mixture of air and petrol spray produces an inflammable vapour which is
drawn straight into the cylinder of the engine.

As soon as the piston moves back, the inlet valve is automatically
closed and the vapour is compressed into the top of the cylinder. This
is exploded by an electric spark, which is passed between two points
inside the cylinder, and the force of the explosion drives the piston
outwards again. On its return the "exhaust" or burnt gases are driven
out through another valve, known as the "exhaust" valve.

Whether the engine has two, four, or six cylinders, the car is propelled
in a similar way for all the pistons assist in turning one shaft, called
the engine shaft, which runs along the centre of the car to the back
axle.

The rapid explosions in the cylinder produce great heat, and the
cylinders are kept cool by circulating water round them. When the water
has become very hot it passes through a number of pipes, called the
"radiator", placed in front of the car; the cold air rushing between the
coils cools the water, so that it can be used over and over again.

No water is needed for the engine of a motor cycle. You will notice that
the cylinders are enclosed by wide rings of metal, and these rings are
quite sufficient to radiate the heat as quickly as it is generated.



CHAPTER XXII. The Aeroplane Engine

We have seen that a very important part of the internal-combustion
engine, as used on the motor-car, is the radiator, which prevents the
engine from becoming overheated and thus ceasing to work. The higher
the speed at which the engine runs the hotter does it become, and the
greater the necessity for an efficient cooling apparatus.

But the motor on an aeroplane has to do much harder work than the motor
used for driving the motor-car, while it maintains a much higher speed.
Thus there is an even greater tendency for it to become overheated; and
the great problem which inventors of aeroplane engines have had to face
is the construction of a light but powerful engine equipped with some
apparatus for keeping it cool.

Many different forms of aeroplane engines have been invented during the
last few years. Some inventors preferred the radiator system of cooling
the engine, but the tank containing the water, and the radiator itself,
added considerably to the weight of the motor, and this, of course, was
a serious drawback to its employment.

But in 1909 there appeared a most ingeniously-constructed engine which
was destined to take a very prominent part in the progress of aviation.
This was the famous "Gnome" engine, by means of which races almost
innumerable have been won, and amazing records established.

We have already referred to the engine shaft of the motor-car, which is
revolved by the pistons of the various fixed cylinders. In all aeroplane
engines which had appeared before the Gnome the same principle of
construction had been adopted; that is to say, the cylinders were fixed,
and the engine shaft revolved.

But in the Gnome engine the reverse order of things takes place; the
shaft is fixed, and the cylinders fly round it at a tremendous speed.
Thus the rapid whirl in the air keeps the engine cool, and cumbersome
tanks and unwieldy radiators can be dispensed with. This arrangement
enabled the engine to be made very light and yet be of greater
horse-power than that attained by previously-existing engines.

A further very important characteristic of the rotary-cylinder engine
is that no flywheel is used; in a stationary engine it has been
found necessary to have a fly-wheel in addition to the propeller. The
rotary-cylinder engine acts as its own fly-wheel, thus again saving
considerable weight.

The new engine astonished experts when they first examined it, and all
sorts of disasters to it were predicted. It was of such revolutionary
design that wiseacres shook their heads and said that any pilot who used
it would be constantly in trouble with it. But during the last few
years it has passed from one triumph to another, commencing with a
long-distance record established by Henri Farman at Rheims, in 1909. It
has since been used with success by aviators all the world over. That
in the Aerial Derby of 1913--which was flown over a course Of 94 miles
around London--six of the eleven machines which took part in the race
were fitted with Gnome engines, and victory was achieved by Mr. Gustav
Hamel, who drove an 80-horse-power Gnome, is conclusive evidence of the
high value of this engine in aviation.



CHAPTER XXIII. A Famous British Inventor of Aviation Engines

In the general design and beauty of workmanship involved in the
construction of aeroplanes, Britain is now quite the equal of her
foreign rivals; even in engines we are making extremely rapid progress,
and the well-known Green Engine Company, profiting by the result of nine
years' experience, are able to turn out aeroplane engines as reliable,
efficient, and as light in pounds weight per horse-power as any aero
engine in existence.

In the early days of aviation larger and better engines of British make
specially suited for aeroplanes were our most urgent need.

The story of the invention of the "Green" engine is a record of triumph
over great difficulties.

Early in 1909--the memorable year when M. Bleriot was firing the
enthusiasm of most engineers by his cross-Channel flight; when records
were being established at Rheims; and when M. Paulhan won the great
prize of L10,000 for the London to Manchester flight--Mr. Green
conceived a number of ingenious ideas for an aero engine.

One of Mr. Green's requirements was that the cylinders should be made
of cast-steel, and that they should come from a British foundry. The
company that took the work in hand, the Aster Company, had confidence
in the inventor's ideas. It is said that they had to waste 250 castings
before six perfect cylinders were produced. It is estimated that the
first Green engine cost L6000. These engines can be purchased for less
than L500.

The closing months of 1909 saw the Green engine firmly established.
In October of that year Mr. Moore Brabazon won the first all-British
competition of L1000 offered by the Daily Mail for the first machine
to fly a circular mile course. His aeroplane was fitted with a
60-horse-power Green aero engine. In the same year M. Michelin offered
L1000 for a long-distance flight in all-British aviation; this prize was
also won by Mr. Brabazon, who made a flight of 17 miles.

Some of Colonel Cody's achievements in aviation were made with the
Green engine. In 1910 he succeeded in winning both the duration and
cross-country Michelin competitions, and in 1911 he again accomplished
similar feats. In this year he also finished fourth in the
all-round-Britain race. This was a most meritorious performance when
it is remembered that his Cathedral weighed nearly a ton and a half, and
that the 60-horse-power Green was practically "untouched", to use an
engineering expression, during the whole of the 1010-mile flight.

The following year saw Cody winning another Michelin prize for a
cross-country competition. Here he made a flight of over 200 miles, and
his high opinion of the engine may be best described in the letter he
wrote to the company, saying: "If you kept the engine supplied from
without with petrol and oil, what was within would carry you through".

But the pinnacle of Mr. Green's fame as an inventor was reached in 1913,
when Mr. Harry Hawker made his memorable waterplane flight from Cowes
to Lough Shinny, an account of which appears in a later chapter. His
machine was fitted with a 100-horse-power Green, and with it he flew
1043 miles of the 1540-miles course.

Though the complete course was not covered, neither Mr. Sopwith--who
built the machine and bore the expenses of the flight--nor Mr. Hawker
attached any blame to the engine. At a dinner of the Aero Club, given in
1914, Mr. Sopwith was most enthusiastic in discussing the merits of the
"Green", and after Harry Hawker had recovered from the effects of his
fall in Lough Shinny he remarked in reference to the engine: "It is
the best I have ever met. I do not know any other that would have done
anything like the work."

At the same time that this race was being held the French had a
competition from Paris to Deauville, a distance of about 160 miles. When
compared with the time and distance covered by Mr. Hawker, the results
achieved by the French pilots, flying machines fitted with French
engines, were quite insignificant; thus proving how the British industry
had caught up, and even passed, its closest rivals.

In 1913 Mr. Grahame White, with one of the 100-horse-power "Greens"
succeeded in winning the duration Michelin with a flight of over 300
miles, carrying a mechanic and pilot, 85 gallons of petrol, and 12
gallons of lubricating oil. Compulsory landings were made every 63
miles, and the engine was stopped. In spite of these trying conditions,
the engine ran, from start to finish, nearly nine hours without the
slightest trouble.

Sufficient has been said to prove conclusively that the thought and
labour expended in the perfecting of the Green engine have not been
fruitless.



CHAPTER XXIV. The Wright Biplane (Camber of Planes)

Now that the internal-combustion engine had arrived, the Wrights at
once commenced the construction of an aeroplane which could be driven
by mechanical power. Hitherto, as we have seen, they had made numerous
tests with motorless gliders; but though these tests gave them much
valuable information concerning the best methods of keeping their craft
on an even keel while in the air, they could never hope to make much
progress in practical flight until they adopted motor power which would
propel the machine through the air.

We may assume that the two brothers had closely studied the engines
patented by Daimler and Levassor, and, being of a mechanical turn of
mind themselves, they were able to build their own motor, with which
they could make experiments in power-driven flight.

Before we study the gradual progress of these experiments it would be
well to describe the Wright biplane. The illustration facing p. 96 shows
a typical biplane, and though there are certain modifications in most
modern machines, the principles upon which it was built apply to all
aeroplanes.

The two main supporting planes, A, B, are made of canvas stretched
tightly across a light frame, and are slightly curved, or arched, from
front to back. This curve is technically known as the CAMBER, and upon
the camber depend the strength and speed of the machine.

If you turn back to Chapter XVII you will see that the plane is modelled
after the wing of a bird. It has been found that the lifting power of a
plane gradually dwindles from the front edge--or ENTERING EDGE, as it
is called--backwards. For this reason it is necessary to equip a machine
with a very long, narrow plane, rather than with a comparatively broad
but short plane.

Perhaps a little example will make this clear. Suppose we had two
machines, one of which was fitted with planes 144 feet long and 1
foot wide, and the other with planes 12 feet square. In the former the
entering edge of the plane would be twelve times as great as in the
latter, and the lifting power would necessarily be much greater. Thus,
though both machines have planes of the same area, each plane having
a surface of 144 square feet, yet there is a great difference in the
"lift" of the two.

But it is not to be concluded that the back portion of a plane
is altogether wasted. Numerous experiments have taught aeroplane
constructors that if the plane were slightly curved from front to back
the rear portion of the plane also exercised a "lift"; thus, instead of
the air being simply cut by the entering edge of the plane, it is driven
against the arched back of the plane, and helps to lift the machine into
the air, and support it when in flight.

There is also a secondary lifting impulse derived from this simple
curve. We have seen that the air which has been cut by the front edge of
the plane pushes up from below, and is arrested by the top of the arch,
but the downward dip of the rear portion of the plane is of service in
actually DRAWING THE AIR FROM ABOVE. The rapid air stream which has been
cut by the entering edge passes above the top of the curve, and "sucks
up", as it were, so that the whole wing is pulled upwards. Thus there
are two lifting impulses: one pushing up from below, the other sucking
up from above.

It naturally follows that when the camber is very pronounced the machine
will fly much slower, but will bear a greater weight than a machine
equipped with planes having little or no camber. On high-speed machines,
which are used chiefly for racing purposes, the planes have very little
camber. This was particularly noticeable in the monoplane piloted by Mr.
Hamel in the Aerial Derby of 1913: the wings of this machine seemed to
be quite flat, and it was chiefly because of this that the pilot was
able to maintain such marvellous speed.

The scientific study of the wing lift of planes has proceeded so far
that the actual "lift" can now be measured, providing the speed of the
machine is known, together with the superficial area of the planes. The
designer can calculate what weight each square foot of the planes will
support in the air. Thus some machines have a "lift" of 9 or 10 pounds
to each square foot of wing surface, while others are reduced to 3 or 4
pounds per square foot.



CHAPTER XXV. The Wright Biplane (Cont.)

The under part of the frame of the Wright biplane, technically known as
the CHASSIS, resembled a pair of long "runner" skates, similar to those
used in the Fens for skating races. Upon those runners the machine
moved along the ground when starting to fly. In more modern machines the
chassis is equipped with two or more small rubber-tyred wheels on which
the machine runs along the ground before rising into the air, and on
which it alights when a descent is made.

You will notice that the pilot's seat is fixed on the lower plane,
and almost in the centre of it, while close by the engine is mounted.
Alongside the engine is a radiator which cools the water that has passed
round the cylinder of the engine in order to prevent them from becoming
overheated.

Above the lower plane is a similar plane arranged parallel to it, and
the two are connected by light upright posts of hickory wood known
as STRUTS. Such an aeroplane as this, which is equipped with two main
planes, known as a BIPLANE. Other types of air-craft are the MONOPLANE,
possessing one main plane, and the TRIPLANE, consisting of three planes.
No practical machine has been built with more than three main planes;
indeed, the triplane is now almost obsolete.

The Wrights fitted their machine with two long-bladed wooden screws,
or propellers, which by means of chains and sprocket-wheels, very like
those of a bicycle, were driven by the engine, whose speed was about
1200 revolutions a minute. The first motor engine used by these clever
pioneers had four cylinders, and developed about 20 horsepower. Nowadays
engines are produced which develop more than five times that power.

In later machines one propeller is generally thought to be sufficient;
in fact many constructors believe that there is danger in a
two-propeller machine, for if one propeller got broken, the other
propeller, working at full speed, would probably overturn the machine
before the pilot could cut off his engine.

Beyond the propellers there are two little vertical planes which can
be moved to one side or the other by a control lever in front of the
pilot's seat. These planes or rudders steer the machine from side to
side, answering the same purpose as the rudder of a boat.

In front of the supporting planes there are two other horizontal planes,
arranged one above the other; these are much smaller than the main
planes, and are known as the ELEVATORS. Their function is to raise or
lower the machine by catching the air at different angles.

Comparison with a modern biplane, such as may be seen at an aerodrome
on any "exhibition" day, will disclose several marked differences in
construction between the modern type and the earlier Wright machine,
though the central idea is the same.



CHAPTER XXVI. How the Wrights launched their Biplane

Those of us who have seen an aeroplane rise from the ground know that
it runs quickly along for 50 or 60 yards, until sufficient momentum has
been gained for the craft to lift itself into the air. The Wrights,
as stated, fitted their machine with a pair of launching runners which
projected from the under side of the lower plane like two very long
skates, and the method of launching their craft was quite different from
that followed nowadays.

The launching apparatus consisted of a wooden tower at the starting end
of the launching ways--a wooden rail about 60 or 70 feet in length.
To the top of the tower a weight of about 1/2 ton was suspended. The
suspension rope was led downwards over pulleys, thence horizontally to
the front end and back to the inner end of the railway, where it was
attached to the aeroplane. A small trolley was fitted to the chassis of
the machine and this ran along the railway.

To launch the machine, which, of course, stood on the rail, the
propellers were set in motion, and the 1/2-ton weight at the top of
the tower was released. The falling weight towed the aeroplane rapidly
forward along the rail, with a velocity sufficient to cause it to glide
smoothly into the air at the other end of the launching ways. By an
ingenious arrangement the trolley was left behind on the railway.

It will at once occur to you that there were disadvantages in this
system of commencing a flight. One was that the launching apparatus was
more or less a fixture. At any rate it could not be carried about from
place to place very readily: Supposing the biplane could not return to
its starting-point, and the pilot was forced to descend, say, 10 or 12
miles away: in such a case it would be necessary to tow the machine back
to the launching ways, an obviously inconvenient arrangement, especially
in unfavourable country.

For some time the "wheeled" chassis has been in universal use, but in
a few cases it has been thought desirable to adopt a combination of
runners and wheels. A moderately firm surface is necessary for the
machine to run along the ground; if the ground be soft or marly the
wheels would sink in the soil, and serious accidents have resulted from
the sudden stoppage of the forward motion due to this cause.

With their first power-driven machine the Wrights made a series of very
fine flights, at first in a straight line. In 1904 they effected their
first turn. By the following year they had made such rapid progress that
they were able to exceed a distance of 20 miles in one flight, and keep
up in the air for over half an hour at a time. Their manager now gave
their experiments great publicity, both in the American and European
Press, and in 1908 the brothers, feeling quite sure of their success,
emerged from a self-imposed obscurity, and astonished the world with
some wonderful flights, both in America and on the French flying ground
at Issy.

A great loss to aviation occurred on 30th May, 1912, when Wilbur
Wright died from an attack of typhoid fever. His work is officially
commemorated in Britain by an annual Premium Lecture, given under the
auspices of the Aeronautical Society.



CHAPTER XXVII. The First Man to Fly in Europe

In November, 1906, nearly the whole civilized world was astonished
to read that a rich young Brazilian aeronaut, residing in France,
had actually succeeded in making a short flight, or, shall we say, an
enormous "hop", in a heavier-than-air machine.

This pioneer of aviation was M. Santos Dumont. For five or six years
before his experiments with the aeroplane he had made a great many
flights in balloons, and also in dirigible balloons. He was the son of
well-to-do parents--his father was a successful coffee planter--and he
had ample means to carry on his costly experiments.

Flying was Santos Dumont's great hobby. Even in boyhood, when far away
in Brazil, he had been keenly interested in the work of Spencer, Green,
and other famous aeronauts, and aeronautics became almost a passion with
him.

Towards the end of the year 1898 he designed a rather novel form of
air-ship. The balloon was shaped like an enormous cigar, some 80 feet
long, and it was inflated with about 6000 cubic feet of hydrogen. The
most curious contrivance, however, was the motor. This was suspended
from the balloon, and was somewhat similar to the small motor used on
a motor-cycle. Santos Dumont sat beside this motor, which worked a
propeller, and this curious craft was guided several times by the
inventor round the Botanical Gardens in Paris.

About two years after these experiments the science of aeronautics
received very valuable aid from M. Deutsch, a member of the French Aero
Club. A prize of about L4000 was offered by this gentleman to the man
who should first fly from the Aero Club grounds at Longchamps, double
round the Eiffel Tower, and then sail back to the starting-place. The
total distance to be flown was rather more than 3 miles, and it was
stipulated that the journey--which could be made either in a dirigible
air-ship or a flying machine--should be completed within half an hour.

This munificent offer at once aroused great enthusiasm among aeronauts
and engineers throughout the whole of France, and, to a lesser degree,
in Britain. Santos Dumont at once set to work on another air-ship, which
was equipped with a much more powerful motor than he had previously
used. In July, 1901, his arrangements were completed, and he made his
first attempt to win the prize.

The voyage from Longchamps to the Eiffel Tower was made in very quick
time, for a favourable wind speeded the huge balloon on its way. The
pilot was also able to steer a course round the tower, but his troubles
then commenced. The wind was now in his face, and his engine-a small
motor engine of about 15 horse-power-was unable to produce sufficient
power to move the craft quickly against the wind. The plucky inventor
kept fighting against the-breeze, and at length succeeded in returning
to his starting-point; but he had exceeded the time limit by several
minutes and thus, was disqualified for the prize.

Another attempt was made by Santos Dumont about a month later. This
time, however, he was more unfortunate, and he had a marvellous escape
from death. As on the previous occasion he got into great difficulties
when sailing against the wind on the return journey, and his balloon
became torn, so that the gas escaped and the whole craft crashed down
on the house-tops. Eyewitnesses of the accident expected to find the
gallant young Brazilian crushed to death; but to their great relief
he was seen to be hanging to the car, which had been caught upon the
buttress of a house. Even now he was in grave peril, but after a long
delay he was rescued by means of a rope.

It might be thought that such an accident would have deterred the
inventor from making further attempts on the prize; but the aeronaut
seemed to be well endowed with the qualities of patience and
perseverance and continued to try again. Trial after trial was made,
and numerous accidents took place. On nearly every occasion it was
comparatively easy to sail round the Tower, but it was a much harder
task to sail back again.

At length in October, 1901, he was thought to have completed the course
in the allotted time; but the Aero Club held that he had exceeded the
time limit by forty seconds. This decision aroused great indignation
among Parisians--especially among those who had watched the flight--many
of whom were convinced that the journey had been accomplished in the
half-hour. After much argument the committee which had charge of the
race, acting on the advice of M. Deutsch, who was very anxious that the
prize should be awarded to Santos Dumont, decided that the conditions
of the flight had been complied with, and that the prize had been
legitimately won. It is interesting to read that the famous aeronaut
divided the money among the poor.

But important though Santos Dumont's experiments were with the air-ship,
they were of even greater value when he turned his attention to the
aeroplane.

One of his first trials with a heavier-than-air machine was made with a
huge glider, which was fitted with floats. The curious craft was towed
along the River Seine by a fast motor boat named the Rapiere, and it
actually succeeded in rising into the air and flying behind the boat
like a gigantic kite.

12th November, 1906, is a red-letter day in the history of aviation,
for it was then that Santos Dumont made his first little flight in an
aeroplane. This took place at Bagatelle, not far from Paris.

Two months before this the airman had succeeded in driving his little
machine, called the Bird of Prey, many yards into the air, and "11 yards
through the air", as the newspapers reported; but the craft was badly
smashed. It was not until November that the first really satisfactory
flight took place.

A description of this flight appeared in most of the European
newspapers, and I give a quotation from one of them: "The aeroplane
rose gracefully and gently to a height of about 15 feet above the earth,
covering in this most remarkable dash through the air a distance of
about 700 feet in twenty-one seconds.

"It thus progressed through the atmosphere at the rate of nearly 30
miles an hour. Nothing like this has ever been accomplished before....
The aeroplane has now reached the practical stage."

The dimensions of this aeroplane were:

     Length 32 feet
     Greatest width 39 feet
     Weight with one passenger 465 pounds
     Speed 30 miles an hour

A modern aeroplane with airman and passenger frequently weighs over 1
ton, and reaches a speed of over 60 miles an hour.

It is interesting to note that Santos Dumont, in 1913--that is, only
seven years after his flight in an aeroplane at Bagatelle made him
world-famous--announced his intention of again taking an active part in
aviation. His purpose was to make use of aeroplanes merely for pleasure,
much as one might purchase a motor-car for the same object.

Could the intrepid Brazilian in his wildest dreams have foreseen the
rapid advance of the last eight years? In 1906 no one had flown in
Europe; by 1914 hundreds of machines were in being, in which the pilots
were no longer subject to the wind's caprices, but could fly almost
where and when they would.

Frenchmen have honoured, and rightly honoured, this gallant and
picturesque figure in the annals of aviation, for in 1913 a magnificent
monument was unveiled in France to commemorate his pioneer work.



CHAPTER XXVIII. M. Bleriot and the Monoplane

If the Wright brothers can lay claim to the title of "Fathers of the
Biplane", then it is certain that M. Bleriot, the gallant French airman,
can be styled the "Father of the Monoplane."

For five years--1906 to 1910--Louis Bleriot's name was on everybody's
lips in connection with his wonderful records in flying and skilful
feats of airmanship. Perhaps the flight which brought him greatest
renown was that accomplished in July, 1909, when he was the first man
to cross the English Channel by aeroplane. This attempt had been
forestalled, although unsuccessfully, by Hubert Latham, a daring aviator
who is best known in Lancashire by his flight in 1909 at Blackpool in
a wind which blew at the rate of nearly 40 miles an hour--a performance
which struck everyone with wonder in these early days of aviation.

Latham attempted, on an Antoinette monoplane, to carry off the prize
of L1000 offered by the proprietors of the Daily Mail. On the first
occasion he fell in mid-Channel, owing to the failure of his motor, and
was rescued by a torpedo-boat. His machine was so badly damaged during
the salving operations that another had to be sent from Paris, and with
this he made a second attempt, which was also unsuccessful. Meanwhile
M. Bleriot had arrived on the scene; and on 25th July he crossed the
Channel from Calais to Dover in thirty-seven minutes and was awarded the
L1000 prize.

Bleriot's fame was now firmly established, and on his return to France
he received a magnificent welcome. The monoplane at once leaped into
favour, and the famous "bird man" had henceforth to confine his efforts
to the building of machines and the organization of flying events. He
has since established a large factory in France and inaugurated a flying
school at Pau.

All the time that the Wrights were experimenting with their glider and
biplane in America, and the Voisin brothers were constructing biplanes
in France, Bleriot had been giving earnest attention to the production
of a real "bird" machine, provided with one pair of FLAPPING wings. We
know now that such an aeroplane is not likely to be of practical use,
but with quiet persistence Bleriot kept to his task, and succeeded in
evolving the famous Antoinette monoplane, which more closely resembles a
bird than does any other form of air-craft.

In the illustration of the Bleriot monoplane here given you will notice
that there is one main plane, consisting of a pair of highly-cambered
wings; hence the name "MONOplane". At the rear of the machine there is
a much smaller plane, which is slightly cambered; this is the elevating
plane, and it can be tilted up or down in order to raise or lower the
machine. Remember that the elevating plane of a biplane is to the front
of the machine and in the monoplane at the rear. The small, upright
plane G is the rudder, and is used for steering the machine to the right
or left. The long narrow body or framework of the monoplane is known as
the FUSELAGE.

By a close study of the illustration, and the description which
accompanies it, you will understand how the machine is driven. The main
plane is twisted, or warped, when banking, much in the same way that the
Wright biplane is warped.

Far greater speed can be obtained from the monoplane than from the
biplane, chiefly because in the former machine there is much less
resistance to the air. Both height and speed records stand to the credit
of the monoplane.

The enormous difference in the speeds of monoplanes and biplanes can be
best seen at a race meeting at some aerodrome. Thus at Hendon, when a
speed handicap is in progress, the slow biplanes have a start of one or
two laps over the rapid little monoplanes in a six-lap contest, and
it is most amusing to see the latter dart under, or over, the more
cumbersome biplane. Recently however, much faster biplanes have been
built, and they bid fair to rival the swiftest monoplanes in speed.

There is, however, one serious drawback to the use of the monoplane:
it is far more dangerous to the pilot than is the biplane. Most of
the fatal accidents in aviation have been caused through mishaps to
monoplanes or their engines, and chiefly for this reason the biplane has
to a large extent supplanted the monoplane in warfare. The biplane, too,
is better adapted for observation work, which is, after all, the chief
use of air-craft.

In a later chapter some account will be given of the three types of
aeroplane which the war has evolved--the general-purposes machine,
the single-seater "fighter", and those big bomb-droppers, the British
Handley Page and the German Gotha.



CHAPTER XXIX. Henri Farman and the Voisin Biplane

The coming of the motor engine made events move rapidly in the world of
aviation. About the year 1906 people's attention was drawn to France,
where Santos Dumont was carrying out the wonderful experiments which we
have already described. Then came Henri Farman, who piloted the famous
biplane built by the Voisin brothers in 1907; an aeroplane destined
to bring world-wide renown to its clever constructors and its equally
clever and daring pilot.

There were notable points of distinction between the Voisin biplane
and that built by the Wrights. The latter, as we have seen, had two
propellers; the former only one. The launching skids of the Wright
biplane gave place to wheels on Farman's machine. One great advantage,
however, possessed by the early Wright biplane over its French rivals,
was in its greater general efficiency. The power of the engine was only
about one-half of the power required in certain of the French designs.
This was chiefly due to the use of the launching rail, for it needed
much greater motor power to make a machine rise from the ground by its
own motor engine than when it received a starting lift from a falling
weight. Even in our modern aeroplanes less engine power is required to
drive the craft through the air than to start from the ground.

Farman achieved great fame through his early flights, and, on 13th
January, 1908, at the flying ground at Issy, in France, he won the prize
of L2000, offered by MM. Deutsch and Archdeacon to the first aviator
who flew a circular kilometre. In July of the same year he won another
substantial prize given by a French engineer, M. Armengaud, to the first
pilot who remained aloft for a quarter of an hour.

Probably an even greater performance was the cross-country flight made
by Farman about three months later. In the flight he passed over hills,
valleys, rivers, villages, and woods on his journey from Chalons to
Rheims, which he accomplished in twenty minutes.

In the early models of the Voisin machine there were fitted between the
two main planes a number of vertical planes, as shown clearly in the
illustration facing p. 160. It was thought that these planes would
increase the stability of the machine, independent of the skill of the
operator, and in calm weather they were highly effective. Their great
drawback, however, was that when a strong side wind caught them the
machine was blown out of its course.

Subsequently Farman considerably modified the early-type Voisin biplane,
as shown by the illustration facing p. 160. The vertical planes were
dispensed with, and thus the idea of automatic stability was abandoned.

But an even greater distinction between the Farman biplane and that
designed by the Wrights was in the adoption of a system of small movable
planes, called AILERONS, fixed at extremities of the main planes,
instead of the warping controls which we have already described. The
ailerons, which are adapted to many of our modern aeroplanes, are really
balancing flaps, actuated by a control lever at the right side of the
pilot's seat, and the principle on which they are worked is very similar
to that employed in the warp system of lateral stability.



CHAPTER XXX. A Famous British Inventor

About the time that M. Bleriot was developing his monoplane, and Santos
Dumont was astonishing the world with his flying feats at Bagatelle,
a young army officer was at work far away in a secluded part of the
Scottish Highlands on the model of an aeroplane. This young man was
Lieutenant J. W. Dunne, and his name has since been on everyone's
lips wherever aviation is discussed. Much of Lieutenant Dunne's early
experimental work was done on the Duke of Atholl's estate, and the
story goes that such great secrecy was observed that "the tenants were
enrolled as a sort of bodyguard to prevent unauthorized persons from
entering". For some time the War Office helped the inventor with money,
for the numerous tests and trials necessary in almost every invention
before satisfactory results are achieved are very costly.

Probably the inventor did not make sufficiently rapid progress with
his novel craft, for he lost the financial help and goodwill of the
Government for a time; but he plodded on, and at length his plans were
sufficiently advanced for him to carry on his work openly. It must be
borne in mind that at the time Dunne first took up the study of aviation
no one had flown in Europe, and he could therefore receive but little
help from the results achieved by other pilots and constructors.

But in the autumn of 1913 Lieutenant Dunne's novel aeroplane was the
talk of both Europe and America. Innumerable trials had been made in
the remote flying ground at Eastchurch, Isle of Sheppey, and the
machine became so far advanced that it made a cross-Channel flight from
Eastchurch to Paris. It remained in France for some time, and
Commander Felix, of the French Army, made many excellent flights in
it. Unfortunately, however, when flying near Deauville, engine trouble
compelled the officer to descend; but in making a landing in a very
small field, not much larger than a tennis-court, several struts of the
machine were damaged. It was at once seen that the aeroplane could not
possibly be flown until it had been repaired and thoroughly overhauled.
To do this would take several days, especially as there were no
facilities for repairing the craft near by, and to prevent anyone from
making a careful examination of the aeroplane, and so discovering the
secret features which had been so jealously guarded, the machine was
smashed up after the engine had been removed.

At that time this was the only Dunne aeroplane in existence, but of
course the plans were in the possession of the inventor, and it was
an easy task to make a second machine from the same model. Two more
machines were put in hand at Hendon, and a third at Eastchurch.

On 18th October, 1913, the Dunne aeroplane made its first public
appearance at Hendon, in the London aerodrome, piloted by Commander
Felix. The most striking distinction between this and other biplanes is
that its wings or planes, instead of reaching from side to side of the
engine, stretch back in the form of the letter V, with the point of the
V to the front. These wings extend so far to the rear that there is no
need of a tail to the machine, and the elevating plane in front can also
be dispensed with.

This curious and unique design in aeroplane construction was decided
upon by Lieutenant Dunne after a prolonged observation at close quarters
of different birds in flight, and the inventor claims for his aeroplane
that it is practically uncapsizable. Perhaps, however, this is too much
to claim for any heavier-than-air machine; but at all events the new
design certainly appears to give greater stability, and it is to be
hoped that by this and other devices the progress of aviation will not
in the future be so deeply tinged with tragedy.



CHAPTER XXXI. The Romance of a Cowboy Aeronaut

In the brief but glorious history of pioneer work in aviation, so far as
it applies to this country, there is scarcely a more romantic figure to
be found than Colonel Cody. It was the writer's pleasure to come into
close contact with Cody during the early years of his experimental work
with man-lifting box-kites at the Alexandra Park, London, and never will
his genial smile and twinkling eye be forgotten.

Cody always seemed ready to crack a joke with anyone, and possibly there
was no more optimistic man in the whole of Britain. To the boys and
girls of Wood Green he was a popular hero. He was usually clad in a
"cowboy" hat, red flannel shirt, and buckskin breeches, and his hair
hung down to his shoulders. On certain occasions he would give a "Wild
West" exhibition at the Alexandra Palace, and one of his most daring
tricks with the gun was to shoot a cigarette from a lady's lips. One
could see that he was entire master of the rifle, and a trick which
always brought rounds of applause was the hitting of a target while
standing with his back to it, simply by the aid of a mirror held at the
butt of his rifle.

But it is of Cody as an aviator and aeroplane constructor that we
wish to speak. For some reason or other he was generally the object of
ridicule, both in the Press and among the public. Why this should have
been so is not quite clear; possibly his quaint attire had something
to do with it, and unfriendly critics frequently raised a laugh at his
expense over the enormous size of his machines. So large were they
that the Cody biplane was laughingly called the "Cody bus" or the "Cody
Cathedral."

But in the end Cody fought down ridicule and won fame, for in
competition with some of the finest machines of the day, piloted by
some of our most expert airmen, he won the prize of L5000 offered by the
Government in 1912 in connection with the Army trials for aeroplanes.
In these trials he astonished everyone by obtaining a speed of over 70
miles an hour in his biplane, which weighed 2600 pounds.

In the opening years of the present century Cody spent much time in
demonstrations with huge box-kites, and for a time this form of kite was
highly popular with boys of North London. In these kites he made over
two hundred flights, reaching, on some occasions, an altitude of over
2000 feet. At all times of the day he could have been seen on the <DW72>s
of the Palace Hill, hauling these strange-looking, bat-like objects
backward and forward in the wind. Reports of his experiments appeared
in the Press, but Cody was generally looked upon as a "crank". The
War Office, however, saw great possibilities in the kites for scouting
purposes in time of war, and they paid Cody L5000 for his invention.

It is a rather romantic story of how Cody came to take up experimental
work with kites, and it is repeated as it was given by a Mohawk chief to
a newspaper representative.

"On one occasion when Cody was in a Lancashire town with his Wild West
show, his son Leon went into the street with a parrot-shaped kite. Leon
was attired in a red shirt, cowboy trousers, and sombrero, and soon a
crowd of youngsters in clogs was clattering after him.

"'If a boy can interest a crowd with a little kite, why can't a man
interest a whole nation?' thought Cody--and so the idea of man-lifting
kites developed."

In 1903 Cody made a daring but unsuccessful attempt to cross the Channel
in a boat drawn by two kites. Had he succeeded he intended to cross the
Atlantic by similar means.

Later on, Cody turned his attention to the construction of aeroplanes,
but he was seriously handicapped by lack of funds. His machines
were built with the most primitive tools, and some of our modern
constructors, working in well-equipped "shops", where the machinery is
run by electric plant, would marvel at the work accomplished with such
tools as those used by Cody.

Most of Cody's flights were made on Laffan's Plain, and he took part in
the great "Round Britain" race in 1911. It was characteristic of the
man that in this race he kept on far in the wake of MM. Beaumont and
Vedrines, though he knew that he had not the slightest chance of winning
the prize; and, days after the successful pilot had arrived back at
Brooklands, Cody's "bus" came to earth in the aerodrome. "It's dogged as
does it," he remarked, "and I meant to do the course, even if I took a
year over it."

Of Cody's sad death at Farnborough, when practising in the ill-fated
water-plane which he intended to pilot in the sea flight round Great
Britain in 1913, we speak in a later chapter.



CHAPTER XXXII. Three Historic Flights

When the complete history of aviation comes to be written, there will
be three epoch-making events which will doubtless be duly appreciated
by the historian, and which may well be described as landmarks in the
history of flight. These are the three great contests organized by the
proprietors of the Daily Mail, respectively known as the "London to
Manchester" flight, the "Round Britain flight in an aeroplane", and the
"Water-plane flight round Great Britain."

In any account of aviation which deals with the real achievements
of pioneers who have helped to make the science of flight what it
is to-day, it would be unfair not to mention the generosity of
Lord Northcliffe and his co-directors of the Daily Mail towards the
development of aviation in this country. Up to the time of writing, the
sum of L24,750 has been paid by the Daily Mail in the encouragement
of flying, and prizes to the amount of L15,000 are still on offer. In
addition to these prizes this journal has maintained pilots who may be
described as "Missionaries of Aviation". Perhaps the foremost of them
is M. Salmet, who has made hundreds of flights in various parts of the
country, and has aroused the greatest enthusiasm wherever he has flown.

The progress of aviation undoubtedly owes a great deal to the Press,
for the newspaper has succeeded in bringing home to most people the fact
that the possession of air-craft is a matter of national importance. It
was of little use for airmen to make thrilling flights up and down an
aerodrome, with the object of interesting the general public, if the
newspapers did not record such flights, and though in the very early
days of aviation some newspapers adopted an unfriendly attitude towards
the possibilities of practical aviation, nearly all the Press has since
come to recognize the aeroplane as a valuable means of national defence.
Right from the start the Daily Mail foresaw the importance of
promoting the new science of flight by the award of prizes, and its
public-spirited enterprise has done much to break up the prevailing
apathy towards aviation among the British nation.

If these three great events had been mere spectacles and nothing
else--such as, for instance, that great horse-race known as "The
Derby"--this chapter would never have been written. But they are
most worthy of record because all three have marked clearly-defined
stepping-stones in the progress of flight; they have proved conclusively
that aviation is practicable, and that its ultimate entry into the busy
life of the world is no more than a matter of perfecting details.

The first L10,000 prize was offered in November, 1906, for a flight by
aeroplane from London to Manchester in twenty-four hours, with not more
than two stoppages en route. In 1910 two competitors entered the lists
for the flight; one, an Englishman, Mr. Claude Grahame-White; the other,
a Frenchman, M. Paulhan.

Mr. Grahame-White made the first attempt, and he flew remarkably well
too, but he was forced to descend at Lichfield--about 113 miles on the
journey--owing to the high and gusty winds which prevailed in the Trent
valley. The plucky pilot intended to continue the flight early the next
morning, but during the night his biplane was blown over in a gale while
it stood in a field, and it was so badly damaged that the machine had to
be sent back to London to be repaired.

This took so long that his French rival, M. Paulhan, was able to
complete his plans and start from Hendon, on 27th April. So rapidly
had Paulhan's machine been transported from Dover, and "assembled" at
Hendon, that Mr. White, whose biplane was standing ready at Wormwood
Scrubbs, was taken by surprise when he heard that his rival had started
on the journey and "stolen a march on him", so to speak. Nothing
daunted, however, the plucky British aviator had his machine brought
out, and he went in pursuit of Paulhan late in the afternoon. When
darkness set in Mr. White had reached Roade, but the French pilot was
several miles ahead.

Now came one of the most thrilling feats in the history of aviation. Mr.
White knew that his only chance of catching Paulhan was to make a flight
in the darkness, and though this was extremely hazardous he arose from
a small field in the early morning, some hours before daybreak arrived,
and flew to the north. His friends had planned ingenious devices to
guide him on his way: thus it was proposed to send fast motor-cars,
bearing very powerful lights, along the route, and huge flares were
lighted on the railway; but the airman kept to his course chiefly by the
help of the lights from the railway stations.

Over hill and valley, forest and meadow, sleeping town and slumbering
village, the airman flew, and when dawn arrived he had nearly overhauled
his rival, who, in complete ignorance of Mr. White's daring pursuit, had
not yet started.

But now came another piece of very bad luck for the British aviator. At
daybreak a strong wind arose, and Mr. White's machine was tossed about
like a mere play-ball, so that he was compelled to land. Paulhan,
however, who was a pilot with far more experience, was able to overcome
the treacherous air gusts, and he flew on to Manchester, arriving there
in the early morning.

Undoubtedly the better pilot won, and he had a truly magnificent
reception in Manchester and London, and on his return to France. But
this historic contest laid the foundation of Mr. Grahame-White's great
reputation as an aviator, and, as we all know, his fame has since become
world-wide.



CHAPTER XXXIII. Three Historic Flights (Cont.)

About a month after Paulhan had won the "London to Manchester" race, the
world of aviation, and most of the general public too, were astonished
to read the announcement of another enormous prize. This time a much
harder task was set, for the conditions of the contest stated that a
circuit of Britain had to be made, covering a distance of about 1000
miles in one week, with eleven compulsory stops at fixed controls.

This prize was offered on 22nd May, 1910, and in the following year
seventeen competitors entered the lists. It says much for the progress
of aviation at this time, when we read that, only a year before, it
was difficult to find but two pilots to compete in the much easier race
described in the last chapter. Much of this progress was undoubtedly
due to the immense enthusiasm aroused by the success of Paulhan in the
"London to Manchester" race.

We will not describe fully the second race, because, though it was of
immense importance at the time, it has long since become a mere episode.
Rarely has Britain been in such great excitement as during that week in
July, 1911.

Engine troubles, breakdowns, and other causes soon reduced the seventeen
competitors to two only: Lieutenant Conneau, of the French Navy-who
flew under the name of M. Beaumont--and M. Vedrines. Neck to neck they
flew--if we may be allowed this horse-racing expression--over all sorts
of country, which was quite unknown to them.

Victory ultimately rested with Lieutenant Conneau, who, on 26th July,
1911, passed the winning-post at Brooklands after having completed
the course in the magnificent time of twenty-two hours, twenty-eight
minutes, averaging about 45 miles an hour for the whole journey. M.
Vedrines, though defeated, made a most plucky fight. Conneau's success
was due largely to his ability to keep to the course--on two or three
occasions Vedrines lost his way--and doubtless his naval training in
map-reading and observation gave him the advantage over his rival.

The third historic flight was made by Mr. Harry Hawker, in August, 1913.
This was an attempt to win a prize of L5000 offered by the proprietors
of the Daily Mail for a flight round the British coasts. The route was
from Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, along the southern and eastern coasts
to Aberdeen and Cromarty, thence through the Caledonian Canal to Oban,
then on to Dublin, thence to Falmouth, and along the south coast to
Southampton Water.

Two important conditions of the contest were that the flight was to be
made in an all-British aeroplane, fitted with a British engine. Hitherto
our aeroplane constructors and engine companies were behind their rivals
across the Channel in the building of air-craft and aerial engines, and
this country freely acknowledged the merits and enterprise of French
aviators. Though in the European War it was afterwards proved that the
British airman and constructor were the equals if not the superiors of
any in the world, at the date of this contest they were behind in many
respects.

As these conditions precluded the use of the famous Gnome engine, which
had won so many contests, and indeed the employment of any engine made
abroad, the competitors were reduced to two aviation firms; and as
one or these ultimately withdrew from the contest the Sopwith Aviation
Company of Kingston-on-Thames and Brooklands entered a machine.

Mr. T. Sopwith chose for his pilot a young Australian airman, Mr. Harry
Hawker. This skilful airman came with three other Australians to
this country to seek his fortune about three years before. He was
passionately devoted to mechanics, and, though he had had no opportunity
of flying in his native country, he had been intensely interested in the
progress of aviation in France and Britain, and the four friends set out
on their long journey to seek work in aeroplane factories.

All four succeeded, but by far the most successful was Harry Hawker.
Early in 1913 Mr. Sopwith was looking out for a pilot, and he engaged
Hawker, whom he had seen during some good flying at Brooklands.

In a month or two he was engaged in record breaking, and in June, 1913,
he tried to set up a new British height record. In his first attempt he
rose to 11,300 feet; but as the carburettor of the engine froze, and as
the pilot himself was in grave danger of frost-bite, he descended.
About a fortnight later he rose 12,300 feet above sea-level, and shortly
afterwards he performed an even more difficult test, by climbing with
three passengers to an altitude of 8500 feet.

With such achievements to his name it was not in the least surprising
that Mr. Sopwith's choice of a pilot for the water-plane race rested
on Hawker. His first attempt was made on 16th August, when he flew from
Southampton Water to Yarmouth--a distance of about 240 miles--in 240
minutes. The writer, who was spending a holiday at Lowestoft, watched
Mr. Hawker go by, and his machine was plainly visible to an enormous
crowd which had lined the beach.

To everyone's regret the pilot was affected with a slight sunstroke when
he reached Yarmouth, and another Australian airman, Mr. Sidney Pickles,
was summoned to take his place. This was quite within the rules of the
contest, the object of which was to test the merits of a British machine
and engine rather than the endurance and skill of a particular pilot.
During the night a strong wind arose, and next morning, when Mr. Pickles
attempted to resume the flight, the sea was too rough for a start to be
made, and the water-plane was beached at Gorleston.

Mr. Hawker quickly recovered from his indisposition, and on Monday, 25th
August, he, with a mechanic as passenger, left Cowes about five o'clock
in the morning in his second attempt to make a circuit of Britain. The
first control was at Ramsgate, and here he had to descend in order to
fulfil the conditions of the contest.

Ramsgate was left at 9.8, and Yarmouth, the next control, was reached
at 10.38. So far the engine, built by Mr. Green, had worked perfectly.
About an hour was spent at Yarmouth, and then the machine was en route
to Scarborough. Haze compelled the pilot to keep close in to the coast,
so that he should not miss the way, and a choppy breeze some what
retarded the progress of the machine along the east coast. About
2.40 the pilot brought his machine to earth, or rather to water, at
Scarborough, where he stayed for nearly two hours.

Mr. Hawker's intention was to reach Aberdeen, if possible, before
nightfall, but at Seaham he had to descend for water, as the engine was
becoming uncomfortably hot, and the radiator supply of water was rapidly
diminishing. This lost much valuable time, as over an hour was spent
here, and it had begun to grow dark before the journey was recommenced.
About an hour after resuming his journey he decided to plane down at the
fishing village of Beadwell, some 20 miles south of Berwick.

At 8.5 on Tuesday morning the pilot was on his way to Aberdeen, but he
had to descend and stay at Montrose for about half an hour, and Aberdeen
was reached about 11 a.m. His Scottish admirers, consisting of quite
40,000 people at Aberdeen alone, gave him a most hearty welcome, and
sped him on his way about noon. Some two hours later Cromarty was
reached.

Now commenced the most difficult part of the course. The Caledonian
Canal runs among lofty mountains, and the numerous air-eddies and swift
air-streams rushing through the mountain passes tossed the frail craft
to and fro, and at times threatened to wreck it altogether. On some
occasions the aeroplane was tossed up over 1000 feet at one blow; at
other times it was driven sideways almost on to the hills. From Cromarty
to Oban the journey was only about 96 miles, but it took nearly
three hours to fly between these places. This slow progress seriously
jeopardized the pilot's chances of completing the course in the
allotted time, for it was his intention to make the coast of Ireland by
nightfall. But as it was late when Oban was reached he decided to spend
the night there.

Early the following morning he left for Dublin, 222 miles away. Soon a
float was found to be waterlogged and much valuable time was, spent in
bailing it dry. Then a descent had to be made at Kiells, in Argyllshire,
because a valve had gone wrong. Another landing was made at Larne, to
take aboard petrol. As soon as the petrol tanks were filled and the
machine had been overhauled the pilot got on his way for Dublin.

For over two hours he flew steadily down the Irish coast, and then
occurred one of those slight accidents, quite insignificant in
themselves, but terribly disastrous in their results. Mr. Hawker's boots
were rubber soled and his foot slipped off the rudder bar, so that the
machine got out of control and fell into the sea at Lough Shinny, about
15 miles north of Dublin. At the time of the accident the pilot was
about 50 feet above the water, which in this part of the Lough is very
shallow. The machine was completely wrecked, and Mr. Hawker's mechanic
was badly cut about the head and neck, besides having his arm broken.
Mr. Hawker himself escaped injury.

All Britons deeply sympathized with his misfortune, and much enthusiasm,
was aroused when the proprietors of the Daily Mail presented the skilful
and courageous pilot with a cheque for L1000 as a consolation gift.

In a later chapter some account will be given of the tremendous
development of the aeroplane during four years of war. But it is fitting
that to the three historic flights detailed above there should be added
the sensational exploits of the Marchese Giulio Laureati in 1917. This
intrepid Italian airman made a non-stop journey from Turin to Naples
and back, a distance of 920 miles. A month later he flew from Turin to
Hounslow, a distance of 656 miles, in 7 hours 22 minutes. His machine
was presented to the British Air Board by the Italian Government.



CHAPTER XXXIV. The Hydroplane and Air-boat

One of the most recent developments in aviation is the hydroplane, or
water-plane as it is most commonly called. A hydroplane is an aeroplane
fitted with floats instead of wheels, so that it will rise from, or
alight upon, the surface of the water. Often water-planes have their
floats removed and wheels affixed to the chassis, so that they may be
used over land.

From this you may think that the construction of a water-plane is quite
a simple task; but such is not the case. The fitting of floats to an
aeroplane has called for great skill on the part of the constructor, and
many difficulties have had to be overcome.

Those of you who have seen an acroplane rise from the ground know that
the machine runs very quickly over the earth at a rapidly-increasing
speed, until sufficient momentum is obtained for the machine to lift
itself into the air. In the case of the water-plane the pilot has to
glide or "taxi" by means of a float or floats over the waves until the
machine acquires flying speed.

Now the land resistance to the rubber-tired wheels is very small when
compared with the water resistance to the floats, and the faster the
craft goes the greater is the resistance. The great problem which the
constructor has had to solve is to build a machine fitted with floats
which will leave the water easily, which will preserve the lateral
balance of the machine, and which will offer the minimum resistance in
the air.

A short flat-bottomed float, such as that known as the Fabre, is good at
getting off from smooth water, but is frequently damaged when the sea is
rough. A long and narrow float is preferable for rough water, as it
is able to cut through the waves; but comparatively little "lift" is
obtained from it.

Some designers have provided their water-planes with two floats; others
advocate a single float. The former makes the machine more stable when at
rest on the water, but a great rawback is that the two-float machine is
affected by waves more than a machine fitted with a single float; for
one float may be on the crest of a wave and the other in the dip. This
is not the case with the single-float water-plane, but on the other hand
this type is less stable than the other when at rest.

Sometimes the floats become waterlogged, and so add considerably to the
weight of the machine. Thus in Mr. Hawker's flight round Britain, the
pilot and his passenger had to pump about ten gallons of water out of
one of the floats before the machine could rise properly. Floats are
usually made with watertight compartments, and are composed of several
thin layers of wood, riveted to a wooden framework.

There is another technical question to be considered in the fixing of
the floats, namely, the fore-and-aft balance of the machine in the air.
The propeller of a water-plane has to be set higher than that of a land
aeroplane, so that it may not come into contact with the waves. This
tends to tip the craft forwards, and thus make the nose of the float
dig in the water. To overcome this the float is set well forward of the
centre of gravity, and though this counteracts the thrust when the craft
"taxies" along the waves, it endangers its fore-and-aft stability when
aloft.



CHAPTER XXXV. A Famous British Inventor of the Water-plane

Though Harry Hawker made such a brilliant and gallant attempt to win the
L5000 prize, we must not forget that great credit is due to Mr. Sopwith,
who designed the water-plane, and to Mr. Green, the inventor of the
engine which made such a flight possible, and enabled the pilot to
achieve a feat never before approached in any part of the world.

The life-story of Mr. "Tommy" Sopwith is almost a romance. As a lad
he was intensely interested in mechanics, and we can imagine him
constructing all manner of models, and enquiring the why and the
wherefore of every mechanical toy with which he came into contact.

At the early age of twenty-one he commenced a motor business, but about
this time engineers and mechanics all over the country were becoming
greatly interested in the practical possibilities of aviation. Mr.
Sopwith decided to learn to fly, and in 1910, after continued practice
in a Howard Wright biplane, he had become a proficient pilot. So rapid
was his progress that by the end of the year he had won the magnificent
prize of L4000 generously offered by Baron de Forest for the longest
flight made by an all-British machine from England to the Continent. In
this flight he covered 177 miles, from Eastchurch, Isle of Sheppey, to
the Belgian frontier, in three and a half hours.

If Mr. Sopwith had been in any doubt as to the wisdom of changing his
business this remarkable achievement alone must have assured him that
his future career lay in aviation. In 1911 he was graciously received by
King George V at Windsor Castle, after having flown from Brooklands and
alighted on the East Terrace of the famous castle.

In the same year he visited America, and astonished even that
go-ahead country with some skilful flying feats. To show the practical
possibilities of the aeroplane he overtook the liner Olympic, after she
had left New York harbour on her homeward voyage, and dropped aboard a
parcel addressed to a passenger. On his return to England he competed
in the first Aerial Derby, the course being a circuit of London,
representing a distance of 81 miles. In this race he made a magnificent
flight in a 70-horse-power Bleriot monoplane, and came in some fifteen
minutes before Mr. Hamel, the second pilot home. So popular was his
victory that Mr. Grahame-White and several other officials of the London
Aerodrome carried him shoulder high from his machine.

From this time we hear little of Mr. Sopwith as a pilot, for, like
other famous airmen, such as Louis Bleriot, Henri Farman, and Claude
Grahame-White, who jumped into fame by success in competition flying,
he has retired with his laurels, and now devotes his efforts to the
construction of machines. He bids fair to be equally successful as
a constructor of air-craft as he formerly was as a pilot of flying
machines. The Sopwith machines are noted for their careful design and
excellent workmanship. They are made by the Sopwith Aviation Company,
Ltd., whose works are at Kingston-on-Thames. Several water-planes
have been built there for the Admiralty, and land machines for the
War Office. Late in 1913 Mr. Hawker left Britain for Australia to give
demonstrations in the Sopwith machine to the Government of his native
country.

A fine list of records has for long stood to the credit of the Sopwith
biplane. Among these are:

     British Height Record (Pilot only)             11,450 feet
           "      "    "   (Pilot and 1 Passenger)  12,900  "
           "      "    "   (Pilot and 2 Passengers) 10,600  "
     World's      "    "   (Pilot and 3 Passengers)  8,400  "

Many of the Sopwith machines used in the European War were built
specially to withstand rough climate and heavy winds, and thus they were
able to work in almost every kind of weather. It was this fact, coupled
with the indomitable spirit of adventure inherent in men of British
race, that made British airmen more than hold their own with both friend
and foe in the war.



CHAPTER XXXVI. Sea-planes for Warfare

"Even in the region of the air, into which with characteristic British
prudence we have moved with some tardiness, the Navy need not fear
comparison with the Navy of any other country. The British sea-plane,
although still in an empirical stage, like everything else in this
sphere of warlike operations, has reached a point of progress in advance
of anything attained elsewhere.

"Our hearts should go out to-night to those brilliant officers,
Commander Samson and his band of brilliant pioneers, to whose
endeavours, to whose enterprise, to whose devotion it is due that in
an incredibly short space of time our naval aeroplane service has been
raised to that primacy from which it must never be cast down.

"It is not only in naval hydroplanes that we must have superiority. The
enduring safety of this country will not be maintained by force of arms
unless over the whole sphere of aerial development we are able to make
ourselves the first nation. That will be a task of long duration. Many
difficulties have to be overcome. Other countries have started sooner.
The native genius of France, the indomitable perseverance of Germany,
have produced results which we at the present time cannot equal."

So said Mr. Winston Churchill at the Lord Mayor's Banquet held in London
in 1913, and I have quoted his speech because such a statement, made at
such a time, clearly shows the attitude of the British Government toward
this new arm of Imperial Defence.

In bygone days the ocean was the great highway which united the various
quarters of the Empire, and, what was even more important from the
standpoint of our country's defence, it was a formidable barrier between
Britain and her Continental neighbours,

      "Which serves it in the office of a wall
       Or as a moat defensive to a house."

But the ocean is no longer the only highway, for the age of aerial
navigation has arrived, and, as one writer says: "Every argument which
impelled us of old to fight for the dominion of the sea has apparently
been found valid in relation to the supremacy of the air."

From some points of view this race between nations for naval and aerial
supremacy may be unfortunate, but so long as the fighting instinct
of man continues in the human race, so long as rivalry exists between
nations, so long must we continue to strengthen our aerial position.

Britain is slow to start on any great venture where great change is
effected. Our practice is rather to wait and see what other nations are
doing; and there is something to be said for this method of procedure.

In the art of aviation, and in the construction of air-craft, our
French, German, and American rivals were very efficient pacemakers in
the aerial race for supremacy, and during the years 1909-12 we were in
grave peril of being left hopelessly behind. But in 1913 we realized the
vital importance to the State of capturing the first place in aviation,
particularly that of aerial supremacy at sea, for the Navy is our first
line of defence. So rapid has been our progress that we are quite the
equal of our French and German rivals in the production of aeroplanes,
and in sea-planes we are far ahead of them, both in design and
construction, and the war has proved that we are ahead in the art of
flight.

The Naval Air Service before the war had been establishing a chain
of air stations round the coast. These stations are at Calshot, on
Southampton Water, the Isle of Grain, off Sheerness, Leven, on the Firth
of Forth, Cromarty, Yarmouth, Blythe, and Cleethorpes.

But what is even more important is the fact that the Government is
encouraging sea-plane constructors to go ahead as fast as they can
in the production of efficient machines. Messrs. Short Brothers, the
Sopwith Aviation Company, and Messrs. Roe are building high-class
machines for sea work which can beat anything turned out abroad.
Our newest naval water-planes are fitted with British-built wireless
apparatus of great range of action, and Messrs. Short Brothers are at
the present time constructing for the Admiralty, at their works in the
Isle of Sheppey, a fleet of fighting water-planes capable of engaging
and destroying the biggest dirigible air-ships.

In 1913 aeroplanes took a very prominent part in our naval manoeuvres,
and the cry of the battleship captains was: "Give us water-planes. Give
us them of great size and power, large enough to carry a gun and gun
crew, and capable of taking twelve-hour cruises at a speed much greater
than that of the fastest dirigible air-ship, and we shall be on the
highroad to aerial supremacy at sea."

The Admiralty, acting on this advice, at once began to co-operate
with the leading firms of aeroplane constructors, and at a great rate
machines of all sizes and designs have been turned out. There were light
single-seater water-planes able to maintain a speed of over a mile a
minute; there were also larger machines for long-distance flying which
could carry two passengers. The machines were so designed that their
wings could be folded back along their bodies, and their wires, struts,
and so on packed into the main parts of the craft, so that they were
almost as compact as the body of a bird at rest on its perch, and they
took up comparatively little space on board ship.

A brilliantly executed raid was carried out on Cuxhaven, an important
German naval base, by seven British water-planes, on Christmas Day,
1914. The water-planes were escorted across the North Sea by a light
cruiser and destroyer force, together with submarines. They left
the war-ships in the vicinity of Heligoland and flew over Cuxhaven,
discharging bombs on points of military significance, and apparently
doing considerable damage to the docks and shipping. The British ships
remained off the coast for three hours in order to pick up the returning
airmen, and during this time they were attacked by dirigibles and
submarines, without, however, suffering damage. Six of the sea-planes
returned safely to the ships, but one was wrecked in Heligoland Bight.

But the present efficient sea-plane is a development of the war. In the
early days many of the raids of the "naval wing" were carried out in
land-going aeroplanes. Now the R.N.A.S., which came into being as
a separate service in July, 1914, possess two main types of flying
machine, the flying boat and the twin float, both types being able to
rise from and alight upon the sea, just as an aeroplane can leave and
return to the land. Many brilliant raids stand to the credit of the
R.N.A.S. The docks at Antwerp, submarine bases at Ostend, and all
Germany's fortified posts on the Belgian coast, have seldom been free
from their attentions. And when, under the stress of public outcry, the
Government at last gave its consent to a measure of "reprisals" it was
the R.N.A.S. which opened the campaign with a raid upon the German town
of Mannheim.

As the war continued the duties of the naval pilot increased. He played
a great part in the ceaseless hunt for submarines. You must often
have noticed how easily fish can be seen from a bridge which are quite
invisible from the banks of the river. On this principle the submarine
can be "spotted" by air-craft, and not until the long silence upon naval
affairs is broken, at the end of the war, shall we know to what extent
we are indebted to naval airmen for that long list of submarines which,
in the words of the German reports, "failed to return" to their bases.

In addition to the "Blimps" of which mention has been made, the Royal
Naval Air Service are in charge of air-ships known as the Coast Patrol
type, which work farther out to sea, locating minefields and acting as
scouts for the great fleet of patrol vessels. The Service has gathered
laurels in all parts of the globe, its achievements ranging from an
aerial food service into beleaguered Kut to the discovery of the German
cruiser Konigsberg, cunningly camouflaged up an African creek.



CHAPTER XXXVII. The First Man to Fly in Britain

The honour of being the first man to fly in this country is claimed
by Mr. A. V. Roe, head of the well-known firm A. V. Roe & Co., of
Manchester, and constructor of the highly-efficient Avro machines.

As a youth Roe's great hobby was the construction of toy models of
various forms of machinery, and later on he achieved considerable
success in the production of aeroplane models. All manner of novelties
were the outcome of his fertile brain, and as it has been truly
remarked, "his novelties have the peculiarity, not granted to
most pioneers, of being in one respect or another ahead of his
contemporaries." In addition, he studied the flight of birds.

In the early days of aviation Mr. Roe was a firm believer in the
triplane form of machine, and his first experiments in flight were
made with a triplane equipped with an engine which developed only 9
horse-power.

Later on, he turned his attention to the biplane, and with this craft he
has been highly successful. The Avro biplane, produced in 1913, was
one of the very best machines which appeared in that eventful year. The
Daily Telegraph, when relating its performances, said: "The spectators
at Hendon were given a remarkable demonstration of the wonderful
qualities of this fine Avro biplane, whose splendid performances stamped
it as one of the finest aeroplanes ever designed, if not indeed the
finest of all".

This craft is fitted with an 80-horse-power Gnome engine, and is
probably the fastest passenger-carrying biplane of its type in the
world. Its total weight, with engine, fuel for three hours, and a
passenger, is 1550 pounds, and it has a main-plane surface of 342 square
feet.

Not only can the biplane maintain such great speed, but, what is of
great importance for observation purposes, it can fly at the slow rate
of 30 miles per hour. We have previously remarked that a machine is kept
up in the air by the speed it attains; if its normal flying speed be
much reduced the machine drops to earth unless the rate of flying is
accelerated by diving, or other means.

What Harry Hawker is to Mr. Sopwith so is F. P. Raynham to Mr. Roe. This
skilful pilot learned to fly at Brooklands, and during the last year
or two he has been continuously engaged in testing Avro machines, and
passing them through the Army reception trials. In the "Aerial Derby"
of 1913 Mr. Raynham piloted an 80-horse-power Avro biplane, and came in
fourth.



CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service

The year 1912 was marked by the institution of the Royal Flying Corps.
The new corps, which was so soon to make its mark in the greatest of all
wars, consisted of naval and military "wings". In those early days the
head-quarters of the corps were at Eastchurch, and there both naval
and military officers were trained in aviation. In an arm of such
rapid--almost miraculous--development as Service flying to go back a
period of six years is almost to take a plunge into ancient history.
Designs, engines, guns, fittings, signals of those days are now almost
archaic. The British engine of reliable make had not yet been evolved,
and the aeroplane generally was a conglomerate affair made up of parts
assembled from various parts of the Continent. The present-day sea-plane
was yet to come, and naval pilots shared the land-going aeroplanes
of their military brethren. In the days when Bleriot provided a world
sensation by flying across the Channel the new science was kept
alive mainly by the private enterprise of newspapers and aeroplane
manufacturers. The official attitude, as is so often the case in the
history of inventions, was as frigid as could be. The Government looked
on with a cold and critical eye, and could not be touched either in
heart or in pocket.

But with the institution of the Royal Flying Corps the official heart
began to warm slightly, and certain tests were laid down for those
manufacturers who aspired to sell their machines to the new arm of
the Service. These tests, providing for fuel capacity up to 4.0 miles,
speeds up to 85 miles an hour, and heights up to 3500 feet, would now
be regarded as very elementary affairs. "Looping the loop" was still a
dangerous trick for the exhibiting airman and not an evolution; while
the "nose-dive" was an uncalculated entry into the next world.

The first important stage in the history of the new arm was reached in
July, 1914, when the wing system was abolished, and the Royal Naval Air
Service became a separate unit of the Imperial Forces. The first public
appearance of the sailor airmen was at a proposed review of the fleet by
the King at a test mobilization. The King was unable to attend, but the
naval pilots carried out their part of the programme very creditably
considering the polyglot nature of their sea-planes. A few weeks later
and the country was at war.

There can be no doubt that the Great War has had an enormous forcing
influence upon the science of aviation. In times of peace the old game
of private enterprise and official neglect would possibly have been
carried on in well-marked stages. But with the terrific incentive of
victory before them, all Governments fostered the growth of the new arm
by all the means in their power. It became a race between Allied and
enemy countries as to who first should attain the mastery of the air.
The British nation, as usual, started well behind in the race, and their
handicap would have been increased to a dangerous extent had Germany
not been obsessed by the possibilities of the air-ship as opposed to the
aeroplane. Fortunately for us the Zeppelin, as has been described in an
earlier chapter, failed to bring about the destruction anticipated by
its inventor, and so we gained breathing space for catching up the enemy
in the building and equipment of aeroplanes and the training of pilots
and observers.

War has set up its usual screens, and the writer is only permitted a
very vague and impressionistic picture of the work of the R.F.C. and
R.N.A.S. Numerical details and localities must be rigorously suppressed.
Descriptions of the work of the Flying Service must be almost as bald
as those laconic reports sent in by naval and military airmen to
head-quarters. But there is such an accomplishment as reading between
the lines.

The flying men fall naturally into two classes--pilots and observers.
The latter, of course, act as aerial gunners. The pilots have to pass
through three, and observers two, successive courses of training in
aviation. Instruction is very detailed and thorough as befits a career
which, in addition to embracing the endless problems of flight, demands
knowledge of wireless telegraphy, photography, and machine gunnery.

Many of the officers are drafted into the Royal Flying Corps from other
branches of the Service, but there are also large numbers of civilians
who take up the career. In their case they are first trained as cadets,
and, after qualifying for commissions, start their training in aviation
at one of the many schools which have now sprung up in all parts of the
country.

When the actual flying men are counted in thousands some idea may be
gained of the great organization required for the Corps--the schools
and flying grounds, the training and activities of the mechanics,
the workshops and repair shops, the storage of spare parts, the motor
transport, &c. As in other departments of the Service, women have come
forward and are doing excellent and most responsible work, especially in
the motor-transport section.

A very striking feature of the Corps is the extreme youth of the
members, many of the most daring fighters in the air being mere boys of
twenty.

The Corps has the very pick of the youth and daring and enterprise of
the country. In the days of the old army there existed certain unwritten
laws of precedence as between various branches of the Service. If such
customs still prevail it is certain that the very newest arm would take
pride of place. The flying man has recaptured some of the glamour and
romance which encircled the knight-errant of old. He breathes the very
atmosphere of dangerous adventure. Life for him is a series of thrills,
any one of which would be sufficient to last the ordinary humdrum
citizen for a lifetime. Small wonder that the flying man has captured
the interest and affection of the people, and all eyes follow these
trim, smart, desperadoes of the air in their passage through our cities.

As regards the work of the flying man the danger curve seems to be
changing. On the one hand the training is much more severe and exacting
than formerly was the case, and so carries a greater element of danger.
On the other hand on the battle-front fighting information has in great
measure taken the place of the system of men going up "on their own".
They are perhaps not so liable to meet with a numerical superiority
on the part of enemy machines, which spelt for them almost certain
destruction.

For a long time the policy of silence and secrecy which screened "the
front" from popular gaze kept us in ignorance of the achievements of our
airmen. But finally the voice of the people prevailed in their demand
for more enlightenment. Names of regiments began to be mentioned in
connection with particular successes. And in the same way the heroes of
the R.F.C. and R.N.A.S. were allowed to reap some of the laurels they
deserved.

It began to be recognized that publication of the name of an airman who
had destroyed a Zeppelin, for instance, did not constitute any vital
information to the enemy. In a recent raid upon London the names of the
two airmen, Captain G. H. Hackwill, R.F.C., and Lieutenant C. C. Banks,
R.F.C., who destroyed a Gotha, were given out in the House of Commons
and saluted with cheers. In the old days the secretist party would have
regarded this publication as a policy which led the nation in the direct
line of "losing the war".

In the annals of the Flying Service, where dare-devilry is taken as
a matter of course and hairbreadth escapes from death are part of the
daily routine, it is difficult to select adventures for special mention;
but the following episodes will give a general idea of the work of the
airman in war.

The great feat of Sub-Lieutenant R. A. J. Warneford, R.N.A.S., who
single-handed attacked and destroyed a Zeppelin, has already been
referred to in Chapter XIII. Lieutenant Warneford was the second on
the list of airmen who won the coveted Cross, the first recipient being
Second-Lieutenant Barnard Rhodes-Moorhouse, for a daring and successful
bomb-dropping raid upon Courtrai in April, 1915. As has happened in so
many cases, the award to Lieutenant Rhodes-Moorhouse was a posthumous
one, the gallant airman having been mortally wounded during the raid,
in spite of which he managed by flying low to reach his destination and
make his report.

A writer of adventure stories for boys would be hard put to it to invent
any situation more thrilling than that in which Squadron-Commander
Richard Bell Davies, D.S.O., R.N., and Flight Sub-Lieutenant Gilbert
Formby Smylie, R.N., found themselves while carrying out an air attack
upon Ferrijik junction. Smylie's machine was subjected to such heavy
fire that it was disabled, and the airman was compelled to plane down
after releasing all his bombs but one, which failed to explode. The
moment he alighted he set fire to his machine. Presently Smylie saw his
companion about to descend quite close to the burning machine. There
was infinite danger from the bomb. It was a question of seconds merely
before it must explode. So Smylie rushed over to the machine, took hasty
aim with his revolver, and exploded the bomb, just before the Commander
came within the danger zone. Meanwhile the enemy had commenced to gather
round the two airmen, whereupon Squadron-Commander Davies coolly took up
the Lieutenant on his machine and flew away with him in safety back to
their lines. Davies, who had already won the D.S.O., was given the
V.C., while his companion in this amazing adventure was granted the
Distinguished Service Cross.

The unexpectedness, to use no stronger term, of life in the R.F.C. in
war-time is well exemplified by the adventure which befell Major Rees.
The pilot of a "fighter", he saw what he took to be a party of air
machines returning from a bombing expedition. Proceeding to join them in
the character of escort, Major Rees made the unpleasant discovery that
he was just about to join a little party of ten enemy machines. But so
far from being dismayed, the plucky airman actually gave battle to the
whole ten. One he quickly drove "down and out", as the soldiers say.
Attacked by five others, he damaged two of them and dispersed the
remainder. Not content with this, he gave chase to two more, and only
broke off the engagement when he had received a wound in the thigh. Then
he flew home to make the usual laconic report.

No record of heroism in the air could be complete without mention of
Captain Ball, who has already figured in these pages. When awarded
the V.C. Captain Ball was already the holder of the following honours:
D.S.O., M.C., Cross of a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, and the
Russian order of St. George. This heroic boy of twenty was a giant among
a company of giants. Here follows the official account which accompanied
his award:--

"Lieutenant (temporary Captain) ALBERT BALL, D.S.O., M.C., late Notts
and Derby Regiment, and R.F.C.

"For most conspicuous and consistent bravery from April 25 to May 6,
1917, during which period Captain Ball took part in twenty-six combats
in the air and destroyed eleven hostile aeroplanes, drove down two out
of control, and forced several others to land.

"In these combats Captain Ball, flying alone, on one occasion fought six
hostile machines, twice he fought five, and once four.

"While leading two other British aeroplanes he attacked an enemy
formation of eight. On each of these occasions he brought down at least
one enemy.

"Several times his aeroplane was badly damaged, once so severely that
but for the most delicate handling his machine would have collapsed,
as nearly all the control wires had been shot away. On returning with a
damaged machine, he had always to be restrained from immediately going
out on another.

"In all Captain Ball has destroyed forty-three German aeroplanes and
one balloon, and has always displayed most exceptional courage,
determination, and skill."


So great was Captain Ball's skill as a fighter in the air that for a
time he was sent back to England to train new pilots in the schools. But
the need for his services at the front was even greater, and it jumped
with his desires, for the whole tone of his letters breathes the joy
he found in the excitements of flying and fighting. He declares he
is having a "topping time", and exults in boyish fashion at a coming
presentation to Sir Douglas Haig. It is not too much to say that the
whole empire mourned when Captain Ball finally met his death in the air
near La Bassee in May, 1917.



CHAPTER XXXIX. Aeroplanes in the Great War

"Aeroplanes and airships would have given us an enormous advantage
against the Boers. The difficulty of laying ambushes and traps for
isolated columns--a practice at which the enemy were peculiarly
adept--would have been very much greater. Some at least of the
regrettable reverses which marked the early stages of the campaign could
in all probability have been avoided."

So wrote Lord Roberts, our veteran field-marshal, in describing the
progress of the Army during recent years. The great soldier was a man
who always looked ahead. After his great and strenuous career, instead
of taking the rest which he had so thoroughly earned, he spent laborious
days travelling up and down the country, warning the people of danger
ahead; exhorting them to learn to drill and to shoot; thus attempting to
lay the foundation of a great civic army. But his words, alas! fell upon
deaf ears--with results so tragic as hardly to bear dwelling upon.

But even "Bobs", seer and true prophet as he was, could hardly have
foreseen the swift and dramatic development of war in the air. He had
not long been laid to rest when aeroplanes began to be talked about,
and, what is more important, to be built, not in hundreds but in
thousands. At the time of writing, when we are well into the fourth year
of the war, it seems almost impossible for the mind to go back to the
old standards, and to take in the statement that the number of machines
which accompanied the original Expeditionary Force to France was eighty!
Even if one were not entirely ignorant of the number and disposition
of the aerial fighting forces over the world-wide battle-ground,
the Defence of the Realm Act would prevent us from making public the
information. But when, more than a year ago, America entered the war,
and talked of building 10,000 aeroplanes, no one gasped. For even in
those days one thought of aeroplanes not in hundreds but in tens of
thousands.

Before proceeding to give a few details of the most recent work of the
Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service, mention must be made of
the armament of the aeroplane. In the first place, it should be stated
that the war has gradually evolved three distinct types of flying
machine: (1) the "general-purposes" aeroplane; (2) the giant bomb
dropper; (3) the small single-seater "fighter".

As the description implies, the first machine fills a variety of roles,
and the duties of its pilots grow more manifold as the war progresses.
"Spotting" for the artillery far behind the enemy's lines; "searching"
for ammunition dumps, for new dispositions by the enemy of men,
material, and guns; attacking a convoy or bodies of troops on the march;
sprinkling new trenches with machine-gun fire, or having a go at an
aerodrome--any wild form of aerial adventure might be included in the
diary of the pilot of a "general-purposes" machine.

It was in order to clear the air for these activities that the "fighter"
came into being, and received its baptism of fire at the Battle of the
Somme. At first the idea of a machine for fighting only, was ridiculed.
Even the Germans, who, in a military sense, were awake and plotting when
other nations were dozing in the sunshine of peace, did not think ahead
and imagine the aerial duel between groups of aeroplanes armed with
machine-guns. But soon the mastery of the air became of paramount
importance, and so the fighter was evolved. Nobly, too, did the men
of all nations rise to these heroic and dangerous opportunities. The
Germans were the first to boast of the exploits of their fighting
airmen, and to us in Britain the names of Immelmann and Bolcke were
known long before those of any of our own fighters. The former claimed
not far short of a hundred victims before he was at last brought low
in June, 1916. His letters to his family were published soon after his
death, and do not err on the side of modesty.

On 11th August, 1915, he writes: "There is not much doing here. Ten
minutes after Bolcke and I go up, there is not an enemy airman to be
seen. The English seem to have lost all pleasure in flying. They come
over very, very seldom."

When allowance has been made for German brag, these statements throw
some light upon the standard of British flying at a comparatively early
date in the war. Certainly no German airman could have made any such
complaint a year later. In 1917 the German airmen were given all the
fighting they required and a bit over.

Certainly a very different picture is presented by the dismal letters
which Fritz sent home during the great Ypres offensive of August, 1917.
In these letters he bewails the fact that one after another of his
batteries is put out of action owing to the perfect "spotting" of the
British airmen, and arrives at the sad conclusion that Germany has lost
her superiority in the air.

An account has already been given of the skill and prowess of Captain
Ball. On his own count--and he was not the type of man to exaggerate his
prowess--he found he had destroyed fifty machines, although actually he
got the credit for forty-one. This slight discrepancy may be explained
by the scrupulous care which is taken to check the official returns.
The air fighter, though morally certain of the destruction of a certain
enemy aeroplane, has to bring independent witnesses to substantiate his
claim, and when out "on his own" this is no easy matter. Without this
check, though occasionally it acts harshly towards the pilot, there
might be a tendency to exaggerate enemy losses, owing to the difficulty
of distinguishing between an aeroplane put out of action and one the
pilot of which takes a sensational "nose dive" to get out of danger.

One of the most striking illustrations of the growth of the aeroplane
as a fighting force is afforded by the great increase in the heights
at which they could scout, take photographs, and fight. In Sir John
French's dispatches mention is made of bomb-dropping from 3000 feet. In
these days the aerial battleground has been extended to anything up
to 20,000 feet. Indeed, so brisk has been the duel between gun and
aeroplane, that nowadays airmen have often to seek the other margin of
safety, and can defy the anti-aircraft guns only by flying so low as
just to escape the ground. The general armament of a "fighter" consists
of a maxim firing through the propeller, and a Lewis gun at the rear on
a revolving gun-ring.

It is pleasant to record that the Allies kept well ahead of the enemy in
their use of aerial photography. Before a great offensive some thousands
of photographs had to be taken of enemy dispositions by means of cameras
built into the aeroplanes.

Plates were found to stand the rough usage better than films, and not
for the first time in the history of mechanics the man beat the machine,
a skilful operator being found superior to the ingenious automatic
plate-fillers which had been devised.

The counter-measure to this ruthless exposure of plans was camouflage.
As if by magic-tents, huts, dumps, guns began, as it were, to sink into
the scenery. The magicians were men skilled in the use of brush and
paint-pot, and several leading figures in the world of art lent their
services to the military authorities as directors of this campaign of
concealment. In this connection it is interesting to note that both
Admiralty and War Office took measures to record the pictorial side
of the Great War. Special commissions were given to a notable band of
artists working in their different "lines". An abiding record of the
great struggle will be afforded by the black-and-white work of Muirhead
Bone, James M'Bey, and Charles Pears; the portraits, landscapes, and
seascapes of Sir John Lavery, Philip Connard, Norman Wilkinson, and
Augustus John, who received his commission from the Canadian Government.



CHAPTER XL. The Atmosphere and the Barometer

For the discovery of how to find the atmospheric pressure we are
indebted to an Italian named Torricelli, a pupil of Galileo, who carried
out numerous experiments on the atmosphere toward the close of the
sixteenth century.

Torricelli argued that, as air is a fluid, if it had weight it could
be made to balance another fluid of known weight. In his experiments he
found that if a glass tube about 3 feet in length, open at one end
only, and filled with mercury, were placed vertically with the open end
submerged in a cup of mercury, some of the mercury in the tube descended
into the cup, leaving a column of mercury about 30 inches in height
in the tube. From this it was deduced that the pressure of air on the
surface of the mercury in the cup forced it up the tube to the height
Of 30 inches, and this was so because the weight of a column of air from
the cup to the top of the atmosphere was only equal to that of a column
of mercury of the same base and 30 inches high.

Torricelli's experiment can be easily repeated. Take a glass tube about
3 feet long, closed at one end and open at the other; fill it as full
as possible with mercury. Then close the open end with the thumb, and
invert the tube in a basin of mercury so that the open end dips beneath
the surface. The mercury in the tube will be found to fall a short
distance, and if the height of the column from the surface of the
mercury in the basin be measured you will find it will be about 30
inches. As the tube is closed at the top there is no downward pressure
of air at that point, and the space above the mercury in the tube is
quite empty: it forms a VACUUM. This vacuum is generally known as the
TORRICELLIAN VACUUM, after the name of its discoverer.

Suppose, now, a hole be bored through the top of the tube above the
column of mercury, the mercury will immediately fall in the tube until
it stands at the same level as the mercury in the basin, because
the upward pressure of air through the liquid in the basin would be
counterbalanced by the downward pressure of the air at the top, and the
mercury would fall by its own weight.

A few years later Professor Boyle proposed to use the instrument to
measure the height of mountains. He argued that, since the pressure of
the atmosphere balanced a column of mercury 30 inches high, it followed
that if one could find the weight of the mercury column one would also
find the weight of a column of air standing on a base of the same size,
and stretching away indefinitely into space. It was found that a column
of mercury in a tube having a sectional area of 1 square inch, and a
height of 30 inches, weighed 15 pounds; therefore the weight of the
atmosphere, or air pressure, at sea-level is about 15 pounds to
the square inch. The ordinary mercury barometer is essentially a
Torricellian tube graduated so that the varying heights of the mercury
column can be used as a measure of the varying atmospheric pressure
due to change of weather or due to alteration of altitude. If we take a
mercury barometer up a hill we will observe that the mercury falls.
The weight of atmosphere being less as we ascend, the column of mercury
supported becomes smaller.

Although the atmosphere has been proved to be over 200 miles high, it
has by no means the same density throughout. Like all gases, air is
subject to the law that the density increases directly as the pressure,
and thus the densest and heaviest layers are those nearest the
sea-level, because the air near the earth's surface has to support
the pressure of all the air above it. As airmen rise into the highest
portions of the atmosphere the height of the column of air above them
decreases, and it follows that, having a shorter column of air to
support, those portions are less dense than those lower down. So rare
does the atmosphere become, when great altitudes are reached, that at
a height of seven miles breathing is well-nigh impossible, and at far
lower altitudes than this airmen have to be supported by inhalations of
oxygen.

One of the greatest altitudes was reached by two famous balloonists,
Messrs. Coxwell and Glaisher. They were over seven miles in the air when
the latter fell unconscious, and the plucky aeronauts were only saved by
Mr. Coxwell pulling the valve line with his teeth, as all his limbs were
disabled.



CHAPTER XLI. How an Airman Knows what Height he Reaches

One of the first questions the visitor to an aerodrome, when watching
the altitude tests, asks is: "How is it known that the airman has risen
to a height of so many feet?" Does he guess at the distance he is above
the earth?

If this were so, then it is very evident that there would be great
difficulty in awarding a prize to a number of competitors each trying to
ascend higher than his rivals.

No; the pilot does not guess at his flying height, but he finds it by a
height-recording instrument called the BAROGRAPH.

In the last chapter we saw how the ordinary mercurial barometer can be
used to ascertain fairly accurately the height of mountains. But the
airman does not take a mercurial barometer up with him. There is for his
use another form of barometer much more suited to his purpose, namely,
the barograph, which is really a development of the aneroid barometer.

The aneroid barometer (Gr. a, not; neros, moist) is so called because it
requires neither mercury, glycerine, water, nor any other liquid in its
construction. It consists essentially of a small, flat, metallic
box made of elastic metal, and from which the air has been partially
exhausted. In the interior there is an ingenious arrangement of springs
and levers, which respond to atmospheric pressure, and the depression or
elevation of the surface is registered by an index on the dial. As the
pressure of the atmosphere increases, the sides of the box are squeezed
in by the weight of the air, while with a decrease of pressure they are
pressed out again by the springs. By means of a suitable adjustment
the pointer on the dial responds to these movements. It is moved in
one direction for increase of air pressure, and in the opposite for
decreased pressure. The positions of the figures on the dial are
originally obtained by numerous comparisons with a standard mercurial
barometer, and the scale is graduated to correspond with the mercurial
barometer.

From the illustration here given you will notice the pointer and scale
of the "A. G" aero-barograph, which is used by many of our leading
airmen, and which, as we have said, is a development of the aneroid
barometer. The need of a self-registering scale to a pilot who is
competing in an altitude test, or who is trying to establish a height
record, is self-evident. He need not interfere with the instrument in
the slightest; it records and tells its own story. There is in use a
pocket barograph which weighs only 1 pound, and registers up to 4000
feet.

It is claimed for the "A. G." barograph that it is the most precise
instrument of its kind. Its advantages are that it is quite portable--it
measures only 6 1/4 inches in length, 3 1/2 inches in width, and 2 1/2
inches in depth, with a total weight of only 14 pounds--and that it is
exceptionally accurate and strong. Some idea of the labour involved
in its construction may be gathered from the fact that this small and
insignificant-looking instrument, fitted in its aluminium case, costs
over L8.



CHAPTER XLII. How an Airman finds his Way

In the early days of aviation we frequently heard of an aviator losing
his way, and being compelled to descend some miles from his required
destination. There are on record various instances where airmen have
lost their way when flying over the sea, and have drifted so far from
land that they have been drowned. One of the most notable of such
disasters was that which occurred to Mr. Hamel in 1914, when he
was trying to cross the English Channel. It is presumed that this
unfortunate pilot lost his bearings in a fog, and that an accident to
his machine, or a shortage of petrol, caused him to fall in the sea.

There are several reasons why air pilots go out of their course, even
though they are supplied with most efficient compasses. One cause of
misdirection is the prevalence of a strong side wind. Suppose, for
example, an airman intended to fly from Harwich to Amsterdam. A glance
at the map will show that the latter place is almost due east of
Harwich. We will assume that when the pilot leaves Earth at Harwich the
wind is blowing to the east; that is, behind his back.

Now, however strong a wind may be, and in whatever direction it blows,
it always appears to be blowing full in a pilot's face. Of course this
is due to the fact that the rush of the machine through the air "makes
a wind", as we say. Much the same sort of thing is experienced on a
bicycle; when out cycling we very generally seem to have a "head" wind.

Suppose during his journey a very strong side wind sprang up over the
North Sea. The pilot would still keep steering his craft due east,
and it must be remembered that when well out at sea there would be no
familiar landmarks to guide him, so that he would have to rely solely on
his compass. It is highly probable that he would not feel the change of
wind at all, but it is even more probable that when land was ultimately
reached he would be dozens of miles from his required landing-place.

Quite recently Mr. Alexander Gross, the well-known maker of aviation
instruments, who is even more famous for his excellent aviation maps,
claims to have produced an anti-drift aero-compass, which has been
specially designed for use on aeroplanes. The chief advantages of this
compass are that the dial is absolutely steady; the needle is extremely
sensitive and shows accurately the most minute change of course; the
anti-drift arrangement checks the slightest deviation from the straight
course; and it is fitted with a revolving sighting arrangement which is
of great importance in the adjustment of the instrument.

Before the airman leaves Earth he sets his compass to the course to
be steered, and during the flight he has only to see that the two
boldly-marked north points--on the dial and on the outer ring--coincide
to know that he is keeping his course. The north points are luminous, so
that they are clearly visible at night.

It is quite possible that if some of our early aviators had carried such
a highly-efficient compass as this, their lives might have been
saved, for they would not have gone so far astray in their course. The
anti-drift compass has been adopted by various Governments, and it now
forms part of the equipment of the Austrian military aeroplane.

When undertaking cross-country flights over strange land an airman finds
his way by a specially-prepared map which is spread out before him in
an aluminium map case. From the illustration here given of an aviator's
map, you will see that it differs in many respects from the ordinary
map. Most British aviation maps are made and supplied by Mr Alexander
Gross, of the firm of "Geographia", London.

Many airmen seem to find their way instinctively, so to speak, and some
are much better in picking out landmarks, and recognizing the country
generally, than others. This is the case even with pedestrians, who
have the guidance of sign-posts, street names, and so on to assist them.
However accurately some people are directed, they appear to have the
greatest difficulty in finding their way, while others, more fortunate,
remember prominent features on the route, and pick out their course as
accurately as does a homing pigeon.

Large sheets of water form admirable "sign-posts" for an airman; thus
at Kempton Park, one of the turning-points in the course followed in the
"Aerial Derby", there are large reservoirs, which enable the airmen to
follow the course at this point with the greatest ease. Railway lines,
forests, rivers and canals, large towns, prominent structures, such as
gasholders, chimney-stalks, and so on, all assist an airman to find his
way.



CHAPTER XLIII. The First Airman to Fly Upside Down

Visitors to Brooklands aerodrome on 25th September, 1913, saw one of
the greatest sensations in this or any other century, for on that date a
daring French aviator, M. Pegoud, performed the hazardous feat of flying
upside down.

Before we describe the marvellous somersaults which Pegoud made, two or
three thousand feet above the earth, it would be well to see what was
the practical use of it all. If this amazing airman had been performing
some circus trick in the air simply for the sake of attracting large
crowds of people to witness it, and therefore being the means of
bringing great monetary gain both to him and his patrons, then this
chapter would never have been written. Indeed, such a risk to one's
life, if there had been nothing to learn from it, would have been
foolish.

No; Pegoud's thrilling performance must be looked at from an entirely
different standpoint to such feats of daring as the placing of one's
head in the jaws of a lion, the traversing of Niagara Falls by means of
a tight-rope stretched across them, and other similar senseless acts,
which are utterly useless to mankind.

Let us see what such a celebrated airman as Mr. Gustav Hamel said of the
pioneer of upside-down flying.

"His looping the loop, his upside-down flights, his general acrobatic
feats in the air are all of the utmost value to pilots throughout the
world. We shall have proof of this, I am sure, in the near future.
Pegoud has shown us what it is possible to do with a modern machine.
In his first attempt to fly upside down he courted death. Like all
pioneers, he was taking liberties with the unknown elements. No man
before him had attempted the feat. It is true that men have been upside
down in the air; but they were turned over by sudden gusts of wind, and
in most cases were killed. Pegoud is all the time rehearsing accidents
and showing how easy it is for a pilot to recover equilibrium providing
he remains perfectly calm and clear-headed. Any one of his extraordinary
positions might be brought about by adverse elements. It is quite
conceivable that a sudden gust of wind might turn the machine completely
over. Hitherto any pilot in such circumstances would give himself up
for lost. Pegoud has taught us what to do in such a case.... his flights
have given us all a new confidence.

"In a gale the machine might be upset at many different angles.
Pegoud has shown us that it is easily possible to recover from such
predicaments. He has dealt with nearly every kind of awkward position
into which one might be driven in a gale of wind, or in a flight over
mountains where air-currents prevail.

"He has thus gained evidence which will be of the utmost value to
present and future pilots, and prove a factor of signal importance in
the preservation of life in the air."

Such words as these, coming from a man of Mr. Hamel's reputation as an
aviator, clearly show us that M. Pegoud has a life-saving mission for
airmen throughout the world.

Let us stand, in imagination, with the enormous crowd of spectators who
invaded the Surrey aerodrome on 25th September, and the two following
days, in 1913.

What an enormous crowd it was! A line of motor-cars bordered the track
for half a mile, and many of the spectators were busy city men who had
taken a hasty lunch and rushed off down to Weybridge to see a little
French airman risk his life in the air. Thousands of foot passengers
toiled along the dusty road from the paddock to the hangars, and
thousands more, who did not care to pay the shilling entrance fee, stood
closely packed on the high ground outside the aerodrome.

Biplanes and monoplanes came driving through the air from Hendon, and
airmen of world-wide fame, such as Sopwith, Hamel, Verrier, and Hucks,
had gathered together as disciples of the great life-saving missionary.
Stern critics these! Men who would ruthlessly expose any "faked"
performance if need were!

And where is the little airman while all this crowd is gathering? Is
he very excited? He has never before been in England. We wonder if his
amazing coolness and admirable control over his nerves will desert him
among strange surroundings.

Probably Pegoud was the coolest man in all that vast crowd. He seemed to
want to hide himself from public gaze. Most of his time, was taken up in
signing post-cards for people who had been fortunate enough to discover
him in a little restaurant near which his shed was situated.

At last his Bleriot monoplane was wheeled out, and he was strapped,
or harnessed, into his seat. "Was the machine a 'freak' monoplane?" we
wondered.

We were soon assured that such was not the case. Indeed, as Pegoud
himself says: "I have used a standard type of monoplane on purpose.
Almost every aeroplane, if it is properly balanced, has just as good a
chance as mine, and I lay particular stress on the fact that there
is nothing extraordinary about my machine, so that no one can say my
achievements are in any way faked."

During the preliminary operations his patron, M. Bleriot, stood beside
the machine, and chatted affably with the aviator. At last the signal
was given for his ascent, and in a few moments Pegoud was climbing with
the nose of his machine tilted high in the air. For about a quarter of
an hour he flew round in ever-widening circles, rising very quietly and
steadily until he had reached an altitude of about 4000 feet. A deep
silence seemed to have settled on the vast crowd nearly a mile below,
and the musical droning of his engine could be plainly heard.

Then his movements began to be eccentric. First, he gave a wonderful
exhibition of banking at right angles. Then, after about ten minutes,
he shut off his engine, pitched downwards and gracefully righted himself
again.

At last the amazing feat began. His left wing was raised, his right
wing dipped, and the nose of the machine dived steeply, and turned right
round with the airman hanging head downwards, and the wheels of the
monoplane uppermost. In this way he travelled for about a hundred
yards, and then slowly righted the machine, until it assumed its normal
position, with the engine again running. Twice more the performance was
repeated, so that he travelled from one side of the aerodrome to the
other--a distance of about a mile and a half.

Next he descended from 4000 feet to about 1200 feet in four gigantic
loops, and, as one writer said: "He was doing exactly what the clown in
the pantomime does when he climbs to the top of a staircase and rolls
deliberately over and over until he reaches the ground. But this funny
man stopped before he reached the ground, and took his last flight as
gracefully as a Columbine with outspread skirts."

Time after time Pegoud made a series of S-shaped dives, somersaults, and
spiral descents, until, after an exhibition which thrilled quite 50,000
people, he planed gently to Earth.

Hitherto Pegoud's somersaults have been made by turning over from front
to back, but the daring aviator, and others who followed him, afterwards
turned over from right to left or from left to right. Pegoud claimed
to have demonstrated that the aeroplane is uncapsizeable, and that if a
parachute be attached to the fuselage, which is the equivalent of a
life boat on board a ship, then every pilot should feel as safe in a
heavier-than-air machine as in a motor-car.



CHAPTER XLIV. The First Englishman to Fly Upside Down

After M. Pegoud's exhibition of upside-down flying in this country it
was only to be expected that British aviators would emulate his daring
feat. Indeed, on the same day that the little Frenchman was turning
somersaults in the air at Brooklands Mr. Hamel was asking M. Bleriot for
a machine similar to that used by Pegoud, so that he might demonstrate
to airmen the stability of the aeroplane in almost all conceivable
positions.

However, it was not the daring and skilful Hamel who had the honour of
first following in Pegoud's footsteps, but another celebrated pilot, Mr.
Hucks.

Mr. Hucks was an interested spectator at Brooklands when Pegoud flew
there in September, and he felt that, given similar conditions,
there was no reason why he should not repeat Pegoud's performance. He
therefore talked the matter over with M. Bleriot, and began practising
for his great ordeal.

His first feat was to hang upside-down in a chair supported by a beam
in one of the sheds, so that he would gradually become accustomed to the
novel position. For a time this was not at all easy. Have you ever tried
to stand on your hands with your feet upwards for any length of time?
To realize the difficulty of being head downwards, just do this, and
get someone to hold your legs. The blood will, of course, "rush to the
head", as we say, and the congestion of the blood-vessels in this part
of the body will make you feel extremely dizzy. Such an occurrence would
be fatal in an aeroplane nearly a mile high in the air at a time
when one requires an especially clear brain to manipulate the various
controls.

But, strange to say, the airman gradually became used to the
"heels-over-head" position, and, feeling sure of himself, he determined
to start on his perilous undertaking. No one with the exception of
M. Bleriot and the mechanics were present at the Buc aerodrome, near
Versailles, when Mr. Hucks had his monoplane brought out with the
intention of looping the loop.

He quickly rose to a height of 1500 feet, and then, slowly dipping the
nose of his machine, turned right over. For fully half a minute he flew
underneath the monoplane, and then gradually brought it round to the
normal position.

In the afternoon he continued his experiments, but this time at a height
of nearly 3000 feet. At this altitude he was flying quite steadily, when
suddenly he assumed a perpendicular position, and made a dive of about
600 feet. The horrified spectators thought that the gallant aviator
had lost control of his machine and was dashing straight to Earth, but
quickly he changed his direction and slowly planed upwards. Then almost
as suddenly he turned a complete somersault. Righting the aeroplane, he
rose in a succession of spiral flights to a height of between 3000 and
3500 feet, and then looped the loop twice in quick succession.

On coming to earth M. Bleriot heartily congratulated the brave
Englishman. Mr. Hucks admitted a little nervousness before looping the
loop; but, as he remarked: "Once I started to go round my nervousness
vanished, and then I knew I was coming out on top. It is all a question
of keeping control of your nerves, and Pegoud deserved all the credit,
for he was the first to risk his life in flying head downwards."

Mr. Hucks intended to be the first Englishman to fly upside down in
England, but he was forestalled by one of our youngest airmen, Mr.
George Lee Temple. On account of his youth--Mr. Temple was only
twenty-one at the time when he first flew upside-down--he was known as
the "baby airman", but there was probably no more plucky airman in the
world.

There were special difficulties which Mr. Temple had to overcome that
did not exist in the experiments of M. Pegoud or Mr. Hucks. To start
with, his machine--a 50-horse-power Bleriot monoplane--was said by
the makers to be unsuitable for the performance. Then he could get no
assistance from the big aeroplane firms, who sought to dissuade him from
his hazardous undertaking. Experienced aviators wisely shook their heads
and told the "baby airman" that he should have more practice before he
took such a risk.

But notwithstanding this lack of encouragement he practised hard for
a few days by hanging in an inverted position. Meanwhile his mechanics
were working night and day in strengthening the wings of the monoplane,
and fitting it with a slightly larger elevator.

On 24th November, 1913, he decided to "try his luck" at the London
aerodrome. He was harnessed into his seat, and, bidding his friends
farewell, with the words "wish me luck", he went aloft. For nearly
half an hour he climbed upward, and swooped over the aerodrome in wide
circles, while his friends far below were watching every action of his
machine.

Suddenly an alarming incident occurred. When about a mile high in the
air the machine tipped downwards and rushed towards Earth at terrific
speed. Then the tail of the machine came up, and the "baby airman" was
hanging head downwards.

But at this point the group of airmen standing in the aerodrome were
filled with alarm, for it was quite evident to their experienced eyes
that the monoplane was not under proper control. Indeed, it was actually
side-slipping, and a terrible disaster appeared imminent. For hundreds
of feet the young pilot, still hanging head downwards, was crashing
to Earth, but when down to about 1200 feet from the ground the machine
gradually came round, and Mr. Temple descended safely to Earth.

The airman afterwards told his friends that for several seconds he
could not get the machine to answer the controls, and for a time he was
falling at a speed of 100 miles an hour. In ordinary circumstances he
thought that a dive of 500 feet after the upside-down stretch should
get him the right way up, but it really took him nearly 1500 feet.
Fortunately, however, he commenced the dive at a great altitude, and so
the distance side-slipped did not much matter.

It is sad to relate that Mr. Temple lost his life in January, 1914,
while flying at Hendon in a treacherous wind. The actual cause of the
accident was never clearly understood. He had not fully recovered from
an attack of influenza, and it was thought that he fainted and fell
over the control lever while descending near one of the pylons, when the
machine "turned turtle", and the pilot's neck was broken.



CHAPTER XLV. Accidents and their Cause

"Another airman killed!" "There'll soon be none of those flying fellows
left!" "Far too risky a game!" "Ought to be stopped by law!"

How many times have we heard these, and similar remarks, when the
newspapers relate the account of some fatality in the air! People have
come to think that flying is a terribly risky occupation, and that if
one wishes to put an end to one's life one has only to go up in a
flying machine. For the last twenty years some of our great writers have
prophesied that the conquest of the air would be as costly in human life
as was that of the sea, but their prophecies have most certainly been
wrong, for in the wreck of one single vessel, such as that of the
Titanic, more lives were lost than in all the disasters to any form of
aerial craft.

Perhaps some of our grandfathers can remember the dread with which many
nervous people entered, or saw their friends enter, a train. Travellers
by the railway eighty or ninety years ago considered that they took
their lives in their hands, so to speak, when they went on a long
journey, and a great sigh of relief arose in the members of their
families when the news came that the journey was safely ended. In George
Stephenson's days there was considerable opposition to the institution
of the railway, simply on account of the number of accidents which it
was anticipated would take place.

Now we laugh at the fears of our great-grandparents; is it not probable
that our grandchildren will laugh in a similar manner at our timidity
over the aeroplane?

In the case of all recent new inventions in methods of locomotion there
has always been a feeling among certain people that the law ought to
prohibit such inventions from being put into practice.

There used to be bitter opposition to the motor-car, and at first every
mechanically-driven vehicle had to have a man walking in front with a
red flag.

There are risks in all means of transit; indeed, it may be said that the
world is a dangerous place to live in. It is true, too, that the demons
of the air have taken their toll of life from the young, ambitious, and
daring souls. Many of the fatal accidents have been due to defective
work in some part of the machinery, some to want of that complete
knowledge and control that only experience can give, some even to want
of proper care on the part of the pilot. If a pilot takes ordinary care
in controlling his machine, and if the mechanics who have built the
machine have done their work thoroughly, flying, nowadays, should be
practically as safe as motoring.

The French Aero Club find, from a mass or information which has been
compiled for them with great care, that for every 92,000 miles actually
flown by aeroplane during the year 1912, only one fatal accident had
occurred. This, too, in France, where some of the pilots have been
notoriously reckless, and where far more airmen have been killed than in
Britain.

When we examine carefully the statistics dealing with fatal accidents
in aeroplanes we find that the pioneers of flying, such as the famous
Wright Brothers, Bleriot, Farman, Grahame-White, and so on, were
comparatively free from accidents. No doubt, in some cases, defective
machines or treacherous wind gusts caused the craft to collapse in
mid-air. But, as a rule, the first men to fly were careful to see that
every part of the machine was in order before going up in it, so that
they rarely came to grief through the planes not being sufficiently
tightened up, wires being unduly strained, spars snapping, or bolts
becoming loose.

Mr. Grahame-White admirably expresses this when he says: "It is a
melancholy reflection, when one is going through the lists of aeroplane
fatalities, to think how many might have been avoided. Really the crux
of the situation in this connection, as it appears to me, is this: the
first men who flew, having had all the drudgery and danger of pioneer
work, were extremely careful in all they did; and this fact accounts for
the comparatively large proportion of these very first airmen who have
survived.

"But the men who came next in the path of progress, having a machine
ready-made, so to speak, and having nothing to do but to get into it and
fly, did not, in many cases, exercise this saving grace of caution. And
that--at least in my view--is why a good many of what one may call the
second flight of pilots came to grief."



CHAPTER XLVI. Accidents and their Cause (Cont.)

One of the main causes of aeroplane accidents has been the breakage of
some part of the machine while in the air, due to defective work in its
construction. There is no doubt that air-craft are far more trustworthy
now than they were two or three years ago. Builders have learned from
the mistakes of their predecessors as well as profited by their own.
After every serious accident there is an official enquiry as to the
probable cause of the accident, and information of inestimable value has
been obtained from such enquiries.

The Royal Aero Club of Great Britain has a special "Accidents
Investigation Committee" whose duty it is to issue a full report on
every fatal accident which occurs to an aeroplane in this country. As a
rule, representatives of the committee visit the scene of the accident
as soon as possible after its occurrence. Eye-witnesses are called
before them to give evidence of the disaster; the remains of the
craft are carefully inspected in order to discover any flaw in its
construction; evidence is taken as to the nature and velocity of the
wind on the day of the accident, the approximate height at which the
aviator was flying, and, in fact, everything of value that might bear on
the cause of the accident.

As a good example of an official report we may quote that issued by the
Accidents Investigation Committee of the Royal Aero Club on the fatal
accident which occurred to Colonel Cody and his passenger on 7th August,
1913.

"The representatives of the Accidents Committee visited the scene of
the accident within a few hours of its occurrence, and made a careful
examination of the wrecked air-craft. Evidence was also taken from the
eye-witnesses of the accident.

"From the consideration of the evidence the Committee regards the
following facts as clearly established:

"1. The air-craft was built at Farnborough, by Mr. S. F. Cody, in July,
1913.

"2. It was a new type, designed for the Daily Mail Hydroplane Race
round Great Britain, but at the time of the accident had a land chassis
instead of floats.

"3. The wind at the time of the accident was about 10 miles per hour.

"4. At about 200 feet from the ground the air-craft buckled up and fell
to the ground. A large piece of the lower left wing, composing the whole
of the front spar between the fuselage and the first upright, was picked
up at least 100 yards from the spot where the air-craft struck the
ground.

"5. The fall of the air-craft was broken considerably by the trees, to
such an extent that the portion of the fuselage surrounding the seats
was practically undamaged.

"6. Neither the pilot nor passenger was strapped in.

"Opinion. The Committee is of opinion that the failure of the air-craft
was due to inherent structural weakness.

"Since that portion of the air-craft in which the pilot and passenger
were seated was undamaged, it is conceivable their lives might have been
saved had they been strapped in."

This occasion was not the only time when the Accidents Investigation
Committee recommended the advisability of the airman being strapped to
his seat. But many airmen absolutely refuse to wear a belt, just as many
cyclists cannot bear to have their feet made fast to the pedals of their
cycles by using toe-clips.

Mention of toe-clips brings us to other accidents which sometimes befall
airmen. As we have seen in a previous chapter, Mr. Hawker's accident in
Ireland was due to his foot slipping over the rudder bar of his machine.
It is thought that the disaster to Mr. Pickles' machine on "Aerial
Derby" day in 1913 was due to the same cause, and on one occasion Mr.
Brock was in great danger through his foot slipping on the rudder bar
while he was practising some evolutions at the London Aerodome. Machines
are generally flying at a very fast rate, and if the pilot loses control
of the machine when it is near the ground the chances are that the
aeroplane crashes to earth before he can right it. Both Mr. Hawker and
Mr. Pickles were flying low at the time of their accidents, and so their
machines were smashed; fortunately Mr. Brock was comparatively high up
in the air, and though his machine rocked about and banked in an ominous
manner, yet he was able to gain control just in the nick of time.

To prevent accidents of this kind the rudder bars could be fitted with
pedals to which the pilot's feet could be secured by toe-clips, as on
bicycle pedals. Indeed, some makers of air-craft have already provided
pedals with toe-clips for the rudder bar. Probably some safety device
such as this will soon be made compulsory on all machines.

We have already remarked that certain pilots do not pay sufficient
heed to the inspection of their machines before making a flight. The
difference between pilots in this respect is interesting to observe. On
the great day at Hendon, in 1913--the Aerial Derby day--there were over
a dozen pilots out with their craft.

From the enclosure one could watch the airmen and their mechanics as
the machines were run out from the hangars on to the flying ground. One
pilot walked beside his mechanics while they were running the machine to
the starting place, and watched his craft with almost fatherly interest.
Before climbing into his seat he would carefully inspect the spars,
bolts, wires, controls, and so on; then he would adjust his helmet and
fasten himself into his seat with a safety belt.

"Surely with all that preliminary work he is ready to start," remarked
one of the spectators standing by. But no! the engine must be run
at varying speeds, while the mechanics hold back the machine. This
operation alone took three or four minutes, and all that the pilot
proposed to do was to circle the aerodrome two or three times. An
onlooker asked a mechanic if there were anything wrong with that
particular machine. "No!" was the reply; "but our governor's very faddy,
you know!"

And now for the other extreme! Three mechanics emerged from a hangar
pushing a rather ungainly-looking biplane, which bumped over the uneven
ground. The pilot was some distance behind, with cigarette in mouth,
joking with two or three friends. When the machine was run out into the
open ground he skipped quickly up to it, climbed into the seat, started
the engine, waved a smiling "good-bye", and was off. For all he knew,
that rather rough jolting of the craft while it was being removed
from the hangar might have broken some wire on which the safety of his
machine, and his life, depended. The excuse cannot be made that his
mechanics had performed this all-important work of inspection, for
their attention was centred on the daring "banking" evolutions of some
audacious pilot in the aerodrome.

Mr. C. G. Grey, the well-known writer on aviation matters, and the
editor of The Aeroplane, says, with regard to the need of inspection of
air-craft:--

"A pilot is simply asking for trouble if he does not go all over his
machine himself at least once a day, and, if possible, every time he is
starting for a flight.

"One seldom hears, in these days, of a broken wheel or axle on a railway
coach, yet at the chief stopping places on our railways a man goes round
each train as it comes in, tapping the tires with a hammer to detect
cracks, feeling the hubs to see if there is any sign of a hot box, and
looking into the grease containers to see if there is a proper supply
of lubricant. There ought to be a similar inspection of every aeroplane
every time it touches the ground. The jar of even the best of landings
may fracture a bolt holding a wire, so that when the machine goes up
again the wire may fly back and break the propeller, or get tangled in
the control wires, or a strut or socket may crack in landing, and many
other things may happen which careful inspection would disclose before
any harm could occur. Mechanics who inspected machines regularly would
be able to go all over them in a few minutes, and no time would be
wasted. As it is, at any aerodrome one sees a machine come down, the
pilot and passenger (a fare or a pupil) climb out, the mechanics hang
round and smoke cigarettes, unless they have to perform the arduous
duties of filling up with petrol. In due course another passenger and a
pilot climb in, a mechanic swings the propeller, and away they go
quite happily. If anything casts loose they come down--and it is truly
wonderful how many things can come loose or break in the air without
anyone being killed. If some thing breaks in landing, and does not
actually fall out of place, it is simply a matter of luck whether anyone
happens to see it or not."

This advice, coming from a man with such wide experience of the theory
and practice of flying, should surely be heeded by all those who engage
in deadly combat with the demons of the air. In the early days of
aviation, pilots were unacquainted with the nature and method of
approach of treacherous wind gusts; often when they were flying along in
a steady, regular wind, one of these gusts would strike their craft on
one side, and either overturn it or cause it to over-bank, so that it
crashed to earth with a swift side-slip through the air.

Happily the experience of those days, though purchased at the cost of
many lives, has taught makers of air-craft to design their machines on
more trustworthy lines. Pilots, too, have made a scientific study of air
eddies, gusts, and so on, and the danger of flying in a strong or gusty
wind is comparatively small.



CHAPTER XLVII. Accidents and their Cause (Cont.)

Many people still think that if the engine of an aeroplane should stop
while the machine was in mid-air, a terrible disaster would happen. All
petrol engines may be described as fickle in their behaviour, and
so complicated is their structure that the best of them are given to
stopping without any warning. Aeroplane engines are far superior
in horse-power to those fitted to motorcars, and consequently their
structure is more intricate. But if an airman's engine suddenly stopped
there would be no reason whatever why he should tumble down head first
and break his neck. Strange to say, too, the higher he was flying the
safer he would be.

All machines have what is called a GLIDING ANGLE. When the designer
plans his machine he considers the distribution of the weight or the
engine, pilot and passengers, of the petrol, aeronautical instruments,
and planes, so that the aeroplane is built in such a manner that when
the engine stops, and the nose of the machine is turned downwards, the
aeroplane of its own accord takes up its gliding angle and glides to
earth.

Gliding angles vary in different machines. If the angle is one in
twelve, this would mean that if the glide wave commenced at a height of
1 mile, and continued in a straight line, the pilot would come to
earth 12 miles distant. We are all familiar with the gradients shown on
railways. There we see displayed on short sign-posts such notices as
"1 in 50", with the opposite arms of the post pointing upwards and
downwards. This, of course, means that the <DW72> of the railway at that
particular place is 1 foot in a distance of 50 feet.

One in twelve may be described as the natural gradient which the machine
automatically makes when engine power is cut off. It will be evident why
it is safer for a pilot to fly, say, at four or five thousand feet high
than just over the tree-tops or the chimney-pots of towns. Suppose, for
example, the machine has a gliding angle of one in twelve, and that when
at an altitude of about a mile the engine should stop. We will assume
that at the time of the stoppage the pilot is over a forest where it is
quite impossible to land. Directly the engine stopped he would change
the angle of the elevating plane, so that the aeroplane would naturally
fall into its gliding angle. The craft would at once settle itself into
a forward and slightly downward glide; and the airman, from his point of
vantage, would be able to see the extent of the forest. We will assume
that the aeroplane is gliding in a northerly direction, and that the
country is almost as unfavourable for landing there as over the forest
itself. In fact, we will imagine an extreme case, where the airman is
over country quite unsuitable for landing except toward the south;
that is, exactly opposite to the direction in which he starts to glide.
Fortunately, there is no reason why he should not steer his machine
right round in the air, even though the only power is that derived
from the force of gravity. His descent would be in an immense <DW72>,
extending 10 or 12 miles from the place where the engine stopped
working. He would therefore be able to choose a suitable landing-place
and reach earth quite safely.

But supposing the airman to be flying about a hundred yards above the
forest-an occurrence not likely to happen with a skilled airman, who
would probably take an altitude of nearly a mile. Almost before he could
have time to alter his elevating plane, and certainly long before he
could reach open ground, he would be on the tree-tops.

It is thought that in the near future air-craft will be fitted with two
or more motors, so that when one fails the other will keep the machine
on its course. This has been found necessary in Zeppelin air-ships. In
an early Zeppelin model, which was provided with one engine only, the
insufficient power caused the pilot to descend on unfavourable ground,
and his vessel was wrecked. More recent types of Zeppelins are fitted
with three or four engines. Experiments have already been made with the
dual-engine plant for aeroplanes, notably by Messrs. Short Brothers, of
Rochester, and the tests have given every satisfaction.

There is little doubt that if the large passenger aeroplane is made
possible, and if parliamentary powers have to be obtained for the
formation of companies for passenger traffic by aeroplane, it will be
made compulsory to fit machines with two or more engines, driving three
or four distinct propellers. One of the engines would possibly be of
inferior power, and used only in cases of emergency.

Still another cause of accident, which in some cases has proved fatal,
is the taking of unnecessary risks when in the air. This has happened
more in America and in France than in Great Britain. An airman may have
performed a very difficult and daring feat at some flying exhibition
and the papers belauded his courage. A rival airman, not wishing to
be outdone in skill or courage, immediately tries either to repeat the
performance or to perform an even more difficult evolution. The result
may very well end in disaster, and

     FAMOUS AIRMAN KILLED

is seen on most of the newspaper bills.

The daring of some of our professional airmen is notorious. There is
one particular pilot, whose name is frequently before us, whom I have
in mind when writing this chapter. On several occasions I have seen him
flying over densely-packed crowds, at a height of about two hundred feet
or so. With out the slightest warning he would make a very sharp and
almost vertical dive. The spectators, thinking that something very
serious had happened, would scatter in all directions, only to see the
pilot right his machine and jokingly wave his hand to them. One trembles
to think what would have been the result if the machine had crashed to
earth, as it might very easily have done. It is interesting to relate
that the risks taken by this pilot, both with regard to the spectators
and himself, formed the subject of comment, and, for the future, flying
over the spectators' heads has been strictly forbidden.

From 1909 to 1913 about 130 airmen lost their lives in Germany, France,
America, and the British Isles, and of this number the British loss
was between thirty and forty. Strange to say, nearly all the German
fatalities have taken place in air-ships, which were for some years
considered much safer than the heavier-than-air machine.



CHAPTER XLVIII. Some Technical Terms used by Aviators

Though this book cannot pretend to go deeply into the technical side
of aviation, there are certain terms and expressions in everyday use by
aviators that it is well to know and understand.

First, as to the machines themselves. You are now able to distinguish a
monoplane from a biplane, and you have been told the difference between
a TRACTOR biplane and a PROPELLER biplane. In the former type the screw
is in front of the pilot; in the latter it is to the rear of the pilot's
seat.

Reference has been previously made to the FUSELAGE, SKIDS, AILERONS,
WARPING CONTROLS, ELEVATING PLANES, and RUDDER of the various forms
of air-craft. We have also spoken of the GLIDING ANGLE of a machine.
Frequently a pilot makes his machine dive at a much steeper gradient
than is given by its natural gliding angle. When the fall is about one
in six the glide is known as a VOL PLANE; if the descent is made almost
vertically it is called a VOL PIQUE.

In some cases a PANCAKE descent is made. This is caused by such a
decrease of speed that the aeroplane, though still moving forward,
begins to drop downwards. When the pilot finds that this is taking
place, he points the nose of his machine at a much steeper angle, and so
reaches his normal flying speed, and is able to effect a safe landing.
If he were too near the earth he would not be able to make this sharp
dive, and the probability is that the aeroplane would come down flat,
with the possibility of a damaged chassis. It is considered faulty
piloting to make a pancake descent where there is ample landing space;
in certain restricted areas, however, it is quite necessary to land in
this way.

A far more dangerous occurrence is the SIDE-SLIP. Watch a pilot
vol-planing to earth from a great height with his engine shut off. The
propeller rotates in an irregular manner, sometimes stopping altogether.
When this happens, the skilful pilot forces the nose of his machine
down, and so regains his normal flying speed; but if he allowed the
propeller to stop and at the same time his forward speed through the air
to be considerably diminished, his machine would probably slip sideways
through the air and crash to earth. In many cases side-slips have taken
place at aerodromes when the pilot has been rounding a pylon with the
nose of his machine pointing upwards.

When a machine flies round a corner very quickly the pilot tilts it to
one side. Such action as this is known as BANKING. This operation can be
witnessed at any aerodrome when speed handicaps are taking place.

Since upside-down flying came into vogue we have heard a great deal
about NOSE DIVING. This is a headlong dive towards earth with the nose
of the machine pointing vertically downwards. As a rule the pilot makes
a sharp nose dive before he loops the loop.

Sometimes an aeroplane enters a tract of air where there seems to be no
supporting power for the planes; in short, there appears to be, as it
were, a HOLE in the air. Scientifically there is no such thing as a
hole in the air, but airmen are more concerned with practice than with
theory, and they have, for their own purposes, designated this curious
phenomenon an AIR POCKET. In the early days of aviation, when machines
were far less stable and pilots more quickly lost control of their
craft, the air pocket was greatly dreaded, but nowadays little notice is
taken of it.

A violent disturbance in the air is known as a REMOUS. This is somewhat
similar to an eddy in a stream, and it has the effect of making the
machine fly very unsteadily. Remous are probably caused by electrical
disturbances of the atmosphere, which cause the air streams to meet
and mingle, breaking up into filaments or banding rills of air. The
wind--that is, air in motion--far from being of approximate uniformity,
is, under most ordinary conditions, irregular almost beyond conception,
and it is with such great irregularities in the force of the air streams
that airmen have constantly to contend.



CHAPTER XLIX. The Future in the Air

Three years before the outbreak of the Great War, the Master-General of
Ordnance, who was in charge of Aeronautics at the War Office, declared:
"We are not yet convinced that either aeroplanes or air-ships will be of
any utility in war".

After four years of war, with its ceaseless struggle between the Allies
and the Central Powers for supremacy in the air, such a statement makes
us rub our eyes as though we had been dreaming.

Seven years--and in its passage the air encircling the globe has become
one gigantic battle area, the British Isles have lost the age-long
security which the seas gave them, and to regain the old proud
unassailable position must build a gigantic aerial fleet--as greatly
superior to that of their neighbours as was, and is, the British Navy.

Seven years--and the monoplane is on the scrap-heap; the Zeppelin has
come as a giant destroyer--and gone, flying rather ridiculously before
the onslaughts of its tiny foes. In a recent article the editor of The
Aeroplane referred to the erstwhile terror of the air as follows: "The
best of air-ships is at the mercy of a second-rate aeroplane". Enough to
make Count Zeppelin turn in his grave!

To-day in aerial warfare the air-ship is relegated to the task of
observer. As the "Blimp", the kite-balloon, the coast patrol, it
scouts and takes copious notes; but it leaves the fighting to a tiny,
heavier-than-air machine armed with a Lewis gun, and destructive attacks
to those big bomb-droppers, the British Handley Page, the German Gotha,
the Italian Morane tri-plane.

The war in the air has been fought with varying fortunes. But, looking
back upon four years of war, we may say that, in spite of a slow
start, we have managed to catch up our adversaries, and of late we have
certainly dealt as hard knocks as we have received. A great spurt of
aerial activity marked the opening of the year 1918. From all quarters
of the globe came reports, moderate and almost bald in style, but
between the lines of which the average man could read word-pictures of
the skill, prowess, and ceaseless bravery of the men of the Royal Flying
Corps and Royal Naval Air Service. Recently there have appeared two
official publications (1), profusely illustrated with photographs, which
give an excellent idea of the work and training of members of the two
corps. Forewords have been contributed respectively by Lord Hugh Cecil
and Sir Eric Geddes, First Lord of the Admiralty. These publications
lift a curtain upon not only the activities of the two Corps, but the
tremendous organization now demanded by war in the air.

     (1) The Work and Training of the Royal Flying Corps and The
     Work and Training of the Royal Naval Air Service.


All this to-day. To-morrow the Handley Page and Gotha may be occupying
their respective niches in the museum of aerial antiquities, and we may
be all agog over the aerial passenger service to the United States of
America.

For truly, in the science of aviation a day is a generation, and three
months an eon. When the coming of peace turns men's thoughts to the
development of aeroplanes for commerce and pleasure voyages, no one can
foretell what the future may bring forth.

At the time of writing, air attacks are still being directed upon
London. But the enemy find it more and more difficult to penetrate the
barrage. Sometimes a solitary machine gets through. Frequently the whole
squadron of raiding aeroplanes is turned back at the coast.

As for the military advantage the Germans have derived, after nearly
four years of attacks by air, it may be set down as practically nil.
In raid after raid they missed their so-called objectives and succeeded
only in killing noncombatants. Far different were the aim and scope of
the British air offensives into Germany and into country occupied by
German troops. Railway junctions, ammunition dumps, enemy billets,
submarine bases, aerodromes--these were the targets for our airmen,
who scored hits by the simple but dangerous plan of flying so low that
misses were almost out of the question.

"Make sure of your objective, even if you have to sit upon it." Thus is
summed up, in popular parlance, the policy of the Royal Flying Corps and
Royal Naval Air Service. And if justification were heeded of this strict
limitation of aim, it will be found in the substantial military losses
inflicted upon the enemy results which would never have been attained
had our airmen dissipated their energies on non-military objectives for
the purpose of inspiring terror in the civil population.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Mastery of the Air, by William J. Claxton

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