The Flying Boys in the Sky

CHAPTER IX

THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION (Continued.)

Professor Morgan continued: “Thus far the aeronauts had used hot air with which to make their ascents, but the fire under the balloon was always dangerous and more than one fatal accident resulted therefrom. Hydrogen gas was far better, but more costly. Public subscriptions enabled two brothers named Robert, assisted by M. Charles, to construct a spherical balloon, twenty-eight feet in diameter, the silk envelope being covered with varnish, and the upper half inclosed in a network which supported a hoop that encircled the middle of the sphere. A boat-like structure dangled a few feet below the mouth, and was attached to the hoop, while a safety valve at the apex prevented bursting through expansion of the gas as the balloon climbed the sky.

“This structure was inflated with hydrogen gas in the Garden of the Tuileries, Paris, on the first of December, 1783. M. Charles and one of the Roberts seated themselves in the car, provided with extra clothing, provisions, sand bags for ballast, a barometer and a thermometer, and gave the word to let go. The balloon soared swiftly, the aeronauts waving hands and hats in response to the cheers of the multitudes below. The ascent was a success in every respect. Having drifted thirty miles from Paris, the balloon safely descended near Nesle. There was so much gas left that the enthusiastic M. Charles decided to go up again, after parting with his companion. He climbed nine thousand feet and then by the dexterous use of his ballast came to earth again without the least jar.

“The impulse thus given to ballooning spread to other countries and it would be idle to attempt any record of their efforts. It may be said that for nearly a hundred years little or no progress was made in aerostation. Then came the second stage, the construction of dirigible or manageable balloons. All the structures which had hitherto left the earth were wholly under control of air currents, as much as a chip of wood is under the control of the stream into which it is flung. People began to experiment with a view of directing the course of the ships of the sky. While it was impossible to make headway against a gale or strong wind, it seemed that the aeronaut ought to be able to overcome a moderate breeze. The first attempt was by means of oars and a rudder, but nothing was accomplished until 1852, when Giffard used a small engine, but the difficulty of constructing a light motor of sufficient power checked all progress for awhile. It could not do so for long, however, as the inventive genius of mankind was at work and would not pause until satisfied. One of Giffard’s stupendous ideas was a balloon more than a third of a mile long with an engine weighing thirty tons, but the magnitude and expense involved were too vast to be considered.

“It would be tedious to follow the various steps in dirigible ballooning. It was not until 1882, that the Tissandier brothers, Gilbert and Albert – Frenchmen – built a dirigible cigar-shaped balloon substantially on the old lines, but it could not be made to travel more than five miles an hour in a dead calm, and was helpless in a moderate wind. None the less their attempts marked an epoch, for they introduced an electric motor. The ‘La France,’ when constructed some time later, was a hundred and sixty-five feet long, twenty-seven feet at its greatest diameter, and had a capacity of sixty-six thousand cubic feet. Many changes and improvements followed and an ascent was made in August, 1884, during which the balloon traveled two and a half miles, turned round and came back in the face of a gentle breeze to its starting point, the whole time in the air being less than half an hour. This was the first exploit of that nature.

“But,” added the Professor, “I am talking too much about dirigible ballooning, for our chief interest does not lie there. I am sure you have read of the Schwartz aluminum dirigible; Santos-Dumont and his brilliant performances with his fourteen airships; Roze’s double airship, and Count Zeppelin’s splendid successes with his colossal dirigibles.

“We have dealt only with structures that were lighter than air. The wonderful field that has opened before us and into which thousands are crowding, with every day bringing new and startling achievements, is that of the heavier-than-air machines. In other words, we have learned to become air men and to fly as the birds fly.

“Success was sure to come sooner or later, and when it did come every one wondered why it was so late, since the principles are so simple that a child can understand them. Otto Lilienthal, after long study and experimentation, published in Berlin in 1889, as one of the results of his labors, the discovery that arched surfaces driven against the wind have a strong tendency to rise. Then he demonstrated by personal experiments that a beginning must be made by ‘gliding’ through the air in order to learn to balance one’s self. He piled up a lot of dirt fifty feet high, and from its summit made a number of starts, succeeding so well that he tried a small motor to help flap his wings. Sad to say, an error of adjustment caused the machine to turn over in August, 1896, and he was killed.

“Percy S. Pilcher of England experimented for several years along the same lines and used the method of a kite by employing men to run with a rope against the wind, but he was destined to become another martyr, for he was fatally injured one day by a fall. Chanute and Herring of Chicago taught us a good deal about gliders. Herring used a motor driven by compressed air and had two plane surfaces for his apparatus, but his motor was too weak to sustain him for more than a few minutes.”

“Professor,” said Wharton, “I have often heard of the Hargrave kite; why do folks call it that name?”

“You mean the box pattern, made of calico stretched over redwood frames. They are the invention of Lawrence Hargrave of Sydney, Australia. He attached a sling seat to one and connected three above it. A brisk wind showed a lift of more than two hundred pounds, and he made a number of ascents, the kites preserving their stability most satisfactorily.

“Of course you do not need to be told anything about Orville and Wilbur Wright of Dayton, Ohio. These plucky and persevering fellows experimented for years in the effort to overcome obstacles that had baffled inventors for centuries. Among the problems they solved were whether stability is most effectively gained by shifting the center of gravity, or by a special steering device, and what the power of a rudder is when fixed in front of a machine. They decided that in gliding experiments it is best for the aviator to lie in a horizontal position; that a vertical rudder in the rear of a machine is preferable in order to turn to the right or left, and a horizontal rudder or small plane in front is the most effective device for guiding the aeroplane up or down.”

The Professor was in the middle of his interesting talk, when he abruptly paused and came to his feet.

“I’ve stayed longer than I intended,” said he; “I must bid you good night. If it won’t be too much trouble to your wife I shall be glad to drink a cup of coffee.”

“No trouble at all,” replied Abisha Wharton springing from his stool; “won’t you eat something?”

“I don’t need it.”

The three walked through the open door into the larger room where the wife was sitting. Bohunkus was leaning back against the front of the house sound asleep, as he had been for some minutes. No one disturbed him. The woman had heard the words of the visitor, and quickly brought in a big coffee pot from which she poured a brimming cup, placing some milk and sugar on the table. The Professor had not yet thanked any one for the proffers made him and he did not do so now, but standing erect, with his cap almost touching the ceiling, he drank, smacked his thin lips and remarked that the refreshment was good.

Standing thus clearly disclosed in the candle-light, the Professor impressed Harvey Hamilton more than before. He was as straight as an arrow and his piercing black eyes had a gleam that must have possessed hypnotic power. In fact the woman showed so much restlessness under his glances that she made a pretext for leaving the room and remained out of sight until he departed. He did not offer to pay his host and still forgot to acknowledge by word the kindnesses shown him.

Harvey and Abisha accompanied him on his brief walk across the little plain to where his machine was waiting. Without any preliminaries such as testing the wires, levers, framework and different parts of the apparatus, he seated himself.

“Now,” he said in his thunderous bass, “note the action of my uplifter.”

This contrivance was simply a horizontal propeller under the machine, which being set revolving with great rapidity hoisted it gently from the ground and as straight upward as a cannon shot fired at the zenith. It was easy to understand the principle of the action, but not of some of the other performances of the eccentric inventor. When the aerocar was well off the earth, the regular propeller in front began work and the uplifter became motionless.

All this time only a faint humming noise was noticeable, but in a few minutes that became inaudible. Professor Morgan was swallowed up in the darkness and speedily vanished, for he made no use of his searchlight. He must have been half a mile to the northward when he let off a rocket. Ordinary prudence on account of sparks probably caused him to send it sideways. It formed a striking picture, – this germination as it were of a blazing object in mid air, which shot away with arrowy swiftness in a graceful parabola that curved downward, and when about half way to the ground burst into a myriad of dazzling sparks of different hues that were quickly lost in the gloom.

The two spectators waited and gazed in silence, but saw nothing more and returned to their seats in front of the cabin.

“Strange man,” said Harvey, “I wonder whether we shall ever see him again.”

“I don’t think there is much chance of my meeting him, but you may bump against him some time when you are cruising overhead.”

“That seems hardly likely, for the field is too big.”

And yet Harvey Hamilton and Professor Milo Morgan were destined to meet sooner than either suspected and in circumstances of which neither could have dreamed.

Wharton refilled his corncob pipe and puffed with deliberate enjoyment.

“What do you think of him, Mr. Hamilton?” he finally asked.

“He’s wonderfully well informed about aviation, but is cranky.”

“He’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s plumb crazy.”

“You wouldn’t think so from his conversation; no one can talk better than he.”

“But his eyes! They gave him dead away; I’m glad he didn’t stay all night.”

“What difference could that make?”

“More’n likely he would have got up and killed us all while we were asleep.”

Harvey laughed.

“While he isn’t the sort of companion I should fancy, I’m sure he is not that kind of a lunatic. The chances are that he will lose his life through some of his experiments in aviation, the same as those we talked about.”

“Shall we say anything to Bohunkus about the man being off his base?” asked Wharton, as if in doubt regarding his duty in the circumstances.

“It isn’t worth while; nothing can be gained by doing so.”

And in reaching this decision, Harvey Hamilton made a grand mistake, as he was fated to learn before many days. It would have been a fortunate thing, too, had the colored youth kept awake during this chat, but it was not so to be.

As the night advanced, the host told his guest he was at liberty to retire whenever agreeable. The couple had a sleeping room upstairs, and not being well provided for company, a blanket was spread on the floor in the lower front room. Bohunkus was still unconscious, his cap having fallen at his feet. Harvey reached over and shook his shoulder.

“Come, Bunk, it’s time to go to bed – excuse me!”

Although the action was gentle, it destroyed the sleeper’s center of gravity, and he and the stool tumbled over on the floor. Even then, he was only partially awakened and mumbled a wish that folks would stay on their own side of the bed, as he climbed unsteadily to his feet.

The weather was so mild that there was no discomfort in occupying a room whose windows and door were open. With the aid of the candle, Bohunkus stumbled to the blanket in the corner, pitched down upon it and the next minute was slumbering as soundly as when his stool tipped over with him. He and Harvey had laid aside their heavy coats before they sawed and split the supply of wood, and the single blanket gave them all the protection they needed. Thus the two lay down to pleasant dreams.

CHAPTER X

THE FLYING BOYS CONTINUE THEIR JOURNEY

The morning dawned clear, mild and bright. Harvey and Bohunkus were astir at an early hour and filled the tank with gasoline and replenished the supply of oil. An examination of the aeroplane was made and every wire, brace, lever and appurtenance found, so far as could be judged, in perfect condition. The two went back to the house where an excellent meal was awaiting them. Harvey slipped so liberal a fee into the hands of the woman that she was delighted and showed it to her husband, who grinned appreciatively. It may be said that he earned the extra pay through a valuable suggestion to the aviator, – one that was effective and so simple that it was strange it had not been thought of before.

“You tell me,” said Abisha, “that when one of them things is ready to start on its flight, you hold it until the propeller has got its grip and then let it go with a jump.”

“Something like that is the practice.”

“When there’s only two of you, how do you manage it?”

“The only way is to start the thing, with Bunk in his seat; I run alongside for a few steps and spring into my seat.”

“You might slip and let the aeroplane get away from you. Then Bunk would be thrown out on his head.”

“He wouldn’t be hurt if he landed that way,” replied Harvey with a laugh, “but he might alight on his shins and that would be bad.”

“Let me show you a better plan.”

Abisha strode to the woodpile and came back with a long, strong stick. He set one end in the ground, with the upper inclined against the footboard. The prop thus gained held the biplane immovable before a strong push.

“Let her shove all she wants to,” explained the man, “and when you’re ready, kick the stick aside.”

“The scheme could not be better,” said Harvey admiringly, as he made sure that the point in contact with the machine could not injure it. He seated himself and Abisha swung the propeller around; the engine instantly responded with its deafening roar and a powerful thrust was exerted against the prop. In a few minutes, the youth leaned over, grasped the stick and swung it aside. The machine made a bound like a runner starting on a race, spun over the ground for a hundred feet or more, and then in obedience to the upturned rudder in front, leaped clear of the ground. She was off.

Harvey glanced back. In the door was the smiling housewife, with her husband on the spot where he stood when the flight began. He waved his hand in salutation and the two aviators responded.

This is a good place in which to give the explanation that must be made in order to understand how it came about that these two youths were so far from home, and engaged upon the outing that was destined to prove the most memorable in the life at least of one of them.

Harvey Hamilton was the son of a wealthy merchant, whose business took him to New York every week-day morning. The youth was preparing to enter Princeton University, and his elder brother Dick was a student in Yale. In the beginning of the summer the family separated, each member indulging his or her taste in the way of vacation, with the parent glad to pay the bills. The mother and daughter Mildred went to the White Mountains, Dick to the Adirondacks with a party of students, while Harvey and his father took a jaunt through a part of Europe, sailing home from Naples on the Duca degli Abruzzi. Wife and daughter, knowing when they were due, were at home to meet them. Dick was still in the mountains, from which he wrote the most glowing accounts of his life in camp and conquests of the gamy trout that are still to be found in the cool streams.

On the homeward passage, Harvey and his father were lucky enough to meet the noted German aviator, Ostrom Sperbeck, of whom we have heard already.

Mr. Hamilton explained to the Professor that his son Harvey with the assistance of the colored youth, who was “bound out” to a neighbor, were at work on an aeroplane with which they hoped to fly, but the Professor warned them against it.

“It is too dangerous; some of the best aviators have lost their lives and you know that one of the Wright brothers came within a hair of being killed. Encourage your son, if you wish, in the sport, for those who are boys to-day are the ones that will make the greatest discoveries and advances in aviation, but do not let him take any risks that can be avoided. Buy him a first-class machine and forbid him to use any other.”

Mr. Hamilton was impressed with the advice and acted upon it.

Bohunkus Johnson was as ardent as his young friend, but, lacking his mental brightness, was not given charge of the aeroplane, though promised a chance of trying his hand later on.

So much having been told, it will be understood how on a pleasant summer day, Harvey and Bohunkus started on their outing, with permission to be gone several weeks, though their expectation was to return in the course of ten days or so.

Several facts will be borne in mind. Nothing not deemed absolutely necessary was taken with the aviators. Inasmuch as they could not stay more than two hours in the air, without replenishing their supply of fuel, they carried no food, nor were any weapons taken along, for it was not probable they would ever need anything of the kind. Although Harvey headed toward a spur of the Alleghany Mountains, with the object of relieving what promised to become a monotonous experience at times, it did not seem possible that they would ever run into personal danger from that cause. He carried a pair of binoculars held by a strap over one shoulder, for such an instrument was likely to prove useful in their voyages through the air.

Harvey ascended for a fourth of a mile, and Bohunkus shuddered at the thought of plunging again into the arctic regions, but his friend lowered the front rudder and they skimmed away on a level. The view was as entrancing as ever, with cities, towns, villages, scattered houses, stretches of wood and cultivated country, winding streams, puffing engines pulling trains that looked like insignificant toys, and the gleam of what seemed to be a lake of several miles area in the distance. The wanderer through the finest picture galleries in Europe can become sated with the numberless master-pieces, and wonderful as was the unfolding panorama, the youths grew tired of its splendid sameness. When they gazed at the earth it was without any clear impression of what they saw.

Far to the westward loomed a mountain, the outlines showing a dim blue haze against the summer sky. Harvey had fixed the elevation in his mind before leaving home and, it was his intention to sail over the summit into the more unsettled country beyond. As near as he could judge the range was about twenty miles distant.

“I can easily make it in an hour,” he reflected, “and not hurry.”

He was traveling at a moderate pace, for he did not like to impose a strain upon the machine by pressing it to the limit. There was no call for hurry, and after clearing the elevation he could land at some town and buy what gasoline he needed. He shifted the course of the aeroplane slightly, and descended until within two or three hundred feet of the earth. There were no tall buildings to be avoided, and none of the trees that showed were lofty enough to interfere. Bohunkus sat in his usual seat, idly grasping the supports, for the progress was so smooth that he might have folded his arms without risk, always provided the aeroplane did not collide with any of the fierce aerial gyrations, which are so dangerous to aviators, because being invisible, no precaution can be taken against them.

Harvey slackened his speed still more, and coursed easily forward, crossed a winding creek, and was skimming toward a moderate stretch of woods, when he noticed a man standing on the margin and watching the aeroplane. The fact that he held a gun in one hand did not concern the youth, who, prompted by the spirit of mischief natural in one of his years, dropped still lower and headed for the man, as if he meant to crash into him.

The stranger, instead of turning about and dashing into the wood where he would have been safe from pursuit, suddenly raised his double-barreled shot gun and let fly with both charges. Nothing of the kind had been dreamed of, either by Harvey or his companion, and they were startled indeed when they heard the shot rattle through the wires and framework of the machine. One of the pellets nipped the cheek of Harvey and Bohunkus yelled,

“I’m shot all to pieces, Harv!”

Harvey turned his head in affright, but saw no evidence that the other had been harmed in the least. The man, seeing that his hasty aim had been ineffective, began hastily to reload his weapon with the evident purpose of doing execution next time.