The Captain had first to fill his pipe, and stretch his legs before he
began his story.
"Of course," he said, "we can't really say that the Wrights were the
first men to fly, or to build a machine that would fly. Even in the
middle ages Leonardo da Vinci drew up plans for a flying machine. Just
before the Wright's experiment Langley had stayed up in the air in a
machine invented and built by himself. If he had not died at so
unfortunate a period in his experimental life, perhaps he might have
been the inventor of the airplane.
"The Wrights invented the airplane in the same degree that Thomas Edison
invented the electric light. Men had experimented with both inventions
for many years. But it took the genius of the Wrights, the genius of an
Edison to bring together these experiments, to think through logically
just wherein they were right and where they were wrong, and to add the
brilliant deductions that brought their experiments to a practical and
successful end. Edison's discovery was dependent upon the finding of the
proper filament for his bulb; the Wrights' success hinged upon their
discovery of the warped wing, which gave them control over their plane.
"The fact that the Wrights were not the first to fly does not detract
from the thing that they actually did. At the time that they were making
their first flying machine, any man who tampered with the subject of
flying through the air was looked upon as crazy. And this was not more
than a quarter of a century ago. Seems funny, doesn't it? But they were
not to be discouraged. They knew that they were right, and they went
ahead. They had many set-backs. Their planes were wrecked. What did they
do? They just built them over again, and were glad that they had learned
of some new defect that they could re-design and correct.
"You notice that I always talk of 'the Wrights' as though they were one
person; everybody does. In fact, they almost were one person. They were
always together; lived together, played together, although they didn't
play much, being a serious pair, and worked together. They never
quarreled, never showed any jealousy of each other, never claimed the
lion's share of praise in the invention. They were just 'the Wrights,'
quiet, retiring men, who did much and talked little.
"From early childhood it was the same. Wilbur Wright, the elder of the
two, was born in Milville, Indiana, and lived there until he was three
years old with his parents, Milton Wright, bishop of the United Brethren
Church, and Susan Katherine Wright. In 1870 the family moved to Dayton,
Ohio, and in 1871 Orville Wright was born. From a very early age the two
were drawn to each other. Their minds and desires were similar.
"When Wilbur decided that he would rather go to work after being
graduated from High School, Orville decided that he, too, would give up
his formal education, and devote himself to mechanics.
"They were born mechanics, always building miniature machines that
actually worked. They did not stop studying, but took to reading
scientific works that were of more help to them than formal education.
In this way they learned printing, and built themselves a printing press
out of odds and ends that they assembled. On this they began to publish
a little newspaper, but they gave this up when another opportunity
presented itself.
"Bicycles were coming in at that time, and the Wright brothers set up a
little shop to repair them. From the repair shop they developed a
factory in which they manufactured bicycles themselves. Their business
was very successful, and they were looked upon as young men who were
likely to get along in the world. This was in 1896.
"That year Otto Lilienthal, a famous German experimenter, was killed in
his glider, just at the peak of his career. Wilbur read an account of
his death in the newspaper, and discussed it with his brother. The event
renewed the interest that they had always had in flying, and they set
about studying all of the books that they could find on the problem of
flight. They soon exhausted all that they could get, and decided that
their groundwork had been laid. From then on their work was practical,
and they discovered principles that had never been written, and which
resulted in the first flight.
"The first things that they built were kites, and then gliders that were
flown as kites. The Wrights were after the secret of the birds' flight,
and felt that they could apply it to man's flight. Their next step was
the construction of a real glider. But the country around Dayton was not
favorable for flying their craft. They wrote to the United States
government to find a region that had conditions favorable to their
gliding. That is how the obscure Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, came to be
the famous place that it is. It happened to have just south of it three
hills, Kill Devil Hill, Little Hill, and West Hill. Between the hills
was soft drifting sand, that would provide a better landing place than
hard earth in case of a spill. The winds were steady and moderate.
"To Kitty Hawk the Wrights went. Here they glided to their heart's
content, until they decided that they had learned to control their
flights, and were ready to build a plane with power. They went back to
Dayton in 1902. They designed and supervised the building of the motor
themselves, one that would generate twelve horsepower. Satisfied, they
set out once more for Kitty Hawk, with the motor and parts of their
plane carefully stowed away.
"They got down there in the early autumn, but found so many difficulties
to overcome, that they could not make the first tests until December. In
the first place, they discovered that a storm had blown away the
building which they had built to work in when they first got to Kitty
Hawk. However, everything was at last ready, the weather favorable, and
the plane was hauled up Kill Devil Hill, and guided toward the single
track of planks that had been laid down the hill.
"Who was going to get the first chance to pilot the plane? Who was going
to be the first man to fly? Orville insisted that Wilbur be the one;
Wilbur insisted that Orville should be the first. They decided it by
flipping a coin. Wilbur won. He got into the plane, unfastened the wire
that held the plane to the track, and started down. He ended in a heap
at the bottom of the hill, uninjured, but with several parts of the
plane damaged.
"The Wrights were nothing daunted. They repaired the plane as quickly as
possible, and on December 17, they were ready for the second trial. It
was Orville's turn, of course. He unloosened the wire; the plane started
down the hill; at the end of a forty-foot run it rose into the air. It
kept on going, in a bumpy, irregular course, now swooping up, now diving
down, for 120 feet, then darted to earth. The flight had taken in all
just twelve seconds, but the Wrights had flown.
"I suppose you've seen pictures of that first plane. It wasn't much more
than a box in shape, a biplane, with no cockpit at all, just the wings
held together by struts, and a seat in the center for the pilot. A man
had to be tough to fly one of those planes. The wonder is that any of
them escaped with their lives. They had to sit up there exposed to all
the elements, and pilot the clumsy planes. And yet they grew into
skilful and expert pilots, and could loop the loop and figure eight in
them! The Wrights themselves were excellent flyers. This seems only
natural, with their natural born gift for mechanics. It was well that
they were good flyers, because it was up to them to prove to the world
that their craft was safe, and practical.
"It was hard at first. People were skeptical as to whether the Wrights
really had a ship that flew. Some of their tests were unsuccessful, and
they were laughed to scorn. However, France, who had been more advanced
than the United States in the matter of experimentation in flying,
became interested in the new flying machine, and sent representatives
over to the United States to inspect it. With the French approving of
it, the United States became more interested. The government offered a
prize of $25,000, for anyone who would build a plane that would travel
40 miles an hour, carry enough fuel and oil to cruise for 125 miles, and
fly continuously for at least an hour, with two persons weighing
together 350 pounds. The Wrights built such a machine, and the
government not only gave them the $25,000, but an additional $5,000
besides.
"In the meanwhile Wilbur Wright had gone to France, where he
participated in many flights, and won the hearts of the French people by
staying in the air for an hour and a half. At the end of the year, 1908,
he stayed in the air over two hours.
"The Wrights were showing what they could do. Flying became the rage.
Society took it up, and traveled to the Wrights to see their planes. But
the Wrights, no more impressed by this than they were by anything else,
kept right on working. They were financed by a group of able financiers
in the United States, and founded the Wright Aeroplane Company for the
manufacture of planes, and they were content.
"After 1909, their point proved, the Wrights did very little flying.
They spent their time in engineering problems, making improvements on
the planes that they were designing and manufacturing.
"They did some more experimenting with gliders, but this was in order to
perfect the art of soaring.
"In May, 1912, Wilbur Wright died, and broke up the famous partnership
that had existed for so many years. Since his death his brother has
lived quietly. He has not flown, and has acted as advisor to his company
as they turn out more and more modern planes. He is one man who has
lived to see a thing that he started himself grow into a blessing to
mankind. And if the airplane isn't that, I'd like to know what is."
"I think so," said Bob.
"Who are you to think so?" asked Bill, sitting up very suddenly.
Bob was non-plussed for a moment, but then saw that his uncle was
joking, and laughed. They were interrupted by the ringing of the
doorbell.
"Well," said the Captain, "who could be out in weather like this?"
They heard the front door open, voices, and then the closing of the
door. In a short while the footsteps of Mrs. Martin sounded on the
steps, and she entered the library.
"A telegram for you, Bill," she said, and handed it to him. "My, you
three look cozy up here. I suppose you've been yarning, haven't you?"
She gave her brother a playful poke.
Captain Bill, who had risen when his sister came in, offered his chair
before he opened the telegram. "Join us, won't you, Sis?"
His sister laughed. "I really can't go before I see what is in the
telegram," she said. "Of course, I suppose I should be polite and
pretend not to be interested in it, but I am. We all are, aren't we,
boys?"
Bob and Hal grinned.
"Well, then," said Bill, "I guess I'll have to see what's in it." He
opened the telegram, and glanced hurriedly over it. "Pat's landing
tomorrow," he said. "He wants us to be out at the airport to see the
_Marianne_ come in."
"Hurray!" shouted Bob, and went into a war dance.
His mother looked at him tolerantly. She was used to Bob's antics. "What
time is Pat coming in?" she asked.
"He didn't say. In fact, that's all he didn't say in this telegram. But
I guess he'll start out about dawn and get here around noon. Anyway,
we'll be going down to the airport tomorrow morning to look around.
We'll stay there until that Irishman rolls in."
"What will you do about lunch?" asked the practical Mrs. Martin.
"Why, we'll eat at the airport restaurant," said Bill. "Don't worry
about us, Sis."
Mrs. Martin looked dubious. She glanced at Hal. She knew that Hal's
mother liked to supervise her son's meals, and did not care to have him
eat at strange places. Mrs. Martin felt that it would be a shame to
spoil the expedition for such a trivial reason, so she said, "I have an
idea. I'll pack a lunch for all of you tonight, and you can take it with
you tomorrow. How will that be? You can eat it anyplace around the
airport. It'll be a regular picnic. There are some nice places around
the port that you can go to. How about that?"
Bob answered for them. "That will be great. Gee, Bill, do you remember
the picnic baskets that Mom can pack? We're in luck."
"Do I remember?" said Bill. "How could I forget? You fellows had better
be up pretty early tomorrow."
"You bet we will, Captain," said Bob.
Then Hal said, "I guess I'd better be going. My mother will be wondering
if I'm never coming home. I hope that I can come with you tomorrow."
"Hope you can come with us? Why, of course you're coming with us. We
won't go without you," Captain Bill said explosively.
"I'll see," said Hal. "I'll ask Mother. Maybe she'll let me go. But
anyway, I'll let you know. I'll put up the flags in the workshop window.
All right?"
"Sure," said Bob, and walked out with Hal. He saw the boy to the door,
and warned him again to be sure to come.
When the two boys had left the room, Captain Bill turned to his sister.
"Say," he said, "do you think that Hal's mother really won't let him
come, or is the boy looking for a way out?"
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Mrs. Martin.
"Just this," said Bill, and puffed vigorously on his pipe. "I've been
watching the boy, and I think that he's afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of actually going up in an airplane. I feel that a change has
come over him since there has been an actual chance of his learning to
fly," explained the Captain.
His sister looked pensive. "But he's always been so interested in
flying. That's all the two of them ever talk about."
"Perhaps. When there was no immediate chance of his going up in a plane.
Now that there is, I think he'd like to back out."
"There is his mother to consider, of course," said Mrs. Martin. "She
would undoubtedly object very strenuously if he merely went to the
airport. You must remember that he's all she has. She's always so
careful of him."
The Captain snorted. "Too careful," he said. "She's made the boy a
bundle of fears. Bob has helped him get over some of them, but I think
that they're cropping out now. It will be very bad for Hal if he funks
this. I think that it will hurt him a great deal. If he succeeds in
overcoming his fears now for once and for all, if he learns to go up in
a plane, even if he may never fly one himself, he will be a new boy.
He'll never be afraid again. But one let-down now, and he will be set
way back--even further back than when Bob first met him."
"I think you're right, Bill," said his sister. "But what are we going to
do about it?"
The Captain shrugged his shoulders. "I think the best thing to do with
the boy is not to let him know that we know he's afraid. Treat him just
as if he were the bravest lad in the world. I'll take care of that. But
I can't take care of his mother. I never was a lady's man," smiled
Captain Bill. "You'll have to attend to that."
Mrs. Martin's brow wrinkled. "I think you've taken the easier task," she
said with a wry smile. "I'd much rather teach a boy to overcome his
fears than teach a mother to overcome hers. But I'll try," she added,
and hoped against hope for success.
Bob burst into the room. "How about something to eat?" he said. "I'm
starved!"
"As usual," said his mother. "I would like to hear you just once
complain about being not hungry."
"All right, mother," said Bob. "If you want to hear me complain about
that, you just feed me a good dinner now, and I'll do my best to
complain about being not hungry--after I finish it."
"You're an impossible son," said his mother, but smiled fondly at him.
She really didn't believe it.