CHAPTER VIII.

THE PROFESSOR TALKS ON AVIATION.

The last remark of Professor Morgan threw Bohunkus Johnson into a state

of excitement. He had obeyed Harvey and remained mute during the

conversation, but he now addressed the visitor directly:

“Did yo’ say Afriky, boss?”

The man looked in his direction and nodded his head.

“That’s what I said, sir.”

“Dat’s where my fader libs.”

Harvey felt it his duty to explain:

“My colored friend claims to be the son of a distinguished African

chief, whom he hopes to visit some day.”

“What is the name of the chief?” asked the Professor.

“His given name is the same as his; the full name is Bohunkus Foozleum.”

“I can’t say I ever heard of him,” remarked the Professor without

cracking a smile.

“I sent him a letter a month ago, in de care ob Colonel Roosevelt and

it’s ’bout time I got an answer. I’m sure de Colonel will call on him

while he’s hunting in Afriky.”

“Well, when my machine is perfected, I’ll take you with me and it

sha’n’t cost you a penny,” said Professor Morgan.

Bohunkus chuckled with delight and settled down to listen. The visitor

now ignored him and addressed the others.

“Aviation is the theme that fills nearly all minds and it is daily

growing in importance. The possibilities are boundless; it will

revolutionize travel, social life and the methods of warfare. It will

render the destruction of life and property so appallingly easy that no

nation will dare array itself against another. You and I are likely to

see that day when:—

“‘The war drum throbs no longer and the battle flags are furled

O’er the parliament of nations, o’er a reunited world.’

“We can remember the universality of the bicycle; then came, and it

stays with us, the automobile, and now it is the aeroplane. The day is

near when there will be numberless routes established between cities and

countries and when the ocean will be crossed east and west by a

procession of heavier-than-air machines, and every family will have its

hangar and its occupant awaiting the wish of the owner.”

The Professor showed a disposition to quiz the young aviator, who met

him as best he could, though sensible of his lack of knowledge as

compared with one who had given so much thought and experimentation to

it.

“Naturally,” said he, “men’s first ideas were of using wings as birds

do, but it would take a Samson or a Hercules to put forth the necessary

strength. But it has been tried times without number. I think the

ancient Greeks wove many romantic tales of aerial flights—”

The Professor paused and Harvey accepted the invitation:

“Such as Daedalus and Icarus, who were said to have flown to the sun and

back again. The Greek Achytus made a dove of wood, driven by heated air,

and one of his countrymen constructed a brass fly which kept above the

ground for some minutes.”

“Do you recall what aviator first came to grief?”

“‘Simon the Magician,’ who during the reign of the emperor Nero made a

short flight before a Roman crowd but tumbled to death, as did a good

many during the Middle Ages.”

“The Chinese were centuries ahead of the rest of the world in the use of

the mariner’s compass, printing, gunpowder and the flying of kites.

There are authentic records of balloon flights in the fourteenth

century, and a hundred years later discoveries were made of which

present aviators have taken advantage. You have learned that although

America was visited a thousand years ago and even earlier by white men,

the glory of the discovery is given to Christopher Columbus. So the

credit of the first real step in aviation belongs to two Frenchmen. Can

you help me to recall their names?”

“I don’t think you need any help,” laughed Harvey, who saw the drift of

his friend’s quizzing, “but the men you have in mind were Joseph and

Etienne Montgolfier, who lived at Annonay, about forty miles from

Lyons.”

“What was their idea of aerostation?”

“They learned from many experiments that a light globe filled with hot

air will rise because its weight is less than the surrounding

atmosphere, just as a cork or bit of pine comes to the surface of water.

They made a globular ball, thirty-five feet in diameter, of varnished

silk, and in June, 1783, in the presence of an immense crowd at Annonay

built a fire under the mouth on the lower side. Soon after when the

ropes were loosened, the balloon mounted upward for more than a mile,

then was carried to one side by a current of air and as the vapor within

cooled, came gently down to earth again.

“The incident caused a sensation and Paris subscribed money for

manufacturing hydrogen, a very buoyant gas to take the place of hot air.

The brothers sent up such a balloon in Paris in the latter part of

August. It sailed aloft for half a mile, finally drifted out of sight

and came down fifteen miles from the starting point.”

“Did it carry any passenger?” asked the Professor.

“No; the time had not come for that venture, but soon after the brothers

sent up a second hot air balloon at Versailles, in the presence of the

king and queen. A wicker cage was suspended below and in it were a duck,

a rooster and a sheep, all of which showed less excitement than the

cheering thousands. It rose about a fourth of a mile, and eight minutes

after leaving the ground descended two miles away.”

“Who was the first man to go up in a balloon?” asked Abisha Wharton.

“I don’t remember his name; can you tell me, Professor?”

“Pilatre de Rozier, whose ascent was made on the 15th of October, 1783,

in an oval balloon constructed by the Montgolfiers. It was not quite

fifty feet in diameter and half again as high. A circular wicker basket

was suspended beneath, and under the neck of the balloon in the center

was an iron grate or brazier supported by chains, the whole structure

weighing sixteen hundred pounds. M. de Rozier fed the flames with straw

and wood and thus kept the air sufficiently heated to lift him

eighty-four feet, where held by ropes, the balloon remained suspended

for four and a half minutes and then gently came back to earth.

“This incident blazed the way for successful aerostation. M. de Rozier

accomplished higher and more durable ascents and occasionally took a

passenger with him. We must remember, however, that in all these

instances, the balloon was restrained by ropes and could not wander off.

The aeronauts chafed under such restriction, and on November 21, 1783,

M. de Rozier and the Marquis d’Arlandes cut loose from the earth in

front of a royal palace in the Bois de Boulogne, it being the first time

such a thing was ever done. The ascent lasted not quite half an hour,

when the aeronauts came safely down in a field five miles distant from

the starting point.” [1]

Footnote 1:

It is well to bear the following distinctions in mind: aerostation is

the art of flying in a balloon; when the balloon is equipped with

motor and propellers so as to be navigable, it is dirigible; an

aerocar is any kind of a flying machine; an aeronaut is any one who

navigates the air in a balloon; an aeroplane is a flying machine which

is heavier than air; a monoplane is a one-planed and a biplane a

two-planed flying machine; a triplane consists of three superposed

planes; a quadruplane of four planes; airmen are either aeronauts or

aviators; aviation is the art of flying in an aeroplane and an aviator

is one who so flies; aeronef is an aeroplane as defined by

International Congress; a hangar corresponds to a garage for an

automobile; ornithopter is a heavier-than-air machine, with wings upon

which it depends for support and propulsion; petrol is the European

name for gasoline.

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The Flying Boys in the Sky · 第 8 / 33 章