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.