THE TRANSFORMATION OF A SEA MONSTER
The two lads, Bill and Charlie, stared with undivided attention at the
astonishing spectacle. Two large fins which evidently had been lying
close to the submarine’s sides, were rising into the air. With a speed
that seemed remarkable these fins reached a vertical position. For a
moment they remained pointing straight toward the high blue arc of the
heavens. Then they swung outward, lowering horizontally from the ship’s
sides, to come to rest when level with the deck, and about five feet
above the surface of the water—a complete set of airplane wings.
“Gosh, she’s a monoplane now!” exclaimed Charlie.
“Wonder how they’ll produce a tail unit?”
“You mean a rudder?”
“Yes. That, together with a stabilizer, fin and elevator.”
But before the words were well out of Bill’s mouth, the miracle
occurred. A large rudder lifted itself out of the water, and opening out
as it came to rest, seemed to sprout like a giant seabud into a complete
tail group.
“Can she use the water propeller in the air?” Charlie kept his eyes
glued on the submarine. “It seems to me that would hardly be big enough
to fly with.”
“Hardly. That outfit is the queerest engineering jumble I’ve ever seen.
But unless the Herr Baron can work absolute miracles, it will take more
than one motor and propeller to move her.”
The submarine lay to windward of the amphibian. The lads therefore
obtained a stern view of the ship and it was difficult for them to see
exactly what was going on forward.
Suddenly Charlie raised another shout. “Look, Bill, look! Here comes the
motor. Some jack-in-the-box, I call it.”
“And there’s another one! And still another!
Gee-jumpin’-gee-roosalem—the blamed thing is coughing up motors like—”
“Like a cat with the belly-ache,” suggested Charlie.
“Inelegant, but apt. Let’s see, there are one, two . . . _five_ of
them!”
“Some packet!”
“Some packet is right. I’d pay admission to see this any day.”
The reason for this excited dialogue had been, first, the raising of
that section of the deck between the two great wing sections until from
wing-tip to wing-tip, one continuous horizontal plane was formed. Next,
up through what was probably a hatch in this center wing section, though
of course invisible at that distance from the lads, appeared an airplane
motor. This rose on its own engine struts, slid to starboard along the
wing and came to rest. Another made its appearance and moved to
starboard in line with the first. The next two found places on the port
wing, and the last engine remained directly above the hatch which
probably closed with a sliding cover. Then the mechanics came topside,
through another hatchway, bearing propellers which were fitted to the
engines, fore and aft.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen two propellers on the same
engine!” cried Charlie. “What’s the reason for it, Bill?”
Bill turned round in his seat. “Each one of those engines, as you call
them, Charlie, is a double unit. In other words, two motors joined
together, one forward and one aft. There are ten propellers, because
there are ten motors in that line. The propellers forward are tractors,
those aft pushers. The _Dornier_, the big German DO-X passenger plane,
has the same arrangement of motors.”
“Guess they must generate a heap of power?”
“Plenty. But you need it to propel a heavy ship like that sub. By the
way, do you happen to know what they call her?”
“The _Flying Fish_—one of the gobs told me.”
“Say, where do you get that Navy stuff?”
“Gobs?” Charlie chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got a sea-goin’ dad. He had a
U.S.N.R.F. commission during the war.”
“That so? Great!”
“You bet yer. Say, Bill, hadn’t you better get our own engine going? The
_Flying Fish_ will be taking off right away. She’s a regular monoplane
now.”
Bill shook his head, and turned to face the submarine again.
“They won’t take off for a few minutes yet. As she is, those wings will
never hold her weight in the air. And for another thing, she sets much
too low in the water to ever get off.”
“But, see, Bill—she’s rising. She’s getting higher in the water all the
time.”
“By Jingoes! She is, at that!”
“How do they do it?”
“Same method as a submarine helps to raise itself from the bottom. Water
is forced out of certain compartments and air pumped in.”
“Gee, it’s a marvel! And look, there are short wings or fins, extending
from the hull under each wing. What do they need them for?”
“Wing-strut supports, I guess. Yes, there come the men with the struts.
See how they are securing them from the wing sections to the fins below,
and shorter ones from the fins to the hull?”
“Is that what you meant when you said that the wings of the _Flying
Fish_ wouldn’t hold her?”
“That’s it. Without struts to support that spread, the wings would
surely crumple with her weight in the air.”
“Well, I guess she’s all set for the take off now.”
“Reckon she is. Yes, there go her motors idling! Hear ’em?”
“What shall I do now?”
“Strap on your helmet and your goggles. Then go forward and haul in our
sea anchor. When you get back to your cockpit, keep your hands off the
controls in there and adjust the headphone set hanging below the
instrument board. Some day, if we ever get out of this mess, I may give
you flight instruction, but not on this hop.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. And this is important—for safety’s sake, remember. I’m skipper of
this craft. What I say goes—and goes with a bang. Savez?”
“Yes, sir.” Charlie’s voice was sober and subdued.
“O.K., then. Hop to it, kid, I want to get moving.”
A very important Charlie quickly buckled the chin-strap of his helmet
and scrambled forward. He followed directions exceedingly well,
considering the fact that he had never been in a plane before. Once out
on the nose he pulled in the mooring line and the collapsible canvas
bucket known as the sea anchor, and carried them back to the rear
cockpit. There he stowed them away. Back in the pilot’s seat again, he
adjusted his goggles and the headphone set. Then he stood up, and
grasping the cockpit’s cowl, he leaned forward so as to watch Bill
manipulate the controls in the fore cockpit.
From the time that he was a little tad of a fellow, Charlie had been
crazy to fly. At home, his bedroom was decorated with pictures of famous
flyers and their planes. He fairly ate up airplane stories and his book
shelves were crowded with literature on flying, although he found some
of the volumes too technical. Now that he had a chance to witness a
take-off at first hand, he wasn’t going to miss a single detail if he
could help it.
Charlie knew that the take-off includes the handling of a plane from the
time the throttle is opened until the ship is in level flight directly
above the surface. He had also read somewhere that in order to leave the
ground or the water, it is necessary for the plane to have flying speed,
the minimum speed at which the lift of the wings will equal the weight;
for the object of the take-off is to gain this speed. The plane must
first be manoeuvered into an attitude which facilitates a quick increase
in speed. It must be held in this attitude while moving forward at an
increasing rate and must finally be taken off in such a way that it is
under full control from the instant it leaves the surface. He also knew
that _all take-offs must be made directly into the wind_.
The _Flying Fish_ was already moving through the water, her ten engines
roaring like an express train, when Charlie saw Bill set their own motor
idling. Rudder and ailerons were placed in neutral and the amphibian
allowed to swing until it was headed directly into the wind. Then Bill
slowly but steadily opened wide the throttle. At the same time, the
youngster saw him pull the stick back in order to raise their bow out of
the water. This he knew was necessary, both to gain planing speed and to
keep the propeller out of the spray which might damage it.
Six or eight seconds after opening the throttle, with the bow well up
and the amphibian gaining momentum every instant, Bill pushed the stick
all the way forward, and did so in order to raise the tail and depress
the nose. But as the plane was moving at some speed, the bow could not
be pushed down into the water. Instead, the speed at which they were
taxying gradually forced it upward until they were skimming the surface
on their step. Bill then eased the stick back to neutral and maintained
it there while speed was being gathered. Spray was dashing against
Charlie’s face and chest as they sped along. The sensation of traveling
at terrific speed was enormous.
“Gee! This sure is great!”
“Getting a kick out of it?” asked a voice in his ear, causing him almost
to lose his balance. Then he remembered the transmitter on his chest and
realized he had been talking into it.
“I sure am, Bill. What’s the next thing you have to do?”
“The next thing for _you_ to do, young feller, is to get back to your
seat and buckle on your safety-belt. If you are so keen to learn, I’ll
talk as I run this old crate into the air, and you watch what I’m doing.
Maybe that will keep you from trying to climb down the back of my neck.”
“Thanks, Bill, that’ll be great. I’ll sit tight, honest I will.”
“All right, then. We are skimming the surface on the step now, as you’ve
noticed. No more large movements of the controls may be made, as the
plane is now sensitive to them. I’m paying particular attention to the
lateral balance from this stage on.”
Bill stopped talking for a moment, then went on again:
“Remember this, Charlie. It’s important. _The plane must not be taken
off until speed adequate to give complete control has been attained._
Any attempt on my part to pull it off prematurely will result in a
take-off at the stalling point, where control is uncertain. Now we’ve
gained flying speed, so I break her out of the water with a momentary
pressure on the elevators. That pressure was very slight and I eased it
at the moment of take-off.
“When the plane left the water, its speed was only slightly above
minimum flying speed. Any decrease in this would naturally mean a stall.
Therefore, I’m keeping the nose level for six to eight seconds in order
to get a safe margin above the stalling point before beginning to climb.
Safety first always—when flying, Charlie. Now she’s all right, the
engine’s running smooth and sweet. So I pull my stick back gently, and
as you see, we’re leaving the water behind.”