On the long peninsula that separates New York Bay from Newark Bay,
there is, among other things, a red house by an open field, in which
lives the king of kite-flyers. Every one in Bayonne, the town which
covers this peninsula, knows the red house by the open field; for
scarcely a day passes, winter or summer, that kites are not seen
sailing above this spot--sometimes a solitary "hurricane flyer," when
the wind is sweeping in strong from the ocean; sometimes a tandem
string of seven or eight six-footers, each one fastened to the
main line by its separate cord. And wonderful are the feats in
kite-illumination accomplished by Mr. Eddy (the king aforesaid) on
holiday nights, especially on the Fourth of July, when he keeps the
sky ablaze with gracefully waving meteors, to the profound awe or
admiration of his fellow-townsmen.
If you enter the red house and show a proper interest in the subject,
Mr. Eddy will take you up to his kite-room, where skyflyers of all
sorts, sizes, and materials range the walls--from the tiniest, made
of tissue paper, to nine-footers, with lath frames and oil-cloth
coverings. Hanging from the ceiling is one of the queer Hargrave
kites, which looks like a double box, and seems as little likely to
fly as a full-legged dining-table; yet fly it will, and beautifully
too, though by a principle of aëroplanes only recently understood.
Then Mr. Eddy will show you the room where, with the help of his
deft-fingered wife, also a kite enthusiast, he spends many hours
developing and mounting photographs taken from high altitudes, with a
camera especially constructed to be swung and operated from the kite
cord.
Until one talks with a man like Mr. Eddy--though, indeed, there is
no one just like him--one does not realize what a large and important
subject this of scientific kite-flying is. Many men of distinction
have devoted years of their best energies to experiments with kites.
Mr. Eddy himself is a scientist first, last, and always; for the
sake of a new observation he will send up a tandem of kites when
the thermometer is below zero, or stand half a night at his reeling
apparatus, getting records of the thermograph.
[Illustration: HARGRAVE LIFTED SIXTEEN FEET FROM THE GROUND BY A
TANDEM OF HIS BOX-KITES.]
Perhaps I shall do best to begin by giving some useful information to
those who may contemplate constructing a modern scientific kite. The
first thing that should be done by such a person, be he boy or man, is
to rid his mind of all his preconceived notions about kites, for it is
almost certain that they are incorrect. To begin with, the scientific
kite has no tail. A few years ago people would have laughed at any one
who attempted to send up a kite without a tail. But the question is
now no longer even open with the scientific kite-flyers, who not
only send up tailless kites with the greatest ease, but do so under
conditions which, to kites with tails, would be impossible: for
instance, in dead calms and in driving hurricanes. The tailless kite,
sent from the hands of a master, will fly in all winds.
It is true that kites with tails have given good results in
experimental work; but the tails are annoying and an unnecessary
weight, and may better be dispensed with. Every boy has had the
vexatious experience of sending up a kite in a light breeze with a
tail made light in proportion, only to find that, on reaching stronger
air currents above, the kite has begun to dive and grow unmanageable.
Then, when he has taken the kite down and added a heavier tail, he has
found the breeze at the ground insufficient to lift the extra load;
and so, between two difficulties, has had to give up his sport in
disgust. This is the one serious defect of kites with tails, that
they cannot adapt themselves to wind currents of varying intensities;
whereas the tailless kites do so without difficulty. And in tandem
flying, which is the backbone of the modern system, the weight of a
half dozen or more heavy tails would be a serious impediment, to
say nothing of the perpetual danger of the different tails getting
entangled in the lines.