AN ACCIDENT AND ITS LESSONS
At half-past two o'clock on the afternoon of the 14th of February 1902
the staunch air-ship which won the Deutsch prize left the aerodrome of
La Condamine on what was destined to be its last voyage.
Immediately on quitting the aerodrome it began behaving badly, dipping
heavily. It had left the balloon house imperfectly inflated, hence it
lacked ascensional force. To keep my proper altitude I increased its
diagonal pointing and kept the propeller pushing it on upward. The
dipping, of course, was due to the counter effort of gravity.
In the shaded atmosphere of the aerodrome the air had been comparatively
cool. The balloon was now out in the hot, open sunlight. As a
consequence, the hydrogen nearest to the silk cover rarefied rapidly.
As the balloon had left the aerodrome imperfectly inflated the
rarefied hydrogen was able to rush to the highest possible point--the
up-pointing stem. This exaggerated the inclination which I had made
purposely. The balloon pointed higher and higher. Indeed, for a time, it
seemed almost to be pointing perpendicularly.
Before I had time to correct this "rearing up" of my aerial steed many
of the diagonal wires had begun to give way, as the slanting pressure on
them was unusual, and others, including those of the rudder, caught in
the propeller.
Should I leave the propeller to grind on the rigging the balloon
envelope would be torn the next moment, the gas would leave the balloon
in a mass, and I would be precipitated into the waves with violence.
I stopped the motor. I was now in the position of an ordinary spherical
balloonist--at the mercy of the winds. These were taking me in shore,
where I would be presently cast upon the telegraph wires, trees, and
house corners of Monte Carlo.
There was but one thing to do.
Pulling on the manoeuvre valve I let out a sufficient quantity of
hydrogen and came slowly down to the surface of the water, in which the
air-ship sank.
Balloon, keel, and motor were successfully fished up the next day and
shipped off to Paris for repairs. Thus abruptly ended my maritime
experiments; but thus also I learned that, while a properly inflated
balloon, furnished with the proper valves, has nothing to fear from
gas displacement, it is best to be on the safe side and guard oneself
against the possibility of such displacement, when by some neglect or
other the balloon is allowed to go out imperfectly inflated.
For this reason, in all my succeeding air-ships, the balloon is divided
into many compartments by vertical silk partitions, not varnished. The
partitions remaining unvarnished, the hydrogen gas can slowly pass
through their meshes from one compartment to another to ensure an equal
pressure throughout. But as they are, nevertheless, partitions, they
are always ready to guard against any precipitous rushing of gas toward
either extremity of the balloon.
Indeed, the experimenter with dirigible balloons must be continually
on his guard against little errors and neglects of his aids. I have
four men who have now been with me four years. They are in their way
experts, and I have every confidence in them. Yet this thing happened:
the air-ship was allowed to leave the aerodrome imperfectly inflated.
Imagine, then, what might be the danger of an experimenter with a set of
inexperienced subordinates.
In spite of their great simplicity my air-ships require constant
surveillance on a few capital heads:
Is the balloon properly filled?
Is there any possibility of a leak?
Is the rigging in condition?
Is the motor in condition?
Do the cords commanding rudder, motor, water ballast, and the shifting
guide rope work freely?
Is the ballast properly weighed?
Looked on as a mere machine the air-ship requires no more care than an
automobile, but, from the point of view of consequences, the need of
faithful and intelligent surveillance is simply imperious. This very day
all the highways of France are dotted with a thousand automobiles _en
panne_, with their enthusiastic drivers crawling underneath them in the
dust, oil-can and wrench in hand, repairing momentary accidents. They
think no less of their automobile for this reason. Yet let the air-ship
have the same trifling accident and all the world is likely to hear of
the fact.
In the first years of my experiments I insisted on doing everything for
myself. I "groomed" my balloons and motors with my own hands. My present
aids understand my present air-ships, and nine times out of ten they
hand them over to me in good condition for the voyage. Yet were I to
begin experiments with a new type I should have to train them all anew,
and during that time I should have to care for the air-ships with my own
hands again.
On this occasion the air-ship left the aerodrome imperfectly weighed
and inflated, not so much by the neglect of my men as by reason of the
imperfect situation of the aerodrome. In spite of the care that had been
given to designing and constructing it, from the very nature of its
situation there was no space outside in which to send up the air-ship
and ascertain if its ballast were properly distributed. Could this
have been done the imperfect inflation of the balloon would have been
perceived in time.
Looking back over all my varied experiences I reflect with astonishment
that one of my greatest dangers passed unperceived, even by myself at
the end of my most successful flight over the Mediterranean.
[Illustration: "MY PRESENT AIDS UNDERSTAND MY PRESENT AIRSHIPS"
MOTOR OF "No. 6"]
It was at the time the prince attempted to grasp my guide rope and was
knocked into the bottom of his steam _chaloupe_. I had entered the bay
after flying homeward up the coast, and they were towing me toward the
aerodrome. The air-ship had descended very close to the surface of
the water, and they were pulling it still lower by means of the guide
rope, until it was not many feet above the smoke-stack of the steam
_chaloupe_--and that smoke-stack was belching red-hot sparks.
Any one of those red-hot sparks might have, ascending, burned a hole in
my balloon, set fire to the hydrogen, and blown balloon and myself to
atoms.