MY "NO. 9," THE LITTLE RUNABOUT
Once I was enamoured of high-power petroleum automobiles: they can go at
express-train speed to any part of Europe, finding fuel in any village.
"I can go to Moscow or Lisbon!" I said to myself. But when I discovered
that I did not want to go to Moscow or to Lisbon the small and handy
electric runabout in which I do my errands about Paris and the Bois
proved more satisfactory.
Speaking from the standpoint of my pleasure and convenience as a
Parisian my air-ship experience has been similar. When the balloon and
motor of my 60 horse-power "No. 7" were completed I said to myself:
[Illustration: "SANTOS-DUMONT No. 9"]
"I can race any air-ship that is likely to be built!" But when I found
that, in spite of the forfeits I paid into the Aéro Club's treasury,
there was no one ready to race with me I determined to build a small
air-ship runabout for my pleasure and convenience only. In it I
would pass the time while waiting for the future to bring forth
competitions worthy of my race craft.
So I built my "No. 9," the smallest of possible dirigibles, yet very
practical indeed. As originally constructed, its balloons capacity was
but 220 cubic metres (7770 cubic feet), permitting me to take up less
than 30 kilogrammes (66 lbs.) of ballast--and thus I navigated it for
weeks, without inconvenience. Even when I enlarged its balloon to 261
cubic metres (9218 cubic feet) the balloon of my "No. 6," in which I won
the Deutsch prize, would have made almost three of it, while that of my
"Omnibus" is fully eight times its size. As I have already stated, its 3
horse-power Clement motor weighs but 12 kilogrammes (26-1/2 lbs.). With
such a motor one cannot expect great speed; nevertheless, this handy
little runabout takes me over the Bois at between 20 and 25 kilometres
(12 and 15 miles) per hour, and this notwithstanding its egg-shaped form
(Fig. 15), which would seemingly be little calculated for cutting the
air. Indeed, to make it respond promptly to the rudder, I drive it thick
end first.
I have said that, as it was originally proportioned, the balloon of
this smallest of possible dirigibles permitted me to take up less than
30 kilogrammes (66 lbs.) of ballast. As now enlarged its lifting power
is greater; but when account is taken of my own weight and the weight
of keel, motor, screw, and machinery, the whole system becomes neither
lighter nor heavier than the surrounding atmosphere when I have loaded
it with 60 kilogrammes (132 lbs.) of ballast; and it is just in this
connection that it will be easiest to explain why I have called this
little air-ship very practical. On Monday, 29th June 1903, I landed
with it on the grounds of the Aéro Club at St Cloud in the midst of six
inflated spherical balloons. After a short call I started off again.
[Illustration: Fig. 15]
"Can we not give you some gas?" politely asked my fellow-clubmen.
[Illustration: "No. 9." SHOWING RELATIVE SIZE]
"You saw me coming all the way from Neuilly," I replied; "did I throw
out any ballast?"
"You threw out no ballast," they admitted.
"Then why should I be in need of gas?"
As a matter of scientific curiosity I may relate that I did not either
lose or sacrifice a cubic foot of gas or a single pound of ballast that
whole afternoon--nor has that experience been at all exceptional in the
very practical little "No. 9" or even in its predecessors. It will be
remembered that on the day succeeding the winning of the Deutsch prize
my chief mechanician found that the balloon of my "No. 6" would take no
gas because none had been lost.
After leaving my fellow-clubmen at St Cloud that afternoon I made a
typically practical trip. To go from Neuilly St James to the Aéro Club's
grounds I had already passed the Seine. Now, crossing it again, I made
the café-restaurant of "The Cascade," where I stopped for refreshments.
It was by this time 5 P.M. Not wishing to return yet to my station I
crossed the Seine for a third time and went in a straight course as
close to the great fort of Mount Valerien as delicacy permitted. Then,
returning, I traversed the river once again and came to earth in my own
grounds at Neuilly.
During the whole trip my greatest altitude was 105 metres (346 feet).
Taking into consideration that my guide rope hangs 40 metres (132 feet)
below me, and that the tops of the Bois trees extend up some 20 metres
(70 feet) from the ground, this extreme altitude left me but 40 metres
(140 feet) of clear space for vertical manoeuvring.
It was enough; and the proof of it is that I do not go higher on these
trips of pleasure and experiment. Indeed, when I hear of dirigibles
going up 400 metres (1300 feet) in the air without some special
justifying object I am filled with amazement. As I have already
explained, the place of the dirigible is, normally, in low altitudes;
and the ideal is to guide-rope on a sufficiently low course to be left
free from vertical manoeuvring. This is what M. Armengaud, _Jeune_,
referred to in his learned inaugural discourse delivered before the
Société Française de Navigation Aérienne in 1901, when he advised me to
quit the Mediterranean and go guide-roping over great plains like that
of La Beauce.
[Illustration: "No. 9" JUMPING MY WALL]
It is not necessary to go to the plain of La Beauce. One can guide-rope
even in the centre of Paris if one goes about it at the proper
moment. I have done it.
I have guide-roped round the Arc de Triomphe and down the Avenue des
Champs Elysées at as low an altitude as the house-tops on either side,
fearing no ill and finding no difficulty. My first flight of this kind
occurred when I sought for the first time to land in my "No. 9" in front
of my own house door, at the corner of the Avenue des Champs Elysées and
the Rue Washington, on Tuesday, 23rd June 1903.
Knowing that the feat must be accomplished at an hour when the imposing
pleasure promenade of Paris would be least encumbered, I had instructed
my men to sleep through the early part of the night in the air-ship
station at Neuilly St James so as to be able to have the "No. 9" ready
for an early start at dawn. I myself rose at 2 A.M., and in my handy
electric automobile arrived at the station while it was yet dark. The
men still slept. I climbed the wall, waked them, and succeeded in
quitting the earth on my first diagonally upward course over the wall
and above the River Seine before the day had broken. Turning to the
left, I made my way across the Bois, picking out the open spaces so as
to guide-rope as much as possible.
When I came to trees I jumped over them. So, navigating through the
cool air of the delicious dawn, I reached the Porte Dauphine and the
beginning of the broad Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, which leads directly
to the Arc de Triomphe. This carriage promenade of Tout-Paris was empty.
"I will guide-rope up the avenue of the Bois," I said to myself
gleefully.
What this means you will perceive when I recall that my guide-rope's
length is barely 40 metres (132 feet), and that one guide-ropes best
with at least 20 metres (66 feet) of it trailing along the ground. Thus
at times I went lower than the roofs of the houses on each side. I call
this practical air-ship navigation because:
(_a_) It leaves the aerial navigator free to steer his course without
pitching and without care or effort to maintain his steady altitude.
(_b_) It can be done with absolute safety from falling, not only to the
navigator, but also to the air-ship--a consideration not without its
merit when the cost, both of repairs and hydrogen gas, is taken into
count; and
(_c_) When the wind is against one--as it was on this occasion--one
finds less of it in these low altitudes.
[Illustration: "No. 9." GUIDE-ROPING ON A LEVEL WITH THE HOUSETOPS]
So I guide-roped up the avenue of the Bois. So, some day, will explorers
guide-rope to the North Pole from their ice-locked steamship after it
has reached its farthest point north. Guide-roping over the ice pack,
they will make the very few hundreds of miles to the Pole at the rate
of from 60 to 80 kilometres (40 to 50 miles) per hour. Even at the rate
of 50 kilometres (30 miles), the trip to the Pole and back to the ship
could be taken between breakfast and supper time. I do not say that they
will land the first time at the Pole, but they will circle round about
the spot, take observations, and return ... for supper.
I might have guide-roped under the Arc de Triomphe had I thought myself
worthy. Instead, I rounded the national monument to the right, as the
law directs. Naturally, I had intended to go on straight down the
Avenue des Champs Elysées, but here I met a difficulty. All the avenues
meeting at the great "Star" look alike from the air-ship. Also, they
look narrow. I was surprised and confused for a moment, and it was only
by looking back to note the situation of the Arc that I could find my
avenue.
Like that of the Bois, it was deserted. Far down its length I saw a
solitary cab. As I guide-roped along it to my house at the corner of the
Rue Washington I thought of the time, sure to come, when the owners of
handy little air-ships will not be obliged to land in the street, but
will have their guide ropes caught by their domestics on their own roof
gardens. But such roof gardens must be broad and unencumbered.
So I reached my corner, to which I pointed my stem, and descended very
gently. Two servants caught, steadied, and held the air-ship, while I
mounted to my apartment for a cup of coffee. From my round bay window
at the corner I looked down upon the air-ship. Were I to receive the
municipal permission it would not be difficult to build an ornamental
landing-stage out from that window.
[Illustration: "No. 9." M. SANTOS-DUMONT LANDS AT HIS OWN DOOR]
Projects like these will constitute work for the future. Meanwhile the
aerial idea is making progress. A small boy of seven years of age has
mounted with me in the "No. 9," and a charming young lady has actually
navigated it alone for something like a mile. The boy will surely
make an air-ship captain if he gives his mind to it. The occasion was
the children's _fête_ at Bagatelle 26th June 1903. Descending among them
in the "No. 9," I asked:
"Does any little boy want to go up?"
Such were the confidence and courage of young France and America that
instantly I had to choose among a dozen volunteers. I took the nearest
to me.
"Are you not afraid?" I asked Clarkson Potter as the air-ship rose.
"Not a bit," he answered. The cruise of the "No. 9" on this occasion
was, naturally, a short one; but the other, in which the first woman to
mount, accompanied or unaccompanied, in any air-ship, actually mounted
alone and drove the "No. 9" free from all human contact with its guide
rope for a distance of considerably over a kilometre (half-mile), is
worthy of preservation in the annals of aerial navigation.
The heroine, a very beautiful young Cuban lady, well known in New
York society, having visited my station with her friends on several
occasions, confessed an extraordinary desire to navigate the air-ship.
"Would you have the courage to be taken up in the free air-ship with no
one holding its guide rope?" I asked. "Mademoiselle, I thank you for the
confidence."
"Oh, no," she said; "I do not want to be taken up. I want to go up alone
and navigate it freely, as you do."
I think that the simple fact that I consented on condition that she
would take a few lessons in the handling of the motor and machinery
speaks eloquently in favour of my own confidence in the "No. 9." She
had three such lessons, and then on 29th June 1903, a date that will be
memorable in the Fasti of dirigible ballooning, rising from my station
grounds in the smallest of possible dirigibles, she cried: "Let go all!"
From my station at Neuilly St James she guide-roped to Bagatelle. The
guide rope, trailing some 10 metres (30 feet), gave her an altitude and
equilibrium that never varied. I will not say that no one ran along
beside the dragging guide rope, but, certainly, no one touched it until
the termination of the cruise at Bagatelle, when the moment had arrived
to pull down the intrepid girl navigator.