Dorothy donned her overalls while Bill spoke to the mechanic who was
waiting by the plane. Then the man got into a car and drove away, and
Bill beckoned her to him.
"All set?"
"All set."
"Then we'll begin. First of all, you must know the names of the
different parts of the plane. Some you know already, but we'll go over
them just the same. That hinged movable auxiliary surface on the
trailing edge of the wing is an aileron. Its primary function is to
impress a rolling movement on the airplane. Got that?"
"Yes."
"Then repeat what I just said."
Dorothy did so.
"Good. Now this is a drag wire."
After twenty minutes of this kind of thing he asked her to point out an
aileron and explain its use.
"K.O." he said at last. "We'll go over parts each day for a while and
the book work you must do at home will help to refresh your memory. Now
nip into the forward cockpit and I'll explain the working of the
controls."
He gave Dorothy a hand up and when she was seated, swung himself on to
the cowl of the cockpit.
"First of all--and let this become habit--" he ordered, "adjust your
safety belt. Yes, that's the way. Now we'll go ahead. That's the stick
there. Take hold of it. You'll notice it is pivoted at its base. Forward
movement of the stick increases the angle of attack of the elevators and
depresses the nose. Backward movement decreases angle and raises the
nose. Lateral movement of the stick operates the ailerons, movement to
the right depressing the right wing, and to the left, the left wing."
When she was sure she understood the functions of one thing he explained
the next.
"Now tell me just what I have told you--" he commanded.
Fully an hour had gone by before he was satisfied that she understood
thoroughly.
"Tired?" he asked at last.
"Not a bit," she smiled. "I'm afraid I'm kind of dumb--but all these
gadgets, as you call them, are a little confusing at first."
"Oh, you're catching on in first rate order," he told her. "Nothing but
practice will make you letter perfect. And that comes soon enough when
you handle the plane yourself. Now I'll fly us home. All I want you to
do is to fold your arms and listen. Keep your eyes in the cockpit and
watch the movements of the stick and rudder bar. My cockpit aft is
equipped with similar controls. When I move my stick--yours moves--and
vice versa. All right?"
"You bet."
He reached in his pocket and drew forth a small leather-bound book which
he handed her.
"Here's your Flight Log Book, Dorothy. Write it up after every flight.
There are columns for the date, type of plane, duration and character of
flight, passengers or crew carried (if any) and remarks. A commercial
pilot should have his log book certified monthly by an official of the
company. For a student it is a good thing to commence during training.
Stick it in your pocket," he advised as she thanked him. "And put on
this helmet. It's a Gosport, with phones in both ear flaps, connected by
a voice tube to this mouthpiece. I'll use that end of it to coach you
through during flight."
"But this helmet is hard and stiff," objected Dorothy. "I'll bet it
isn't nearly as comfortable as that nice soft leather one you're
wearing."
"Possibly not. But until you're through with your instruction I want you
to wear a 'crash' helmet. They're a lot of protection for the head in
case of minor accident. No instructor worth his salt permits a student
to use a soft leather helmet until you've had a lot of experience."
"Oh, very well then," she said, adjusting her heavy headgear, "you're
the boss!"
"You bet I am when it comes to this kind of thing. If I weren't sure you
were willing to give me strict obedience, I'd never propose teaching
you. And please remember that this isn't a joy hop. The more attentive
you are to instruction--the quicker you'll learn."
"I'm your willing slave, sir," she mocked good-humoredly, and drew the
helmet strap tight beneath her chin.
Then as the engine roared and the plane rolled forward she felt the same
thrill she had experienced the afternoon before when she and Bill had
taken off in the amphibian. The same tightening of her muscles and
beating throb of the pulse in her neck. They were soaring upward now and
the sensation of smoothness became apparent after the jars and bumps of
taxiing over the rough field. The sting of the wind on her face was
exhilarating, but her eyes were streaming. Realizing that she had forgot
to adjust her goggles, she pulled them down from the front of her
helmet.
"I've been wondering how long it would be before you did that," came
Bill's voice through the headphones. "Never mind--it's a grand thrill
while it lasts--you'll lose it soon enough."
Dorothy, for the first time in her life, found a retort impossible to
make.
"Now that we've got enough air under us," Bill's voice continued, "I'm
going to fly straight for home. Remember what I said about watching your
stick and rudder bar. Also keep an eye on the bank-and-turn indicator as
well as the fore and aft level indicator and inclinometer."
Dorothy shifted her gaze to the instrument board before her.
Unconsciously she ticked off the other instruments. There were the two
Bill had just mentioned; a magneto switch, oil pressure gauge, earth
inductor, compass indicator, altimeter, 8-day clock, primary pump and
tachometer. It pleased her that she could so readily recall their names
and uses. Then she heard Bill's voice in her ear again:
"The reason that I keep pulling the stick back slightly so often,
Dorothy, in level flight, is because the old bus is a bit nose heavy.
You'll notice it when you handle her later on. It's nothing to worry
about. Very few planes are perfectly balanced."
Dorothy turned her eyes guiltily on the stick again. She had been caught
napping that time! One really needed half a dozen pairs of eyes for a
job like this. And--how different Bill's manner aboard an airplane, she
thought. He was certainly all business. But she respected and admired
his knowledge and his ability as an airpilot which left no opening for
argument.
"You can look overside now," came his voice again interrupting her
thoughts. "We're going to land."
Below them she saw the Bolton's house. The nose of the plane dropped
suddenly as the stick went forward and they shot down to land on the
field near the Bolton's hangar.
Bill spoke again from the rear cockpit. "If you're ready for more flight
instruction, hold up your right hand."
Dorothy held up her right hand.
"Good. Then we'll practice taxiing," came back the even voice. "Remember
that a land plane with engine idling will remain at rest on the ground
in winds of normal force. That means that all movement of the plane must
be made by use of the engine. When your bus begins to move you control
it primarily by using the rudder. In a wind as strong as the one blowing
now, you'll notice the plane's tendency to turn into it. That's due to
the effect on the tail. It tends to swing like a weathervane until the
nose is headed directly toward the point of the compass from which the
wind is blowing. Your experience in sailing is going to be a great help.
"Now, just one thing more and we'll shove off. While taxiing, you must
hold the stick well back of neutral. That will prevent any tendency of
the tail to rise and cause the plane to nose over. Grasp the stick
lightly with your fingers. Never freeze onto anything. If you feel me
wiggle the stick sharply--let go at once. I may or may not have my hands
and feet on the controls, but you cannot know that. Act just as if you
were alone in the plane. Got all that?"
Dorothy raised her hand again.
"Then snap on the ignition and get going."
For the next hour she taxied the _N-9_ around the field while Bill
issued commands from the rear cockpit. So interested was she in her
lesson that it seemed no time at all before he told her to shut off the
engine.
"Take off your helmet and get down," he said as the plane came to a
stop. And he helped her overside.
"Gee, Bill, it's wonderful!" she cried, jumping lightly to the ground
beside him.
"You did splendidly," he encouraged. "This field is pretty rough in
spots--makes it bumpy going. How are you--stiff?"
"Not a bit!"
"You need a rest, just the same."
"But I'm not in the least tired. Can't I go up now?"
Bill looked at her and shook his head. "Nothing doing," he said with
pretended sternness. "That is--not for the next fifteen minutes. Here
comes Frank with something cold to drink on his tray--horse's neck,
probably. There's nothing like iced ginger ale with a string of lemon
peel in it when you're real thirsty!"
"My, you're thoughtful!"
"Don't thank me--it's all Frank's idea."
They sipped their drinks in the shade of the old barn that had been
turned into a hangar for the Bolton's planes.
"While you're resting, I want you to study this paper, Dorothy. It's a
routine I want you to follow in preparing for every flight you
take--with me, or soloing," he explained, handing it over. "When you've
got it by heart, repeat it to me and then we'll carry on. Your first job
for the next hop will be to do exactly what I've written there."
For perhaps ten minutes both were silent and Bill closed his eyes and
turned over on his back.
"Asleep?" asked Dorothy presently.
"No--just relaxing. Got that dope down pat?"
"Sure. I mean, yes, instructor."
"Give me back the paper then, and shoot!" he said, sitting up.
"Preparations for flight:" recited Dorothy. "First, inspect the plane
and engine as necessary. Second, observe the wind direction. Third,
observe the course direction (if a course is being flown). Fourth, set
the altimeter. Fifth, see that helmet, goggles and cushions are properly
adjusted. Sixth, see that cloth to wipe goggles is handy. Seventh, give
the engine a ground test. Eighth, see that the gas valve is properly
set. Ninth and last--Buckle the safety belt!"
"One hundred per cent! Good work, Dot. Now come over to the plane and
show me how you do it."
He grinned, awaiting a quick retort--but Dorothy, intent on the business
of learning to fly, walked at his side in a fit of concentration.
"She sure is keen," he said to himself. "I never got a rise--and 'Dot,'
to Dorothy, is like waving the American flag at a Mexican bull!"
Dorothy continued to prove her aptitude for she went through the flight
preparations with but one mistake. She entirely forgot the matter of the
cloth to wipe her goggles!
Presently he took her up again and started in with his coaching.
"You now have thirty-five hundred feet registered on your altimeter," he
announced through her phone. "Enough air below to get us out of trouble
if we should happen to get into it. The higher one flies, the safer one
is. Now you are going to get straight flight instruction. I am moving
the stick backward--now forward--now backward--now forward. See how the
nose of the plane rises and falls in response? Watch closely--I'm going
to do it again. There, now--take the stick and do it yourself."
Dorothy did as he bade her. It was thrilling to feel the huge plane
respond to her will.
Then followed instruction in moving the stick successively right and
left by which means the right wing and then the left are correspondingly
depressed. After that came rudder instruction. First Bill pushed the
right and left sides of the rudder bar successively, forward, thereby
swerving the nose first to the right and then to the left.
Dorothy, of course repeated these movements after him.
Then he explained that to hold a steady course, to fly straight,
constant right rudder must be maintained to overcome the torque, or drag
of the propeller blades tending to swing the nose to the left. While to
fly level longitudinally, some point on the engine is kept in line with
the horizon. That to fly level laterally, up aileron and opposite rudder
are applied whenever a wing drops. He told her numerous other things,
such as that when flying straight, the nose should frequently be dropped
momentarily, or the course changed a few degrees in order to look ahead.
Otherwise, an approaching plane may be hidden by the engine.
"Good night!" thought Dorothy as she strained her ears to catch every
word, while she watched the controls and saw how the plane reacted to
their manipulation by her instructor. "If it takes all this detail to
fly straight and level, I'll get the heebie-jeebies when it comes to
acrobatics!"
"Take over controls," came Bill's voice. "Fly straight for that white
church tower on the horizon."
Dorothy's body stiffened, but she took hold of the stick again bravely
enough, and placed her feet on the rudder bar at the same time. She
could feel her temples throbbing, and her heart was beating faster than
the clock on her instrument board. At last she was actually flying an
airplane--all by herself. But was she? Suddenly there came a check in
the forward speed of the plane and Dorothy felt it start to slew off
sideways as the nose dropped.
Then before she knew exactly what was happening, the stick in her hand
seemed to spring back, then to the right, while right rudder increased
considerably without help from her foot. Up came the nose, followed by
the left wing, and down went the right. The slewing stopped as suddenly
as it had begun. Then she felt left aileron and left rudder being
applied--and once more the N-9 was flying straight and level.
"Forgot what I said about checking a skid just now, didn't you?" said
Bill's voice in her ear. "Here's the news again. Any swinging of the
nose to the left can be promptly recognized and checked--but,--and
here's where you went wrong--the nose cannot be swung back to the right
without applying a small bank. Any attempt to do so will cause your
plane to skid. That naturally results in a loss of flying speed forward
and the heavier end drops. If not checked at once, it means going into a
spin. Carry on again now, and please try to keep your wits about you.
This is not a kiddie-car. Mistakes are apt to be costly!"
Dorothy bit her lips in anger. More than ever did she regret the lack of
a mouth piece on her head phone. Her temper flared at his sharp tone,
and what seemed to her unfair criticism so early in the game. But she
took over again as he ordered and gradually her vexation disappeared in
her effort to concentrate every faculty on the job of flying the plane
and keeping to her course. She was gradually gaining confidence. She
made the same maneuvers which had caused the skid before, and carried
through perfectly.
Bill told her so in no stinted terms, and the last shreds of her anger
disappeared.
"The man who put _me_ over the bumps," he added, "always said: 'when a
student aviator makes a mistake, give him blazes--make him mad. He'll
remember what he should have done all the better--and live longer!' That
advice applies to either sex, Dorothy. Naturally, I hope you'll live to
a ripe old age."
Dorothy liked him for this apology. She wanted to thank him but of
course that was out of the question.
"I'll take her over now." She heard his even tones once more, above the
engine's roar. "Time for lunch. This afternoon, if you like, we'll take
up another end of this business. And you can get even by teaching me how
to become an honest-to-goodness sleuthhound!"
_Chapter X_