FAULTS AND HOW TO MEND THEM
Your model, perhaps a beautiful one, finished in every part, may twist
and tip about as soon as it is launched and quickly dart to the ground.
The fault is likely to be in the propeller, being too large for the
size and weight of the machine. This may be remedied by adding a weight
to the front of the machine, by wiring on a nut or piece of metal.
Should this fail to steady the aëroplane, the propeller must be cut
down.
When your propeller is too small the machine will not rise from the
ground, or, if launched in the air, will quickly flutter to earth. If
the model on leaving your hand, with the propeller in full motion,
fails to keep its position from the very start, the blade should be
made larger. There is no use in wasting time and patience over the
machine as it is.
Many a beginner, with mistaken zeal, constructs a too powerful motor.
The power in this case turns the propeller too swiftly for it to grasp
the air. It merely bores a hole in the air and exerts little propelling
force. An ordinary motor when wound up one hundred and fifty turns
should take about ten seconds, perhaps a trifle longer, to unwind. It
is a good plan to time it before chancing a flight.
Bad bracing is another frequent source of trouble. The planes should
be absolutely rigid. Test your model by winding up your motor and
letting it run down while keeping the aëroplane suspended, by holding
it loosely in one hand. If the motor racks the machine, that is, if the
little ship is all a-flutter and the planes tremble visibly, the entire
frame needs tuning up. It is impossible for an aëroplane to hold its
course if the planes are in the least wabbly. The braces should be
taut. A loose string or wire incidentally offers as much resistance to
the air as a wooden post.
The flight of your model aëroplane should be horizontal, with little
or no wave-motion. Your craft at first may rise to a considerable
height, say fifteen or twenty feet, then plunge downward, right itself,
and again ascend, and repeat this rather violent wave-motion until it
strikes the ground. To overcome this, look carefully to the angle or
lift of your front plane or planes and to the weighting.
The explanation is very simple. As the aëroplane soars upward, the air
is compressed beneath the planes, and this continues until the surface
balances, tilts forward, and the downward flight commences. Your planes
should be so inclined that the center of air-pressure comes about one
third of the distance back from the front edge. The center of gravity
of each plane, however, should come slightly in front of the center of
pressure. After all, the best plan is to proceed by the rule of thumb,
and tilt your planes little by little, and add or lessen the weight in
one place or another, until the flight is horizontal and stable.
If your aëroplane does not rise from the ground, but merely slides
along, the trouble is likely to be in your lifting plane. Tilt it a
trifle and try again. The simplest way to do this is to make the front
skids higher than those at the back. If the front skids are too high,
the plane will shoot up in the air and come down within a few feet.
The most carefully constructed model is likely to go awry in the early
flights. The propeller seems to exert a twist or torque, as it is
called, which sends it to the right or left, or up or down, even in
a perfectly undisturbed atmosphere. It is assumed that your model is
symmetrical. An aëroplane not properly balanced, which is larger on one
side than the other, or in which the motor is not exactly centered,
cannot, of course, be expected to fly straight. However, to be on the
safe side, go all over the machine again. Measure its planes to see
that the propeller is in the center. Hold it up in front of you right
abeam, and test with your eye if the parts be properly balanced.
If it still flies badly askew, flex the planes by bending the ends
up or down very slightly by tightening or loosening the wire braces
running to the corners. At the same time add a little weight to
counteract the tipping tendency. A nut or key may be wired on the
edge which persists in turning up. It may require much more weight
than you imagine. The difference should begin to show at once. Even
after a model appears to work fairly well as a glider, the addition of
the motor may so change the center of gravity that it will “cut up”
dreadfully.
It will be well to leave your planes loose so that they may be shifted
back and forth and not fasten them till you have tried out the
motor. If you followed the plan suggested of fastening the plane to
the central frame by crossing rubber bands over it, you can easily
adjust them. If the model tends to fly upward at a sharp angle, slide
the front plane forward an inch, and try another flight. There is an
adjustment somewhere which will give the model the steady, horizontal
flight you are after.
Some models will refuse to rise and swing around in an abrupt circle
the moment the motor is turned on. This may be caused by the propeller
being much too small for the motor. After looking over all the
photographs of the models shown in these pages you will gain an idea of
the proper proportion, and be able to tell offhand if the propeller is
out of proportion. A small propeller revolving very rapidly, or racing,
is likely to give the model a torque, even if it be otherwise well
proportioned. Don’t try to remedy this with rudder surfaces, but change
your propeller, or your motor, or both.
[Illustration: PLATE X. An Excellent Monoplane Capable of Long Flights.]
When your aëroplane turns in long, even curves to one side or the
other, look to your rudder surface. Turn it to one side or the other,
just as you would in steering a boat. It is, of course, obvious that
it must be kept rigidly in position. If a slight turn of the rudder
does not straighten out the flight, you probably need more guiding
surface, and the rudder must be enlarged. If the model still continues
to turn away from a straight line, tilting as it does so, try a little
weight at the end of the plane which rises.
The commonest of all accidents to aëroplane models is the smashing up
of the skids on landing. A model will frequently rise to a height of
fifteen or twenty feet, and the shock of a fall from such an elevation
is likely to work havoc in the underbody. There is no reason, however,
why your model should not come down as lightly as a bird from the crest
of the flight wave. The model, when properly proportioned, weighted,
or balanced, will settle down gradually and not pitch violently. It is
these quick darts to earth which cause the worst disasters.
A model should have sufficient supporting surface to break its fall
when the motor runs down, at any reasonable elevation. If the model
aëroplane falls all in a heap, as soon as the motor slows down, it
will be well to look to this and perhaps increase the size of your
planes. As a general rule, the biplanes or the models in which the
double planes have been used, either for lifting or soaring planes,
will settle down more gradually. The lateral planes, whatever their
position, also lend valuable support when the critical time comes in
the descent. Your model is not perfect until it falls easily at the end
of the flight.
[Illustration: Detail of Model Shown in Plate X.]
Under perfect condition, in absolutely undisturbed air, an aëroplane
may be made to come down so lightly that no bones, even the smallest,
will be broken. A gust of wind, however, may ruin all your calculations
and bring the aëroplane down with a dislocating shock. The skids must
be designed to meet extreme conditions, the worst that can possibly
befall. It has been pointed out that these skids or supports should be
high enough to give the propeller clearance so that the propeller
blades will not touch the ground. By using a light flexible cane for
the purpose, and bending them under, a spring may be formed which will
take up the shock of a violent landing. Some builders go further and
rig up the skids with braces of rubber bands to increase this cushion
effect. A variety of constructions are shown in the photographs of the
various models. Your skids should enable your model to withstand any
ordinary shock of landing, without breakage of any kind.
The life of your motor can be greatly increased by careful handling.
The rubber strands are likely to be worn away against the hooks at
either end. The wire used for the hooks should be as heavy as possible
to keep it from cutting through. Be careful that the wire which comes
in contact with the rubber is perfectly smooth and flawless. A little
roughness or a spur on the wire will soon cut through the rubber. It is
a good plan to slip a piece of rubber tubing tightly over the hook and
loop the rubber bands of your motor over this cushion.
The first break in the rubber bands is likely to come near the center
of the strand. A number of loose ends appear. The broken ends should
be knotted neatly and the loose ends cut away. If the strands come
in contact with any part of the motor base, a breaking will quickly
follow, and your strands soon become covered with a fringe of loose
ends. Be careful to tie up all loose ends and trim them away, since
the ends in twisting serve to break other strands. Although the finer
strands of rubber give the greater thrust, do not buy them too small,
since they are easily broken.
[Illustration: PLATE XI. A Well Thought Out Monoplane.]
The length of your motor base beyond the front plane should be
carefully calculated. It is very easy, of course, to run your shaft
too far forward. The center of gravity is easily shifted in this way,
and your model soon becomes unmanageable. An aëroplane with this fault
will not rise, but merely pitches forward under the thrusts of the
motor. It is almost useless to attempt to balance this by weighting the
machine. The front plane should be placed further forward, and if the
lifting surface does not seem sufficient, cut away the front of your
motor base, once for all. A too short motor base, on the other hand,
will cause your model to shoot upward at a sharp angle, and waste much
valuable propelling power before it rights itself and takes a regular
horizontal flight.
In the model aëroplane there is only one point where friction affects
the flight, namely, along the propeller shaft. One can hardly be too
careful in the construction of the axle. The thrust of the rubber at
best, is limited, and this power must be exerted without loss of any
kind. A faulty propeller shaft will use up a surprising amount of
energy. Your rubber motor should unwind to within one or two turns.
Bear in mind that one of four things is likely to be responsible for
your trouble. The planes may not be properly placed on the frame, they
may not be properly flexed, they are not set at the proper angle of
elevation, or your motor is at fault. Watch these points, and you
will soon have your machine under perfect control. In the extremely
complicated models it is often difficult to locate the fault. Build
your model so that these parts may be adjusted in a moment without
taking apart. After you have built an aëroplane model, even a very
simple one, the pictures of other aëroplanes will have a new meaning
for you. Every new model you see will give you some new idea. A number
of the most successful aëroplane models in the country are shown in the
accompanying photographs. Study these carefully, and you will learn
more from them of practical aëroplane construction than from any amount
of reading.
PART II
THE HISTORY AND SCIENCE OF AVIATION
CHAPTER I
THE FIRST FLYING MACHINES
The conquest of the air was not won by a happy accident of invention.
Long before man learned to fly the science of aviation had to be
created by investigation and experiment. At first with very crude
attempts, a great many flying machines had to be built, and many lives
sacrificed in flying them. The exact nature of the invisible air
currents and the action of wings and planes, were to be learned before
the delicate mechanism of the modern aëroplane was possible. Probably
no other great invention has required such long and patient preparation.
In many ways the aëroplane is therefore a greater achievement than the
steam engine or the steamboat. When Watt turned from watching his tea
kettle to build his engine, he applied mechanical principles which
had long been in actual use, and there were many experienced mechanics
to help him. Robert Fulton, again, when he set up his engine, found
the science of boat-building highly developed. The aviator had no such
advantage. He must first of all build a craft which would keep afloat
in the most unstable of mediums. A motive power had to be applied
to suit these conditions, and the two must be so attuned that they
would work perfectly together when the least slip would mean instant
disaster. As we learn to realize these difficulties we will appreciate
more than ever how marvellous a creation is the modern aëroplane.
[Illustration: PLATE XII. A Good Example of Tilted Planes.]
Man has thought much about flying from the earliest times. The open
air has always seemed the natural highway, and flying machines were
invented hundreds of years before anyone dreamed of steamengines or
steamboats. The ancient Greeks long ago spun wonderful tales of the
mythical Daedalus and Icarus and their flight to the sun and back
again. The first practical aviator seems to have been a Greek named
Achytas, and we are told he invented a dove of wood propelled by heated
air. There is another ancient record of a brass fly which made a short
flight, so that we may be sure that even the ancients had their own
ideas about heavier-than-air machines.
As far as we may judge from these quaint old records the early aviators
attempted to fly with wings which they flapped about them in imitation
of birds. About the year 67 A. D., during the reign of the Emperor
Nero, an aviator named “Simon the Magician” made a public flight before
a Roman crowd. According to the record, “He rose into the air through
the assistance of demons. But St. Peter having offered a prayer, the
action of the demons ceased and the magician was crushed in a fall and
perished instantly.” The end of the account, which sounds very probable
indeed, is the first aëronautical smash-up on record.
Even in these early days the interest in aëronautics appears to have
been widespread. It is recorded that a British king named Baldud
succeeded in flying over the city of Trinovante, but unfortunately fell
and, landing on a temple, was instantly killed. In the eleventh century
a Benedictine monk built a pair of wings modelled upon the poet Ovid’s
description of those used by Daedalus, which was apparently a very
uncertain model. The aviator jumped from a high tower against the wind,
and, according to the record, sailed for 125 feet, when he fell and
broke both his legs. That he should have attempted to fly against the
wind, by the way, indicates some knowledge of aircraft.
If we may trust the rude folklore of the Middle Ages, the glider form
of airship which anticipated the modern aëroplane was used with some
success a thousand years ago. An inventor named Oliver of Malmesburg,
built a glider and soared for 370 feet, which would be a creditable
record for such a craft even in our day. A hundred years later a
Saracen attempted to fly in the same way and was killed by a fall. The
number of men who have given their lives to the cause of aviation in
all these centuries of experiment must be considerable.
Meanwhile the kite and balloon had long been in use in China. There
is no reason to doubt that kites were well understood and even put to
practical use in time of war as early as 300 B. C. A Chinese general,
Han Sin, is said to have actually signalled by kites to a beleaguered
city that he was outside the walls and expected to lend assistance.
And a French missionary visiting China in 1694 reported that he had
seen the records of the coronation of the Emperor Fo Kien in 1306 which
described the balloon ascensions that formed part of the ceremony.
The fifteenth century was the most active period in aëronautical
experiments before our own. A number of intelligent minds worked at
the problem and notable progress was made, although all fell short of
flying. Even in the light of our present knowledge of aëronautics we
must admire the thorough, scientific way the aviators went about their
work five centuries ago. Many of their discoveries have been of great
assistance to our modern aviators. Had these investigators possessed
our modern machinery, of which they knew little or nothing, it is, very
likely they would actually have flown.
One of the greatest of these investigators was Leonardo da Vinci,
famous as architect and engineer as well as painter and sculptor. To
begin at the beginning of the subject, he dissected the bodies of many
birds and made careful, technical drawings to illustrate the theory
of the action of wings. These drawings and descriptions are still
preserved, and even to-day repay careful study. He also calculated with
great detail the amount of force which would be necessary to drive such
machines. Plans were prepared for flying machines of the heavier than
air form to be driven by wings, and even by screw propellers, which
was looking far into the future.
[Illustration: PLATE XIII. A Serviceable Form Made of Wire.]
Among all these early experiments the best record of actual flight was
made by Batitta Dante, a brother of the great Italian poet. In 1456
Dante flew in a glider of his own construction for more than 800 feet
at Perugia in Italy and a few years later he succeeded in flying in the
same glider over Lake Trasimene. The glides made by the Wright Brothers
while perfecting their machines seldom reached this length.
For several centuries it was believed that a lifting screw, if one
could be built, would supply enough lifting power to support a heavier
than air machine. Da Vinci experimented along this line for many years
and even built a number of models with paper screws. This form of
flying machine is called the helicopter. The plan was then abandoned
for nearly five centuries and revived in our own century. The record of
all the aviators and their experiments would fill many volumes.
The belief that man could learn to fly by flapping wings up and down
was not given up until very recently. Nearly all the early machines
were built on this principle. Man can never fly as the birds do because
his muscles are differently grouped. In the birds the strongest
muscles, the driving power, are in the chest at the base of the wings
where they are most needed. It is amusing to find that while the birds
are always flying before our eyes no one has guessed their secrets.
Many attempts have been made to wrest their secrets from them by
attaching dynometers to their wings to measure the force of the muscles
but little has been learned in this way. One scientist calculated that
a goose exerts 200 horse power while another investigator figured out
that it was one tenth of one horse power. Many of the theories of
flight have been quite as far apart. A great variety of false notions
about flying had to be tried and from all these failures man slowly
learned the road he must follow.
CHAPTER II
DEVELOPING THE AEROPLANE
The opening of the twentieth century found the world well prepared for
actual conquest of the air. Aviation has been developed to an exact
science. It had taken centuries of failure to teach man that he could
not fly by flapping his wings like the birds but the idea was at last
abandoned. The birds were still the models of the heavier-than-air
machines, but man had at last learned to study them more intelligently.
The marvellous development of modern mechanics, especially the building
of light and efficient motors, was also of great importance. The theory
of the aëroplane was rapidly gaining in favor.
It was thought at one time that since no birds weighed more than fifty
pounds no flying machine heavier than this could ever fly. Some years
ago Hiram S. Maxim pointed out, however, that if we had built our steam
engines to imitate the horse, as we then hoped to build flying machines
like the birds, we would have built locomotives which weighed only
five tons, the weight of an elephant, which walked five miles an hour.
The secret of flight evidently did not lie in closely imitating the
familiar forms of flight. So far as man was interested it lay clearly
in the soaring flights. When a bird flies with extended wings it does
two things. It forms an aëroplane which supports its body, much the
same as a kite, and it operates a propeller for driving this aëroplane
forward. And so men finally learned to fly by borrowing a single
principle from the birds.
It is claimed by some that the theory, and largely the form, of the
modern successful aëroplane was first suggested by an English inventor,
Sir George Cayley, as early as 1796. Cayley argued that a flat plane
or surface when driven through the air inclined slightly upward would
lift a considerable weight. He also suggested that a tail would help
to steady the plane as well as steer it upward or downward. His ideas
of propelling the aëroplane by screws driven by motors was also far in
advance of his time, but the engines then in existence were much too
heavy for the purpose and he never built a model.
Fifty years later, when the steam engine had been highly developed,
these old plans were remembered and two engineers, Hensen and
Stringfellow, actually built a flying machine on Cayley’s principles.
This early aëroplane was of the monoplane form, made of oiled silk
stretched over a frame of bamboo. A car to carry a steam engine, and
presumably the passengers, was hung below this plane. The motive power
was supplied by two propellers at the rear. The aëroplane carried a
fan-shaped tail with a rudder for steering it sideways, placed beneath.
The model is said to have actually flown for a short distance, but
proved to be unstable.
From this time onward the experiments became more scientific and
accurate. Reliable scientific data was accumulated which later enabled
the aviators to build practical aëroplanes. A number of interesting
experiments were made shortly afterward by a scientist named Wenham to
prove that the lifting powers of a carrying surface might be increased
by arranging small surfaces in tiers one above another. Wenham had
watched the birds to some purpose, and decided that a single plane,
large enough to support a man would be too large to control, but that
a number of small surfaces would make the bird flight possible. Wenham
built and patented a machine in 1866. He never flew but he collected a
great deal of valuable information about the behavior of planes.
[Illustration: PLATE XIV. The Under Body of the Monoplane Shown, Plate
XIII.]
The slow, but on the whole, encouraging movement toward the successful
flying machine was given a serious set back in 1872 by a book written
by H. Von Humboldt announcing the result of his experiments. This
well known scientist, whose name carried great weight, wrote that
mechanical flight was impossible. He based his idea on the discovery
that as the body increased in size the work or power required to lift
it increased more rapidly than the size of the body. In other words,
a very large bird or flying machine could not contain muscles strong
enough or machinery strong enough to enable it to fly. He argued that
no bird larger than the albatross, for instance, had ever lived,
therefore no flying machines could ever be more than toys. The book was
so discouraging that many aviators gave up their experiments and the
science of aviation stood still.
It may be said to have been awakened, however, by the German scientist,
Otto Lilenthal, whose book, published in 1886, at once attracted world
wide attention. It was this book, incidentally, which inspired the
Wright Brothers to begin their experiments. Lilenthal was not only a
great scientist, but he worked on the principle that an ounce of actual
experience was worth a ton of theory. In aviation, where the weight is
all important, this saving was naturally of the greatest importance.
Lilenthal built gliders, many of them, and put to actual test the
theories which others had merely talked and figured about. Finally he
set up an engine on a glider but the machine turned over and he was
instantly killed. The scientific information he collected, however,
proved of the highest value to those who later actually conquered the
air.
Lilenthal built a hill fifty feet in height and shaped like a cone
with sides slanting at an angle of thirty degrees. Here he proved by
actual tests that he might fly no matter which way the wind blew and
that an arched surface, driven against the wind, would rise from the
ground and support his weight. A great deal of scientific information
was collected and tabulated as well as the exact effect of the pressure
of the air. He also changed the shape of the gliding surfaces, making
them very long and narrow and driving them edgewise as in the first
form of aëroplane. The aëroplane took shape in his hands. The success
of these experiments encouraged aviators in many countries to imitate
him, and so great was the interest aroused that even his fatal accident
in 1896 did not discourage them. The successful flying machine was now
actually in sight.
[Illustration: PLATE XV. A Simple Model which Proves Steady in Flight.]
For a time it was believed that Hiram S. Maxim would be the first to
construct a flying machine which would actually fly. He had gone about
the problem in a thoroughly scientific manner, sparing neither time nor
expense. An elaborate apparatus was first constructed like a revolving
derrick, to test accurately the lifting powers of various aëroplanes
of various sizes and shapes flying at different angles, as well as
the propelling force of many kinds of screws. The horizontal arm of
this machine was thirty feet, nine inches long, so that it described a
circle of 200 feet in circumference. The arm was driven by an engine at
high speed.
The various aëroplane forms to be tested were attached to the extreme
end of this arm, and driven by propellers of various shapes and sizes,
exactly as they would be in actual flight. Every part of the machine,
meanwhile, was so adjusted that the readings of the speed of the
aëroplane, its lifting power, the exact force of the propeller, in
fact, every detail, could be measured and recorded with scientific
accuracy. This preliminary work proved to be of the highest value. The
test showed, for instance, just what size the propeller should be for
different size planes, and the exact pitch of the screw which would
give the best results, the proper angle of elevation for the front
plane, the resistance offered by various shaped planes, and the exact
amount of power required for planes of different sizes. A delicate
machine was also built to test the different kinds of fabrics used for
covering the planes. The fabric was stretched over a small steel frame,
mounted at a slight angle, in a blast of air. The tendency of the cloth
to lift or drift was then accurately measured. The material which gave
the greatest amount of lift and the least drift was used.
A large aëroplane was finally built in 1893. It weighed 7500 pounds,
measured 104 feet in width, and was driven by a 360 horsepower engine.
Compared with the clear cut, ship-shape air-craft of to-day this early
model appears crude and cumbersome. The main plane was almost square
in shape, while stability planes extended out from the sides. A series
of four narrow planes, one above another, were carried below on either
side. The machinery for driving was carried far below the main plane.
The two large propellers were placed in the stern. The aëroplane was
run along a double-tracked railroad 1800 feet in length, to gather
sufficient momentum to cause it to rise. Almost any school-boy of
to-day familiar with the aëroplane models could have told at a glance
that the machine could not rise. When it was finally sent down the
track at a good clip, the front wheels did actually rise a trifle but
it immediately came down with a bad smash.
Not in the least discouraged, Maxim at once designed a new machine.
This measured fifty feet in width and forty feet in length in the
middle, but with the corners cut off, so that it was sharpened both
fore and aft. The wings were made long and narrow, extending out
twenty-seven feet beyond the main plane, and large fore and aft rudders
were attached. It was not even expected that the machine would fly. All
that was hoped for was that it would lift somewhat so that its upward
tendency might be accurately measured.
The most successful “flight” of this model will seem a very tame affair
indeed to the boys of to-day who are daily reading of the marvellous
voyages in air across sea and land. The “airship” was run over its
track and the steam pressure run up to 329 pounds per square inch. The
speed increased and the upward thrust began to be felt. Finally the
front wheels of the machine actually lifted from the track. The
rear axle rose three or four feet above its normal position. When it
alighted, the delighted aëronauts found that the wheels of the machine
had passed over the turf for a very short distance, without making any
marks, showing that for a second or so the machine was actually off the
earth. It seems curious to us to-day that this “flight” should have
been considered remarkable.
[Illustration: PLATE XVI. The Propeller and Shaft of the Model Shown,
Plate XV.]
The experiments carried out by S. P. Langley, beginning in 1887 and
lasting for four years, placed a great deal of valuable, scientific
data in the hands of the aviators. Thousands of tests were made
with an apparatus similar to that used by Maxim. In one class of
these experiments solid metal planes were attached to the end of the
revolving arm in such a way that they were free to fall for a fixed
distance. When in rapid, horizontal motion, the metal seemed to part
with its weight, and the material, though one thousand times heavier
than the air, was found to be actually supported by it. It was proven,
for instance, that one horse power would support over 200 pounds
weight of planes driven at a speed of fifty miles an hour.
All this preliminary work, or nearly all, we now see, was necessary
before a practical aëroplane could be constructed. The early aviators,
although they did not fly, at least showed what not to do, and several
paid the price of their lives for this knowledge. Lilenthal had mapped
out the aëroplane in the rough, and determined the general shape it
must take. The experiments of Maxim and Langley enabled the successful
aviators to calculate the size of the machine necessary to carry them
and the amount of power required to drive it.
CHAPTER III
THE WRIGHT BROTHERS’ OWN STORY
The Wright Brothers brought to their work a genius for invention and,
making free use of the results of former investigation and experiment,
finally succeeded in building a heavier than air machine which would
actually fly. The story of their experiments and final success, which
one may read in their own words, forms one of the most fascinating
chapters in the history of invention.
The Wright Brothers’ first flying machine was a mere toy. “Late in the
autumn of 1878” they tell the story, “our father came into the house
one evening with some object partially concealed in his hands, and
before we could see what it was, he tossed it into the air. Instead of
falling to the floor, as we expected, it flew across the room till it
struck the ceiling, where it fluttered for a while, and finally sank to
the floor. It was a little toy known to scientists as a ‘hélicoptère’
but which we, with sublime disregard for science, dubbed a bat. It was
a light frame of cork and bamboo which formed two screws driven in
opposite directions by rubber bands under torsion. A toy so delicate
lasted only a short time in the hands of small boys, but its memory was
abiding.”
The interest of the brothers in aëronautics was awakened. “We began
building these hélicoptères ourselves,” their story goes on, “making
each one larger than that preceding. But, to our astonishment, we
found that the larger the ‘bat,’ the less it flew. We did not know
that a machine having only twice the linear dimensions of another
would require eight times the power. We finally became discouraged,
and returned to kite-flying, a sport to which we had devoted so much
attention that we were regarded as experts. But as we became older, we
had to give up this fascinating sport as unbecoming to boys of our
age.”
[Illustration: PLATE XVII. An Ingenious Model which Fails to Fly.]
The Wrights did not begin their experiments until the summer of 1896.
They first prepared themselves thoroughly by reading the literature on
aëronautics, making themselves familiar with the results of all the
experimental work of the aviators--Langley, Chanute, Mouillard, and
others. The Wrights soon decided that the first thing to be solved was
to build aëroplanes which would fly and that, until this was solved,
it was foolish to waste time building delicate and costly machinery to
operate them. They took up the problems of the glider and sought by
actual tests what many scientists had been theorizing about for years.
They soon discarded the various forms of gliders then used for
experiments. The tests which led up to adopting the now famous Wright
model, the basis for all heavier than air machines to-day, occupied
very little time. The story of this marvellous discovery which will
rank with that of Robert Fulton or Watt, is best told in their own
words, which are here somewhat abbreviated.
“The balancing of a flier may seem, at first thought, to be a very
simple matter,” say the Wrights, “yet almost every experimenter had
found in this the point he could not satisfactorily master. Many
different methods were tried. Some experimenters place the center
of gravity far below the wings in the belief that the wings would
naturally seek to remain at the lowest point. A more satisfactory
system, especially for lateral balance, was that of arranging the wings
in the shape of a broad V to form a dihedral angle, with the center low
and the wing-tips elevated. In theory this was an automatic action, but
in practice it had two serious defects; first, it tended to keep the
machine oscillating; and, second, its usefulness was restricted to calm
air. Notwithstanding the known limitations of this principle, it had
been embodied in almost every prominent flying-machine which had been
built.
“We reached the conclusion that such machines might be of interest
from a scientific point of view, but could be of no value in a
practical way. We, therefore, resolved to try a fundamentally different
principle. We would arrange the flyer so that it would not tend to
right itself. We would make it as inert as possible to the effects of
change of direction or speed, and thus reduce the effects of wind-gusts
to a minimum. We would do this in the fore-and-aft stability by giving
the aëroplanes a peculiar shape; and in the lateral balance, by arching
the surfaces from tip to tip, just the reverse of what our predecessors
had done. Then by some suitable contrivance, actuated by the operator,
forces should be brought into play to regulate the balance.”
“Lilenthal and Chanute had guided and balanced their machines by
shifting the weight of the operator’s body. But this method seemed
to us incapable of expansion to meet large conditions, because the
weight to be moved and the distance of possible motion were limited,
while the disturbing forces steadily increased, both with wing area
and wind velocity. In order to meet the needs of large machines, we
wished to employ some system whereby the operator could vary at will
the inclination of different parts of the wings, and thus obtain from
the wind forces to restore the balance which wind itself had disturbed.
This could easily be done by using wings capable of being warped,
and adjustable surfaces in the shape of rudders. A happy device was
discovered whereby the surfaces could be so warped that aëroplanes
could be presented on the right and left sides at different angles to
the wind. This, with an adjustable horizontal front rudder, formed the
main features of our first glider.”
[Illustration: PLATE XVIII. A Good Model Excepting that its Vertical
Rudders Are Too Large.]
“We began our first active experiments at the close of this period, in
October, 1900, at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Our machine was designed
to be flown as a kite, with a man on board, in winds of from
fifteen to twenty miles an hour. But, upon trial, it was found that
much stronger winds were required to lift it. Suitable winds not being
plentiful, we found it necessary, in order to test the new balancing
system, to fly the machine as a kite without a man on board, operating
the levers through cords from the ground. This did not give the
practice anticipated, but it inspired confidence in the new system of
balance.”
“The machine of 1901 was built with the shape of surface used by
Lilenthal, curved from front to rear, with a slight curvature of ⁴¹⁄₁₂
of its cord. But to make doubly sure that it would have sufficient
lifting capacity when flown as a kite in fifteen or twenty mile winds,
we increased the area from 165 square feet, used in 1900, to 308 square
feet, a size much larger than Lilenthal, Chanute, or Pilcher had deemed
safe. Upon trial, however, the lifting capacity again fell short of
calculation, so that the idea of securing practice while flying as a
kite, had to be abandoned. Mr. Chanute, who witnessed the experiments,
told us that the trouble was not due to poor construction of the
machine. We saw only one other explanation--that the tables of air
pressure in general use were incorrect.”
“We then turned to gliding--coasting down hill in the air--as the
only method of getting the desired practice in balancing the machine.
After a few minutes’ practice we were able to make glides of 300
feet, and in a few days were safely operating in twenty-seven mile
winds. In these experiments we met with several unexpected phenomena.
We found that, contrary to the teachings of the books, the center of
pressure on a curved surface traveled backward when the surface was
inclined, at small angles, more and more edgewise to the wind. We
also discovered that in free flight, when the wing on one side of the
machine was presented to the wind at a greater angle than the one on
the other side, the wing with the greater angle descended, and the
machine turned in a direction just the reverse of what we were led to
expect when flying the machine as a kite. The larger angle gave more
resistance to forward motion, and reduced the speed of the wing on
that side. The decrease in speed more than counterbalanced the effect
of the larger angle. The addition of a fixed vertical vane in the rear
increased the trouble, and made the machine absolutely dangerous. It
was some time before a remedy was discovered. This consisted of movable
rudders working in conjunction with the twisting of the wings.”
“The experiments of 1901 were far from encouraging. We saw that the
calculations upon which all flying-machines had been based were
unreliable, and that all were simply groping in the dark. Having set
out with absolute faith in the existing scientific data, we were driven
to doubt one thing after another, till finally, after two years of
experiment, we cast it all aside, and decided to rely entirely upon
our own investigations. Truth and error were everywhere so intimately
mixed as to be indistinguishable. Nevertheless, the time expended in
preliminary study of books was not misspent, for they gave us a good
general understanding of the subject, and enabled us at the outset
to avoid effort in many directions in which results would have been
hopeless.”
“To work intelligently, one needs to know the effects of a multitude
of variations that would be incorporated in the surfaces of
flying-machines. The pressures on squares are different from those on
rectangles, circles, triangles, or ellipses; arched surfaces differ
from planes, and vary among themselves according to the depth of
curvature; true arcs differ from parabolas, and the latter differ among
themselves; thick surfaces differ from thin, and surfaces thicker in
one place than another vary in pressure when the positions of maximum
thickness are different; some surfaces are more efficient at one angle,
others at other angles. The shape of the edge also makes a difference,
so that thousands of combinations are possible in so simple a thing
as a wing.”
[Illustration: PLATE XIX. A Simple Cellular Form.]
“We had taken aëronautics merely as a sport. We reluctantly entered
upon the scientific side of it. But we soon found the work so
fascinating that we were drawn into it deeper and deeper. Two testing
machines were built, which we believed would avoid the errors to which
the measurements of others had been subject, after making preliminary
measurements on a great number of different-shaped surfaces, so varied
in design as to bring out the underlying causes of difference noted in
their pressure. Measurements were tabulated on nearly fifty of these at
all angles from zero to 45 degrees.
“In September and October, 1902, nearly one thousand flights were made,
several of which covered distances of over 600 feet. Some, made against
a wind of thirty-six miles an hour, gave proof of the effectiveness of
the devices for control. With this machine, in the autumn of 1903, we
made a number of flights in which we remained in the air for over a
minute, after soaring for a considerable time in one spot, without any
descent at all. Little wonder that our unscientific assistant should
think the only thing needed to keep it indefinitely in the air would be
a coat of feathers to make it light.”
“With accurate data for making calculations, and a system of balance
effective in winds as well as in calms, we were now in a position, we
thought, to build a successful power-flyer. The first designs proved
for a total weight of 600 pounds, including the operator and an eight
horsepower motor. But, upon completion, the motor gave more power
than had been estimated, and this allowed 150 pounds to be added for
strengthening the wings and other parts.
“It was not till several months had passed, and every phase of the
problem had been thrashed over and over, that the various reactions
began to untangle themselves. When once a clear understanding had
been obtained, there was no difficulty in designing suitable
propellers, with proper diameter, pitch, and area of blade, to meet the
requirements of the flyer. High efficiency in a screw propeller is not
dependent upon any particular or peculiar shape, and there is no such
thing as a ‘best’ screw. A propeller giving a high dynamic efficiency
when used upon one machine, may be almost worthless when used upon
another. The propeller should in every case be designed to meet the
particular conditions of the machine to which it is to be applied. Our
first propellers, built entirely from calculation, gave in useful work
66 per cent of the power expended. This was about one third more than
had been secured by Maxim and Langley.”
“The first flights with the power-machine were made on the 17th of
December, 1903. The first flight lasted only twelve seconds, a flight
very modest compared with that of birds, but it was, nevertheless, the
first in the history of the world in which a machine carrying a man
had raised itself by its own power into the air in free flight, had
sailed forward on a level course without reduction of speed, and had
finally landed without being wrecked. The second and third flights were
a little longer, and the fourth lasted fifty-nine seconds, covering a
distance of 853 feet over the ground against a twenty-mile wind.”
“After the last flight, the machine was carried back to camp and set
down in what was thought to be a safe place. But a few minutes later,
when engaged in conversation about the flights, a sudden gust of wind
struck the machine, and started to turn it over. All made a rush to
stop it, but we were too late. Mr. Daniels, a giant in stature and
strength, was lifted off his feet, and falling inside, between the
surfaces, was shaken about like a rattle in a box as the machine
rolled over and over. He finally fell out upon the sand with nothing
worse than painful bruises, but the damage to the machine caused a
discontinuance of experiments.
[Illustration: PLATE XX. A Cellular Type with Rudder and Elevating
Plane.]
“In the spring of 1904, through the kindness of Mr. Torrence Huffman
of Dayton, Ohio, we were permitted to erect a shed, and to continue
experiments, on what is known as the Huffman Prairie, at Simms Station,
eight miles east of Dayton. The new machine was heavier and stronger,
but similar to the one flown at Kitty Hawk. When preparations had been
completed, a wind of three or four miles was blowing,--insufficient
for starting on so short a track,--but since many had come a long way
to see the machine in action an attempt was made. To add to the other
difficulty, the engine refused to work properly. The machine, after
running the length of the track, slid off the end without rising in the
air at all. Several of the newspaper men returned the next day, but
were again disappointed. The engine performed badly, and after a glide
of only sixty feet, the machine came to the ground. Further trial was
postponed till the motor could be put in better running condition.
“We had not been flying long in 1904 before we found that the problem
of equilibrium had not as yet been entirely solved. Sometimes, in
making a circle, the machine would turn over sidewise despite anything
the operator could do, although, under the same conditions in ordinary
flight, it could have been righted in an instant. In one flight, in
1905, while circling about a honey-locust tree at a height of about
fifty feet, the machine suddenly began to turn up on one wing, and
took a course toward the tree. The operator, not relishing the idea of
landing in a thorn tree, attempted to reach the ground. The left wing,
however, struck the tree at a height of ten or twelve feet from the
ground, and carried away several branches; but the flight, which had
covered a distance of six miles, was continued to the starting point.
“The causes of these troubles--too technical for explanation here--were
not entirely overcome till the end of September, 1905. The flights then
rapidly increased in length, till experiments were discontinued after
the 5th of October.
“A practical flyer having been finally realized, we spent the
years 1906 and 1907 in constructing new machines and in business
negotiations. It was not till May of this year (1908) that experiments
were resumed at Kill Devil Hill, North Carolina. The recent flights
were made to test the ability of our machines to meet the requirements
of a contract with the United States Government to furnish a flier
capable of carrying two men and sufficient fuel supplies for a flight
of 125 miles, with a speed of forty miles an hour. The machine used
in these tests was the one with which the flights were made at Simms
Station in 1905, though several changes had been made to meet present
requirements. The operator assumed a sitting position, instead of lying
prone, as in 1905, and a seat was added for a passenger. A larger motor
was installed, and radiators and gasolene reservoirs of larger capacity
replaced those previously used.”
[Illustration: PLATE XXI. A Complicated Model Capable of Long Flights.]
Let us now take a short air journey with one of the Wright Brothers as
pilot. He describes the experience as follows, “Let us fancy ourselves
ready for the start. The machine is placed on a single rail track
facing the wind and is securely fastened with a cable. The engine is
put in motion, and the propellers in the rear whirr. You take your
seat at the center of the machine beside the operator. He slips the
cable, and you shoot forward. An assistant who has been holding the
machine in balance on the rail, starts forward with you, but before
you have gone fifty feet the speed is too great for him, and he lets
go. Before reaching the end of the track the operator moves the front
rudder, and the machine lifts from the rail like a kite supported by
the pressure of the air underneath. The ground under you is at first a
perfect blur, but as you rise the objects become clearer. At a height
of one hundred feet you feel hardly any motion at all, except for the
wind which strikes your face. If you did not take the precaution
to fasten your hat before starting, you have probably lost it by this
time. The operator moves a lever; the right wing rises and the machine
swings about to the left. You make a very short turn, yet you do not
feel the sensation of being thrown from your seat, so often experienced
in automobile and railway travel. You find yourself facing toward
the point from which you started. The objects on the ground seem to
be moving at much higher speed, though you perceive no change in the
pressure of wind in your face. You know then that you are traveling
with the wind. When you near the starting point, the operator stops
the motor while still high in the air. The machine coasts down at an
oblique angle to the ground, and after sliding fifty or a hundred feet,
comes to rest. Although the machine often lands when traveling at a
speed of a mile a minute, you feel no shock whatever, and cannot in
fact, tell the exact moment at which it first touched the ground. The
motor close beside you kept up an almost deafening roar during the
whole flight, yet in your excitement, you did not notice it till it
stopped.”
On his return from Le Mans Mr. Wilbur Wright estimated that during a
single year he had flown upwards of 3000 miles. With the memory of
these marvellous flights in his mind he described his sensations to the
present writer with enthusiasm.
“Flying is the greatest sport in the world,” says Mr. Wilbur Wright. “I
can’t describe the sensation, I can only define it by comparison with
more familiar experiences. It is like sledding, like motoring, like
sailing, but with increased exhilaration and freedom.
“An aëroplane flight, contrary to the general impression, is far
steadier than the familiar means of locomotion. There is absolute
freedom from the bouncing of the automobile, the jar of a railroad
train, or the rolling and pitching sensations of the sea. No matter
how many springs or cushions may be added to the automobile, for
instance, there will always be some motion. On the other hand, the
seat of an aëroplane is always steady. The aëroplane does not jolt
over the invisible wind currents, the ruts of the sky. It cuts its way
smoothly. Even suppose the plane to be gliding so (indicating an angle
of forty-five degrees), the seat remains fixed. There is, of course,
no absolute parallel in surface travel. And since there is no roll or
pitch to the aëroplane, there is no air-sickness comparable to the
familiar sea sickness.”
CHAPTER IV
ABOARD THE WRIGHTS’ AIRSHIP
Seen high aloft the Wright aëroplane appears so graceful and fragile
that its actual dimensions come as a surprise. In the upper air it
seems no larger than a swallow, but, as it settles to earth, the wings
lengthen out to the width of an ordinary street.
There is some good reason for each stick and wire, and for every twist
and turn of the Wrights’ marvellous airship. When one considers what
wonderful feats this aircraft performs, its form and mechanism seem
extremely simple. It is far less complicated than any locomotive or
steamship, and the action of its planes is far easier to explain than
the sails of an ordinary seagoing ship. When one has once gone over the
fascinating little craft, all other aëroplanes, which more or less
resemble it, may be readily understood.
[Illustration: PLATE XXII. An Interesting Form which Flies Backward or
Forward.]
The Wright machine was not only the first power airship to fly and
carry a man aloft, but for all its rivals, it still rides the unstable
air currents more steadily than any other. The planes measure forty
feet from tip to tip, six and a half feet across, and are spaced six
feet apart. The distance between the planes is very important and was
only fixed after a number of experiments. The area of the wings or
supporting surfaces is 540 feet, which is considerably more than in
most airships. The machine complete, without any passenger or pilot,
weighs 880 pounds, although you would imagine it to be much less. The
two propellers measure eight feet in diameter, and turn at the rate of
450 revolutions a minute. Equipped with a four cylinder engine of from
25 to 30 horse power, the airship has a speed of forty miles an hour,
which is often increased when traveling with the wind.
The seats for the pilot and the passenger are placed at the center
at the front of the lower plane, so that their feet hang over the
front or entering edge. The passenger sits very comfortably throughout
the flight. There is a back to lean against, a brace for the feet,
while the struts between the planes give every opportunity to hold
on. In some of the models these seats are even upholstered in gray to
harmonize with the silver or aluminium paint of the machine.
A second and smaller biplane, which serves both as rudder and lifting
plane, extends about ten feet in front of the main planes. These two
planes, which have a combined area of eighty square feet, may be
inclined upward or downward by touching a lever at the pilot’s seat.
The motor, radiator and petrol or fuel tank are placed on the lower
plane in the center of the machine so that they balance the weight
of the pilot and the passenger. The weight of the lifting planes and
rudders rests on the main planes or lower deck.
[Illustration: PLATE XXIII. A Well Built Model Badly Proportioned.]
The most interesting feature of the Wrights’ airship is, of course,
the method for flexing the tips of the wings or planes to imitate the
flight of the birds. The ends of the large planes are made slightly
flexible, and may be turned up or down by moving a lever placed
convenient to the pilot’s hand. Both planes are flexed, or turned up
or down, at the same time the vertical rudder moves, so that, when
the aëroplane turns to right or left, the wings give the machine the
proper balance. If it were not for this arrangement, the ends of the
planes in turning would tend to rise, since they travel the faster, and
the machine would be in danger of upsetting. The ends of the planes
may also be flexed separately when the machine is in straight flight,
whenever it becomes necessary to balance it against a dangerous air
current or a gust of wind. The pilot, it will be seen, has every point
of the great machine, as it were, at his finger ends.
The marvellous power placed in the hands of the pilot of one of these
models makes him almost equal of the birds soaring about him. Let us
suppose an accident to occur. Even should the engine stop, the skillful
pilot is still master of the situation. He can actually coast down to
the ground on the air with comparative safety. Mr. Orville Wright has
soared up 3000 feet and, after stopping his propeller, slid down on
nothing at all, at the rate of more than twenty miles an hour, by the
force of gravity alone.
The Wright method of alighting is also borrowed from the birds. Watch
any bird alight on a twig, and you will see that it always settles on
the top of the twig, which is pressed straight down by its weight, and
never sideways. As the Wrights come down, they approach to within a
few feet of the earth, but, without touching they swoop up again, and
finally settle down from a height of only a few feet. Considering the
weight of their machine, they actually come down as lightly as a bird.
While traveling at a speed of forty miles an hour they will skid along
the ground or come to rest within five or six feet, so quietly that a
passenger cannot tell when he lands.
No part of the aëroplane calls for more clever workmanship than the
wings or planes. They must be so thin and light that they will ride
the air like the wings of a bird, and yet strong enough to support the
weight of hundreds of pounds of machinery and of passengers. In the
Wright model, the planes are made entirely of wood, but so ingeniously
braced that they are perfectly rigid. The building of such a wing is
especially difficult, since it must be curved with scientific accuracy.
In the Wright model machines, as in all aëroplanes, the curve is
upward, with the highest point of the arch near the front or entering
edge.
Both sides of the frame are completely covered so that they may offer
the least possible amount of resistance. There is not a ridge, scarcely
a seam, to catch the air. A stout canvas is used for covering. The
ingenuity of these clever workmen led them to lay on the cloth with
the thread running diagonally, at an angle of forty-five degrees. This
plan serves to hold the frame more closely together and keeps the cloth
from bagging or wrinkling.
At the first glance, the Wright machine appears to be made entirely
of aluminium. Seen high aloft in the sunlight, it appears like some
delicate jewel. The effect is due to the paint. The entire framework of
the machine is made of spruce pine except the curved part of the wings,
or entering edge, which is of ash. The propellers are driven by chains,
connected with the motor, which run in steel tubes, thus doing away
with the danger of fouling by passengers or loose objects. The ignition
system is operated by a high tension Eisenmann magneto machine. The
petrol used for fuel is carried in a tank placed above the engines and
is supplied by gravity. The two wings are connected by a series of
distance rods and wire cross-stays, which keep the entire front, or
entering edge, and central part of the model, perfectly rigid.
[Illustration: PLATE XXIV. A Wright Model Ready for Flight.]
Although nearly all the aëroplanes, nowadays, are mounted on ordinary
bicycle wheels, the Wrights prefer a simple system of skids, not unlike
the runners of a sleigh. One of the great advantages of the skids is
the fact that they take up the shock on landing more completely than
wheels and protect the machine from many a hard bump.
The airship rests on a small frame mounted on two wheels, placed
tandem, and is balanced on a small trolley which runs along a rail
about twenty-five feet in length. It is started by the pull of a rope
attached to a 1500 pound weight, which drops from a derrick fifteen
feet in height. When everything is ready, the temporary wheels are
taken away, the rope is attached, and finally the weight released. The
machine glides swiftly down the track, and when the necessary speed has
been reached, the pilot raises his elevating planes, a trifle, and the
ship glides gracefully upward and onward.
CHAPTER V
OTHER AEROPLANES APPEAR
In the summer of 1904 the boys of Paris were greatly interested in
watching a curious, giant kite in flight over the River Seine. The
string of this kite was drawn by a fast motor boat, which darted along,
while the kite rose high in the air. Its inventor tinkered with it,
and changed its wings about until it finally flew like no other kite
ever seen in France. All this was by no means mere play, however, for
many scientists watched the kite as it soared about and a great deal
of valuable information about the behavior of kites of this shape was
learned. The man with the kite, who soon became famous in the world of
aviation, was named Voisin. The aëroplane, which he afterwards built,
modeled on this kite, was flown in many remarkable flights by Henry
Farman, Delagrange, Paulhan, and others. Like the Wright airship,
Voisin’s is a biplane or double plane model.
Although at first glance, the Voisin and Wright aëroplanes may seem
very much alike, as we look more closely, we will find many points of
contrast. The Voisin model has a large tail-piece, consisting of two
vertical planes, which project far behind. These planes are believed to
make its flight very steady. A single vertical rudder is placed between
the two rear edges of this plane. The rudders are turned by horizontal,
sliding bars attached to the wheels, directly before the pilot’s seat,
like an automobile. The horizontal rudder in front, which corresponds
to the Wrights’ double lifting plane, is single and is placed lower
down than in the Wright model.
The steadiness of the Voisin aëroplane in flight is gained without
flexing the planes. A series of four vertical planes connect the upper
and lower wings which give the machine much the appearance of a box
kite. These walls are arranged so that the space enclosed at either end
is almost square. It is believed that the arrangement of these walls
keeps the air from sliding off the under surface of the horizontal
planes, and thus greater lifting power is obtained. It is claimed that
the model has much greater longitudinal stability than the Wrights’
machine. In other words, the long tail piece prevents the machine from
tipping or pitching when the wind gusts come unevenly. The box-like or
cellular form, it is believed also, adds to its stability. The model
holds the record for flying at the lowest speed--22.8 miles an hour.
On the other hand, the Voisin model cannot, with any degree of safety,
coast down on the air from great altitudes, like the Wright model.
The method of starting the Voisin airship is entirely different from
the Wrights’. The machine is mounted on two wheels, attached to the
girder body with an arrangement of springs to take up the shock on
landing. To launch the aëroplane, the propellers are started, and the
machine rushes forward on its wheels until it has developed sufficient
speed to send it up. It may thus rise from an ordinarily level ground,
and does not require the apparatus used by the Wrights. The pilot and
passenger sit in much the same position as in the Wright aëroplane.
The Voisin model weighs 300 pounds more than the Wrights’ or 1590
pounds. It has a supporting surface of 535 square feet, and a speed,
under favorable conditions, of 38 miles an hour. Another point of
difference from the Wright model is the propeller, which is single
and measures seven feet six inches in diameter. The motor, an
eight cylinder Antoinette, usually gives fifty horse power at 1100
revolutions per minute. The Wright Brothers, by the way, make their own
motors, which are considered inferior to the French motors.
The smallest and swiftest of all the aëroplanes is the Curtiss-Herring
model, which was invented by two Americans whose names it bears. Its
general form suggests the Wrights’ machine. The span of the large
planes is only 29 feet or under, the depth but four feet six inches,
and the spacing four feet six inches. It has a total wing surface of
but 258 square feet. The weight, not including the pilot, is only about
450 pounds. When seen beside the aëroplane of ordinary size, the little
craft looks like a very large toy model. It has the appearance of a
smart little racer, however, and its maximum speed is over 50 miles an
hour.
Everything has been sacrificed in the Curtiss-Herring model for the
sake of compactness. The forward rudder, which seems small even for
such a craft, consists of two planes, one above the other, whose
combined area is only twenty-four square feet. Unlike the Wright or
Voisin models, this forward rudder carries a vertical plane which makes
for stability. There is no tail as in the Voisin model, and the rear,
vertical rudder consists of a horizontal plane six feet wide and two
feet, three inches deep and a vertical rudder below it, two feet deep
and three feet four inches wide. The front and rear planes extend out
from the main frame about the same distance. The main stability planes,
curiously enough, are placed inside the frame. There are two of these,
one at either end of the main plane.
An ingenious method has been followed to control the various planes.
The pilot sits facing a wheel, like that of an automobile, which is so
rigged that by simply pushing it from him or pulling it back, he may
lift or decline the front planes. By turning this wheel he operates the
rudder in the rear, exactly as you would steer an automobile or a boat.
The balancing mechanism in turn is connected with a frame which fits
about the pilot’s shoulders like a high-backed chair and is operated by
merely leaning to one side or the other. This has the same effect as
warping the main planes. The control of the machine becomes largely
automatic. If the pilot feels that his aëroplane is tilting over at
one end or the other, he merely leans to one side or the other, and,
without taking his hands from the wheel before him, has the machine
under perfect control. Even the motor is controlled by pedals placed
under the pilot’s feet.
This little racer is mounted on three wheels, one well forward and two
in the rear about half way between the main planes and the horizontal
rudder. An original feature of this model is a foot brake which,
connecting with the forward wheel, helps to slow down the machine on
landing, just as you close the brake of an automobile. There is only
one rudder measuring six feet in diameter, which is unusually large
considering the size of the model. The engine is mounted at the center
of the space between the two main planes, and the propeller, which is
kept on a line with it, is therefore considerably higher than in most
aëroplanes. The lower plane comes very near the ground. It is only
raised by about the height of the bicycle wheels. It is thought by
some that this arrangement of the engine blankets the propeller, while
others argue that the suction produced in this way increases the thrust
of the propeller. The machine is built of Oregon spruce, the wings are
covered with oiled rubber silk, and the entire mechanism is beautifully
finished in every detail.
[Illustration: PLATE XXV. Another View of the Wright Model.]
The ingenuity of the designers of aëroplanes is astonishing. With so
many aëroplanes in the field, or rather in the sky, it is surprising
that they are not more alike. The Farman biplane, for instance, follows
the same general proportion as the Wright machine, but there the
similarity ends. To secure equilibrium in this model, four small planes
are used, hinged at the back of the two main planes, and these, it has
been found, take the place of the flexing device used by the Wrights.
The two swinging planes on the lower wing are controlled by wires,
while the upper two swing free. A single lever controls the two lower
planes and the horizontal rudder.
Farman has placed his rear stability planes unusually far behind the
main frame. They consist of two fixed horizontal planes, one above
the other, with a vertical rudder placed in the space between them.
The front horizontal rudder for vertical steering, is a single plane,
mounted close to the entering edge. The vertical rudder is worked by a
foot pedal. The machine is driven by one large wooden propeller, eight
feet six inches in diameter, at a speed of 1300 revolutions per minute,
which, it will be noticed, is unusually high. The Farman biplane is one
of the heaviest yet constructed, weighing about 1000 pounds without the
pilot.
An original plan has also been found for mounting the machine. The
aëroplane rests upon a combination of skids and wheels. There are
two sets of wheels under the front edge of the plane, while the two
skids are placed between the wheels of each pair. The motor is four
cylinder, fifty horse power type, and drives the machine at the rate of
forty miles an hour.
The largest, and by far the heaviest aëroplane is the Cody biplane
built by an American inventor who lives in England. It weighs nearly
one ton, or more than 1800 pounds, to be exact, and measures fifty-two
feet across. The machine is balanced somewhat after the manner of
the Curtiss-Herring model, by two horizontal planes placed at the
extremities of the main planes and midway between the rear corners.
The two main planes are seven feet six inches wide and are placed nine
feet apart, which is considerably farther than in any other successful
model. The upper plane is slightly curved toward the ends. The machine
carries two large horizontal planes for vertical steering, sixteen feet
before the entering edge of the main wings. These planes, placed side
by side, have a combined area of 150 square feet and naturally exert
a considerable lifting force. A small vertical rudder for horizontal
steering is carried above and between these front planes. An unusually
large rudder is placed well behind the machine, consisting of a
vertical plane with an area of forty square feet. All the rudders are
operated by a wheel in front of the pilot’s seat.
In the Cody aëroplane the horizontal rudders are moved by pushing
or pulling the wheel, while by moving it sideways the two balancing
planes, which control the equilibrium, are moved up and down. The most
original feature of the Cody machine is the position of the propellers.
They are carried in the space between the two main planes forward of
the center. It would seem that they must draw the air from the upper
planes and affect their lifting quality. The machine is mounted on
three wheels, two beneath the front edge of the main plane, and the
other slightly forward, which is an unusual distribution. The Cody
biplane, with 770 feet of wing surface, lifts more than 1800 pounds.
[Illustration: PLATE XXVI. An Ingenious Model which Rises Quickly.]
It is all a matter of guess work, of course, whether the monoplane,
biplane, or some entirely new form of aëroplane will come into general
use. Every model has its enthusiastic friends. The biplane, at present,
has greater stability than the monoplane, and carries greater weights
for longer distances. The development of the flying machine is so rapid
however that in five or ten years the successful aëroplane models of
to-day may appear as crude as do the clumsy, lumbering old horseless
carriages of five or ten years ago.
CHAPTER VI
SUCCESSFUL MONOPLANES
While the biplane borrows the general principles of flight from the
birds, the monoplane carries us a step further and almost exactly
reproduces their form and movement. Seen high aloft, with wings
outspread, the monoplanes look like great eagles as, gracefully,
but very noisily, they rise and fall in long, sweeping curves. The
monoplane being a much lighter machine and less complicated is
therefore cheaper to build than any multiplane model. Several of the
successful models ride the air very steadily and have proven themselves
capable of making long and difficult air journeys.
[Illustration: PLATE XXVII. An Aëroplane with Paper Wings.]
Some aviators believe that the monoplane type, highly developed, to
be sure, will some day be adopted for great commercial airships.
Even in its present form, these mechanical birds look very shipshape.
The pilot can find a more comfortable seat among these wings than in
the biplane forms, and it takes little imagination to picture these
airships, greatly enlarged, carrying comfortable cabins filled with air
voyagers. The most successful model aëroplanes, by the way, are of the
monoplane form.
The first monoplane to make an extended flight was the Bleriot. Its
inventor had worked with Voisin in the experiments above the River
Seine at Paris in 1906, and beginning with short flights of only a few
yards worked his way step by step. The machine in which he crossed the
English Channel in 1909, and made several remarkable cross country
flights, was his eleventh model.
Bleriot’s most successful model consists of only two wings curved
upward, mounted on a long motor base which measures twenty-six and one
half feet in length. The body of the monoplane, which is made of ash
and poplar, tapers to a point in the rear and is partially covered
with “Continental fabric,” similar to balloons. The front or main wing
is twenty-five and a half feet in width with a surface of 159 square
feet. The rear plane measures only six feet in width, and three feet in
depth and is equipped with moveable tips or horizontal rudders two feet
square at either side. The vertical rudder for steering to right or
left, is carried behind the frame. The planes are braced by a series of
stay wires running in all directions.
Unlike the biplane, the motor of the monoplane is placed in front of
the wings. The blades of the propeller, which are unusually broad,
measure less than seven feet from tip to tip. The pilot’s seat is
inside the motor frame near the rear edge of the main wing, and with
its high back and sides appears to be a comfortable place to sit. It
has the disadvantage, however, of being directly behind the motor, so
that a draft of air strikes the driver in the face.
The pilot keeps his machine on an even keel by flexing the tips of the
planes, much the same as in the Wright model. The tips of the main
plane and of the two horizontal rudders are connected with a single
lever, which gives the pilot perfect control of them. The horizontal
rudders may be turned to steer the aëroplane up or down in the same
way. The vertical rudder for turning the aëroplane from right to left,
is operated by a foot lever.
The Bleriot monoplane weighs about 500 pounds, so that it carries about
four pounds for every square foot of wing surface, or thirteen pounds
per square foot, which is from two to four times greater than is the
case of any biplane. The machine is mounted on three wheels, two at
the front and one near the rear, just forward of the rudders. It has a
speed of nearly forty miles an hour.
All the present monoplane models follow the same general plan of
placing their propellers and larger planes in front and their
horizontal rudder for vertical steering in the rear. The idea is
gaining ground, however, that it would be better if this arrangement
was reversed, and they flew with what is now the tail in front. The
theory of this arrangement is that if the edge of the lifting planes
is presented to the air, they would answer the helm much better, as
has been proven in the biplane forms. The experiment of reversing the
monoplane forms has been tried in model aëroplanes with great success.
The heaviest and largest of the monoplanes at present is the Antoinette
model, which is the invention of M. Levasseur. It looks like a great
dragon fly, and has proven itself very steady in flight. The main
wings, measuring forty-two feet in width seem to be arched unusually
high from front to rear, and taper rather sharply at the ends. Their
total lifting surface is a trifle over 300 feet. In some of the
Antoinette models the wings are set in the form of a broad, dihedral
angle. The monoplane is driven from a seat in the body of the frame
as the Bleriot model, but moved slightly farther back. The rear
horizontal rudder is controlled by a large wheel at the left of the
pilot’s seat, while a corresponding wheel on the right controls the
small hinged wings at the outer edge of the main plane. The pilot
turns his airship from right to left by merely pressing two foot
pedals connected with the vertical rudder in the rear. In the later
models, the dihedral angle has been abandoned and the front planes set
horizontally.
[Illustration: A Very Simple Monoplane for Beginners.]
The most novel feature of the Antoinette model is the form and control
of the rear rudders and stability planes. The model carries two
vertical rudders for turning the craft to the right or left, and a
large horizontal rudder for vertical steering, extending far out behind
at the end of the main body. All of these rudders are triangular in
shape, tapering to a point in the rear. The Antoinette has proved, it
is believed, that the corners of square rudders may be removed, without
affecting their guiding qualities, thus saving considerable surface
and weight. It would seem, on general principles, that just the reverse
would be the case. The builder of model aëroplanes may take a leaf from
the log of this airship.
The Antoinette stability planes are placed just forward of the rudders,
and are triangular in shape, but with somewhat narrow ends pointing
toward the front. Two of these planes are carried horizontally and one
vertically, the vertical planes being above the horizontals. The chief
fault of this model is that the rear horizontal stability plane, being
perfectly flat, exerts little lifting power. The method of warping the
tips of the planes, the same as in the Wright aëroplane, works well
with this model, and the flights, are as a rule, remarkable steady. The
machine lands on wooden skids, carried well forward, connected with the
frame by flexible joints. It is supported in the rear by two wheels
under the center of the planes.
The Santos Dumont monoplane is, so far, the smallest and lightest
monoplane to make a successful flight. It is the aëronautical
runabout, and, although it has made no very extended air journeys,
it has introduced several interesting features. Its owner has flown
several miles across country in his little craft, housed it in an
ordinary stable while making a call, and then, starting from the front
lawn, flown home again without assistance of any kind. His machine may
be counted upon to fly at the rate of about thirty-seven miles an hour.
It weighs only 245 pounds without the pilot.
The main plane is set at an angle so that, seen from the front, the
wings rise from the center, but later bend down toward the tips. The
front or entering edge is also elevated to an unusually high degree,
giving it the appearance of a rather flat umbrella. The pilot sits
underneath this front plane just below the center. The stability of
this plane is maintained by fixing the ends in the usual manner. The
wires connecting with the ends of the planes, are carried to a lever
which is attached to the pilot’s back. The pilot, therefore, without
using his hands, but merely by swaying his body from side to side, can
warp the planes and bring his craft to an even keel.
The Santos Dumont monoplane carries no regular stability plane at the
rear, but depends for its support and guidance upon a small vertical
and horizontal rudder at the end of its very short frame. These two
rudders bisect one another, or in other words, half of the vertical
rudder is above and half below the horizontal rudder, while half of the
horizontal rudder is on one side and half on the other of the vertical
rudder. They are attached to a single rigid framework, so that both
move as a whole by means of a universal joint. The rudders, used for
ascending and descending, are operated by a lever, while the rudders
used for horizontal steering are controlled by a wheel.
[Illustration: Otto Lilienthal about to Take Flight.]
The aëroplane is mounted on two wheels, placed at the front of
the frame and a vertical strut at the rear, thus reversing the
arrangement of the Antoinette. This adjustment works well in practice,
and the Santos Dumont holds the record for rising from the ground in
the shortest distance. It has risen in six and a quarter seconds after
traveling only 230 feet. The area of its wings is only 110 square feet
and its propeller consisting of double wooden blades measures only six
feet three inches in diameter. It carries a 30 H. P. motor.
The R. E. P. monoplane, the name being formed by the initials of its
inventor, Robert Esnault-Pelterie, is an experiment along new lines.
Its inventor believes that the wires and struts of the monoplane in
vibrating, offer considerable resistance to the air and seriously
retard its forward movement. His monoplane has, therefore, been
constructed practically without stays, wires, or rods. The monoplane
is graceful in form, light and compact, although somewhat expensive to
build.
The main frame of the airship is made of steel girders with a broad
surface and tapering to a sharp edge at the bottom. It is covered
completely with cloth, thus forming a vertical stability plane of
considerable area. The motor and propeller are carried at the front of
the frame, while the pilot’s seat is fixed inside the frame, just back
of the machinery.
The main planes have a span of thirty-five feet six inches. They extend
from either side of the frame, and taper slightly toward their outer
edges. Two large rudders are carried at the rear of the frame. The
vertical rudder for horizontal steering is attached to an extension of
the main frame and the horizontal rudder projects from the end at a
higher level. A fixed vertical stability plane or fin extends along the
main frame back of the pilot’s seat. The warping of the plane and the
control of both rudders is accomplished by levers placed convenient to
the pilot’s hand.
The R. E. P. model, alone among the aëroplanes, is equipped with a four
blade propeller. It measures six feet six inches in diameter, and is
driven at the speed of 1400 revolutions per minute. The speed of the
craft is remarkable since it has flown for short distances at the rate
of forty-seven miles an hour. Its weight, 780 pounds, is not unusual.
An entirely new idea has been introduced in mounting this model. It
rests upon only two wheels, one at the front, the other at the end of
the central frame. Wheels are also attached to the outer edges of the
main plane. When at rest, the model tilts over to one side or the other
and rests on one of these wheels. Once the motor has been started, the
machine quickly rights itself, as the speed increases, and runs along
on two wheels.
CHAPTER VII
AERIAL WARFARE
The boys who turn these pages may some day read of aërial battles
fought high above the earth, and some may even take part in them.
Air-ships are even now included in the navies of nineteen nations.
There is great difference of opinion among experts whether the balloon
or aëroplane will prove the better fighting machine, but, meanwhile,
aëronautical corps and regiments are being recruited, formidable navies
of air-ships are being laid down, and special guns are being built to
battle against them.
[Illustration: A Machine for Testing the Lifting Power of Aëroplanes.
In this machine power is transmitted from the horizontal main shaft and
upward through the vertical steel spindle and through the two members
of the long arm. A is a scale showing miles per hour and B a scale
divided into feet per minute; C, Dynamometer for recording the push of
screw; D, Dynamometer showing the lift of the aeroplane.]
The ordinary balloon has played a much more important part in actual
warfare than most people realize. A balloon corps was organized in
France as early as 1794, when balloons were built for each of the
Republican armies. One of these balloons, measuring thirty feet in
diameter, was sent up near Mayence, to gain a view of the Austrian
army. The balloon was held captive by two ropes, and an officer in the
car wrote his observations, weighted the letters, and dropped them
overboard. The Austrians were furious at this spying, and opened fire,
but the ropes were lengthened and the balloon rose to a height of 1300
feet, where it was out of range. Several years later balloons were
again used in battles by the French against the Austrians, who were
so angry with the new machine that they declared that any balloonist
captured would be shot. For a long time afterward, however, this method
of warfare was neglected, and even Napoleon could not see its value,
and closed the aëronautical school and disbanded the corps.
The use of the balloon was revived in America during the Civil War,
and proved to be so valuable that no great war has since been fought
without it. During the attack on Richmond, a number of balloons were
sent up daily by the Federal Army to overlook the besieged city. From
a point eight miles away, valuable information was gained as to the
position of the troops and the earthworks. A telegraph apparatus was
taken up and messages were sent directly from the clouds, almost over
Richmond to Washington.
In the Spanish-American War in 1898, the balloon was again called into
use. One ascent was made before Santiago, Cuba, and the position of the
various Spanish forces were observed and reported. Another was sent
up at El Paso, less than 2000 feet from the Spanish trenches, and the
position of the Spanish troops on San Juan Hill was discovered. The
balloon was finally brought down by the Spanish guns.
During the siege of Paris in 1870, balloons were used successfully to
escape from the city. Some sixty-six of them, carrying 168 passengers,
succeeded in passing over the German armies. The French army has also
made good use of the balloon in the wars in Madagascar, and several
English balloon corps were engaged with the British army during the
Boer War.
For ordinary military work, balloons of three sizes are used, a large
balloon for forts, the regular war balloon, and an auxiliary for field
work. The large balloon holds 34,500 cubic feet of gas and is only used
above fortifications. The regular field balloon is thirty-three feet
in diameter, and holds 19,000 cubic feet of gas. It is designed to
carry two passengers to a height of 1650 feet. The auxiliary balloon is
considerably smaller, holding only 9200 cubic feet of gas, and carrying
but one passenger. It is much easier to handle on long marches, and, of
course, may be filled and sent aloft in much less time.
The balloons are usually filled from cylinders, which may be hurried
across country in carts or automobiles. There is, besides, a regular
field gas generator, readily packed up and carried about, which will
fill an ordinary balloon in from fifteen to twenty minutes. To resist
aërial attacks, a special armored automobile has been adopted by some
European armies, carrying a gun which may be aimed upward and at any
angle. Despite its weight, the automobile will travel at the rate of
forty miles an hour. The recent developments of the dirigible war
balloon has rendered the free balloon practically obsolete, and it is
unlikely that it will ever again be used in actual warfare.
The United States has been the first country to adopt the aëroplane
as a weapon of warfare. After the successful flights of the Wright
Brothers, the War Department purchased one of their aëroplanes, and
several officers were instructed in driving it. Before being accepted,
the Wrights were required to make a flight of ten miles over a rough,
mountainous country near Washington, and return without alighting. The
test, which was highly successful, was witnessed by President Taft
and many representatives of the Government. In the event of war, the
United States Government could quickly mobilize a formidable fleet of
aëroplanes, and man them with experienced aviators.
[Illustration: The Machine on the Rails, as it appeared in 1893.]
[Illustration: Maxim’s First Aëroplane.]
The value of aëroplanes in warfare has been widely discussed by
military experts. There was, at first, a general impression that
such flights were much too uncertain to be of practical value. The
marvellous development of the aëroplane, and its remarkable flights
over land and sea, have served to silence much of this criticism.
Although an over-sea invasion by a fleet of air-ships would seem to
be a danger of the very distant future, the United States Government
is already preparing to meet the situation. A remarkable series of
tests have been made at the Government Proving Grounds at Sandy Hook,
by firing at free balloons as they sailed past the fort. The balloons
were sent away at various altitudes, in some cases at a considerable
distance from the guns, and again directly above them. The difficulty
in hitting such targets was found to be very great. The air craft moves
so quickly that it is almost impossible to bring a gun of the ordinary
mounting into position. Although the results of the test were closely
guarded, it is known that the Government was not satisfied with the
defense of New York Harbor, in the event of an aërial invasion, and
special guns are being designed to repel such an attack.
The military authorities look very far into the future in their
preparations. One of the most interesting of these problems is that
of protecting our seacoast, should a fleet of aërial warships be sent
against us. One of the plans suggested is to raise a series of captive
balloons at regular intervals along the shore. It has been thought that
some of these might be held near the earth, while others are allowed
to ascend to a great altitude. The lookout in these signal stations
could sight the approach of an hostile fleet of air-ships at a great
distance, and by means of wireless apparatus warn the country of
approaching danger.
Many military experts, who have watched the flights of aëroplanes, have
decided that the little craft would also prove an extremely difficult
object for the enemy to bring down. Since they travel at upwards of a
mile a minute, ordinary guns, as they are now mounted, could not hope
to hit them except by a lucky shot. It would be like hunting wild geese
with a cannon. At a height of several thousand feet, which they can
readily attain, an aëroplane might defy the most formidable batteries
in the world. Should a fleet of these little craft be sent against an
enemy, many of them would be sure to survive an attack, even if a few
should be lost. It does not seem probable that the aëroplane will carry
aloft a cannon large enough to do any damage. But they can drop high
explosives, with astonishing accuracy, and would do important scout
work.
At the present cost of construction, a fleet of one hundred aëroplanes
might be built and put in commission in the field or sky, for what a
single great battleship would cost. It has been shown, moreover, that
a man can learn to operate an aëroplane in less time than it takes to
learn to ride a bicycle. The Wrights instructed Lieutenant Lahm to
drive one of their machines in about two hours of actual flight. The
war aëroplanes would call for great bravery and daring, but who can
doubt that men would be found to serve their country, if need be, by
facing this appalling danger.
In military language, the modern airships fall into three classes,
dreadnaughts, cruisers and scouts. The dreadnaughts of the air are the
largest dirigible balloons, such as Zeppelin flies. They will probably
be used in aërial warfare in the first line of battle, and for over-sea
work. The cruisers comprise the dirigibles, such as have been brought
to great perfection in France. These faster air-ships will rise higher
than the dreadnaughts, and will probably be used for guarding and scout
work. The aëroplanes come under the head of scouts, and will be used
for dispatch work, and for attacking dirigibles.
[Illustration: First Flight of the Wright Brothers’ First Motor
Machine. This picture shows the machine just after lifting from the
track, flying against a wind of twenty-four miles an hour.]
Their speed and effective radius of travel place the air-ship in
the first rank among the engines of war. The value of the free or
captive balloon has, of course, been clearly proven. It has been of
the greatest value for general observation work in the field. It has
been readily raised out of effective range of the enemy’s batteries,
and from this position, has looked down upon the forts, cities, or
encampments. It thus became a signal station which might direct gun
fire with absolute accuracy, and has been the only safe and reliable
method for locating the presence of mines and submarines.
The dirigible balloon possesses all of the qualities of the free
balloon and many more. It can attack by day or night. Its search lights
enable it to look down upon the enemy with pitiless accuracy. It may
thus gain information about forts and harbors, which otherwise could
not be approached. The most completely mined harbor in the world
has no terrors for such a visitor. The great problem in warfare of
patrolling the frontier of a country against possible invasion seems to
be solved by the dirigible. Two or three men aboard a dirigible, with a
traveling radius of several hundred miles, could do more effective work
than several thousand men scattered along the frontier line.
For dispatch work the flying machine is expected to be indispensable
in warfare. The bearer of dispatches has always played an important
part in war. His work is often of the most perilous nature, and his
journeys, at best, are slow and uncertain. The dispatch bearer, driving
an air-ship fifty miles an hour, could ride high above the range of
the enemy’s guns. These same vehicles of the air would doubtless be
equipped with wireless telegraph apparatus, so that they might send or
receive messages, and the aviator might talk freely with the entire
country side, directing a battery here, silencing one there, ordering
an advance or conducting a retreat, with unprecedented accuracy.
These aërial fleets may also carry on deadly aggressive warfare. The
over sea raid will have greater terror than any ordinary invasion. A
fleet of dreadnaughts dirigibles, assisted by fast cruisers of the air,
and many aëroplane scouts, would be extremely formidable. An enemy’s
base line would be at the mercy of such an invasion. Within a few
hours, such a fleet might destroy the enemy’s stores, its railroads,
and its cities, by dropping explosives or poisonous bombs.
In several recent aëroplane flights, “peace bombs” have been aimed to
strike a given mark, and the shots have proven surprisingly accurate.
By using various instruments to determine directions, it will be
possible to drop such bombs with mathematical accuracy. The bombs or
missiles will be suspended by wires from beneath the air-ship and
released by an electric current, to give them a perfectly vertical
direction. When dropped from great altitudes, the effect of such
explosions will be difficult to withstand. Our great war-ships, despite
their steel sides, will probably have to be completely remodelled
before they can fight with this new enemy.
When an air-ship drops a bomb from a point directly above a fort or
ship, it will be absolutely out of the range of the enemy, since to
shoot directly up into the air would be to fire a boomerang which
would quickly return and inflict serious damage. An actual test was
recently carried out in England, when a thirteen pound gun fired at a
balloon 1000 feet in the air. Although the gun had an effective range
of 4000 feet, and the balloon was held captive, it was not until the
seventeenth shot had been fired that it was brought down. It has also
been proven that a rifle ball will be deflected by the draught from the
propeller of an aëroplane. The flying machine promises to revolutionize
warfare.
[Illustration: Three-quarters View of a Flight at Simms Station,
November 16, 1904.]
CHAPTER VIII
SPORTS OF THE AIR, AEROPLANES
Any contest of air-ships makes excellent sport. A city to city flight
by aëroplane, for instance, attracts greater crowds than could any
procession or royal progress in the past. The aëronautical tournaments
and meets already have been held from Egypt in the East, to California
in the west. Let an aëroplane soar higher than any has risen before,
stay aloft longer, or make a new record for speed or distance, and the
news is instantly cabled around the world.
All who have gone aloft tell us that flying is the greatest sport in
the world. The free, rapid glide we all enjoy in skating or coasting
becomes speedier and smoother in an air-ship, without exerting the
least effort. It is this sense of rapid motion which has made the
automobile so popular, and the air-ship improves upon the automobile,
just as the automobile improved on the lumbering coaches of the past.
Once aloft, the aërial passenger glides with the swallow’s swiftness.
“Now,” cried an enthusiastic Frenchwoman, after her first aëroplane
flight, “now I understand why the birds sing.”
As the aëroplane is brought under better control, we will see these
contests grow more and more exciting. The development of the new craft
has been so rapid, we have come to expect so much from it, that the
exhibition at which the world marvels to-day, becomes the commonplace
of to-morrow.
The early flights of the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk failed to
attract much attention. There had been so many announcements of
successful flying machines that many were sceptical, especially in
Europe, and the world did not realize that the great day, so long
promised, was dawning. It was not till the Wrights flew in North
Carolina that the world began to take the matter seriously.
Every movement of the curious new craft was closely watched thereafter.
When one of the brothers went aloft the world knew it, and crowds
stood patiently before bulletin boards in New York, London, or Sidney,
to count the minutes. When he succeeded in staying aloft for an
hour, the waiting crowds in many widely separated cities, broke into
simultaneous cheers. Next came the trip to Pau, in France, and other
European cities, and day by day the flights became longer and higher.
The brothers made double progress, for while one was in Southern Europe
increasing the time aloft, the other was flying higher and higher in
Germany. In these early days no attempt was made to fly across the
country. The aëroplane merely flew around and around some large field,
and the distance traversed was calculated more or less accurately.
After the triumphant return of the Wrights to America, a cross-country
run was made at Fort Myer, to show the Government that the aëroplane
was more than a toy. A flight of twenty miles was made over a rough,
mountainous country and several deep valleys. The air of the valleys
drew the machine down with a dangerous rush, but the aviator pluckily
worked his way higher, and passed over it in safety.
Shortly after this, during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in New York,
Mr. Wilbur Wright rose from Governor’s Island in New York harbor,
encircled the Statue of Liberty, and again sailed high above the river
north to Grant’s Tomb, and returned to the starting point. Each of
these feats was, in a peculiar sense, record breaking.
[Illustration: Front View of the Flight of the Wright Aëroplane,
October 4, 1905.]
Meanwhile, a flock of aviators were making ascensions in biplanes and
monoplanes of many designs in France. Their first attempts to fly
were made, as a rule, in a great field on the outskirts of Paris,
where immense crowds gathered to watch them. As the aviators gained
confidence in their craft, the flights rapidly became longer and
higher, and short cross-country flights were made. These cross-country
and over-water flights quickly out-distanced those made in America,
and this lead once gained, was kept up. There are several reasons why
France, after America pointed the way, should have overtaken, and, in
some respects, out-distanced her. There have been more aviators in
France. The prizes offered for flights of various kinds, have been ten
times more numerous and valuable in France than in any other country,
and this naturally invited competition. The example of France in
offering valuable prizes for long flights has since been followed in
the United States.
It should be borne in mind, again, that the level stretches of country
common in Europe, offers fewer difficulties for the pilot of the
aëroplane than the rough, mountainous, or even hilly country often
encountered in America. It is possible to fly hundreds of miles in the
south of France or in Italy and pass over country like a great parade
ground. When a long-distance flight is made in America, rivalling or
surpassing those made abroad, it is probable that it has required far
more skill and daring than similar European flights. The French, again,
excel in building light, serviceable motors, suitable for aëroplanes,
and no small part of the success of the French air craft is due to this
skill.
The cross-country trips were quickly extended. After several successful
short flights, Henry Farman surpassed all records by traveling for
eighty-three miles across country in France. The great feat was now to
cross the English Channel. A prize of $5,000 was offered by a London
newspaper for the first channel flight. Two attempts were made by a
young Frenchman, Hubert Latham, but both times, after sailing out for
several miles over the sea, some accident befell his machine, and
he was thrown into the water. Undaunted by these failures, another
Frenchman, Louis Bleriot, started early one Sunday morning, June 25,
1909, from a point near Calais, France, and landed safely at Dover
on the English side. Shortly after this, still another Frenchman, De
Lesseps, flew from the French coast to England in safety.
The richest of the aviation prizes, a purse of $50,000, had meanwhile
been offered for a successful trip by a heavier-than-air machine from
London to Manchester, a distance of 171 miles. Several attempts had
been made to cover this distance, but without success. It was finally
won, however, under very dramatic circumstances. Two aviators, an
Englishman named White and a Frenchman named Paulhan, actually raced
for the goal. The French machine got away first, but was followed by
the English machine close on his heels--or should we say propellers?
The greater part of the race took place at night in a high wind, and,
in the upper air lanes, intensely cold weather.
Paulhan succeeded in flying 117 miles without coming down, rushing
along through the night at top speed, with the dread that every sound
behind him came from the machine of his rival. When he was forced
to land for fuel, he worked with feverish haste, fearing that every
second’s delay might cost him the coveted prize. Several times the
crowd about him, deceived by some night bird, cried “Here comes White!”
As a matter of fact, White was but a few miles behind. The fuel tank
filled, Paulhan drove his machine full speed into the sky, and did not
land till he had completed the journey and won the prize.
There was naturally a great demand for a similar journey in America,
and the aviator and the prize were soon found. For several years there
had been a standing prize of $10,000 for the first successful flight
between New York and Albany, over the Hudson River, the course taken by
Robert Fulton in his famous trip by steamboat in 1809. An effort was
made to cover the distance by dirigible balloon without success. An
attempt was made by aëroplane on May, 1910, by Glenn H. Curtiss, the
winner of the grand prize for speed in the aviation meeting at Rheims.
Curtis started from Albany, in order to face the air currents which
drew up the river. After waiting for several days for fair weather,
he finally got away early one morning, and, following the course of
the Hudson River, made the flight to Poughkeepsie, seventy-five miles
south, without mishap, when he landed for fuel.
Again rising into the air, he started south, traveling with such speed,
that he outdistanced the special train which was following him. A
difficult problem in aviation was met in passing over the Highlands,
a rugged mountainous section, through which the river cuts a deep,
tortuous channel. Curtiss rose to a height of more than 1000 feet, but
the treacherous air currents drew him down and tossed him about at
perilous angles. He fought his way, foot by foot, finally bringing his
craft to an even keel. On reaching New York, he landed in the upper
section of the city for gasolene, and once more rising above the Hudson
River, flew swiftly to the riotous clamor of every whistle in the
great harbor beneath him, to a safe landing at Governor’s Island.
The first great city to city and return aëroplane trip was made a few
days later, between New York and Philadelphia. A new aspirant for these
honors was Mr. Charles K. Hamilton, who had amazed everyone with his
daring driving. He was engaged to fly over the course for $10,000,
offered by a New York and a Philadelphia newspaper. He carried with him
letters from the Governor of New York and the Mayor of New York City
to the Governor of Pennsylvania and the Mayor of Philadelphia. He also
took aloft a number of “peace bombs,” which he dropped along the route
to show how accurate might be the aim of a war aëroplane. The start was
made early on the morning of June 13, from Governor’s Island in New
York harbor. A special train was held in readiness to follow him.
After rising to a considerable altitude, Hamilton flew in great circles
about the island to try his wings, and then, signaling that all was
ready, darted off to the south. He quickly picked up his special train,
and, at a pace of almost a mile a minute, flying hundreds of feet in
air, sped on to Philadelphia. It was estimated that more than 1,000,000
people had gathered along the route to cheer him. Hamilton had laid out
a regular time-table before starting, and so perfect was his control of
the machine, that he passed town after town on time to the minute like
a railroad train.
The run to Philadelphia eighty miles away, was made without alighting
and without mishap of any kind. Hamilton flew over the open field
selected for landing, circled it three times to show that he was not
tired in the least, and settled down as lightly as a bird. He was
received by the Governor of Pennsylvania and the Deputy Mayor of
Philadelphia, to whom he delivered his messages and received similar
letters in reply to bring back to New York.
After a brief rest of little more than one hour, Hamilton was once
more in the sky, flying across-country at express speed. He set such
a pace, that his special train was left far behind, and it was only
by running at the rate of seventy-five miles an hour, that it finally
overtook him. Hamilton drew far ahead of the train on the return trip
which was made in much faster time. The wind was favorable, and Newark,
eighty miles, was reached at the rate of fifty miles an hour.
With the goal practically in sight, Hamilton’s engine began working
badly. He pushed on, until he found himself in absolute danger, when
he decided to descend. From such high altitudes, the appearance of the
ground is very deceptive. Hamilton chose what appeared to be a smooth
piece of green grass and dropped to it, only to discover that he had
settled in a marsh. The fault in the engine was quickly remedied, but
now the ground proved too soft for him to rise. In trying to rise he
broke his propeller, and another delay followed, while a new propeller
was hurried from New York. He finally succeeded, however, in rising
and completing his trip to Governor’s Island, thus making the round
trip in a day and winning the prize.
So rapid is the advance in the new science, that each aviation meet
sets a new and more difficult standard. At first, people marvelled to
see an aëroplane rising but a few feet from the ground, but such feats
soon became commonplace. Within a few months, prizes were offered for
the machine staying aloft for the longest time. The element of speed
was next considered, and the aëroplanes sailed around a race course
against time. The highest altitude now became a popular test feat.
The pilots soon found themselves in such complete control of their
machines that they gave exhibitions of landing by the force of gravity
alone. The aëroplane would work its way upward in great spirals, and
then, shutting off all power, coast down at terrifying angles on the
unsubstantial air. It is from such tests as these that there will
gradually evolve the airships of the future, the terrible engines of
war, the air liners for commerce, and the light and speedy pleasure
craft.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
Perceived typographical errors have been changed.