"You know the voyage from Dover to Calais made by Blanchard and
Jefferies. It was rich in incident. On the 7th of January, 1785, in a
northeast wind, their balloon was filled with gas on the Dover side;
scarcely had they risen, when an error in equilibrium compelled them to
threw out their ballast, retaining only thirty pounds. The wind drifted
them slowly along towards the shores of France. The permeability of the
tissue gradually suffered the gas to escape, and at the expiration of an
hour and a half, the voyagers perceived that they were descending.
'What is to be done?' said Jefferies.--'We have passed over only
three-fourths of the distance,' replied Blanchard 'and at a slight
elevation. By ascending we shall expose ourselves to contrary winds.
Throw out the remainder of the ballast.' The balloon regained its
ascensional force, but soon re-descended. About midway of the voyage,
the aeronauts threw out their books and tools. A quarter of an hour
afterwards, Blanchard said to Jefferies: 'The barometer?'--'It is
rising! We are lost; and yet there are the shores of France!' A great
noise was heard. 'Is the balloon rent?' asked Jefferies.--'No! the
escape of the gas has collapsed the lower part of the balloon'--'But we
are still descending. We are lost! Everything not indispensable must be
thrown overboard!' Their provisions, oars and helm were thrown out into
the sea. They were now only 100 metres in height. 'We are remounting,'
said the Doctor.--' No, it is the jerk caused by the diminution of
weight. There is not a ship in sight! Not a bark on the horizon! To the
sea with our garments!' And the unfortunate men stripped, but the
balloon continued to descend. 'Blanchard,' said Jefferies, 'you were
to have made this voyage alone; you consented to take me; I will
sacrifice myself to you! I will throw myself into the water, and the
balloon, relieved, will re-ascend!'--' No, no, it is frightful.' The
balloon collapsed more and more, and its concavity forming a parachute,
forced the gas against its sides and accelerated its motion. 'Adieu, my
friend,' said the Doctor. 'May God preserve you!' He was about to have
taken the leap, when Blanchard detained him. 'One resource remains to
us! We can cut the cords by which the car is attached, and cling to the
network? perhaps the balloon will rise. Ready! But the barometer falls!
We remount! The wind freshens! We are saved!' The voyagers perceived
Calais! Their joy became delirium; a few moments later, they descended
in the forest of Guines. I doubt not," continued the unknown, "that in
similar circumstances you would follow the example of Doctor Jefferies."
The clouds were unrolling beneath our feet in glittering cascades; the
balloon cast a deep shadow on this pile of clouds, and was surrounded by
them as with an aureola! The thunder growled beneath our feet! All this
was frightful!
"Let us descend!" exclaimed I.
"Descend, when the sun is awaiting us yonder! Down with the bags!" And
he lightened the balloon of more than fifty pounds. At 3000 metres we
remained stationary. The unknown talked incessantly, but I scarcely
heard him; I was completely prostrated, while he seemed in his element.
"With a good wind, we shall go far, but we must especially go high!"
"We are lost!"
"In the Antilles there are currents of air which travel a hundred leagues
an hour! On the occasion of Napoleon's coronation, Gavnerin let off a
balloon illuminated with coloured lamps, at eleven o'clock in the
evening! The wind blew from the N.N.E.; the next morning at daybreak the
inhabitants of Rome saluted its passage above the dome of St. Peter's.
We will go farther."
I scarcely heard him; everything was buzzing around me! There was an
opening in the clouds!
"See that city, my host;" said the unknown. "It is Spire. Nothing else!"
I dared not lean over the railing of the car. Nevertheless I perceived a
little black spot. This was Spire. The broad Rhine looked like a riband,
the great roads like threads. Above our heads the sky was of a deep
azure; I was benumbed with the cold. The birds had long since forsaken
us; in this rarefied air their flight would have been impossible. We
were alone in space, and I in the presence of a strange man!
"It is useless for you to know whither I am taking you," said he, and he
threw the compass into the clouds. "A fall is a fine thing. You know
that there have been a few victims from Pilatre des Rosiers down to
Lieutenant Gale, and these misfortunes have always been caused by
imprudence. Pilatre des Rosiers ascended in company with Remain, at
Boulogne, on the 13th of June, 1785. To his balloon, inflated with gas,
he had suspended a _mongolfier_ filled with warm air, undoubtedly to
save the trouble of letting off gas, or throwing out ballast. It was
like putting a chafing-dish beneath a powder-cask. The imprudent men
rose to a height of four hundred metres, and encountered opposing winds,
which drove them over the ocean. In order to descend, Pilatre attempted
to open the valve of the aerostat; but the cord of this valve caught in
the balloon, and tore it so that it was emptied in an instant. It fell
on the mongolfier, overturned it, and the imprudent men were dashed to
pieces in a few seconds. It is _frightful, is_ it not?" said the
unknown, shaking me from my torpor.