A FLIGHT IN AN AEROPLANE WITH AN IRISH GIRL
Next morning at breakfast Miss O’Neill again asked her father’s
permission to ascend in the aeroplane with Mike. I assured him that if
Mike promised to go over land there was absolutely no danger, for, as I
put it: “Mr. Connor can alight as easily as a crow.”
“But what if he were to alight on a tree?” he asked with a twinkle in
his eye, which showed me that Mike and Miss O’Neill were going to fly
together all right.
At last, the father gave his consent, but warned Mike not to go out
over the sea. It was arranged that they should ascend at 10:00 o’clock.
Mike had to make a trip to Portrush to get some petrol, and he decided
to take Miss O’Neill along with him on that journey.
“Can she take such a long trip on her first flight?” I asked,
remembering my own experiences.
“Jack,” said Mike, confidently, “she can beat you now as an aeronaut.
She knows all about it already. I am sure she will have no trouble.”
We fixed up a starting rail in the sloping field in front of the hotel,
and at 10:00 o’clock Miss Edith and her father and mother appeared.
Word had gotten out about the trip and every tourist around the
Causeway was gathered in the field to see the ascent.
Edith was a perfect picture. Not having an airship dress, she had
arranged herself in closely fitting riding habit. She made a few
necessary changes, and the dress was adapted well for her unique
excursion. She wore a blue sailor cap, matching her dress, and also a
pair of blue gloves.
As Mike was assisting her into the aeroplane, I heard a lady exclaim,
“What a pretty blue-bird.” I could not help thinking that a fairer bird
than Miss Edith never flew beneath the kindly Irish skies.
It was a perfect day, and there was a very slight breeze.
After seeing that Edith was seated, Mike vaulted easily into his seat.
“All ready,” he shouted, as he started the motor. “Good-bye,” said
Edith to us all, as the aeroplane started.
It rose beautifully and after ascending about 75 feet, Mike circled
around us. We could see Edith waving her handkerchief. I was surprised
at her composure. After making one circle, Mike started off, like a
huge bird, for Portrush. We watched the airship until it became a speck
in the distance. Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill walked back with me to the hotel
and I had to earnestly assure Edith’s mother that her daughter was in
safe hands.
Just before noon I heard a shout, “They’re coming back.”
I rushed out of the hotel and saw the aeroplane about a half a mile
off, bearing down on us with all speed. When they came nearer I saw
them rise, and I knew Mike was going to circle. He went up to a height
of fully 400 feet, and circled around over the hotel three times. In
making the third circle, he went out far over the sea.
The descent was made without difficulty, and the aeroplane touched the
ground without a perceptible jar.
Edith jumped out before Mike could descend to help her, and before I
reached the aeroplane. She ran at once to her mother and kissed her.
“Edith, child,” said her mother, with tears in her eyes, “you must not
go flying again.”
“Oh, Mamma,” said the happy girl, “it was grand. I never, never enjoyed
anything like it.”
“You rascal,” said Mr. O’Neill, smiling, to Mike, “I thought you
promised to keep off the sea.”
“I made him do it,” said Edith, hastily. “He didn’t want to, but I
wanted to fly above the water.”
Mike hung his head. Mike was always proud of keeping his word. It was
the atmosphere again. It changed Mike.
Edith cheered him by going to him with outstretched hand, and saying in
her sweet, musical voice: “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Connor.”
Mike’s face brightened and he took off his cap gallantly, saying: “The
pleasure was mine, Miss O’Neill.”
[Illustration: DUNLUCE CASTLE.]
After Edith and her parents were gone I asked Mike about the flight.
“Capital, Jack, capital,” Mike said with enthusiasm, “I tell you Jack,
there are few girls like Edith.”
I noticed that he had unconsciously used her first name.
He then gave me some details of the flight. On the return trip,
they had paused to circle around Dunluce Castle, and then they had
followed the electric railway to the Causeway. This electric railway
from Portrush to the Causeway was the first electric railroad that
was successfully operated in the world. It was built in 1883, being
designed by Sir William Siemens. Formerly it was operated with the
third rail, but now it is an overhead trolley. As they were flying
along this railroad, about 40 feet high, they overtook a crowded car.
When the astonished passengers saw them fly past, their enthusiasm knew
no bounds. Edith enjoyed the greeting and waved her handkerchief in
return.
Mike wanted to remain a few days longer at the Causeway, but when I
told him that Mr. O’Neill had told me he was called back to Dublin the
next day, and that his family would accompany him, he decided to start
the next day himself.
As we bade the O’Neills goodbye, they gave us a cordial invitation to
call on them in Dublin. I was delighted with the invitation, and so
was Mike, but for a different reason. I was glad because I knew Mr.
O’Neill would show us the places of historic interest in Ireland’s
capital city, and I was anxious to see a real Irish home. Mike confided
to me that he had already arranged to take Miss Edith for a flight over
Dublin.
Immediately after breakfast we started. A big crowd cheered us as the
aeroplane rose. As we circled around over the crowd, I could see Miss
Edith’s handkerchief waving us a farewell.
We sailed along the coast from the Causeway towards Ballycastle, 13
miles away. It was as fine a coast as I have ever seen, excepting
along County Clare. We passed over several old ruins, and saw the
famous Carrick-a-Rede Bridge. Carrick-a-Rede, which means the Rock in
the Track, is a gigantic rock, separated from the mainland by a deep
channel, sixty feet wide. Fishermen use the rock from March to October,
and a bridge has been constructed of cables between the rock and the
mainland. This swinging bridge is fully 80 feet above the water. As
you cross it, the bridge bends and sways, but the natives cross it
continually, often carrying heavy burdens.
We flew over Ballycastle, a clean-looking little fishing village,
making great excitement amongst the villagers. It was nine o’clock when
we sailed over the town. There is coal in this vicinity, but it has
been properly worked.
In the distance we could see Fair Head towering over the Sea. Near Fair
Head is Torr Head, which is only twelve and a half miles from the coast
of Scotland. This is the shortest distance between the two countries.
We could see the Mull of Cantyre very clearly.
After passing Ballycastle, we flew over a surprisingly beautiful region
around Cushendal. Mike was now taking more interest in the Irish
scenery and I remarked that he had just begun to appreciate the beauty
of Ireland. We found Glen Ariff bathed in sunshine, its innumerable
waterfalls glistening in the light of the sunbeams. This is a place of
rare beauty. As we passed Larne we could see the excited inhabitants
climbing on the walls and roofs to get a better view of the monster
bird, as our airship looked to be from land.
Larne has a good harbor protected by a curious, curving headland. Mail
steamers leave here for Stranraer across the channel, thirty-nine
miles. The crossing is made in two hours. This is the shortest crossing
between Ireland and Scotland. There is talk of running an underground
railway over to Scotland from somewhere near here.
It was at Larne that Edward Bruce, a brother of the famed Robert Bruce
of Scotland, landed in 1315, in an ill-fated expedition which he made
to Ireland.
A little later we came to Carrickfergus, where Andrew Jackson’s father
used to live. It is ten miles from Belfast, and in former years was a
place of greater importance than its neighbor.
There is an old castle at Carrickfergus, built in 1178, which still
defies the ravages of time. It is built on a huge rock, projecting
thirty feet out of Belfast Lough, and is a splendid example of a
Norman fortress. There are walls in the ruins ninety feet high and nine
feet thick.
William III. landed at Carrickfergus in 1690, on his way to the Battle
of the Boyne.
We could now see the smoke of Belfast, the Chicago of Ireland.
Overlooking it is Cave Hill, a lofty mound, back of the city. As we
swept over this great metropolis, we rose to a height of 400 feet, so
as to get the best possible view of the busy hive of industry. Tall
chimneys sent out smoke. Huge shipyards covered acres and acres, houses
extended almost as far as the eye could reach. Church spires pierced
the sky in every direction.
As I looked down on Belfast that summer morning, it looked like a model
city. Its magnificent business streets, and noble city hall, are in
keeping with its fame and enterprise.
Passing directly over it, Mike brought the aeroplane to the ground on a
level place near the foot of Cave Hill.