The mechanical air ship had, by this time, as may be inferred, begun
seriously to occupy the attention of both theoretical and practical
aeronauts. One of the earliest machines deserving of special mention was
designed by M. Giffard, and consisted of an elongated balloon, 104 feet
in length and 39 feet in greatest diameter, furnished with a triangular
rudder, and a steam engine operating a screw. The fire of the engine,
which burned coke, was skilfully protected, and the fuel and water
required were taken into calculation as so much ballast to be gradually
expended. In this vessel, inflated only with coal gas, and somewhat
unmanageable and difficult to balance, the enthusiastic inventor
ascended alone from the Hippodrome and executed sundry desired
movements, not unsuccessfully. But the trial was not of long duration,
and the descent proved both rapid and perilous. Had the trial been made
in such a perfect calm as that which prevailed when certain subsequent
inventions were tested, it was considered that M. Giffard's vessel
would have been as navigable as a boat in the water. This unrivalled
mechanician, after having made great advances in the direction of high
speed engines of sufficient lightness, proceeded to design a vastly
improved dirigible balloon, when his endeavours were frustrated by
blindness.
As has been already stated, M. Dupuy de Lome, at the end of the siege of
Paris, was engaged in building a navigable balloon, which, owing to the
unsettled state of affairs in France, did not receive its trial till two
years later. This balloon, which was inflated with pure hydrogen, was
of greater capacity than that of M. Giffard, being cigar shaped and
measuring 118 feet by 48 feet. It was also provided with an ingenious
arrangement consisting of an internal air bag, capable of being either
inflated or discharged, for the purpose of keeping the principal
envelope always distended, and thus offering the least possible
resistance to the wind. The propelling power was the manual labour of
eight men working the screw, and the steerage was provided for by a
triangular rudder. The trial, which was carried out without mishap, took
place in February, 1872, in the Fort of Vincennes, under the personal
direction of the inventor, when it was found that the vessel readily
obeyed the helm, and was capable of a speed exceeding six miles an hour.
It was not till nine years after this that the next important trial with
air ships was made. The brothers Tissandier will then be found taking
the lead, and an appalling incident in the aeronautical career of one of
these has now to be recorded.
In the spring of 1875, and with the co-operation of French scientific
societies, it was determined to make two experimental voyages in a
balloon called the "Zenith," one of these to be of long duration,
the other of great height. The first of these had been successfully
accomplished in a flight of twenty-four hours' duration from Paris to
Bordeaux. It was now April the 15th, and the lofty flight was embarked
upon by M. Gaston Tissandier, accompanied by MM. Croce-Spinelli and
Sivel. Under competent advice, provision for respiration on emergency
was provided in three small balloons, filled with a mixture of air and
oxygen, and fitted with indiarubber hose pipes, which would allow the
mixture, when inhaled, to pass first through a wash bottle containing
aromatic fluid. The experiments determined on included an analysis of
the proportion of carbonic acid gas at different heights by means
of special apparatus; spectroscopic observations, and the readings
registered by certain barometers and thermometers. A novel and valuable
experiment, also arranged, was that of testing the internal temperature
of the balloon as compared with that of the external air.
Ascending at 11.30 a.m. under a warm sun, the balloon had by 1 p.m.
reached an altitude of 16,000 feet, when the external air was at
freezing point, the gas high in the balloon being 72 degrees, and at the
centre 66 degrees. Ere this height had been fully reached, however,
the voyagers had begun to breathe oxygen. At 11.57, an hour previously,
Spinelli had written in his notebook, "Slight pain in the ears--somewhat
oppressed--it is the gas." At 23,000 feet Sivel wrote in his notebook,
"I am inhaling oxygen--the effect is excellent," after which he
proceeded to urge the balloon higher by a discharge of ballast. The
rest of the terrible narrative has now to be taken from the notes of M.
Tissandier, and as these constitute one of the most thrilling narratives
in aeronautical records we transcribe them nearly in full, as given by
Mr. Glaisher:--
"At 23,000 feet we were standing up in the car. Sivel, who had given up
for a moment, is re-invigorated. Croce-Spinelli is motionless in front
of me.... I felt stupefied and frozen. I wished to put on my fur gloves,
but, without being conscious of it, the action of taking them from my
pocket necessitated an effort that I could no longer make.... I copy,
verbatim, the following lines which were written by me, although I have
no very distinct remembrance of doing so. They are traced in a hardly
legible manner by a hand trembling with cold: 'My hands are frozen. I am
all right. We are all all right. Fog in the horizon, with little rounded
cirrus. We are ascending. Croce pants; he inhales oxygen. Sivel
closes his eyes. Croce also closes his eyes.... Sivel throws out
ballast'--these last words are hardly readable. Sivel seized his knife
and cut successively three cords, and the three bags emptied themselves
and we ascended rapidly. The last remembrance of this ascent which
remains clear to me relates to a moment earlier. Croce-Spinelli was
seated, holding in one hand a wash bottle of oxygen gas. His head was
slightly inclined and he seemed oppressed. I had still strength to tap
the aneroid barometer to facilitate the movement of the needle. Sivel
had just raised his hand towards the sky. As for myself, I remained
perfectly still, without suspecting that I had, perhaps, already lost
the power of moving. About the height of 25,000 feet the condition of
stupefaction which ensues is extraordinary. The mind and body weaken by
degrees, and imperceptibly, without consciousness of it. No suffering
is then experienced; on the contrary, an inner joy is felt like
an irradiation from the surrounding flood of light. One becomes
indifferent. One thinks no more of the perilous position or of danger.
One ascends, and is happy to ascend. The vertigo of the upper regions
is not an idle word; but, so far as I can judge from my personal
impression, vertigo appears at the last moment; it immediately precedes
annihilation, sudden, unexpected, and irresistible.
"When Sivel cut away the bags of ballast at the height of about 24,000
feet, I seemed to remember that he was sitting at the bottom of the car,
and nearly in the same position as Croce-Spinelli. For my part, I was in
the angle of the car, thanks to which support I was able to hold up; but
I soon felt too weak even to turn my head to look at my companions. Soon
I wished to take hold of the tube of oxygen, but it was impossible
to raise my arm. My mind, nevertheless, was quite clear. I wished to
explain, 'We are 8,000 metres high'; but my tongue was, as it were,
paralysed. All at once I closed my eyes, and, sinking down inert, became
insensible. This was about 1.30 p.m. At 2.8 p.m. I awoke for a moment,
and found the balloon rapidly descending. I was able to cut away a bag
of ballast to check the speed and write in my notebook the following
lines, which I copy:
"'We are descending. Temperature, 3 degrees. I throw out ballast.
Barometer, 12.4 inches. We are descending. Sivel and Croce still in a
fainting state at the bottom of the car. Descending very rapidly.'
"Hardly had I written these lines when a kind of trembling seized me,
and I fell back weakened again. There was a violent wind from below,
upwards, denoting a very rapid descent. After some minutes I felt myself
shaken by the arm, and I recognised Croce, who had revived. 'Throw out
ballast,' he said to me, 'we are descending '; but I could hardly open
my eyes, and did not see whether Sivel was awake. I called to mind that
Croce unfastened the aspirator, which he then threw overboard, and then
he threw out ballast, rugs, etc.
"All this is an extremely confused remembrance, quickly extinguished,
for again I fell back inert more completely than before, and it seemed
to me that I was dying. What happened? It is certain that the balloon,
relieved of a great weight of ballast, at once ascended to the higher
regions.
"At 3.30 p.m. I opened my eyes again. I felt dreadfully giddy and
oppressed, but gradually came to myself. The balloon was descending
with frightful speed and making great oscillations. I crept along on
my knees, and I pulled Sivel and Croce by the arm. 'Sivel! Croce!' I
exclaimed, 'Wake up!' My two companions were huddled up motionless
in the car, covered by their cloaks. I collected all my strength, and
endeavoured to raise them up. Sivel's face was black, his eyes dull, and
his mouth was open and full of blood. Croce's eyes were half closed and
his mouth was bloody.
"To relate what happened afterwards is quite impossible. I felt a
frightful wind; we were still 9,700 feet high. There remained in the car
two bags of ballast, which I threw out. I was drawing near the earth.
I looked for my knife to cut the small rope which held the anchor, but
could not find it. I was like a madman, and continued to call 'Sivel!
Sivel!' By good fortune I was able to put my hand upon my knife and
detach the anchor at the right moment. The shock on coming to the
ground was dreadful. The balloon seemed as if it were being flattened.
I thought it was going to remain where it had fallen, but the wind was
high, and it was dragged across fields, the anchor not catching. The
bodies of my unfortunate friends were shaken about in the car, and I
thought every moment they would be jerked out. At length, however, I
seized the valve line, and the gas soon escaped from the balloon, which
lodged against a tree. It was then four o'clock. On stepping out, I was
seized with a feverish attack, and sank down and thought for a moment
that I was going to join my friends in the next world; but I came to.
I found the bodies of my friends cold and stiff. I had them put under
shelter in an adjacent barn. The descent of the 'Zenith' took place in
the plains 155 miles from Paris as the crow flies. The greatest height
attained in this ascent is estimated at 28,000 feet."
It was in 1884 that the brothers Tissandier commenced experiments with
a screw-propelled air ship resembling in shape those constructed by
Giffard and Dupuy de Lome, but smaller, measuring only 91 feet by
30 feet, and operated by an electric motor placed in circuit with a
powerful battery of bichromate cells. Two trials were made with this
vessel in October, 1883, and again in the following September, when it
proved itself capable of holding its course in calm air and of being
readily controlled by the rudder.
But, ere this, a number of somewhat similar experiments, on behalf of
the French Government, had been entered upon by Captains Renard and
Krebs at Chalais-Meudon. Their balloon may be described as fish-shaped,
165 feet long, and 27.5 feet in principal diameter. It was operated
by an electric motor, which was capable of driving a screw of large
dimensions at forty-eight revolutions per minute. At its first trial, in
August, 1884, in dead calm, it attained a velocity of over twelve miles
per hour, travelling some two and a half miles in a forward direction,
when, by application of the rudder and judicious management, it was
manoeuvred homewards, and practically brought to earth at the point of
departure.
A more important trial was made on the 12th of the following month, and
was witnessed by M. Tissandier, according to whom the aerostat conveying
the inventors ascended gently and steadily, drifting with an appreciable
breeze until the screw was set in motion and the helm put down, when the
vessel was brought round to the wind and held its own until the motor,
by an accident, ceased working. A little later the same air ship met
with more signal success. On one occasion, starting from Chalais-Meudon,
it took a direct course to the N.E., crossing the railway and the Seine,
where the aeronauts, stopping the screw, ascertained the velocity of the
wind to be approximately five miles an hour. The screw being again put
in motion, the balloon was steered to the right, and, following a path
parallel to its first, returned to its point of departure. Starting
again the same afternoon, it was caused to perform a variety of aerial
evolutions, and after thirty-five minutes returned once more to its
starting place.
A tabular comparison of the four navigable balloons which we have now
described has been given as follows:--
Date. Name. Motor. Vel. p. Sec.
1852 M. Henri Giffard Steam engine 13.12 ft.
1872 M. Dupuy de Lome Muscular force 9.18 ft.
1883 MM. Tissandier Electric motor 9.84 ft.
1884 MM. Renard & Krebs Electric motor 18.04 ft.
About this period, that is in 1883, and really prior to the Meudon
experiments, there were other attempts at aerial locomotion not to be
altogether passed over, which were made also in France, but financed by
English money. The experiments were performed by Mr. F. A. Gower, who,
writing to Professor Tyndall, claims to have succeeded in "driving a
large balloon fairly against the wind by steam power." A melancholy
interest will always belong to these trials from the fact that Mr. Gower
was subsequently blown out to sea with his balloon, leaving no trace
behind.
At this stage it will be well to glance at some of the more important
theories which were being mooted as to the possibility of aerial
locomotion properly so called. Broadly, there were two rival schools
at this time. We will call them the "lighter-than-air-ites" and the
"heavier-than-air-ites," respectively. The former were the advocates
of the air vessel of which the balloon is a type. The latter school
maintained that, as birds are heavier than air, so the air locomotive
of the future would be a machine itself heavier than air, but capable
of being navigated by a motor yet to be discovered, which would develop
proportionate power. Sir H. Maxim's words may be aptly quoted here. "In
all Nature," he says, "we do not find a single balloon. All Nature's
flying machines are heavier than the air, and depend altogether upon the
development of dynamic energy."
The faculty of soaring, possessed by many birds, of which the albatross
may be considered a type, led to numerous speculations as to what would
constitute the ideal principle of the air motor. Sir G. Cayley, as
far back as 1809, wrote a classical article on this subject, without,
however, adding much to its elucidation. Others after his time conceived
that the bird, by sheer habit and practice, could perform, as it were,
a trick in balancing by making use of the complex air streams varying in
speed and direction that were supposed to intermingle above.
Mr. R. A. Proctor discusses the matter with his usual clear-sightedness.
He premises that the bird may, in actual fact, only poise itself
for some ten minutes--an interval which many will consider far too
small--without flap of the wings, and, while contending that the problem
must be simply a mechanical one, is ready to admit that "the sustaining
power of the air on bodies of a particular form travelling swiftly
through it may be much greater or very different in character from what
is supposed." In his opinion, it is a fact that a flat body travelling
swiftly and horizontally will sink towards the ground much more slowly
than a similar body moving similarly but with less speed. In proof of
this he gives the homely illustration of a flat stone caused to make
"ducks and drakes." Thus he contends that the bird accomplishes its
floating feat simply by occasional powerful propulsive efforts, combined
with perfect balance. From which he deduces the corollary that "if ever
the art of flying, or rather of making flying machines, is attained
by man, it will be by combining rapid motion with the power of perfect
balancing."
It will now appear as a natural and certain consequence that a feature
to be introduced by experimentalists into flying machines should be
the "Aeroplane," or, in other words, a plane which, at a desired angle,
should be driven at speed through the air. Most notable attempts with
this expedient were now shortly made by Hiram Maxim, Langley, and
others.
But, contemporaneously with these attempts, certain feats with the rival
aerostat--the balloon--were accomplished, which will be most fittingly
told in this place.
CHAPTER XX. A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.
It will have been gathered from what has been already stated that the
balloonist is commonly in much uncertainty as to his precise course when
he is above the clouds, or when unable from darkness to see the earth
beneath him. With a view of overcoming this disadvantage some original
experiments were suggested by a distinguished officer, who during the
seventies had begun to interest himself in aeronautics.
This was Captain Burnaby. His method was to employ two small silk
parachutes, which, if required, might carry burning magnesium wires, and
which were to be attached to each other by a length of silk thread.
On dropping one parachute, it would first partake of the motion of the
balloon, but would presently drop below, when the second parachute would
be dismissed, and then an imaginary line drawn between the two bodies
was supposed to betray the balloon's course. It should be mentioned,
however, that if a careful study is made of the course of many
descending parachutes it will be found that their behaviour is too
uncertain to be relied upon for such a purpose as the above. They will
often float behind the balloon's wake, but sometimes again will be found
in front, and sometimes striking off in some side direction, so wayward
and complex are the currents which control such small bodies. Mr.
Glaisher has stated that a balloon's course above the clouds may be
detected by observing the grapnel, supposed to be hanging below the car,
as this would be seen to be out of the vertical as the balloon drifted,
and thus serve to indicate the course. However this may be, the most
experienced sky sailors will be found to be in perplexity as to their
direction, as also their speed, when view of the earth is obscured.
But Captain Burnaby is associated notably with the adventurous side of
ballooning, the most famous of his aerial exploits being, perhaps, that
of crossing the English Channel alone from Dover on March 23rd, 1882.
Outwardly, he made presence of sailing to Paris by sky to dine there
that evening; inwardly, he had determined to start simply with a wind
which bid fair for a cross-Channel trip, and to take whatever chances it
might bring him.
Thus, at 10.30 a.m., just as the mail packet left the pier, he cast
off with a lifting power which rapidly carried him to a height of 2,000
feet, when he found his course to be towards Folkestone. But by shortly
after 11 o'clock he had decided that he was changing his direction,
and when, as he judged, some seven miles from Boulogne, the wind was
carrying him not across, but down the Channel. Then, for nearly four
hours, the balloon shifted about with no improvement in the outlook,
after which the wind fell calm, and the balloon remained motionless at
2,000 feet above the sea. This state of things continuing for an hour,
the Captain resolved on the heroic expedient of casting out all his
ballast and philosophically abiding the issue. The manoeuvre turned
out a happy one, for the balloon, shooting up to 11,000 feet, caught a
current, on which it was rapidly carried towards and over the main land;
and, when twelve miles beyond Dieppe, it became easy to descend to
a lower level by manipulation of the valve, and finally to make a
successful landing in open country beyond.
A few years before, an attempt to cross the Channel from the other side
ended far more disastrously. Jules Duruof, already mentioned as having
piloted the first runaway balloon from beleaguered Paris, had
determined on an attempt to cross over to England from Calais; and, duly
advertising the event, a large concourse assembled on the day announced,
clamouring loudly for the ascent. But the wind proved unsuitable,
setting out over the North Sea, and the mayor thought fit to interfere,
and had the car removed so as to prevent proceedings. On this the
crowd grew impatient, and Duruof, determining to keep faith with them,
succeeded by an artifice in regaining his car, which he hastily carried
back to the balloon, and immediately taking his seat, and accompanied
by his wife, the intrepid pair commenced their bold flight just as the
shades of evening were settling down. Shortly the balloon disappeared
into the gathering darkness, and then for three days Calais knew no more
of balloon or balloonists.
Neither could the voyagers see aught for certain of their own course,
and thus through the long night hours their attention was wholly needed,
without chance of sleep, in closely watching their situation, lest
unawares they should be borne down on the waves. When morning broke
they discovered that they were still being carried out over the sea on
a furious gale, being apparently off the Danish coast, with the distant
mountains of Norway dimly visible on the starboard bow. It was at this
point, and possibly owing to the chill commonly experienced aloft soon
after dawn, that the balloon suddenly took a downward course and plunged
into the sea, happily, however, fairly in the track of vessels. Presently
a ship came in sight, but cruelly kept on its course, leaving the
castaways in despair, with their car fast succumbing to the waves.
Help, nevertheless, was really at hand. The captain of an English
fishing smack, the Grand Charge, had sighted the sinking balloon, and
was already bearing down to the rescue. It is said that when, at length,
a boat came alongside as near as it was possible, Madame Duruof was
unable to make the necessary effort to jump on board, and her husband
had to throw her into the arms of the sailors. A fitting sequel to the
story comes from Paris, where the heroic couple, after a sojourn in
England, were given a splendid reception and a purse of money, with
which M. Duruof forthwith constructed a new balloon, named the "Ville de
Calais."
On the 4th of March, 1882, the ardent amateur balloonist, Mr. Simmons,
had a narrow escape in circumstances somewhat similar to the above. He
was attempting, in company with Colonel Brine, to cross the Channel from
Canterbury, when a change of wind carried them out towards the North
Sea. Falling in the water, they abandoned their balloon, but were
rescued by the mail packet Foam.
The same amateur aeronaut met with an exciting experience not long
after, when in company with Sir Claude C. de Crespigny. The two
adventurers left Maldon, in Essex, at 11 p.m., on an August night, and,
sailing at a great height out to sea, lost all sight of land till 6
a.m. the next morning, when, at 17,000 feet altitude, they sighted the
opposite coast and descended in safety near Flushing.
Yet another adventure at sea, and one which proved fatal and unspeakably
regrettable, occurred about this time, namely, on the 10th of December,
1881, when Captain Templer, Mr. W. Powell, M.P., and Mr. Agg-Gardner
ascended from Bath. We prefer to give the account as it appears in a
leading article in the Times for December 13th of that year.
After sailing over Glastonbury, "Crewkerne was presently sighted, then
Beaminster. The roar of the sea gave the next indication of the locality
to which the balloon had drifted and the first hint of the possible
perils of the voyage. A descent was now effected to within a few hundred
feet of earth, and an endeavour was made to ascertain the exact position
they had reached. The course taken by the balloon between Beaminster and
the sea is not stated in Captain Templer's letter. The wind, as far as
we can gather, must have shifted, or different currents of air must have
been found at the different altitudes. What Captain Templer says is that
they coasted along to Symonsbury, passing, it would seem, in an easterly
direction and keeping still very near to the earth. Soon after they had
left Symonsbury, Captain Templer shouted to a man below to tell them how
far they were from Bridport, and he received for answer that Bridport
was about a mile off. The pace at which the balloon was moving had now
increased to thirty-five miles an hour. The sea was dangerously close,
and a few minutes in a southerly current of air would have been enough
to carry them over it. They seem, however, to have been confident in
their own powers of management. They threw out ballast, and rose to
a height of 1,500 feet, and thence came down again only just in time,
touching the ground at a distance of about 150 yards from the cliff. The
balloon here dragged for a few feet, and Captain Templer, who had been
letting off the gas, rolled out of the car, still holding the valve line
in his hand. This was the last chance of a safe escape for anybody.
The balloon, with its weight lightened, went up about eight feet. Mr.
Agg-Gardner dropped out and broke his leg. Mr. Powell now remained as
the sole occupant of the car. Captain Templer, who had still hold of the
rope, shouted to Mr. Powell to come down the line. This he attempted
to do, but in a few seconds, and before he could commence his perilous
descent, the line was torn out of Captain Templer's hands. All
communication with the earth was cut off, and the balloon rose rapidly,
taking Mr. Powell with it in a south-easterly direction out to sea."
It was a few seasons previous to this, namely, on the 8th of July, 1874,
when Mr. Simmons was concerned in a balloon fatality of a peculiarly
distressing nature. A Belgian, Vincent de Groof, styling himself the
"Flying Man," announced his intention of descending in a parachute
from a balloon piloted by Mr. Simmons, who was to start from Cremorne
Gardens. The balloon duly ascended, with De Groof in his machine
suspended below, and when over St. Luke's Church, and at a height
estimated at 80 feet, it is thought that the unfortunate man
overbalanced himself after detaching his apparatus, and fell forward,
clinging to the ropes. The machine failed to open, and De Groof was
precipitated into Robert Street, Chelsea, expiring almost immediately.
The porter of Chelsea Infirmary, who was watching the balloon, asserted
that he fancied the falling man called out twice, "Drop into the
churchyard; look out!" Mr. Simmons, shooting upwards in his balloon,
thus suddenly lightened, to a great height, became insensible, and when
he recovered consciousness found himself over Victoria Park. He made a
descent, without mishap, on a line of railway in Essex.
On the 19th of August, 1887, occurred an important total eclipse of the
sun, the track of which lay across Germany, Russia, Western Siberia, and
Japan. At all suitable stations along the shadow track astronomers from
all parts of the world established themselves; but at many eclipses
observers had had bad fortune owing to the phenomenon at the critical
moment being obscured. And on this account one astronomer determined
on measures which should render his chances of a clear view a practical
certainty. Professor Mendeleef, in Russia, resolved to engage a balloon,
and by rising above the cloud barrier, should there be one, to have the
eclipse all to himself. It was an example of fine enthusiasm, which,
moreover, was presently put to a severe and unexpected test, for the
balloon, when inflated, proved unable to take up both the aeronaut and
the astronomer, whereupon the latter, though wholly inexperienced, had
no alternative but to ascend alone, which, either by accident or choice,
he actually did. Shooting up into space, he soon reached an altitude
of 11,500 feet, where he obtained, even if he did not enjoy, an
unobstructed view of the Corona. It may be supposed, however, that,
owing to the novelty of his situation, his scientific observations may
not have been so complete as they would have been on terra firma.
In the same month an attempt to reach a record height was made by MM.
Jovis and Mallet at Paris, with the net result that an elevation of
23,000 feet was reached. It will have been noted that the difficulty
through physical exhaustion of inhaling oxygen from either a bag or
cylinder is a serious matter not easily overcome, and it has been
suggested that the helmet invented by M. Fleuss might prove of value.
This contrivance, which has scarcely attracted the attention it has
merited, provides a receptacle for respiration, containing oxygen and
certain purifying media, by means of which the inventor was able to
remain for hours under water without any communication with the outward
air.
About the period at which we have now arrived two fatal accidents befel
English aeronauts. We have related how Maldon, in Essex, was associated
with one of the more adventurous exploits in Mr. Simmons's career. It
was fated also to be associated with the voyage with which his career
closed. On August 27th, 1888, he ascended from Olympia in company with
Mr. Field, of West Brighton, and Mr. Myers, of the Natural History
Museum, with the intention, if practicable, of crossing to Flanders;
and the voyage proceeded happily until the neighbourhood of Maldon was
reached, when, as the sea coast was in sight, and it was already past
five o'clock, it appeared prudent to Mr. Simmons to descend and moor
the balloon for the night. Some labourers some three miles from Maldon
sighted the balloon coming up at speed, and at the same time descending
until its grapnel commenced tearing through a field of barley, when
ballast was thrown out, causing the balloon to rise again towards
and over some tall elms, which became the cause of the disaster which
followed. The grapnel, catching in the upper boughs of one of these
trees, held fast, while the balloon, borne by the force of a strong
wind, was repeatedly blown down to earth with violence, rebounding each
time to a considerable height, only to be flung down again on the same
spot. After three or four impacts the balloon is reported to have burst
with a loud noise, when high in the air, the silk being blown about over
the field, and the car and its occupants dashed to the ground. Help
was unavailing till this final catastrophe, and when, at length, the
labourers were able to extricate the party, Mr. Simmons was found with a
fractured skull and both companions badly injured.
Four summers later, June 30th, 1892, Captain Dale, the aeronaut to the
Crystal Palace, was announced to make an ascent from the usual balloon
grounds, weather permitting. Through the night and morning a violent
storm prevailed, and it was contemplated that the exhibition would be
withdrawn; but the wind abating in the afternoon, the inflation was
proceeded with, and the ascent took place shortly before 6 p.m., not,
however, before a large rent had been discovered and repaired as far as
possible by Mrs. Dale. As passengers, there ascended the Captain's son
William, aged nineteen, Mr. J. Macintosh, and Mr. Cecil Shadbolt. When
the balloon had reached an altitude estimated at 600 feet the onlookers
were horrified to see it suddenly collapse, a large rent having
developed near the top part of the silk, from which the gas "rushed out
in a dense mass, allowing the balloon to fall like a rag." The occupants
of the car were seen to be throwing out everything madly, even wrenching
the buttons from their clothing. All, however, with little avail, for
the balloon fell "with a sickening thud," midway between the Maze and
lower lake. All were found alive; but Captain Dale, who had alighted on
his back, died in a few minutes; Mr. Shadbolt succumbed later, and both
remaining passengers sustained terrible injuries.
Few balloon mishaps, unattended with fatal results, have proved more
exciting than the following. A large party had ascended from Belfast, in
a monster balloon, under the guidance of Mr. Coxwell, on a day which was
very unfit for the purpose by reason of stormy weather. A more serious
trouble than the wind, however, lay in several of the passengers
themselves, who seem to have been highly excitable Irishmen, incapable
at the critical moment of quietly obeying orders.
The principal hero of the story, a German. Mr. Runge, in writing
afterwards to the Ulster Observer, entirely exonerates Mr. Coxwell
from any blame, attributing his mischances solely to the reprehensible
conduct of his companions. On approaching the ground, Mr. Coxwell gave
clear instructions. The passengers were to sit down in an unconstrained
position facing each other, and be prepared for some heavy shocks. Above
all things they were to be careful to get out one by one, and on no
account to leave hold of the car. Many of the passengers, however,
refused to sit down, and, according to Mr. Runge, "behaved in the
wildest manner, losing completely their self-control. Seizing the valve
rope themselves, they tore it away from its attachment, the stronger
pushing back the weaker, and refusing to lend help when they had got
out. In consequence of this the car, relieved of their weight, tore away
from the grasp of Mr. Coxwell and those who still clung to it, and rose
above the trees, with Mr. Runge and one other passenger, Mr. Halferty,
alone within. As the balloon came earthwards again, they shouted to the
countrymen for succour, but without the slightest avail, and presently,
the anchor catching, the car struck the earth with a shock which threw
Mr. Halferty out on the ground, leaving Mr. Runge to rise again into the
air, this time alone." He thus continues the story:--
"The balloon moved on, very soon, in a horizontal direction straight
towards the sea, which we were then rapidly nearing. Coming to a farm,
I shouted out to the people standing there. Some women, with their quick
humane instincts, were the first to perceive my danger, and exhorted the
men to hurry to my assistance, they themselves running as fast as they
could to tender what little help they might be able to give me. The
anchor stuck in a willow tree. I shouted out to the people below to
secure the cable and anchor by ropes, which they did. The evening was
now beautifully still, the breeze had died away, and the balloon was
swinging calmly at her moorings above the farmhouse. One of the men
asked me whether I had a rope with me, and how I intended to get out.
I told them only to take care of the cable, because the balloon would
settle down by herself before long. I was congratulating myself on a
speedy escape from my dangerous position. I had not counted on the wind.
A breeze in about six or eight minutes sprang up, tossed the balloon
about like a large sail, then a crash, and--the anchor was loose again.
It tore through the trees, flinging limbs and branches about like
matches. It struck the roof of the farmhouse, splintering the chimneys
and tiles like glass.
"On I went; I came near another farm; shouted out for help, and told
the men to secure the anchor to the foot of a large tree close by. The
anchor was soon made fast, but this was only a momentary relief. The
breeze again filled the half-empty balloon like a sail, there was a
severe strain on the cable, then a dull sound, and a severe concussion
of the basket--the cable, strange fatality, had broken, and the anchor,
my last and only hope, was gone. I was now carried on in a straight
direction towards the sea, which was but a short distance ahead. The
anchor being lost I gave up all hope. I sat down resigned in the car,
and prepared for the end. All at once I discovered that a side current
was drifting me towards the mountain; the car struck the ground, and was
dashing along at a fearful rate, knocking down stone fences and breaking
everything it came in contact with in its wild career. By-and-by the
knocks became less frequent. We were passing over a cultivated country,
and the car was, as it were skimming the surface and grazing the top of
the hedges. I saw a thick hawthorn hedge at some distance before me,
and the balloon rapidly sweeping towards it. That was my only chance. I
rushed to the edge of the car and flung myself down upon the hedge."