Lieutenant Brown
Lieutenant Brown’s mother was a member of the Whitten family of Pittsburgh, and his grandfather fought with the famous Hampden’s Battery at Gettysburg. Brown himself has lived in Pittsburgh, where he went to continue the studies at the Westinghouse works that had begun in the works in England.
He enlisted in the university and public school corps in 1914, and in 1915 took his wings. Most of his service was as an observer and reconnaissance officer. One time the machine in which he flew as an observer was shot down in flames. He says of that experience that he “was burned a bit,” but was glad enough to escape capture. The machine he was in crashed. He passed nine months in a German hospital and fourteen more months in a German prison-camp, and then was repatriated by exchange. He spent the latter days of the war period in productions work for the Ministry of Munitions.
Lieutenant Brown has never been a navigator in any but an amateur way. Navigation with him is simply a hobby, and on his frequent crossings of the Atlantic, he says, he never failed to persuade the captain of his ship to allow him on the bridge to take a shot at the sun.
The flight across the Atlantic, Brown said, would be his last, for he is engaged to be married to Miss Kennedy, the daughter of a major of the Royal Air Force, and they are planning to pass their honeymoon (and hisshare of the prize-money) on a trip around the world. After that they are coming to America, and Lieutenant Brown plans to engage in the practice of electrical engineering.
“Vimy” Designed to Bomb Enemy Towns
The twin-engined Vickers-Vimy plane in which the English pilot and his American navigator crossed to Ireland has a 67-foot 2-inch wing spread. The length over all is 42 feet 8 inches; gap, 10 feet; chord, 10 feet 6 inches. It is a bombing-type plane, and its conversion to a peace-time adventure was accomplished by replacing the fighting equipment with tanks of a total gasoline capacity of 870 gallons, weighing more than 6,000 pounds.
The two Rolls-Royce Eagle 375 horse-power engines are mounted between the upper and lower planes on either side of the fuselage.
The outstanding feature of the Vimy is the strength and elasticity of its construction, accomplished by the use of hollow, seamless steel tubing. This type of construction extends from the nose to well behind the planes.
The Vimy has a sturdy double under-carriage, with a two-wheeled chassis placed directly under each engine. Fully loaded the craft weighs a trifle more than 13,000 pounds. Even distribution of eight separate tanks and a cleverly arranged feeding system whereby the fuel is consumed at the same rate from all eight not only insured a well-balanced plane but promisedan “even keel” had the fliers been forced down on the surface of the ocean.
A gravity-tank at the top of the fuselage was arranged to be emptied first, so it could serve as a life-raft any time after the first two hours of the flight, which period was necessary to exhaust the load of gasoline contained in that tank.
The Vimy’s radio apparatus is the standard type used by the Royal Air Force, and was lent to Alcock by the British Air Ministry. It is similar to that carried by Hawker’s Sopwith. The transmitting radius of this type of radio is placed at 250 miles. Messages can be received from a much greater distance.
Vimy Flight Sets New World’s Distance Record
The 1,690-mile flight of the Vickers “Vimy” Bomber, carrying Alcock and Brown, establishes a new world’s record, breaking the one made by Captain Boehm in a Mercedes-driven Albatross plane, which flew for 25 hours and 1 minute and covered 1,350 miles.
The year 1914, just previous to the war, was the most prolific in long-distance flights. On June 23 the German aviator Basser covered 1,200 miles in a Rumpler biplane in 16 hours and 28 minutes.
The same day Landsmann, another German, drove an Albatross machine 1,100 miles in 17 hours and 17 minutes, and four days later 1,200 miles in 21 hours and 49 minutes.
The nearest approach to Boehm’s record was made on April 25 last, when Lieutenant-Commander H. B.Grow, U. S. N., flew a twin-engine F-5-L flying-boat a total distance of 1,250 miles in 20 hours and 20 minutes.
Lieutenant-Commander A. C. Read, in his hop on the NC-3 from Trepassey Bay to Horta in the Azores, broke no distance records in the 1,200 nautical miles he flew, but shattered the record for speed, making an average of 103.5 miles an hour.
The French pre-war record was on April 27, 1914, by Paulet, who flew 950 miles in 16 hours and 28 minutes. Since the war the French aviators Coli and Roget flew from Villacoublay, near Paris, to Rabat, Morocco, a distance of 1,116 miles without stopping. The engine was a 300 horse-power Renault, and constitutes the longest single-motor non-stop flight on record. Miss Ruth Law holds the record for long-distance flight by a woman. On November 19, 1916, she covered the 590 miles from Chicago to Hornell, N. Y., in 5 hours and 45 minutes.
THE FIRST TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHT OF THE R-34
After a flight of 108 hours, the British dirigible which left Scotland at 2A. M.July 2, arrived at Roosevelt Field, Mineola, Long Island, N. Y., at 9A. M., Sunday, July 6, after a flight via Newfoundland and Halifax. Owing to the strong head winds and fog which prevailed the most of the journey the huge airship was delayed two days in its flight, and there was for some time grave doubt that she would arrive onher own gasoline, for the supply was running low, and the aid of destroyers was requested by wireless from the R-34.
As soon as the airship arrived over Roosevelt Field, Major John Edward Maddock Pritchard landed upon American soil, after a parachute drop of 2,000 feet.
This completed the longest flight in history, the distance covered being 3,200 miles, not counting the mileage forced upon the flyers by adverse winds. The time consumed was a few minutes more than 108 hours. The big airship brought over thirty-one persons, one of whom was a stowaway, and a tortoise-shell cat.
A fortunate turn of the wind at about 2 o’clock Sunday morning made the success of the flight possible. Four times on Friday night and early Saturday morning heavy squalls and thunder-storms had threatened to cripple or smash the flying colossus.
During the worst of the storm on Friday night the big airship was suddenly tossed aloft 500 feet and pitched about like a dory in a heavy sea. For a time there was great danger that a vital part would be smashed and a landing forced on the rough water, but the workmanship and material in every part of the 630-foot air giant proved flawless, and Commander Scott got his craft safely through.
In response to calls for aid 200 men were sent from Mineola to Montauk Point, Long Island, where it was at first hoped the R-34 might be towed by the torpedo-boats sent out to aid the airship. The suddenshift in the wind decided Major Scott to continue the flight to Mineola as originally planned.
At 8.35A. M.the R-34 became visible from Mineola Field, looking at first like a splinter split off from the bluish horizon in the northeast. A thin line of light beneath it made it distinguishable at first at a distance of about twenty miles. Slowly it disengaged itself from the blurring lines where the earth and sky met, and gradually its bulk began to develop. As it approached the field it rose for better observation, and at about 9 o’clock stood out in the sky in its full super-dreadnought proportions, its painted skin responding to the sun, which had become bright a few minutes before, and giving off a dull, metallic gleam between lead and aluminum in tint.
It glided through the air with such smoothness as to give the suggestion that it was motionless and the spectator moving. Like the buzz of a midsummer noontime, the hum of its motors produced no disturbing effect on the quiet.
The ship approached the landing-place at a height of about 2,000 feet, coming from the east-northeast, and passing first over Mitchel Field. It swung around the skirts of Roosevelt Field, while its commanders studied the details of the landing-place. The manœuvres for observation took the dirigible three times around the field before she came to a stop. After 9.11 it shut off its motors, and hovered, like a fixed object, 2,000 feet above the ground.
The time of the R-34 for the transatlantic crossingis slightly greater than the steamship record made by theMauretania, which, in September, 1909, made the trip from Queenstown to New York in 4 days, 10 hours, and 41 minutes. This is better by approximately 2 hours than the time of the dirigible, which took 4 days, 12 hours, and some odd minutes. The R-34, however, starting from Edinburgh, covered a much greater distance. The rate of speed of the R-34 in covering the 3,200 miles was 29⅖ knots per hour.
Airship Landed
The crew sent the cable on and it made a bull’s-eye in the drop, falling squarely over the main anchor. The workmen, who rushed to catch it on the bound, were flung to the ground and rolled about, as if by the lash of a gigantic whip, but they subdued it in a second and rushed with it to the iron ring. An instant later it was dragged through this opening and the gas-bag was secured. A few moments later the crews of men were pinning it down like Gulliver, attaching anchors all along the hull to prepared anchorages of concrete and steel, sunk deeply into the earth.
The British officers, accompanied by their American guest, Lieutenant-Commander Zachary Lansdowne, climbed out of the gondola to receive the official greetings of the government of the United States and the hearty congratulations of brother seamen and flyers in American and British uniforms. Those who expected to find them worn and wan from their unparalleled experience were astonished to see them all inthe finest fettle and spirits, ruddy and vigorous, wide-awake, and full of fun.
The crew followed them to land, on which none had set foot for nearly five days, all the members being in good health and spirits, except one man, who had suffered a smashed thumb, the only accident of the cruise.
THE OFFICIAL LOG OF R-34 TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHT BY BRIGADIER-GENERAL E. M. MAITLAND, C. M. G., D. C. O., REPRESENTING THE BRITISH AIR MINISTRY
Atlantic flight by rigid airship R-34, from East Fortune, Scotland, to Long Island, New York, via Newfoundland:
Distances covered were as follows: East Fortune to Trinity Bay, Newfoundland, 2,050 sea-miles. Trinity Bay, Newfoundland, to New York, 1,080 sea-miles.
It was originally intended that this flight should have taken place at the beginning of June, but owing to the uncertainty of the Germans signing the peace terms the British Admiralty decided to detain her for an extended cruise up the Baltic and along the German coast-line. This flight occupied 56 hours under adverse weather conditions, during which time an air distance of roughly 2,400 miles was covered.
At the conclusion of this flight the ship was taken over from the Admiralty by the Air Ministry, and the airship was quickly overhauled for the journey to the United States of America.
The date and time of sailing decided upon was 2A. M.on the morning of Wednesday, July 2, and the press representatives were notified by the Air Ministry to be at East Fortune the day previously.
Started Ahead of Schedule
At 1.30A. M.on the morning of Wednesday, July 2, the airship was taken from her shed and actually took the air 12 minutes later, thus starting on her long voyage exactly 18 minutes in advance of scheduled time.
1.42A. M., Wednesday, July 2.
The R-34 slowly arose from the hands of the landing party and was completely swallowed up in the low-lying clouds at a height of 100 feet. When flying at night, possibly on account of the darkness, there is always a feeling of loneliness immediately after leaving the ground. The loneliness on this occasion was accentuated by the faint cheers of the landing party coming upward through the mist long after all signs of the earth had disappeared.
The airship rose rapidly 1,500 feet, at which height she emerged from the low-lying clouds and headed straight up the Firth of Forth toward Edinburgh.
A few minutes after 2 o’clock the lights of Rosyth showed up through a break in the clouds, thus proving brilliantly that the correct allowance had been made for the force and direction of the wind, which was twenty miles per hour from the east.
It should be borne in mind that when an airshipgets out on a long-distance voyage carrying her maximum allowance of petrol, she can only rise to a limited height at the outset without throwing some of it overboard as ballast, and that as the airship proceeds on her voyage she can, if so desired, gradually increase her height as the petrol is consumed by the engine.
An airship of this type, when most of her petrol is consumed, can rise to a height of about 14,000 feet.
15.8 Tons of Petrol at Start
For this reason the next few hours were about the most anxious periods during the flight for Major Scott, the captain of the ship, who, owing to the large amount of petrol carried (4,900 gallons, weighing 15.8 tons), had to keep the ship as low as possible and at the same time pass over northern Scotland, where the hills rise to a height of over 3,000 feet.
Owing to the stormy nature of the morning the air at 1,500 feet—the height at which the airship was travelling—was most disturbed and bumpy, due to the wind being broken up by the mountains to the north, causing violent wind-currents and air-pockets.
The most disturbed conditions were met in the mouth of the Clyde, south of Loch Lomond, which, surrounded by high mountains, looked particularly beautiful in the gray dawn light.
The islands at the mouth of the Firth of Clyde were quietly passed. The north coast of Ireland appeared for a time, and shortly afterward faded away as we headed out into the Atlantic.
The various incidents of the voyage are set down quite simply as they occurred, and more or less in the form of a diary. No attempt has been made to write them as a connected story. It is felt that, by recording each incident in this way, most of them trivial, a few of vital importance, a true picture of the voyage will be obtained.
Time, 6A. M., July 2.
Early Speed, 38 Knots
Airship running on four engines with 1,000 revolutions. Forward engine being given a rest. Air speed, 38 knots—land-miles per hour made good, 56.7. Course steered, 298 degrees north, 62 degrees west. Course made good, 39 degrees north, 71 west. Wind, north-east, 15⅓ miles per hour. Height, 1,500 feet. Large banks of fleecy clouds came rolling along from the Atlantic, gradually blotting out all view of the sea. At first we were above these clouds, but gradually they rose higher, and we ploughed our way into the middle of them.
7A. M.—Nothing but dense fog, estimated by Harris, the meteorological officer, to go down to within 50 feet of the water and up to a height of about 5,000 feet.
Suddenly we catch a glimpse of the sea through a hole in the clouds, and it is now easy to see we have a slight drift to the south, which was estimated by both Scott, the captain, and Cooke, the navigating officer.
A few minutes later we find ourselves above the clouds, our height still being 1,500 feet, and beneath a cloud sky with clouds at about 8,000 feet. We are, therefore, in between two layers of clouds, a condition in which Alcock and Brown found themselves on more than one occasion on their recent flight from west to east.
An excellent cloud horizon now presents itself on all sides, of which Cooke at once takes advantage. These observations, if the cloud horizon is quite flat, ought to prove a valuable rough guide, but cannot be regarded as accurate unless one can also obtain a check on the sun by day or the moon and stars by night.
Cooke reckons it is easy to make as much as a fifty-mile error in locating one’s position when using a cloud horizon as substitute for a sea horizon.
Breakfast at 1,500 Feet
7.30A. M.—Breakfast in crew space up in the keel consisted of cold ham, one hard-boiled egg each, bread and butter, and hot tea. We breakfast in two watches, generally about fifteen in each.
The first watch for breakfast was Scott, Cooke, Pritchard, Admiralty airship expert; Lansdowne, Lieutenant-Commander, United States Airship Service; Shotter, engineer officer; Harris, meteorological officer, myself, and half the crew.
Conversation during breakfast reverted to the recent flight up the Baltic, and in the adjoining compartment the graphophone was entertaining the crewsto the latest jazz tunes, such as “The Wild, Wild Women.”
It might be interesting at this stage to give a complete list of the crew, showing their various duties:
Officers
SHIP’S OFFICERS
Warrant Officers and Men
ENGINEERS
RIGGERS
WIRELESS-TELEGRAPH OPERATORS
Corporal Powell.A. C. Edwards.
Air Ministry Sends Greetings
11A. M.—Still ploughing our way through the fog at 1,300 feet. Sea completely hidden by clouds and no visibility whatsoever. Stopped forward and two aft engines, and now running on only two wing engines at 1,600 revolutions. These are giving us an air speed of 30 knots, or 33.6 miles per hour. This is the airship’s most efficient speed, as she only consumes on the two engines twenty-five gallons of petrol per hour.
Wind is east, seven miles per hour, and so we are making good forty miles per hour and resting three engines.
Cooke is now on top of the airship taking observations of the sun, using the cloud horizon with a sextant.The sun is visible to him but not to us, the top of the ship being eighty-five feet above us down here in the fore-central cabin.
Our position is reckoned to be latitude 55 degrees 10 minutes north and longitude 14 degrees 40 minutes west, which is equivalent to 400 miles from our starting-point at East Fortune and 200 miles out in the Atlantic from the northwest coast of Ireland.
We are in wireless touch with East Fortune, Clifden, on the west coast of Ireland, and Ponta Delgada, Azores, and messages wishing us good luck are received from Air Ministry, H. M. S.Queen Elizabeth, and others.
11.45A. M.—Lunch—Excellent beef stew and potatoes, chocolate, and cold water.
The talk, as usual, was mainly “shop,” dealing with such problems as the distribution of air-pressure on the western side of the Atlantic, what winds were likely to be met with, what fog we should run into, the advantages of directional wireless for navigational purposes, cloud horizons, and the like.
Scott, Cooke, and Harris, in comparing their experiences and expounding their theories, were most interesting and illuminating.
12NOON.—Watch off duty turned in for their routine four hours’ sleep before coming on for their next period of duty—only two hours in this case, as it is the first of the two dog-watches.
The sleeping arrangements consist of a hammock for each of the men off watch suspended from the mainridge girder of the triangular internal keel which runs from end to end of the ship. In this keel are situated the eighty-one petrol-tanks, each of seventy-one gallons’ capacity; also the living quarters for officers and men, and storing arrangements for lubricating-oil for the engines, water ballast, food, and drinking-water for the crew. The latter is quite a considerable item, as will be seen from the following table of weights:
Life in the keel of a large, rigid airship is by no means unpleasant. There is very little noise or vibration except when one is directly over the power units—a total absence of wind and, except in the early hours of dawn, greater warmth than in the surrounding atmosphere.
Getting into one’s hammock is rather an acrobatic feat, especially if it is slung high, but this becomes easy with practice; preventing oneself from falling out is a thing one must be careful about in a service airship like the R-34.
There is only a thin outer cover of fabric on theunder side of the keel on each side of the walking way, and the luckless individual who tips out of his hammock would in all probability break right through this and soon find himself in the Atlantic.
It is surprising the amount of exercise one can get on board an airship of this size. The keel is about 600 feet long, and one is constantly running about from one end to the other. There are also steps in a vertical ladder at the top of the ship for those who feel energetic or have duty up there. By the time it becomes one’s turn to go to bed one generally finds one is very sleepy, and the warmth of one’s sleeping-bag and hum of the engines soon send one to sleep.
3.15P. M.—Sea now visible at intervals through the clouds—a deep blue in color with a big swell on. Our shadow on the water helps us to measure our drift angle, which both Scott and Cooke worked out to be 21 degrees. Running on the forward and two aft engines, resting the two wing engines. Speed—making forty-nine miles per hour.
Durant, the wireless officer, reports he has just been speaking to St. John’s, N. F.—Rather faint but quite clear signals. As we are still in touch with East Fortune and Clifden, and have been exchanging signals with the Azores since reaching the Irish coast, our communications seem to be quite satisfactory.
Remarkable rainbow effects on the clouds. One complete rainbow encircled the airship itself and the other, a smaller one, encircled the shadow. Both are very vivid in their coloring.
3.45P. M.—Excellent tea consisting of bread and butter and green-gage jam, also two cups of scalding hot tea, which had been boiled over the exhaust-pipe cooker fitted to the forward engine.
See Little of Ocean
Fruitarian cake was also tried for the first time—rather sickly to taste but very nourishing. The whole assisted by Miss Lee White on the gramophone. We would one and all give anything for a smoke. Greenland, the first officer of the ship, is vainly trying to discover the culprit who used his tooth-brush for stirring the mustard at lunch.
4.30P. M.—Still in fog and low clouds and no sea visible. We have hardly seen any sign of the Atlantic since leaving the Irish coast, and we are beginning to wonder if we shall see it at all the whole way across.
5P. M.—Tramp steamer S. S.Ballygally Head, outward bound from Belfast, destination Montreal, picked up our wireless on their Marconi spark set, which has a range of thirty miles only. She heard us but didn’t see us, as we were well above and completely hidden by the clouds. She gave her position as latitude 54 degrees 30 minutes north, longitude 18 degrees 20 minutes west, and reported as follows:
“Steering south 80 west true, wind north, barometer 30.10, overcast, clouds low.”“(Signed)Suffren,Master.”
“Steering south 80 west true, wind north, barometer 30.10, overcast, clouds low.”
“(Signed)Suffren,Master.”
They were very surprised and most interested to hear we were R-34 bound for New York, and wished us every possible luck.
5.30P. M.—Messages were received from both H. M. S. battle-cruisersTigerandRenown, which had been previously sent by the Admiralty out into the Atlantic to assist us with weather-reports and general observation. They reported respectively as follows:
H. M. S.Tiger.—“Position 36 degrees 50 minutes north, 36 degrees 50 minutes west, 1,027 millibars, falling slowly, thick fog.”
H. M. S.Renown.—“Position 60 degrees north, 25 west, 1,027 millibars, falling slowly, cloudy, visibility four miles.”
Harris’s deductions from these reports were to the effect that there was no steep gradient, and that therefore there was no likelihood of any strong wind in that part of the Atlantic.
Set Clock Back Half-Hour
6P. M.—Scott increases height to 2,000 feet, and at this height we find ourselves well over the clouds and with a bright-blue sky above us. The view is an enchanting one—as far as one can see a vast ocean of white fleecy clouds, ending in the most perfect cloud horizons.
Two particularly fine specimens of windy cirrus clouds, of which Pritchard promptly obtained photographs, appear on our port beam, also some “cirrus ventosus” clouds (little curly clouds like a blackcock’stail-feathers), all of which Harris interprets as a first indication and infallible sign of a depression coming up from the south.
We hope that this depression, when it comes, may help us, provided we have crossed its path before it reaches us. If we can do this we may be helped along by the easterly wind on the northwesterly side of the depression.
It is interesting to note that as yet we have received no notice of this depression coming up from the south in any weather-reports.
6.40P. M.—Put back clock one-half an hour to correct Greenwich mean time. Time now 6.10P. M.Position: Latitude 53 degrees 50 minutes north; longitude 20 degrees west.
We have covered 610 sea-miles, measured in a direct line, in 17 hours, at an average speed of 36 knots, or 40 miles per hour. Depth of Atlantic at this point, 1,500 fathoms. At this rate, if all goes well and if that depression from the south doesn’t interfere, we should see St. John’s—if visible and not covered in fog as it usually is—about midnight to-morrow, July 3.
6.55P. M.—Wireless message from Air Ministry via Clifden states:
“Conditions unchanged in British Isles. Anti-cyclone persistent in Eastern Atlantic—a new depression entering Atlantic from south.”
This confirms Harris’s forecast and is an admirable proof of the value of cloud forecasting.
Sea and Sky Invisible
7P. M.—The clouds have risen to our height and we are now driving away through them with no signs of the sky above or the sea underneath. Scott reckons the wind is northeast by east and helping us slightly. Airship now very heavy owing to change in temperature and 12 degrees down by the stern. Running on all five engines at 1,600 revolutions, height 3,000 feet.
8P. M.—We are just on top of the clouds, alternately in the sun and then plunging through thick banks of clouds. The sun is very low down on the western horizon and we are steering straight for it, making Pritchard at the elevators curse himself for not having brought tinted glasses. Ship now on an even keel.
8.30P. M.—Scott decided to go down underneath the clouds and increases speed on all engines to 1,800 revolutions to do so. Dark, cold, and wet in the clouds, and we shut all windows.
Sea 1,500 Feet Below
We see the sea at 1,500 feet between patches of cloud. Rather bumpy.
We now find ourselves between two layers of clouds, the top layer 1,000 feet above us and the lower layer 500 feet below, with occasional glimpses of sea.
The sun is now setting and gradually disappears below the lower cloud horizon, throwing a wonderful pink glow on the white clouds in every direction. Course steered, 320 degrees. Course made good, 299degrees. Air speed, 44 knots; speed made good, 55 miles per hour.
All through this first night in the Atlantic the ordinary airship routine of navigating, steering, and elevating, also maintaining the engines in smooth-running order, goes, watch and watch, as in the daytime.
The night is very dark. The airship, however, is lighted throughout, a much enlarged lighting system having been fitted. All instruments can be individually illuminated as required, and in case of failure at the lighting system all figures and indicators are radiomized.
Lights Not Needed
The radium paint used is so luminous that in most cases the lighting installation is unnecessary.
8.20A. M., Thursday, July 3.—The clock has been put back another hour to correct our time to Greenwich mean time. Position: Longitude 35 degrees 60 minutes west; latitude 53 degrees north.
Cooke got position by observation on sun and a good cloud horizon, and considers it accurate to within thirty and forty miles.
Our position is over the west-bound steamship route from Cape Race to the Clyde and momentarily crossing the east-bound route from Belle Isle to Plymouth.
We are well over half-way between Ireland and Newfoundland and are back again on the great circle route, having been slightly to the south of it, owing to the drift effect of a northerly wind.
Good weather-report from St. John’s.
Speaks to Steamship
12.45P. M.—Durant is speaking S. S.Canadaon our spark wireless set, so there may be a chance of our seeing her shortly, as the sea is temporarily visible. The second wireless operator obtains his direction on our directional wireless so that we may know in what direction to look for her. All we know at the moment is that she is somewhere within 120 miles.
Captain David, in command, wishes us a safe voyage. We gaze through our glasses in her direction, but she is just over the horizon.
2P. M.—Slight trouble with starboard amidships engine—cracked cylinder’s water-jacket. Shotter, always equal to the occasion, made a quick and safe repair with a piece of copper sheeting, and the entire supply of the ship’s chewing-gum had to be chewed by himself and two engineers before being applied.
4.30P. M.—We are now on the Canadian summer route of steamers bound for the St. Lawrence via Belle Isle Strait and over the well-known Labrador current. There are already indications of these cold currents in the fog which hangs immediately above the surface of the water.
Harris Hurt; Not Seriously
Scott and Cooke spend much time at chart-table with protractors, dividers, stop-watches, and many navigational text-books, measuring angles of drift and calculating course made good.
Aerial navigation is more complicated than navigation on the surface of the sea, but there is no reason why when we know more about the air and its peculiarities it should not be made just as accurate.
5.00P. M.—Harris unwisely shuts his hand on door of wireless cabin—painful but not serious. Flow of language not audible to me, as the forward engine happened to be running.
6 to 7P. M.—We are gradually getting farther and farther into the shallow depression which was reported yesterday coming up from the South Atlantic. For the last four hours the sea has been rising and now the wind is south-southeast, forty-five miles an hour. Visibility only a half-mile. Very rough sea and torrents of rain. In spite of this the ship is remarkably steady.
Climbs Through Depression
At 8P. M.Scott decides to climb right through it, and we evidently came out over the top of it at 3,400 feet.
8.30P. M.—We have now passed the centre of the depression, exactly as Harris foretold. The rain has ceased and we are travelling quite smoothly again.
To the west the clouds have lifted and we see some extraordinarily interesting sky—black, angry clouds giving place to clouds of a gray-mouse color, then a bright salmon-pink clear sky, changing lower down the horizon to darker clouds with a rich golden lining as the sun sinks below the surface. The sea is notvisible, and is covered by a fluffy gray feather-bed of clouds, slightly undulating and extending as far as the eye can reach. The moon is just breaking through the black clouds immediately above it.
On the east we see the black, ominous depression from which we have just emerged, while away more to the south the cloud-bed over which we are passing seems to end suddenly and merge into the horizon.
Valuable Meteorological Data
We are getting some valuable meteorological data on this flight without a doubt, and each fresh phenomenon as it appears is instantly explained by the ever-alert Harris, who has a profound knowledge of his subject.
9P. M.—One of the engineers has reported sick—complains of feverishness.
A stowaway has just been discovered, a cat smuggled on board by one of the crew for luck. It is a very remarkable fact that nearly every member of the crew has a mascot of some description, from the engineer officer, who wears one of his wife’s silk stockings as a muffler around his neck, to Major Scott, the captain, with a small gold charm called “Thumbs up.”
We have two carrier-pigeons on board, which it has been decided not to use. Anyway, whether we release them or not, they can claim to be the first two pigeons to fly the Atlantic.
Sunrise
4.30A. M., Friday, July 4—Wonderful sunrise—the different colors being the softest imaginable, just like a wash drawing.
7A. M.—Height, 1,000 feet. Bright, blue sky above, thin fog partly obscuring the sea beneath us, sea moderate, big swell.
The fog-bank appears to end abruptly ten miles or so away toward the south, where the sea appears to be clear of fog and a very deep blue.
Standing out conspicuously in this blue patch of sea we see an enormous white iceberg. The sun is shining brightly on its steep sides, and we estimate it as roughly 300 yards square and 150 feet high. As these icebergs usually draw about six times as much water as their height, we wondered whether she was aground, as the depth of water at that point is only about 150 fathoms.
Another big iceberg can just be seen in the dim distance. These are the only two objects of any kind, sort, or description we have as yet seen on this journey.
8.15A. M.
Over Large Ice-Field
Fog still clinging to the surface of the water; water evidently must be very cold. Extraordinary crimpy, wavelike appearance of clouds rolling up from the north underneath it. Harris has never seen this before. Pritchard took photograph.
On port beam there is a long stretch of clear-bluesea sandwiched in between wide expanses of fog on either side, looking just like a blue river flowing between two wide snow-covered banks. Cause—a warm current of water which prevents cloud from hanging over it. This well illustrated the rule that over cold currents of water the clouds will cling to the surface.
9A. M.—We are now over a large ice-field and the sea is full of enormous pieces of ice—small bergs in themselves. The ice is blue-green under water, with frozen snow on top.
A message reaches us from the Governor of Newfoundland.
“To General Maitland, officers and crew, R-34:“On behalf of Newfoundland I greet you as you pass us on your enterprising journey.“Harris, Governor.”
“To General Maitland, officers and crew, R-34:
“On behalf of Newfoundland I greet you as you pass us on your enterprising journey.
“Harris, Governor.”
Replied to as follows:
“To Governor of Newfoundland:“Major Scott, officers and crew, R-34, send grateful thanks for kind message with which I beg to associate myself.”“General Maitland.”
“To Governor of Newfoundland:
“Major Scott, officers and crew, R-34, send grateful thanks for kind message with which I beg to associate myself.”
“General Maitland.”
12.50P. M.
Land Sighted by Scott
Land in sight. First spotted by Scott on starboard beam. A few small rocky islands visible for a minute or two through the clouds and instantly swallowed up again.Altered course southwest to have a closer look at them. Eventually made them out to be the north-west coast-line of Trinity Bay, Newfoundland.
Our time from Rathlin Island—the last piece of land we crossed above the north coast of Ireland—to north coast of Trinity Bay, Newfoundland, is exactly fifty-nine hours.
We are crossing Newfoundland at 1,500 feet in thick fog, which gradually clears as we get farther inland. A very rocky country with large forests and lakes, and for the most part no traces of habitation anywhere.
Message from St. John’s to say that Raynham was up in his machine to greet us. We replied, giving our position.
3P. M.—Again enveloped in dense fog. Message from H. M. S.Sentinelgiving us our position. We are making good thirty-eight or forty knots and heading for Fortune Harbor.
French Flag Dipped
4.30P. M.—We have passed out of Fortune Harbor, with its magnificent scenery and azure-blue sea dotted with little white sailing ships, and are now over the two French islands, Miquelon and St. Pierre, and steering a course for Halifax, Nova Scotia. The French flag was flying at St. Pierre and was duly dipped as we passed over.
7.15P. M.—Passed over tramp S. S.Sealbound for Sydney, Nova Scotia, from St. John’s, the first we have seen.8.15P. M.—Clear weather. Sea moderate. Making good thirty miles per hour on three engines. Northern point of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Just coming into sight. Lighthouse four flashes. We should make Halifax 2.30A. M.to-morrow.
Saturday, July 5, 2.30A. M.—Very dark, clear night. Lights of Whitehaven show up brightly on our starboard beam and we make out the lights of a steamer passing us to the east. Strong head wind against us. Making no appreciable headway.
Lansdowne Asks for Destroyer
Lieutenant-Commander Lansdowne, United States Naval Airship Service, sends signal on behalf of R-34 to United States authorities at Washington and Boston to send destroyer to take us in tow in case we should run out of petrol during the night.
The idea is we would then be towed by the destroyer during the hours of darkness, and at dawn cast off and fly to Long Island under our own power. Let us hope this won’t be necessary.
It is now raining and foggy, which is the kind of weather that suits us now, as rain generally means no wind.
3P. M.—Passed Haute Island in Fundy Bay.
3.30P. M.—For some little while past there had been distinct evidences of electrical disturbances. Atmospherics became very bad and a severe thunder-storm was seen over the Canadian coast, moving south down the coast.Scott turned east off his course to dodge the storm, putting on all engines. In this, fortunately for us, he was successful, and we passed through the outer edge of it. We had a very bad time, indeed, and it is quite the worst experience from a weather point of view that any of us have yet experienced in the air.
Wonderful Clouds Photographed
During the storm some wonderful specimens of cumulo-mammatus were seen and photographed. These clouds always indicate a very highly perturbed state of atmosphere and look rather like a bunch of grapes. The clouds drooped into small festoons.
7.30P. M.—We are now in clear weather again and have left Nova Scotia well behind us and are heading straight for New York.
Particularly fine electrical-disturbance type of sunset.
9.30P. M.—Another thunder-storm. Again we have to change our course to avoid it, and as every gallon of petrol is worth its weight in gold, it almost breaks our hearts to have to lengthen the distance to get clear of these storms.
July 6, Sunday, 4A. M.—Sighted American soil at Chatham.
4.25A. M.—South end of Mahoney Island. Scott is wondering whether petrol will allow him to go to New York or whether it would not be more prudent to land at Montauk.
5.30A. M.—Passing over Martha’s Vineyard—alovely island and beautifully wooded. Scott decided he could just get through to our landing-field at Hazelhurst Field, but that there would not be enough petrol to fly over New York. Very sad, but no alternative. We will fly over New York on start of our return journey on Tuesday night, weather and circumstances permitting.
Landed 1.54P. M.Greenwich mean time, or 9.54A. M.U. S. A. summer time, at Hazelhurst Field, Long Island.
Total time on entire voyage—108 hours, 12 minutes.