CHAPTER XIIPERILS OF THE AIR

MACHINE SEEN FROM ABOVE,showing the spread of the planes and tail, and the delicate taper of the long, canoe-shaped body.

THE CRAFT IN FLIGHT.Fig. 44.—The Antoinette Monoplane.

THE CRAFT IN FLIGHT.

Fig. 44.—The Antoinette Monoplane.

On the morning of 19th July, there being little wind and practically no fog, Latham said he would attempt the crossing. Rising from the slope of a hill a little way inland, he passed out over the cliffs and steered for Dover—a torpedo-boat destroyer, placed at his disposal by the French Government, following him across Channel, so as to be ready to pick him up should he make an involuntary descent into the water. It was fortunate this vessel did steam upon his track. When he had reached a point not quite half-way between the French and English coasts, flying 1000 feet high, Latham’s motor began to miss-fire; then, without further warning, it stopped altogether. There was only one thing to do, and the airman did it. Piloting his machine in a slanting glide, he alighted upon the surface of the water. Fortunately there was no high sea, and the monoplane floated with its wings flat upon the water. Tucking up his feet to avoid getting them wet, Latham lit a cigarette and waited for the destroyer, the captain of which had seen his fall and came steaming at full speed. How the machine appeared, as it lay in the water, is shown in the photograph onPlate IV.

So much damage was done to the monoplane in retrieving it from the sea, that it was practically destroyed, and Latham was left without a machine, with his rival Bleriot now upon the scene. But the Antoinette Company, having a craft in reserve at Rheims, decided thatthis should be hurried to the coast, and Latham given the opportunity of making another attempt. This second machine was telegraphed for, accordingly, and assembled with all speed, and on the morning of 25th July both Latham and Bleriot were ready for flight. Farther down the coast at Wissant was the Comte de Lambert; he had met with an accident, however. In testing his biplane he side-slipped near the ground and the machine was wrecked; this spelt delay while he was procuring and tuning another craft.

On 25th July, a Sunday, there was a stiff breeze soon after it became light, and nobody imagined that flying would take place. Bleriot, however, motored from Calais to the spot where his monoplane was housed, and after a short trial flight, during which his motor ran well, said he should attempt the Channel crossing. Latham had not then left his hotel.

There was a dramatic moment before Bleriot started his engine. Standing up in his machine and peering over the Channel, he asked:

“WhereisDover?”

A friend stretched out an arm, pointing across the water, and the airman nodded and sat back in his machine.

Rising in a half-circle to pass above some telegraph wires, Bleriot sped out across the water—as shown onPlate V—and his machine receded until it was a speck. He flew low and the wind was strong enough to bring white crests to the waves. This wind, furthermore, was seen momentarily to be rising, and anxiety was expressed. In a few minutes, to those watching from the French coast, the monoplane and its pursuing destroyer passedout of sight. And then came a period of waiting, crowds gathering about the wireless telegraph station which, installed temporarily on the cliffs, was in touch with Dover. And while his friends waited thus in suspense, the lonely airman fought a rising wind—poised perilously above the waves, and with no sign of land either before him or behind. Those on the torpedo-destroyer, although she was steaming fast, lost sight of the airman before mid-Channel was reached. He had said that, should he out-distance this vessel, he would circle in the air and wait till she overtook him, so as to have the certainty of being picked up should his engine fail. But when in actual flight, although he saw his escort left far behind, Bleriot did not swing round and wait, but instead bore swiftly on; and his reason for so doing was this: the wind was rising steadily and he reckoned his only hope of reaching the English shore was to fly straight on, and seek to make a landing before the gusts became too violent.

For ten minutes, in this historic flight, Bleriot flew through a sea-fog, seeing nothing above or below him, and with instinct only to guide him upon his course. Had his motor stopped then, causing him to plane into the sea, his position would have been almost hopeless. It is true that in the body of his monoplane had been placed an air-bag, to help it float should he alight upon the water; but even with such buoyancy it is doubtful whether the machine would have withstood the buffetings of the waves for more than a few minutes; and Bleriot himself was handicapped by the fact that, as the result of the igniting of some petrol a week or so before, he had a burned foot which made him limp painfully. But his motor did not falter—although, in this cross-Channel flight, the airman was asking it to run longer than it had done before.

Photo, “Daily Mirror.”PLATE VI.—BLERIOT REACHES DOVER.Wind-tossed and exhausted, after his flight from Calais, the airman planed down near Dover Castle; descending so abruptly, owing to the gusts, that he broke his running-gear and propeller. He is seen above in his overalls, a few minutes after landing—a crowd having already gathered on the scene.

Photo, “Daily Mirror.”

PLATE VI.—BLERIOT REACHES DOVER.

Wind-tossed and exhausted, after his flight from Calais, the airman planed down near Dover Castle; descending so abruptly, owing to the gusts, that he broke his running-gear and propeller. He is seen above in his overalls, a few minutes after landing—a crowd having already gathered on the scene.

Passing from sea-mist into open sky, Bleriot saw the English coast-line; but it was not Dover that lay before him, but a point considerably north-east of it; and he realised that, as he had flown across the water with no landmark to guide his eye, he had been borne off his course by the pressure of a south-westerly wind. Holding on till he came within planing distance of the shore, he turned his craft towards Dover; but the wind, which he was now facing, seemed to gain in strength. The monoplane pitched and swayed and made little headway, and the pilot became anxious as to his landing. It had been arranged that he should alight upon the Shakespeare Cliff; but now, approaching Dover upon the side opposite to this cliff, he decided to land somewhere without a moment’s delay, and not wait until he gained the farther point. So he turned suddenly towards an opening in the cliffs which lay below Dover Castle. Descending in passing above the land, he met the full brunt of the gusts as they played over the cliff. The monoplane was caught and twirled completely round; and the airman straightened it only to be tossed again like a leaf before the wind. A second time he regained control, and once more his machine was flung from its course. But now, being well over the land, and with an open stretch of grass below him, he planed steeply down. The landing was abrupt—in fact, made with desperate haste; and the chassis of the machine was broken by the shock and the propeller splintered. But Bleriot was not concerned at this. Heclambered stiffly from his seat, the great flight done; and soon motor-cars came, and he was carried in triumph to the town. The scene upon the cliff, showing the monoplane a few minutes after it had landed, with Bleriot being interviewed by a journalist, is seen onPlate VI. The course the airman flew in crossing the Channel is indicated byFig. 45.

Fig. 45.—Bleriot’s coursewhen flying the Channel.

Meanwhile, on the French shore, the news was received by wireless; and so overjoyed was M. Anzani, the builder of Bleriot’s motor, that he suddenly burst into tears. One of those who stood waiting for a message was Latham; and when the word came that Bleriot had made the flight and won the prize, he took off his cap and cried, “Bravo!” Then he ordered his mechanics to bring out his machine, saying that, although there was nothing to be won, he intended to make the crossing to show what his machine could do. But when hereached the starting-point the wind had risen and was blowing in heavy gusts; whereupon, although he seemed determined to fly, M. Levavasseur and others persuaded him that the idea was hopeless.

In two days’ time, however, his chance came. Upon a fine, perfectly calm evening he started upon a second crossing, and this time flew fast and well. The watchers at Dover saw him approach—saw him reach a point within little more than a mile of the Admiralty pier. And then, just as it had done before, his motor broke down and he had to plane into the sea. But this time, failing to make a smooth contact with the water, he was thrown forward from his seat against a wooden upright, cutting his head badly and sustaining shock. Picked up by a motor-boat he was brought into Dover; then, after a doctor had attended him, he returned to France. Again his monoplane was wrecked in its recovery from the water. The Antoinette Company had fared badly in this contest, losing two machines and having their chief pilot injured. The Comte de Lambert, after hearing of Bleriot’s success, did not attempt a flight.

Henri Farman had played no part in this cross-Channel flying; he was busy with the tests of a biplane of his own construction. In July, at Rheims, there was to be the great flying meeting; and Farman had made up his mind to wait for this. Aided by the experience he had gained with the Voisin machine, he had designed a craft which should be generally more efficient and faster in flight, and more quickly responsive to its controls. The biplane he produced, marking as it did a step forward in construction, is a machine that needs description. The general appearance of the craft is indicated byFig. 46, while an illustration of this type of machine in flight will be found onPlate VII. A featureof the Voisin that Farman discarded was the vertical panel fitted between the main-planes to give sideway stability. An objection to these planes was that they added to the weight of the machine and checked its speed, tending also to drive it from its course should there be a side wind. But in taking away such fixed balancing-planes, Farman had to substitute another device; and what he did was to work upon the same theory as the Wrights had done, and obtain a similar result in a different way. They, it will be remembered, had warped the rear portions of their main-planes. Farman kept his planes rigid, but fitted to their rear extremities four narrow, hinged planes, or flaps, which could be moved up and down and were called ailerons. Their effect was the same as with the Wright wing-warp. When a gust tilted the machine, the pilot drew down the ailerons upon the side that was inclined downward; whereupon the air-pressure, acting upon the drawn-down surfaces, restored the machine to an even keel.

A. Elevating-plane; B.B. Main-planes; C. Pilot’s seat; D. Motor and propeller; E. Petrol tank; F.F. Hinged balancing-planes, or ailerons; G.G. Tail-planes; H.H. Twin vertical rudders; I. Landing wheels and skids.

MACHINE SEEN FROM ABOVE,showing the span of main-planes, elevator, and tail, also the positions of landing gear and pilot’s seat.Fig. 46.—The Farman Biplane.

MACHINE SEEN FROM ABOVE,showing the span of main-planes, elevator, and tail, also the positions of landing gear and pilot’s seat.

Fig. 46.—The Farman Biplane.

The control was simple. At the pilot’s right hand there was a lever; this, when moved forward or backward, operated the elevating-plane; and a sideway action controlled the ailerons. At the pilot’s feet was a pivoted rod, and this, as he pressed upon it with one foot or the other, swung the twin rudders at the tail.

Such a system of hand-and-foot control has become general in aeroplanes. The pilot uses as a rule a hand-lever or wheel for governing the ascent or descent of his craft, and for sideway balancing, and employs his feet for operating the rudder. This leaves him a hand free for the manipulation of his engine throttle and switch.

A feature of Farman’s biplane was the landing gear, as shown inFig. 46. It comprised two long skids, which projected in front of the main-planes beneath the machine, and continued some distance rearward; while mounted upon each of these skids, at a point below the front edge of the lower main-plane, was a short metal axle which bore two small bicycle wheels, fitted with pneumatic tyres. Holding the axle to the skid were thick india-rubber bands, and the working of this apparatus was as follows: when the machine moved across the ground, the bicycle wheels bore its weight, and the skids were prevented from making contact with the surface. But when alighting from a flight, should the biplane strike ground heavily, then the wheels were pushed up by the yielding of the elastic bands, and the skids took the shock of the impact. Light, and with no complications, this form of gear proved remarkably efficient; and by degrees it came to be used, not only in the Farman, but upon other types as well. The necessity in any such device was lightness; when the machine was in the air, and until it landed from its flight, the alighting gear was so much dead weight—and not only this, but the air-pressure on struts and stays acted as a check upon the speed of the machine. Any landing gear to be useful and efficient, therefore, must be light and yet strong, and have few parts which can offer resistance to the air.

PLATE VII.—A FARMAN IN FLIGHT.Here, using the biplane with which he first flew in England, Mr. Grahame-White is seen ascending from a field near Rugby during his attempts to win the £10,000 London-Manchester prize.

PLATE VII.—A FARMAN IN FLIGHT.

Here, using the biplane with which he first flew in England, Mr. Grahame-White is seen ascending from a field near Rugby during his attempts to win the £10,000 London-Manchester prize.

Farman planned to win prizes at the Rheims flying meeting, and he succeeded. But the flights he made would hardly have been possible had not he obtained the use of a new motor—one destined to play a vital part in the development of flying. This was the Gnome; and to understand its triumph an explanation is necessary. Before Farman fitted the first of these motors to his biplane, engines in aeroplanes had been troublesome and unreliable. The difficulty was that they must be very light, and yet capable of running at high speeds and under heavy loads. Working, say, at 1000 revolutions a minute or even more, they drove the propeller of an aeroplane at full speed for the whole of the time it was in the air, and enjoyed no occasional rest, or slackening of power, as was the case with motor-car engines on the road. The result was that, being light and experimental—and at the same time so heavily worked—they either broke small but vital parts, such as a valve or connecting-rod, or became over-heated and failed to deliver their power.

To prevent overheating, there were two cooling systems available. In one, known as water-cooling, a stream of water flowed through metal chambers round the cylinders, and tended to reduce their heat. But this implied extra weight, and the carrying also of a radiator, or framework of thin pipes exposed to the air, through which the water was pumped, so as to cool it after it had passed round the heated cylinders. The second system, which obviated the use of water or radiators, was known as air-cooling. In this the tops of the cylinders were ringed with metal flanges, or fins, upon which the air impinged as the machine flew. This method is adopted in most motor-cycle engines, and answers admirably. But with aeroplane motors, in the early days, the high speed at which they worked, and the fact that they obtained no rest in flight, or slackening in the number of their revolutions, made them overheatvery often, in spite of their cooling fins. One might liken their work to taking a motor-cycle and running it at top speed up a hill without end.

Fig. 47.—The seven-cylinder50-h.p. Gnome motor.

The difficulty with air-cooling—although it had obvious advantages over water-cooling—was to bring enough air to play upon the surfaces of the cylinders; and it was here that the Gnome won so complete a success. In other engines the cylinders were stationary, and their pistons, moving up and down in the cylinders, turned a crank-shaft to the end of which the propeller was fixed. Therefore the only air the cylinders obtained was what rushed upon them through the speed of the machine in flight. But in the Gnome, instead of the cylinders remaining stationary and the crank-shaft revolving, the cylinders themselves spun round, and the crank-shaft did not move. An illustration of this motor with one end of the crank-chamber removed, so that the piston-rods can be seen, is given inFig. 47. It will be noted that there are seven cylinders, set in the form of a star, and that the seven piston-rods projecting from them come together upon a single crank-pin, which is attached to the stationary crank-shaft and turns round it. The propeller, instead of being fitted to the crank-shaft, as was the case with other motors, was bolted to a plate upon the engineitself, so that when this turned around its crank-shaft, it carried the propeller with it.

A difficulty in this engine lay in feeding its cylinders with their petrol and air. We showed, inFig. 32, how this mixture is delivered to an ordinary motor, which has its cylinder stationary. But with the Gnome the mixture could not be supplied from a pipe to the cylinder-head, for the reason that the cylinder was revolving. The problem was solved by making the stationary crank-shaft hollow, and by delivering the mixture through this to the interior in the engine; thence it was sucked into the cylinder-heads through a valve in the pistons. There were other complications, inevitable to this ingenious motor, which led critics to declare it would prove unreliable. But their judgment was wrong, for by making every working part with scrupulous care, and sparing no expense in the quality of the materials used, the builders of the Gnome did render it reliable. They achieved another triumph as well; they eliminated overheating. Revolving more than 1000 times a minute, the cylinders of the Gnome cooled themselves automatically, and the engine proved that it would run for hours without becoming too hot, or the pistons seizing in the cylinders. Furthermore, seeing that the weight of water and of radiators was avoided, the Gnome was remarkably light. The 50-h.p. engine weighed no more than 165 lbs., which meant that it gave one h.p. of energy for each 3.3 lbs. of its weight. A photograph of the Gnome, as fitted to a Farman biplane, is seen onPlate VIII.

The Gnome, when first built, was regarded withscepticism. Farman, however, showed the acuteness of his judgment. He obtained a Gnome and fitted it to the biplane which he flew at Rheims; and the wisdom of this choice was soon made clear. The chief prize at Rheims was for the longest flight, and this Farman won easily, remaining in the air for 3 hrs. 4 mins. and covering a distance of about 112 miles. The flight represented a world’s record; and by this feat alone Farman made his biplane famous, and demonstrated the reliability of the Gnome. Those who watched the flight will not forget it. Farman started rather late in the afternoon and flew low round the great aerodrome, his landing-wheels appearing sometimes to be a few feet only above the grass. He sat leaning forward in his seat and circled close to the wooden towers marking the course, losing no ground and steering his machine with perfect accuracy. So he flew for lap after lap, never rising higher or flying lower, and with the Gnome behind him emitting a booming hum as it whirled the propeller without falter or flag. Only the approach of darkness, in fact, caused the airman to descend.

A. Elevating-planes; B. Pilot’s seat and control-wheel; C.C. Main-planes; D. Ailerons; E. Motor and propeller; F. Tail-plane and rudder.

MACHINE SEEN FROM IN FRONT,showing the chassis and the position between the planes of the two ailerons (A.A.).

THE CRAFT IN FLIGHT

MAKING A TURN.Fig. 48.—The Curtiss Biplane.

MAKING A TURN.

Fig. 48.—The Curtiss Biplane.

Fig. 49.—The Curtiss aileron control.A. Pilot’s seat;B. Wheel for operating elevator;C. Shoulder-pieces and vertical rod for aileron control.

Fig. 49.—The Curtiss aileron control.

A. Pilot’s seat;B. Wheel for operating elevator;C. Shoulder-pieces and vertical rod for aileron control.

Of famous aeroplanes at Rheims, five types stood out by themselves—the Farman, the Voisin, the Wright, the Bleriot, and the Antoinette, all of which have been described. But there was one other, which few people had heard of before it appeared here. This was the Curtiss biplane, built by an American named Glenn H. Curtiss, and engined with a motor which also bore his name. Curtiss had experimented with many power-driven machines—motor-cycles, motor-cars, airships, and aeroplanes—and had won a prize in America with a small, light biplane, and it was a craft of this type—as seen inFig. 48—that he brought with him to Rheims, his idea being to compete for the speed prize. The machine had a front elevator and tail-planes, according to the practice in biplane construction; but an innovation was the setting of the ailerons midway between the main-planes—a position that will be noted in the sketch; another novelty was the way these ailerons operated. At the pilot’s back, as he sat in his driving seat, was an upright rod with two shoulder-pieces—by means of which, should he shift his body, he could swing the rod from side to side. Wires ran from the rod to the ailerons; and if the pilot leaned over, say, to the right, he drew down the ailerons on the left side of the machine. The merit of such a control was that it was instinctive; that is to say, should the biplane tip down on one side, it was natural for the pilot to lean away from the plane-ends that were sinking; and he operated the ailerons automatically, as he did this, and so brought the machine level again. This ingenious system is illustrated inFig. 49.

Photo, F. N. Birkett.PLATE VIII.—THE GNOME MOTOR.This engine—of which Mr. Grahame-White is testing an exhaust valve—is here seen fitted to a Farman biplane, the three tanks above it containing petrol and oil.

Photo, F. N. Birkett.

PLATE VIII.—THE GNOME MOTOR.

This engine—of which Mr. Grahame-White is testing an exhaust valve—is here seen fitted to a Farman biplane, the three tanks above it containing petrol and oil.

Features of the Curtiss biplane were its smallness and lightness. The span of its main-planes was only 28 feet 9 inches—no more than the span of the Bleriot; and it weighed, with its pilot on board, a total of only 710 lbs. Driving the machine was an 8-cylindered 30-h.p. motor; therefore it was expected to be fast in flight. The speed contest, as a matter of fact, became a duel between Curtiss—who flew his machine himself—and Bleriot, who piloted his fastest monoplane; and in the end Curtiss won, attaining a speed of a little more than 47 miles an hour. Bleriot had built for the contest a new racing monoplane, which had a motor of 80 h.p., and in which the pilot sat below the wings. The photograph onPlate IXshows the appearance of this type of craft.

Latham, in his Antoinette, won the height prize at Rheims, rising to an altitude of 500 feet. Others who distinguished themselves were Paulhan and Rougier, on Voisin biplanes—the former to become famous afterwards as the winner of theDaily Mail£10,000 prize for the flight from London to Manchester. But the Voisins, although they flew steadily, seemed slow, clumsy machines in comparison with the Farman. The Wright biplanes, of which there were three in competition, did not distinguish themselves particularly. The pilots who had charge of them, and had been taught to fly by Wilbur Wright, were the Comte de Lambert and M. Tissandier, who have been mentioned already, and M. Lefevre—a pilot who was the first to make trick flights, wheeling, diving, and swinging in circles, and astonishing people who watched him from the stands. Not long after the Rheimsmeeting, while testing a new machine, this airman met with an accident that proved fatal, his craft diving suddenly and being wrecked.

The Wright machines, to tell the truth, were not regarded favourably in France. Many men were attracted by the speed and simplicity of the monoplane; many others, again, championed the Farman with its Gnome. The chain-drive of the Wright propellers was said to be a source of danger, and their need to start from a rail was, in view of the wheeled under-carriages of the French machines, declared a clumsy makeshift. So, although the machine was the first power-driven craft to fly successfully, and despite the feats of Wilbur in 1908, the Wright biplane did not conquer France. Although they had lagged behind the Wrights in the building of practicable machines, the enthusiasm of French makers soon carried them ahead of their rivals. The Wrights handicapped themselves; they would not, for a long time, discard the starting-rail; they would not adopt the Gnome motor; they were averse from making alterations in the construction of their machine. So their biplane, although its efficiency was always granted, never took the place to which it seemed entitled.

It was after the Rheims meeting that the building of aeroplanes commenced as an industry. Farman established a factory and began to produce biplanes in considerable numbers; Bleriot had received orders for monoplanes after the cross-Channel flight; and the Voisins were building too. There were French firms, also, who had been given permission to manufacture the Wright biplane; and in England, at a factory inthe Isle of Sheppey, Messrs. Short Brothers were building Wright machines.

Fig. 50.—The Roe Triplane.A.A.A. Three main-planes; B. Motor; C. Four-bladed propeller; D.D.D. Triplane tail; E. Rudder; F. Landing gear.

Fig. 50.—The Roe Triplane.

A.A.A. Three main-planes; B. Motor; C. Four-bladed propeller; D.D.D. Triplane tail; E. Rudder; F. Landing gear.

It is necessary now to consider the growth of flying in England. While mighty deeds were done in America and France, there had been pioneers at work here—painstaking and enthusiastic, but handicapped sadly by the public indifference that prevailed. They met with no encouragement—no financial help; they had to build their machines as best they could, and whether they succeeded or failed seemed the concern of none. An experimenter who braved this apathy and won his way until he became a constructor of aircraft, was Mr. A. V. Roe. For some time he was an advocate of the triplane form of machine—a craft, that is to say, with three main-planes fitted one above another. The machine with which he obtained flights, although they were very brief, is seen inFig. 50. Subsequently, however, Mr. Roe adopted the biplane form. His distinction in the pioneer days was that he managed to make his triplane lift into the air and fly a shortdistance, with the aid of a motor-cycle engine developing no more than 9 h.p.

Another ardent worker in England, and one destined to become famous, was Mr. S. F. Cody. After developing a system of man-lifting kites which the British War Office acquired, he joined the military aircraft factory that had been established at Farnborough. Here, after tests with dirigible balloons, he began the construction of experimental biplanes—all machines of large size. Early in 1909 he made brief flights—the longest being one of about 250 yards. Then, after alterations to his machine, he managed in July to fly a distance of 4 miles. This he increased afterwards to 8 miles; and then on 1st September flew for 1 hour 3 minutes, rising to a height of 300 feet. Cody’s biplane was a very large machine, having 1000 square feet of lifting surface—twice that of the Farman or Voisin. Driving it was an 80-h.p. engine, which operated two propellers on the system used by the Wrights. With its pilot on board the machine weighed 2170 lbs. It is illustrated inFig. 51.

A. Elevating-planes and vertical-plane; B. Pilot’s control lever; C.C. Main-planes; D. Motor; E. Propellers; F. Rudder; G. Landing gear; H. Rear skid.

MACHINE SEEN FROM ABOVE,showing the large size of the elevators, the position of the pilot, and the placing of the propellers.Fig. 51.—The Cody Biplane.

MACHINE SEEN FROM ABOVE,showing the large size of the elevators, the position of the pilot, and the placing of the propellers.

Fig. 51.—The Cody Biplane.

In the control of the machine Cody introduced original devices, notably as to sideway balance. Instead of using ailerons or wing-warping, he arranged his two elevating-planes so that they would move up and down independently of each other. In this way, by making one tilt up and the other down, he was able to obtain the same effect as with ailerons. When raised or lowered in unison, these planes acted as elevators. Cody managed also to combine all controlling movements inone lever, and did not use his feet for steering. Before him, as he sat in his driving seat, he had a rod which ended in a hand-wheel. Pushed forward or backward, this rod moved the elevating-planes; swung over from side to side, it altered the angle of one or other of the elevating-planes and so controlled sideway balance; while by turning the wheel at the top of the rod, the pilot could operate the rudder at the rear of the machine. Cody made little progress until he obtained a powerful motor, his machine being too large and heavy for the engines fitted to other craft. Acquiring a motor of 120 h.p. in 1912, he won the War Office competition on Salisbury Plain, his biplane showing its superiority—as a purely military craft—even over those of the famous French builders. It was in the summer of 1913, while flying a new machine, that the airman and a passenger fell to their death—expert evidence showing that the craft collapsed in the air.

Two other Englishmen prominent in the early days of aviation were the Hon. C. S. Rolls and Mr. J. T. C. Moore-Brabazon. The former, having learned to glide as the Wrights had done, obtained a British-built Wright biplane and made excellent flights at Shellbeach, Isle of Sheppey. During the season of 1912, still piloting a Wright, he took part in several aviation meetings; and it was at Bournemouth, owing to the collapse of a tail-plane, that he fell 90 feet and was almost instantly killed. Towards the end of 1909, Mr. Moore-Brabazon, after buying and learning to pilot a Voisin, ordered a British-built biplane from Messrs. Short Brothers, and with this machine on 30th October 1909 he won a £1000 prize offered byThe Daily Mailfor the first circular mile flight by a British aviator upon an all-British machine.

Now indeed, once the first obstacles had been overcome, the building of aeroplanes and the training ofmen progressed astonishingly. New champions appeared almost every day; many aviation meetings were held; and Henri Farman, to complete the triumphs of a wonderful year, flew in November for 4 hours 17 minutes 35 seconds, covering a distance of 150 miles through the air, and breaking all records for duration of flight.

How pilots fought the wind—Military demands for an “airworthy” machine—Value of the air-scout—Dangers in wind-flying—The “side-slip”—Aeroplanes that are automatically stable.

It has been shown how aeroplanes were built and made to fly, and not machines of one particular make, but biplanes and monoplanes of various types of construction; also how, granted he had a reliable motor, a man might fly for hours without alighting. These were the lessons of 1909; these, and the fact that flying was proved an art that could be learned by any man who was active and had sound nerves. After Wilbur Wright had taught his first pupils, and Bleriot and Farman had established training schools, men in rapidly increasing numbers came to learn to fly; so that, quite early in 1910, it was possible to list the names of more than 200 pilots.

Progress was now revealed in two directions: firstly, encouraged by engine reliability, airmen made cross-country flights; and secondly, becoming more used to being in the air, and gaining confidence in the handling of their machines, they began to fly in gusty winds. This was shown by the fact that, fearing any breeze atfirst that was higher than 10 or 15 miles an hour, pilots soon combated winds of 20 and 25 miles an hour.

Flights of 100 miles were made across country; one historic example, of course, was M. Paulhan’s 183-mile journey from London to Manchester, made in 242 minutes and with but one halt, by which he wonThe Daily Mail£10,000 prize, and in which—meeting him in keen but friendly rivalry as the representative of England—he had the joint author of this book, Mr. Claude Grahame-White.

The confidence of pilots in the reliability of their machines was demonstrated conclusively by the Comte de Lambert. Rising from the aerodrome at Juvisy, near Paris, he flew over the city and circled the Eiffel Tower, returning afterwards without accident to his starting-point.

Several more airmen had, by this time, succeeded in crossing the Channel, and a notable feat was that of the Hon. C. S. Rolls, who flew from Dover till he reached the French coast near Calais; then, circling without a descent, he returned to his starting-point—a flight over-sea that lasted an hour and a half. In high flying, too, the confidence of airmen was displayed. At Rheims in 1909, it may be remembered, Latham rose 500 feet, and this was considered remarkable. But the record, during 1910, was beaten and beaten again, until it stood at nearly 10,000 feet. In speed also, using monoplanes with 50-h.p. motors, pilots made records day by day; and an English airman, Mr. Radley, flying over a measured course in August 1910, in a Bleriot monoplane, attained a speed of more than 70 miles an hour.

In the duration of flight, which proved the reliability of engines, great strides also were made. From Farman’s4-hour record at the end of 1909, the figure was carried till it stood at 6 hours 1 minute 35 seconds. This flight was made by Tabuteau, an airman flying a Maurice Farman biplane. Maurice was a brother of the famous Henri, and he built a biplane which, while resembling the Henri Farman in general aspect, was different in detail. In the first machines he built,—and it is one of these the sketch (Fig. 52) shows,—Maurice Farman used, in addition to ailerons, two side curtains or panels, as the Voisins had done; but these he afterwards abandoned, retaining ailerons alone. A feature of this machine was the way in which the landing skids were continued upward, so as to form the supports for the elevating-plane. The Maurice Farman developed into a stable and remarkably successful craft, greatly used for cross-country flying and by military pilots.

Fig. 52.—Maurice Farman Biplane (early type).A. Elevating-plane; B. Seats for pilot and passenger; C.C. Main-planes; D. Motor with two-bladed propeller; E. Vertical panel; F. Aileron; G. Tail-planes; H.H. Rudders; I. Landing chassis.

Fig. 52.—Maurice Farman Biplane (early type).

A. Elevating-plane; B. Seats for pilot and passenger; C.C. Main-planes; D. Motor with two-bladed propeller; E. Vertical panel; F. Aileron; G. Tail-planes; H.H. Rudders; I. Landing chassis.

The chief triumph of 1910 was the fight airmen waged against the wind. This was their enemy—an enemy which sought to chain them to the ground, and prevent their craft from becoming of practical use. One point, indeed, became clear: it was of little value tofly high or for long distances, if one could only do so in favourable weather. The aeroplane, if it was to play a practical part in the affairs of the world, must ascend in high winds as well as in calms. This being recognised, there was strenuous effort to produce an “all-weather” machine. Particularly was wind-flying of value in the military use of aeroplanes; and it is here that we reach a vital aspect of aviation. Immediately craft could fly across country, and ascend high enough for a view of the land to be obtained from them, it was seen they would have a great value as scouts in time of war.

There has, from the earliest days of battle, been a need for scouting—a need for news as to what the enemy is doing. Picture two armies about to engage. They approach each other cautiously, troops spread out and dotted here and there; while in front of each force is thrown a screen of outposts. These form a protective fence, through which the scouts of the enemy find it difficult to penetrate. What the scouts seek to discover is how many men there are in the army moving forward, how many guns, and how these men and guns are being massed and drawn up for the battle that impends. But the outposts head them off and shoot them down; and as both armies have outposts, and as both sets of scouts find the same difficulty in obtaining news, the two forces may grope and blunder into battle without knowing such facts as to numbers and positions as might spell the difference between victory and defeat. Of course, the scouts do their best, some on foot, some horsed; but it was Napoleon who wrote:

“Nothing is more contradictory, nothing more bewildering, than the multitude reports of spies or of officers sent out to reconnoitre. Some locate army corps where they have seen only detachments; others see only detachments where they ought to have seen army corps.”

But now came the aeroplane, and strategists seized the opportunities it offered. Outposts could do nothing against such a scout as this; instead of seeking to dodge them through a wood, or round a hill, it could pass thousands of feet above their heads; and the earth below, as viewed by the spy sitting in his machine, would be spread out like a panorama; he would see the troops of the enemy in motion, and note their strength and the positions to which they moved. No wonder the War Departments of Europe were ready to buy aeroplanes. Buy them they did, indeed, in growing numbers; but the drawback of the early machines was that they were fair-weather craft; they would not fly in winds. Imagine that a battle impends, and that the Commander-in-Chief of one army seeks news as to the movements of some division of his enemy; so he orders the air-scouts to ascend. But the wind may be blowing hard; and if it is, and the aeroplanes are only fair-weather machines, they will have to remain on the ground till the wind drops, and perhaps miss their greatest chance during a whole campaign.

But it was astonishing how, feeling greater confidence in the handling of their machines, airmen began to join issue with this enemy the wind. They were helped, too, by a growing efficiency in the construction of their craft. Machines were built more strongly, engines were more staunchly made; in all details that spelt reliability, were aircraft improved. But the wind, none the less, took its toll. It was not combated without loss of life; and we find that, before the end of 1910, nearly thirty men had been killed while flying. In many cases, struck by a heavy gust, a machine collapsed in flight; in others, beaten over by the force of the wind, but with his craft intact, the pilot had fallen to earth, powerless to regain the control of his machine.

PLATE IX.—THE FIRST HIGH-POWERED BLERIOT.This type of monoplane, in which Mr. Grahame-White learned to fly—being seen with a passenger above—was built by Bleriot for the speed contests at Rheims in 1909. It had an 80-h.p. motor, as compared with the 25-h.p. engine which was then fitted to ordinary Bleriots, and attained a speed of 60 miles an hour.

PLATE IX.—THE FIRST HIGH-POWERED BLERIOT.

This type of monoplane, in which Mr. Grahame-White learned to fly—being seen with a passenger above—was built by Bleriot for the speed contests at Rheims in 1909. It had an 80-h.p. motor, as compared with the 25-h.p. engine which was then fitted to ordinary Bleriots, and attained a speed of 60 miles an hour.

In wind-flying there were these two distinct dangers: a man might be dashed to earth by a gust when rising or descending; or he might be struck by a rush of wind when at a considerable height, and find his craft driven over until it began to slip sideways instead of flying forward. In “side-slips,” as they are called, there lies a grave risk. What happens is this. A man flying in a wind may, by vigorous use of his ailerons, recover the balance of his machine time after time; but as the wind rises, he may be struck ultimately by a gust that tilts his planes to an abnormal angle, despite his efforts to check them. The machine will then heel till it stands almost vertical—till it reaches such an angle, in fact, that it ceases to move forward and begins to slip sideways—skidding away, beyond the pilot’s control, like a motor on a greasy road. How an abnormal gust may cause a side-slip is illustrated byFig. 53.

IN NORMAL FLIGHT.Fig. 53.—Machine “side-slipping” in a gust.

STRUCK BY AN ABNORMAL GUST.

MACHINE SLIPPING SIDEWAYS.

In such a predicament, two things only can save the airman; one his height above the ground, the other his nerve and presence of mind. If he is flying low when his machine side-slips, nothing can avert disaster. Falling at first sideways in a helpless lurch, then diving violently, the craft will strike ground with shattering force—completely beyond its pilot’s control. But if the airman is flying high, and granted he is a man of experience, he may escape even the worst of side-slips, and how hedoes so is as follows: as his machine slips he puts forward his elevating-lever as far as it will go, throws over his rudder to help the action of the elevator, and sets his motor at its fullest power—these actions seeming, in themselves, merely to aggravate the peril by causing the craft to fall more quickly. But the pilot knows what he is doing; he knows that, so long as his craft slips sideways, it is impossible for his controlling planes to act, seeing that they are effective only when the machine moves forward through the air. What he seeks to do, therefore, is to convert the side-slip into a forward dive. If he can do this—if he has space for the manœuvre before the machine strikes ground—he knows he can avert disaster.

In throwing over his elevating-lever, and accelerating his motor, his aim would be to make his machine fallforward more rapidly than it is slipping sideways; and, as a rule, under the combined thrust of the motor, and the extreme angles of elevating-plane and rudder, the craft will—after a sickening slip, perhaps of several hundred feet—begin to lose its sideway motion and plunge straight downward. His elevating plane will then become operative, tending to check this dive and bring up the bow of the machine; and at the same time, feeling he has regained control, the pilot will throttle down his motor so as to reduce the speed of his machine. In this way, responding to the action of its elevator, the craft will pause in its downward rush, and sweep forward again upon an even keel. But the actions of the pilot, in such a quandary, need to be accurately and boldly made; and unless his craft flies high, no skill can save it. If he has not a thousand feet or more below him, he will be dashed to death before his manœuvre has time to take effect.

The moral, therefore, lay in flying high, and it was one that pilots respected. Instead of passing across country at a few hundred feet, they began soon to ascend 3000 feet and more; and at such altitudes, apart from the greater safety in case of side-slip, an airman found usually a steadier and less gusty wind, and was in a better position to choose some landing-point should his motor fail suddenly.

When starting across country, particularly in the early days, a pilot had to consider very seriously the question of the failing of his motor. So long as he had an aerodrome below him, its smooth surface providing an alighting spot, he felt no great concern. But in flying across country, should his motor stop, he mightfind himself above a forest, or a sheet of water, or such rough and broken land that his machine would be damaged were he to alight upon it. But here again, as in the case of side-slip, altitude would tend to safety.

In the stoppage of its motor, when a craft is in flight, several factors need consideration; but one should clearly be understood: even if his engine does fail while he is passing through the air, a pilot is not helpless, nor does his machine fall to the ground. As he flies, of course, it is the thrust of his motor, acting through the medium of the propeller, that keeps his craft moving forward; and so long as this thrust is there, forcing his planes against the air and causing them to lift their load, the machine will fly ahead. But what happens should the engine fail, and the machine cease to be propelled? The first effect is that the craft begins to lose its speed, and as it does this its planes are less operative. Unless he can restore his forward speed, therefore, and so maintain the lift of his planes, the pilot is in peril. Were he merely to sit still after his engine failed, and do nothing to save himself, he would be in a position of the greatest risk. What would happen would be that his craft, having no power thrusting it against the air, would come gradually to a standstill; then, its planes exercising no further lift, it would lose equilibrium and fall.

But there is another force the airman can use, even when his motor fails entirely; and this is the downward pull of gravity, which acts unceasingly upon his machine. He must, at all costs, restore the speed of his craft; not only that its main-wings may bear their weight, but that its controlling-planes may continue operative, and enable him to steer towards a landing-point. What he does, therefore, when he hears his motor stop, is to tilt his elevating lever and send his machine upon a dive. Thus, even with no motor to propel him, he can still fly. It is gravity now that moves his machine, and so long as he keeps his lever forward, and sends his craft downward upon a gradually sloping path, he has perfect control and need not fear a fall. Air is still being forced under his planes; therefore, they bear their load; and, seeing that the machine is moving forward, its rudder and other controlling planes are able to do their work. The airman is, in fact, as much in command of his machine as he was before its motor stopped—save for one vital difference. While his motor ran he could fly where he pleased; but now he is obliged to glide downward. He is, indeed, in the same position as was Lilienthal, or any of the men who soared from hilltops. But, being say 1000 feet or more high when his engine stops, he has the advantage of a long glide before he reaches ground; and this gives him a chance, surveying the land below him, to pick a smooth landing-point that may lie in his path. If well-designed, an aeroplane will glide a long way after its motor has failed, as is indicated byFig. 54. In thiscase, representing an actual test with a military machine, the motor has stopped at an altitude of between 1200 and 1400 feet, and the craft glides, before touching ground, a distance of nearly 9000 feet.

Back to Index Next