"The flying machine, built, apparently, almost entirely of metal, was driven by an engine said to weigh, with fuel and water, about 25 lbs., the supporting surface from tip to tip being 12 or 14 feet. Starting from a platform about 20 feet high, the machine rose at first directly in the face of the wind, moving with great steadiness, and subsequently wheeling in large curves until steam was exhausted, when, from a height of 80 or 100 feet, it shortly settled down. The experiment was then repeated with similar results. Its motion was so steady that a glass of water might have remained unspilled. The actual length of flight each time, which lasted for a minute and a half, exceeded half a mile, while the velocity was between twenty and twenty-five miles an hour in a course that was constantly taking it 'up hill.' A yet more successful flight was subsequently made."

But flight of another nature was being courageously attempted at this time. Otto Lilienthal, of Berlin, in imitation of the motion of birds, constructed a flying apparatus which he operated himself, and with which he could float down from considerable elevations. "The feat," he warns tyros, "requires practice. In the beginning the height should be moderate, and the wings not too large, or the wind will soon show that it is not to be trifled with." The inventor commenced with all due caution, making his first attempt over a grass plot from a spring board one metre high, and subsequently increasing this height to two and a half metres, from which elevation he could safely cross the entire grass plot. Later he launched himself from the lower ridges of a hill 250 feet high, when he sailed to a distance of over 250 yards, and this time he writes enthusiastically of his self-taught accomplishment:—

"To those who, from a modest beginning and with gradually increased extent and elevation of flight have gained full control over the apparatus, it is not in the least dangerous to cross deep and broad ravines. It is a difficult task to convey to one who has never enjoyed aerial flight a clear perception of the exhilarating pleasure of this elastic motion. The elevation above the ground loses its terrors, because we have learned by experience what sure dependence may be placed upon the buoyancy of the air."

As a commentary to the above we extract the following:—"We have to record the death of Otto Lilienthal, whose soaring machine, during a gliding flight, suddenly tilted over at a height of about 60 feet, by which mishap he met an untimely death on August 9th, 1896." Mr. O. Chanute, C.E. of Chicago, took up the study of gliding flight at the point where Lilienthal left it, and, later, Professor Fitzgerald and others. Besides that invented by Penaud, other aero-plane models demanding mention had been produced by Tatin, Moy, Stringfellow, and Lawrence Hargrave, of Australia, the subsequent inventor of the well-known cellular kite. These models, for the most part, aim at the mechanical solution of the problem connected with the soaring flight of a bird.

The theoretical solution of the same problem had been attacked by Professor Langley in a masterly monograph, entitled "The Internal Work of the Wind." By painstaking experiment with delicate instruments, specially constructed, the Professor shows that wind in general, so far from being, as was commonly assumed, mere air put in motion with an approximately uniform velocity in the same strata, is, in reality, variable and irregular in its movements beyond anything which had been anticipated, being made up, in fact, of a succession of brief pulsations in different directions, and of great complexity. These pulsations, he argues, if of sufficient amplitude and frequency, would be capable, by reason of their own "internal work," of sustaining or even raising a suitably curved surface which was being carried along by the main mean air stream. This would account for the phenomenon of "soaring." Lord Rayleigh, discussing the same problem, premises that when a bird is soaring the air cannot be moving uniformly and horizontally. Then comes the natural question, Is it moving in ascending currents? Lord Rayleigh has frequently noticed such currents, particularly above a cliff facing the wind. Again, to quote another eminent authority, Major Baden-Powell, on an occasion when flying one of his own kites, found it getting to so high an angle that it presently rose absolutely overhead, with the string perpendicular. He then took up a heavy piece of wood, which, when tied to the string, began to rise in the air. He satisfied himself that this curious result was solely due to a strong uptake of the air.

But, again, Lord Rayleigh, lending support to Professor Langley's argument, points out that the apparent cause of soaring may be the non-uniformity of the wind. The upper currents are generally stronger than the lower, and it is mechanically possible for a bird, taking advantage of two adjacent air streams, different in velocity, to maintain itself in air without effort on its own part.

Lord Rayleigh, proceeding to give his views on artificial flight, declares the main problem of the flying machine to be the problem of the aerial plane. He states the case thus:—"Supposing a plane surface to be falling vertically at the rate of four miles an hour, and also moving horizontally at the rate of twenty miles an hour, it might have been supposed that the horizontal motion would make no difference to the pressure on its under surface which the falling plane must experience. We are told, however, that in actual trial the horizontal motion much increases the pressure under the falling plane, and it is this fact on which the possibility of natural and artificial flight depends."

Ere this opinion had been stated by Lord Rayleigh in his discourse on "Flight," at the Royal Institution, there were already at work upon the aero-plane a small army of inventors, of whom it will be only possible in a future chapter to mention some. Due reference, however, should here be made to Mr. W. F. Wenham, of Boston, U.S.A., who had been at work on artificial flight for many years, and to whose labours in determining whether man's power is sufficient to raise his own weight Lord Rayleigh paid a high tribute. As far back as 1866 Mr. Wenham had published a paper on aerial locomotion, in which he shows that any imitation by man of the far-extended wings of a bird might be impracticable, the alternative being to arrange the necessary length of wing as a series of aero-planes, a conception far in advance of many theorists of his time.

But there had been developments in aerostation in other lines, and it is time to turn from the somewhat tedious technicalities of mechanical flight and the theory or practice of soaring, to another important means for traversing the air—the parachute. This aerial machine, long laid aside, was to lend its aid to the navigation of the air with a reliability never before realised. Professor Baldwin, as he was termed, an American aeronaut, arrived in England in the summer of 1888, and commenced giving a series of exhibitions from the Alexandra Palace with a parachute of his own invention, which, in actual performance, seems to have been the most perfect instrument of the kind up to that time devised. It was said to be about 18 feet in diameter, whereas that of Garnerin, already mentioned, had a diameter of some 30 feet, and was distinctly top-heavy, owing to its being thus inadequately ballasted; for it was calculated that its enormous size would have served for the safe descent, not of one man, but of four or five. Baldwin's parachute, on the contrary, was reckoned to give safe descent to 250 lbs., which would include weight of man and apparatus, and reduce the ultimate fall to one not exceeding 8 feet. The parachute was attached to the ring of a small balloon of 12,000 cubic feet, and the Professor ascended, sitting on a mere sling of rope, which did duty for a car.

Mr. Thomas Moy, who investigated the mechanics of the contrivance, estimated that after a drop of 16 feet, the upward pressure, amounting to over 2 lb. per square foot, would act on a surface of not less than 254 square feet. There was, at the time, much foolish comment on the great distance which the parachute fell before it opened, a complete delusion due to the fact that observers failed to see that at the moment of separation the balloon itself sprang upward.



CHAPTER XXII. THE STORY OF THE SPENCERS.

It has been in the hands of the Spencers that the parachute, as also many other practical details of aeronautics, has been perfected, and some due sketch of the career of this family of eminent aeronauts must be no longer delayed.

Charles Green had stood godfather to the youngest son of his friend and colleague, Mr. Edward Spencer, and in later years, as though to vindicate the fact, this same son took up the science of aeronautics at the point where his father had left it. We find his name in the records of the Patent Office of 1868 as the inventor of a manumetric flying machine, and there are accounts of the flying leaps of several hundred feet which he was enabled to take by means of the machine he constructed. Again, in 1882 we find him an inventor, this time of the patent asbestos fire balloon, by means of which the principal danger to such balloons was overcome.

At this point it is needful to make mention of the third generation—the several sons who early showed their zeal and aptitude for perpetuating the family tradition. It was from his school playground that the eldest son, Percival, witnessed with intense interest what appeared like a drop floating in the sky at an immense altitude. This proved to be Simmons's balloon, which had just risen to a vast elevation over Cremorne Gardens, after having liberated the unfortunate De Groof, as mentioned in a former chapter. And one may be sure that the terrible reality of the disaster that had happened was not lost on the young schoolboy. But his wish was to become an aeronauts, and from this desire nothing deterred him, so that school days were scarcely over before he began to accompany his father aloft, and in a very few years, i.e. in 1888, he had assumed the full responsibilities of a professional balloonist.

It was in this year that Professor Baldwin appeared in England, and it is easy to understand that the parachute became an object of interest to the young Spencer, who commenced on his own account a series of trials at the Alexandra Palace, and it was now, also, that chance good fortune came his way. An Indian gentleman, who was witness of his experiments, and convinced that a favourable field for their further development existed in his own country, proposed to the young aspirant that he should accompany him to India, with equipment suited for the making of a successful campaign.

Thus it came about that in the early days of 1889, in the height of the season, Mr. Percival Spencer arrived at Bombay, and at once commenced professional business in earnest. Coal gas being here available, a maiden ascent was quickly arranged, and duly announced to take place at the Government House, Paral, the chief attraction being the parachute descent, the first ever attempted in India.

This preliminary exhibition proving in all ways a complete success, Mr. Spencer, after a few repetitions of his performance, repaired to Calcutta; but here great difficulties were experienced in the matter of gas. The coal gas available was inadequate, and when recourse was had to pure hydrogen the supply proved too sluggish. At the advertised hour of departure the balloon was not sufficiently inflated, while the spectators were growing impatient. It was at this critical moment that Mr. Spencer resolved on a surprise. Suddenly casting off the parachute, and seated on a mere sling below the half-inflated balloon, without ballast, without grapnel, and unprovided with a valve, he sailed away over the heads of the multitude.

The afternoon was already far advanced, and the short tropical twilight soon gave way to darkness, when the intrepid voyager disappeared completely from sight. Excitement was intense that night in Calcutta, and greater still the next day when, as hour after hour went by, no news save a series of wild and false reports reached the city. Trains arriving from the country brought no intelligence, and telegraphic enquiries sent in all directions proved fruitless. The Great Eastern Hotel, where the young man had been staying, was literally besieged for hours by a large crowd eager for any tidings. Then the Press gave expression to the gloomiest forebodings, and the town was in a fever of unrest. From the direction the balloon had taken it was thought that, even if the aeronaut had descended in safety, he could only have been landed in the jungle of the Sunderbunds, beset with perils, and without a chance of succour. A large reward was offered for reliable information, and orders were issued to every likely station to organise a search. But ere this was fully carried into effect messages were telegraphed to England definitely asserting that Mr. Spencer had lost his life. For all this, after three days he returned to Calcutta, none the worse for the exploit.

Then the true tale was unravelled. The balloon had changed its course from S.E. to E. after passing out of sight of Calcutta, and eventually came to earth the same evening in the neighbourhood of Hossainabad, thirty-six miles distant. During his aerial flight the voyager's main trouble had been caused by his cramped position, the galling of his sling seat, and the numbing effect of cold as he reached high altitudes; but, as twilight darkened into gloom, his real anxiety was with respect to his place of landing, for he could with difficulty see the earth underneath. He heard the distant roll of the waters, caused by the numerous creeks which intersect the delta of the Ganges, and when darkness completely shut out the view it was impossible to tell whether he was over land or sea. Fortune favoured him, however, and reaching dry ground, he sprang from his seat, relinquishing at the same moment his hold of the balloon, which instantly disappeared into the darkness.

Then his wanderings began. He was in an unknown country, without knowledge of the language, and with only a few rupees in his pocket. Presently, however, seeing a light, he proceeded towards it, but only to find himself stopped by a creek. Foiled more than once in this way, he at length arrived at the dwelling of a family of natives, who promptly fled in terror. To inspire confidence and prove that he was mortal, Mr. Spencer threw his coat over the mud wall of the compound, with the result that, after examination of the garment, he was received and cared for in true native fashion, fed with rice and goat's milk, and allowed the use of the verandah to sleep in. He succeeded in communing with the natives by dint of lead pencil sketches and dumb show, and learned, among other things, that he had descended in a little clearing surrounded by woods, and bounded by tidal creeks, which were infested with alligators. Yet, in the end, the waterways befriended him; for, as he was being ferried across, he chanced on his balloon sailing down on the tide, recovered it, and used the tidal waters for the return journey.

The greeting upon his arrival in Calcutta was enthusiastic beyond description from both Europeans and natives. The hero of the adventure was visited by rajahs and notables, who vied with each other in expressions of welcome, in making presents, even inviting him to visit the sacred precincts of their zenanas. The promised parachute descent was subsequently successfully made at Cossipore, and then followed a busy, brilliant season, after which the wanderer returned to England. By September he is in Dublin, and makes the first parachute descent ever witnessed in Ireland; but by November he is in Bombay again, whence, proceeding to Calcutta, he repeats his success of the year before. Next he visits Allahabad, where the same fortune attends him, though his balloon flies away in a temporary escape into the Jumna. By May he is ascending at Singapore, armed here, however, with a cork jacket.

Hence, flushed with success, he repairs to the Dutch Indies, and demonstrates to the Dutch officers the use of the balloon in war. As a natural consequence, he is moved up to the seat of the Achinese War in Sumatra, where, his balloon being moored to the rear of an armoured train, an immediate move is made to the front, and orders are forthwith telephoned from various centres to open fire on the enemy. Mr. Spencer, the while accompanied by an officer, makes a captive ascent, in which for some time he is actually under the enemy's fire. The result of this plucky experiment is a most flattering official report. In all the above-mentioned ascents he made his own gas without a hitch.

Thence he travels on with the same trusty little 12,000 cubic feet balloon, the same programme, and the same success. This is slightly varied, however, at Kobe, Japan, where his impatient craft fairly breaks away with him, and, soaring high, flies overhead of a man-of-war, and plumps into the water a mile out at sea. But "Smartly" was the word. The ship's crew was beat to quarters, and within one minute a boat was to the rescue. An ascent at Cairo, where he made a parachute descent in sight of the Pyramids and landed in the desert, completed this oriental tour, and home duties necessitated his return to England. Among exploits far too many to enumerate may be mentioned four several occasions when Mr. Percival Spencer has crossed the English Channel.

It fell to the lot of the second son, Arthur, to carry fame into fresh fields. In the year 1897 he visited Australia, taking with him two balloons, one of these being a noble craft of 80,000 cubic feet, considerably larger than any balloon used in England, and the singular fate of this aerial monster is deserving of mention.

Its trial trip in the new country was arranged to take place on Boxing Day in the Melbourne Exhibition ground, and for the lengthy and critical work of inflation the able assistance of British bluejackets was secured. To all appearance, the main difficulties to be provided against were likely to arise simply from a somewhat inadequate supply of gas, and on this account filling commenced as early as 10 a.m. on the morning of the day previous to the exhibition, and was continued till 6 o'clock in the afternoon, by which time the balloon, being about half full, was staved down with sandbags through the night till 4 o'clock the next morning, when the inflation was again proceeded with without hindrance and apparently under favourable conditions. The morning was beautifully fine, warm, brilliant, and still, and so remained until half-past six, when, with startling rapidity, there blew up a sudden squall known in the country as a "Hot Buster," and in two or three minutes' space a terrific wind storm was sweeping the ground. A dozen men, aiding a dead weight of 220 sandbags, endeavoured to control the plunging balloon, but wholly without avail. Men and bags together were lifted clean up in the air on the windward side, and the silk envelope, not yet completely filled, at once escaped from the net and, flying upwards to a height estimated at 10,000 feet, came to earth again ninety miles away in a score of fragments. Nothing daunted, however, Mr. Spencer at once endeavoured to retrieve his fortunes, and started straightway for the gold-mining districts of Ballarat and Bendigo with a hot-air balloon, with which he successfully gave a series of popular exhibitions of parachute descents. Few aeronauts are more consistently reliable than Mr. Arthur Spencer. A few summers ago in this country he was suddenly called upon to give proof of his prowess and presence of mind in a very remarkable manner. It was at an engagement at Reading, where he had been conducting captive ascents throughout the afternoon, and was requested to conclude the evening with a "right away," in which two passengers had agreed to accompany him. The balloon had been hauled down for the last time, when, by some mistake, the engine used for the purpose proceeded to work its pump without previously disconnecting the hauling gear. The consequence of this was that the cable instantly snapped, and in a moment the large balloon, devoid of ballast, grapnel, or other appliances, and with neck still tied, was free, and started skyward.

The inevitable result of this accident must have been that the balloon in a few seconds would rise to a height where the expansion of the imprisoned gas would burst and destroy it. Mr. Spencer, however, was standing near, and, grasping the situation in a moment, caught at the car as it swung upwards, and, getting hold, succeeded in drawing himself up and so climbing into the ring. Quickly as this was done, the balloon was already distended to the point of bursting, and only the promptest release of gas averted catastrophe.

Mr. Stanley Spencer made himself early known to the world by a series of parachute descents, performed from the roof of Olympia. It was a bold and sensational exhibition, and on the expiration of his engagement the young athlete, profiting by home training, felt fully qualified to attempt any aerial feat connected with the profession of an aeronaut. And at this juncture an eminent American cyclist, visiting the father's factory, suggested to Stanley a business tour in South America.

As an extra attraction it was proposed that a young lady parachutist should be one of the company; so, after a few satisfactory trial exhibitions in England, the party made their way to Rio, Brazil. Here an ascent was arranged, and by the day and hour appointed the balloon was successfully inflated with hydrogen, an enormous concourse collected, and the lady performer already seated in the sling. Then a strange mischance happened. By some means, never satisfactorily explained, the young woman, at the moment of release, slipped from her seat, and the balloon, escaping into the air, turned over and fell among the people, who vindictively destroyed it. Then the crowd grew ungovernable, and threatened the lives of the aeronauts, who eventually were, with difficulty, rescued by the soldiery.

This was a bad start; but with a spare balloon a fresh attempt at an ascent was arranged, though, from another cause, with no better success. This time a furious storm arose, before the inflation was completed, and the balloon, carrying away, was torn to ribbons. Yet a third time, with a hot air balloon now, a performance was advertised and successfully carried out; but, immediately after, Mr. Spencer's American friend succumbed to yellow fever, and the young man, being thrown on his own resources, had to fight his own way until his fortunes had been sufficiently restored to return to England.

A few months later he set sail for Canada, where for several months he had a most profitable career, on one occasion only meeting with some difficulty. He was giving an exhibition on Prince Edward's Island, not far from the sea, but on a day so calm that he did not hesitate to ascend. On reaching 3,000 feet, however, he was suddenly caught by a strong land breeze, which, ere he could reach the water, had carried him a mile out to sea, and here he was only rescued after a long interval, during which he had become much exhausted in his attempts to save his parachute from sinking.

Early in 1892 our traveller visited South Africa with a hot air balloon, and, fortune continuing to favour him, he subsequently returned to Canada, and proceeded thence to the United States and Cuba. It was at Havannah that popular enthusiasm in his favour ran so high that he was presented with a medal by the townsfolk. It was from here also that, a little while after, tidings of his own death reached him, together with most gratifying obituary notices. It would seem that, after his departure, an adventurer, attempting to personate him, met with his death.

In November, 1897, he followed his elder brother's footsteps to the East, and exhibited in Calcutta, Singapore, Canton, and also Hong-Kong, where, for the first and only time in his experience, he met with serious accident. He was about to ascend for the ordinary parachute performance with a hot air balloon, which was being held down by about thirty men, one among them being a Chinaman possessed of much excitability and very long finger nails. By means of these latter the man contrived to gouge a considerable hole in the fabric of the balloon. Mr. Spencer, to avoid a disappointment, risked an ascent, and it was not till the balloon had reached 600 feet that the rent developed into a long slit, and so brought about a sudden fall to earth. Alighting on the side of a mountain, Mr. Spencer lay helpless with a broken leg till the arrival of some British bluejackets, who conveyed him to the nearest surgeon, when, after due attention, he was sent home. Other remarkable exploits, which Mr. Stanley Spencer shared with Dr. Berson and with the writer and his daughter, will be recorded later.



CHAPTER XXIII. NEW DEPARTURES IN AEROSTATION.

After Mr. Coxwell's experiments at Aldershot in 1862 the military balloon, as far as England was concerned, remained in abeyance for nine long years, when the Government appointed a Commission to enquire into its utility, and to conduct further experiments. The members of this committee were Colonel Noble, R.E., Sir F. Abel, Captain Lee, R.E., assisted by Captain Elsdale, R.E., and Captain (now Colonel) Templer. Yet another nine years, however, elapsed before much more was heard of this modernised military engine.

But about the beginning of the eighties the Government had become fully alive to the importance of the subject, and Royal Engineers at Woolwich grew busy with balloon manufacture and experiment. Soon "the sky around London became speckled with balloons." The method of making so-called pure hydrogen by passing steam over red-hot iron was fully tested, and for a time gained favour. The apparatus, weighing some three tons, was calculated to be not beyond the carrying powers of three service waggons, while it was capable of generating enough gas to inflate two balloons in twenty-four hours, a single inflation holding good, under favourable circumstances, for a long period. At the Brighton Volunteer Review of 1880, Captain Templer, with nine men, conducted the operations of a captive reconnoitring balloon. This was inflated at the Lewes gas works, and then towed two and a half miles across a river, a railway, and a line of telegraph wires, after which it was let up to a height of 1,500 feet, whence, it was stated, that so good a view was obtained that "every man was clearly seen." Be it remembered, however, that the country was not the South African veldt, and every man was in the striking English uniform of that date.

Just at this juncture came the Egyptian War, and it will be recalled that in the beginning of that war balloons were conspicuous by their absence. The difficulties of reconnaissance were keenly felt and commented on, and among other statements we find the following in the war intelligence of the Times:—

"As the want of a balloon equipment has been mentioned in letters from Egypt, it may be stated that all the War Department balloons remain in store at the Royal Dockyard at Woolwich, but have been recently examined and found perfectly serviceable." An assertion had been made to the effect that the nature of the sand in Egypt would impede the transport of the heavy material necessary for inflation. At last, however, the order came for the despatch of the balloon equipment to the front, and though this arrived long after Tel-el-Kebir, yet it is recorded that the first ascent in real active service in the British Army took place on the 25th of March, 1885, at Suakin, and balloons becoming regarded as an all-important part of the equipment of war, they were sent out in the Bechuanaland Expedition under Sir Charles Warren, the supply of gas being shipped to Cape Town in cylinders.

It was at this period that, according to Mr. Coxwell, Lord Wolseley made ascents at home in a war balloon to form his own personal opinion of their capabilities, and, expressing this opinion to one of his staff, said that had he been able to employ balloons in the earlier stages of the Soudan campaign the affair would not have lasted as many months as it did years. This statement, however, should be read in conjunction with another of the same officer in the "Soldier's Pocket Book," that "in a windy country balloons are useless." In the Boer War the usefulness of the balloon was frequently tested, more particularly during the siege of Ladysmith, when it was deemed of great value in directing the fire of the British artillery, and again in Buller's advance, where the balloon is credited with having located a "death-trap" of the enemy at Spion Kop. Other all-important service was rendered at Magersfontein. The Service balloon principally used was made of goldbeaters' skin, containing about 10,000 cubic feet of hydrogen, which had been produced by the action of sulphuric acid on zinc, and compressed in steel cylinders. A special gas factory was, for the purpose of the campaign, established at Cape Town.

It is here that reference must be made to some of the special work undertaken by Mr. Eric S. Bruce, which dealt with the management of captive balloons under different conditions, and with a system of signalling thus rendered feasible. Mr. Bruce, who, since Major Baden-Powell's retirement from the office, has devoted his best energies as secretary to the advancement of the British Aeronautical Society, was the inventor of the system of electric balloon signalling which he supplied to the British Government, as well as to the Belgian and Italian Governments. This system requires but a very small balloon, made of three or four thicknesses of goldbeaters' skin, measuring from 7 to 10 feet in diameter, and needing only two or three gas cylinders for inflation. Within the balloon, which is sufficiently translucent, are placed several incandescent lamps in metallic circuit, with a source of electricity on the ground. This source of electricity may consist of batteries of moderate size or a portable hand dynamo. In the circuit is placed an apparatus for making and breaking contact rapidly, and by varying the duration of the flashes in the balloon telegraphic messages may be easily transmitted. To overcome the difficulty of unsteadiness, under circumstances of rough weather, in the captive balloon which carried the glow lamps, Mr. Bruce experimented with guy ropes, and gave a most successful exhibition of their efficiency before military experts at Stamford Bridge grounds, though a stiff wind was blowing at the time.

It must be perfectly obvious, however, that a captive balloon in a wind is greatly at a disadvantage, and to counteract this, attempts have been made in the direction of a combination between the balloon and a kite. This endeavour has been attended with some measure of success in the German army. Mr. Douglas Archibald, in England, was one of the first to advocate the kite balloon. In 1888 he called attention to the unsatisfactory behaviour of captive balloons in variable winds, dropping with every gust and rising again with a lull. In proof he described an expedient of Major Templer's, where an attempt was being made to operate a photographic camera hoisted by two tandem kites. "The balloon," he writes, "went up majestically, and all seemed very satisfactory until a mile of cable had been run out, and the winder locked." It was then that troubles began which threatened the wreckage of the apparatus, and Mr. Archibald, in consequence, strongly recommended a kite balloon at that time. Twelve years later the same able experimentalist, impressed with the splendid work done by kites alone for meteorological purposes at least, allowed that he was quite content to "let the kite balloon go by."

But the German school of aeronauts were doing bigger things than making trials with kite balloons. The German Society for the Promotion of Aerial Navigation, assisted by the Army Balloon Corps, were busy in 1888, when a series of important ascents were commenced. Under the direction of Dr. Assmann, the energetic president of the aeronautical society above named, captive ascents were arranged in connection with free ascents for meteorological purposes, and it was thus practicable to make simultaneous observations at different levels. These experiments, which were largely taken up on the Continent, led to others of yet higher importance, in which the unmanned balloon took a part. But the Continental annals of this date contain one unhappy record of another nature, the recounting of which will, at least, break the monotony attending mere experimental details.

In October, 1893, Captain Charbonnet, an enthusiastic French aeronaut, resolved on spending his honeymoon, with the full consent of his bride, in a prolonged balloon excursion. The start was to be made from Turin, and, the direction of travel lying across the Alps, it was the hope of the voyagers eventually to reach French territory. The ascent was made in perfect safety, as was also the first descent, at the little village of Piobesi, ten miles away. Here a halt was made for the night, and the next morning, when a fresh start was determined on, two young Italians, Signori Botto and Durando, were taken on board as assistants, for the exploit began to assume an appearance of some gravity, and this the more so when storm clouds began brewing. At an altitude of 10,000 feet cross-currents were encountered, and the course becoming obscured the captain descended to near the earth, where he discovered himself to be in dangerous proximity to gaunt mountain peaks. On observing this, he promptly cast out sand so liberally that the balloon rose to a height approaching 20,000 feet, when a rapid descent presently began, and refused to be checked, even with the expenditure of all available ballast.

All the while the earth remained obscured, but, anticipating a fall among the mountains, Captain Charbonnet bade his companions lie down in the car while he endeavoured to catch sight of some landmark; but, quite suddenly, the balloon struck some mountain slope with such force as to throw the captain back into the car with a heavy blow over the eye; then, bounding across a gulley, it struck again and yet again, falling and rebounding between rocky walls, till it settled on a steep and snowy ridge. Darkness was now closing in, and the party, without food or proper shelter, had to pass the night as best they might on the bare spot where they fell, hoping for encouragement with the return of day. But dawn showed them to be on a dangerous peak, 10,000 feet high, whence they must descend by their own unassisted efforts. After a little clambering the captain, who was in a very exhausted state, fell through a hidden crevasse, fracturing his skull sixty feet below. The remaining three struggled on throughout the day, and had to pass a second night on the mountain, this time without covering. On the third day they met with a shepherd, who conducted them with difficulty to the little village of Balme.

This story, by virtue of its romance, finds a place in these pages; but, save for its tragic ending, it hardly stands alone. Ballooning enterprise and adventure were growing every year more and more common on the Continent. In Scandinavia we find the names of Andree, Fraenkal, and Strindberg; in Denmark that of Captain Rambusch. Berlin and Paris had virtually become the chief centres of the development of ballooning as a science. In the former city a chief among aeronauts had arisen in Dr. A. Berson, who, in December, 1894, not only reached 30,000 feet, ascending alone, but at that height sustained himself sufficiently, by inhaling oxygen, to take systematic observations throughout the entire voyage of five hours. The year before, in company with Lieutenant Gross, he barely escaped with his life, owing to tangled ropes getting foul of the valve. Toulet and those who accompanied him lost their lives near Brussels. Later Wolfert and his engineer were killed near Berlin, while Johannsen and Loyal fell into the Sound. Thus ever fresh and more extended enterprise was embarked upon with good fortune and ill. In fact, it had become evident to all that the Continent afforded facilities for the advancement of aerial exploration which could be met with in no other parts of the world, America only excepted. And it was at this period that the expedient of the ballon sonde, or unmanned balloon, was happily thought of. One of these balloons, the "Cirrus," among several trials, rose to a height, self-registered, of 61,000 feet, while a possible greater height has been accorded to it. On one occasion, ascending from Berlin, it fell in Western Russia, on another in Bosnia. Then, in 1896, at the Meteorological Conference at Paris, with Mascart as President, Gustave Hermite, with characteristic ardour, introduced a scheme of national ascents with balloons manned and unmanned, and this scheme was soon put in effect under a commission of famous names—Andree, Assmann, Berson, Besancon, Cailletet, Erk, de Fonvielle, Hergesell, Hermite, Jaubert, Pomotzew (of St. Petersburg), and Rotch (of Boston, Mass.).

In November, 1896, five manned balloons and three unmanned ascended simultaneously from France, Germany, and Russia. The next year saw, with the enterprise of these nations, the co-operation of Austria and Belgium. Messrs. Hermite and Besancon, both French aeronauts, were the first to make practical trial of the method of sounding the upper air by unmanned balloons, and, as a preliminary attempt, dismissed from Paris a number of small balloons, a large proportion of which were recovered, having returned to earth after less than 100 miles' flight. Larger paper balloons were now constructed, capable of carrying simple self-recording instruments, also postcards, which became detached at regular intervals by the burning away of slow match, and thus indicated the path of the balloon. The next attempt was more ambitious, made with a goldbeaters' skin balloon containing 4,000 cubic feet of gas, and carrying automatic instruments of precision. This balloon fell in the Department of the Yonne, and was returned to Paris with the instruments, which remained uninjured, and which indicated that an altitude of 49,000 feet had been reached, and a minimum temperature of -60 degrees encountered. Yet larger balloons of the same nature were then experimented with in Germany, as well as France.

A lack of public support has crippled the attempts of experimentalists in this country, but abroad this method of aerial exploration continues to gain favour.

Distinct from, and supplementing, the records obtained by free balloons, manned or unmanned, are those to be gathered from an aerostat moored to earth. It is here that the captive balloon has done good service to meteorology, as we have shown, but still more so has the high-flying kite. It must long have been recognised that instruments placed on or near the ground are insufficient for meteorological purposes, and, as far back as 1749, we find Dr. Wilson, of Glasgow, employing kites to determine the upper currents, and to carry thermometers into higher strata of the air. Franklin's kite and its application is matter of history. Many since that period made experiments more or less in earnest to obtain atmospheric observations by means of kites, but probably the first in England, at least to obtain satisfactory results, was Mr. Douglas Archibald, who, during the eighties, was successful in obtaining valuable wind measurements, as also other results, including aerial photographs, at varying altitudes up to 1,000 or 1,200 feet. From that period the records of serious and systematic kite flying must be sought in America. Mr. W. A. Eddy was one of the pioneers, and a very serviceable tailless kite, in which the cross-bar is bowed away from the wind, is his invention, and has been much in use. Mr. Eddy established his kite at Blue Hill—the now famous kite observatory—and succeeded in lifting self-recording meteorological instruments to considerable heights. The superiority of readings thus obtained is obvious from the fact that fresh air-streams are constantly playing on the instruments.

A year or two later a totally dissimilar kite was introduced by Mr. Lawrence Hargrave, of Sydney, Australia. This invention, which has proved of the greatest utility and efficiency, would, from its appearance, upset all conventional ideas of what a kite should be, resembling in its simplest form a mere box, minus the back and front. Nevertheless, these kites, in their present form, have carried instruments to heights of upwards of two miles, the restraining line being fine steel piano wire.

But another and most efficient kite, admirably adapted for many most important purposes, is that invented by Major Baden-Powell. The main objects originally aimed at in the construction of this kite related to military operations, such as signalling, photography, and the raising of a man to an elevation for observational purposes. In the opinion of the inventor, who is a practiced aeronaut, a wind of over thirty miles an hour renders a captive balloon useless, while a kite under such conditions should be capable of taking its place in the field. Describing his early experiments, Major, then Captain, Baden-Powell, stated that in 1894, after a number of failures, he succeeded with a hexagonal structure of cambric, stretched on a bamboo framework 36 feet high, in lifting a man—not far, but far enough to prove that his theories were right. Later on, substituting a number of small kites for one big one, he was, on several occasions, raised to a height of 100 feet, and had sent up sand bags, weighing 9 stone, to 300 feet, at which height they remained suspended nearly a whole day.

This form of kite, which has been further developed, has been used in the South African campaign in connection with wireless telegraphy for the taking of photographs at great heights, notably at Modder River, and for other purposes.

It has been claimed that the first well-authenticated occasion of a man being raised by a kite was when at Pirbright Camp a Baden-Powell kite, 30 feet high, flown by two lines, from which a basket was suspended, took a man up to a height of 10 feet. It is only fair, however, to state that it is related that more than fifty years ago a lady was lifted some hundred feet by a great kite constructed by one George Pocock, whose machine was designed for an observatory in war, and also for drawing carriages along highways.



CHAPTER XXIV. ANDREE AND HIS VOYAGES

Among many suggestions, alike important and original, due to Major Baden-Powell, and coming within the field of aeronautics, is one having reference to the use of balloons for geographical research generally and more particularly for the exploration of Egypt, which, in his opinion, is a country possessing many most desirable qualifications on the score of prevailing winds, of suitable base, and of ground adapted for such steering as may be effected with a trail rope. At the Bristol meeting of the British Association the Major thus propounded his method: "I should suggest several balloons, one of about 60,000 cubic feet, and, say, six smaller ones of about 7,000 cubic feet; then, if one gets torn or damaged, the others might remain intact. After a time, when gas is lost, one of the smaller ones could be emptied into the others, and the exhausted envelope discharged as ballast; the smaller balloons would be easier to transport by porters than one big one, and they could be more easily secured on the earth during contrary winds. Over the main balloon a light awning might be rigged to neutralise, as far as possible, the changes of temperature. A lightning conductor to the top of the balloon might be desirable. A large sail would be arranged, and a bifurcated guide rope attached to the end of a horizontal pole would form an efficient means of steering. The car would be boat-shaped and waterproof, so that it could be used for a return journey down a river. Water tanks would be fitted."

The reasonableness of such a scheme is beyond question, even without the working calculations with which it is accompanied; but, ere these words were spoken, one of the most daring explorers that the world has known had begun to put in practice a yet bolder and rasher scheme of his own. The idea of reaching the North Pole by means of balloons appears to have been entertained many years ago. In a curious work, published in Paris in 1863 by Delaville Dedreux, there is a suggestion for reaching the North Pole by an aerostat which should be launched from the nearest accessible point, the calculation being that the distance from such a starting place to the Pole and back again would be only some 1,200 miles, which could be covered in two days, supposing only that there could be found a moderate and favourable wind in each direction. Mr. C. G. Spencer also wrote on the subject, and subsequently Commander Cheyne proposed a method of reaching the Pole by means of triple balloons. A similar scheme was advocated in yet more serious earnest by M. Hermite in the early eighties.

Some ten years later than this M. S. A. Andree, having obtained sufficient assistance, took up the idea with the determined intention of pushing it to a practical issue. He had already won his spurs as an aeronaut, as may be briefly told. In October, 1893, when making an ascent for scientific purposes, his balloon got carried out over the Baltic. It may have been the strength of the wind that had taken him by surprise; but, there being now no remedy, it was clearly the speed and persistence of the wind that alone could save him. If a chance vessel could not, or would not, "stand by," he must make the coast of Finland or fall in the sea, and several times the fall in the sea seemed imminent as his balloon commenced dropping. This threatened danger induced him to cast away his anchor, after which the verge of the Finland shore was nearly reached, when a change of wind began to carry him along the rocky coast, just as night was setting in.

Recognising his extreme danger, Andree stood on the edge of the car, with a bag of ballast ready for emergencies. He actually passed over an island, on which was a building with a light; but failed to effect a landing, and so fell in the sea on the farther side; but, the balloon presently righting itself, Andree, now greatly exhausted, made his last effort, and as he rose over the next cliff jumped for his life. It was past 7 p.m. when he found himself once again on firm ground, but with a sprained leg and with no one within call. Seeking what shelter he could, he lived out the long night, and, being now scarce able to stand, took off his clothes and waved them for a signal. This signal was not seen, yet shortly a boat put off from an island—the same that he had passed the evening before—and rowed towards him. The boatman overnight had seen a strange sail sweeping over land and sea, and he had come in quest of it, bringing timely succour to the castaway.

Briefly stated, Andree's grand scheme was to convey a suitable balloon, with means for inflating it, as also all necessary equipment, as far towards the Pole as a ship could proceed, and thence, waiting for a favourable wind, to sail by sky until the region of the Pole should be crossed, and some inhabited country reached beyond. The balloon was to be kept near the earth, and steered, as far as this might be practicable, by means of a trail rope. The balloon, which had a capacity of nearly 162,000 cubic feet, was made in Paris, and was provided with a rudder sail and an arrangement whereby the hang of the trail rope could be readily shifted to different positions on the ring. Further, to obviate unnecessary diffusion and loss of gas at the mouth, the balloon was fitted with a lower valve, which would only open at a moderate pressure, namely, that of four inches of water.

All preparations were completed by the summer of 1896, and on June 7th the party embarked at Gothenburg with all necessaries on board, arriving at Spitzbergen on June 21st. Andree, who was to be accompanied on his aerial voyage by two companions, M. Nils Strindberg and Dr. Ekholm, spent some time in selecting a spot that would seem suitable for their momentous start, and this was finally found on Dane's Island, where their cargo was accordingly landed.

The first operation was the erection of a wooden shed, the materials for which they had brought with them, as a protection from the wind. It was a work which entailed some loss of time, after which the gas apparatus had to be got into order, so that, in spite of all efforts, it was the 27th of July before the balloon was inflated and in readiness.

A member of an advance party of an eclipse expedition arriving in Spitzbergen at this period, and paying a visit to Andree for the purpose of taking him letters, wrote:—"We watched him deal out the letters to his men. They are all volunteers and include seven sea captains, a lawyer, and other people some forty in all. Andree chaffed each man to whom he gave a letter, and all were as merry as crickets over the business.... We spent our time in watching preparations. The vaseline (for soaking the guide ropes) caught fire to-day, but, luckily no rope was in the pot."

But the wind as yet was contrary, and day after day passed without any shift to a favourable quarter, until the captain of the ship which had conveyed them was compelled to bring matters to an issue by saying that they must return home without delay if he was to avoid getting frozen in for the winter. The balloon had now remained inflated for twenty-one days, and Dr. Ekholm, calculating that the leakage of gas amounted to nearly 1 per cent. per day, became distrustful of the capability of such a vessel to cope with such a voyage as had been aimed at. The party had now no choice but to return home with their balloon, leaving, however, the shed and gas-generating apparatus for another occasion.

This occasion came the following summer, when the dauntless explorers returned to their task, leaving Gothenburg on May 28th, 1897, in a vessel lent by the King of Sweden, and reaching Dane's Island on the 30th of the same month. Dr. Ekholm had retired from the enterprise, but in his place were two volunteers, Messrs. Frankel and Svedenborg, the latter as "odd man," to fill the place of any of the other three who might be prevented from making the final venture.

It was found that the shed had suffered during the winter, and some time was spent in making the repairs and needful preparation, so that the month of June was half over before all was in readiness for the inflation. This operation was then accomplished in four days, and by midnight of June 22nd the balloon was at her moorings, full and in readiness; but, as in the previous year, the wind was contrary, and remained so for nearly three weeks. This, of course, was a less serious matter, inasmuch as the voyagers were a month earlier with their preparation, but so long a delay must needs have told prejudicially against the buoyancy of the balloon, and Andree is hardly to be blamed for having, in the end, committed himself to a wind that was not wholly favourable.

The wind, if entirely from the right direction, should have been due south, but on July 11th it had veered to a direction somewhat west of south, and Andree, tolerating no further delay, seized this as his best opportunity, and with a wind "whistling through the woodwork of the shed and flapping the canvas," accompanied by Frankel and Svedenborg, started on his ill-fated voyage.

A telegram which Andree wrote for the Press at that epoch ran thus:— "At this moment, 2.30 p.m., we are ready to start. We shall probably be driven in a north-north-easterly direction."

On July 22nd a carrier pigeon was recovered by the fishing boat Alken between North Cape, Spitzbergen, and Seven Islands, bearing a message, "July 13th, 12.30 p.m., 82 degrees 2 minutes north lat., 15 degrees 5 minutes east long. Good journey eastward. All goes well on board. Andree."

Not till August 31st was there picked up in the Arctic zone a buoy, which is preserved in the Museum of Stockholm. It bears the message, "Buoy No. 4. First to be thrown out. 11th July, 10 p.m., Greenwich mean time. All well up till now. We are pursuing our course at an altitude of about 250 metres Direction at first northerly 10 degrees east; later; northerly 45 degrees east. Four carrier pigeons were despatched at 5.40 p.m. They flew westwards. We are now above the ice, which is very cut up in all directions. Weather splendid. In excellent spirits.—Andree, Svedenborg, Frankel. (Postscript later on.) Above the clouds, 7.45, Greenwich mean time."

According to Reuter, the Anthropological and Geological Society at Stockholm received the following telegram from a ship owner at Mandal:—"Captain Hueland, of the steamship Vaagen who arrived there on Monday morning, reports that when off Kola Fjord, Iceland, in 65 degrees 34 minutes north lat., 21 degrees 28 minutes west long., on May 14th he found a drifting buoy, marked 'No. 7.' Inside the buoy was a capsule marked 'Andree's Polar Expedition,' containing a slip of paper, on which was given the following: 'Drifting Buoy No. 7. This buoy was thrown out from Andree's balloon on July 11th 1897, 10.55 p.m., Greenwich mean time, 82 degrees north lat., 25 degrees east lon. We are at an altitude of 600 metres. All well.—Andree, Svedenborg, Frankel.'"

Commenting on the first message, Mr. Percival Spencer says:—"I cannot place reliance upon the accuracy of either the date or else the lat. and long. given, as I am confident that the balloon would have travelled a greater distance in two days." It should be noted that Dane's Island lies in 79 degrees 30 minutes north lat. and 10 degrees 10 minutes east long.

Mr. Spencer's opinion, carefully considered and expressed eighteen months afterwards, will be read with real interest:—

"The distance from Dane's Island to the Pole is about 750 miles, and to Alaska on the other side about 1,500 miles. The course of the balloon, however, was not direct to the Pole, but towards Franz Josef Land (about 600 miles) and to the Siberian coast (another 800 miles). Judging from the description of the wind at the start, and comparing it with my own ballooning experience, I estimate its speed as 40 miles per hour, and it will, therefore, be evident that a distance of 2,000 miles would be covered in 50 hours, that is two days and two hours after the start. I regard all theories as to the balloon being capable of remaining in the air for a month as illusory. No free balloon has ever remained aloft for more than 36 hours, but with the favourable conditions at the northern regions (where the sun does not set and where the temperature remains equable) a balloon might remain in the air for double the length of time which I consider ample for the purpose of Polar exploration."

A record of the direction of the wind was made after Andree's departure, and proved that there was a fluctuation in direction from S.W. to N.W., indicating that the voyagers may have been borne across towards Siberia. This, however, can be but surmise. All aeronauts of experience know that it is an exceedingly difficult manoeuvre to keep a trail rope dragging on the ground if it is desirable to prevent contact with the earth on the one hand, or on the other to avoid loss of gas. A slight increase of temperature or drying off of condensed moisture may—indeed, is sure to after a while—lift the rope off the ground, in which case the balloon, rising into upper levels, may be borne away on currents which may be of almost any direction, and of which the observer below may know nothing. As to the actual divergence from the wind's direction which a trail rope and side sail might be hoped to effect, it may be confidently stated that, notwithstanding some wonderful accounts that have gone abroad, it must not be relied on as commonly amounting to much more than one or, at the most, two points.

Although it is to be feared that trustworthy information as to the ultimate destination of Andree's balloon may never be gained, yet we may safely state that his ever famous, though regrettable, voyage was the longest in duration ever attained. At the end of 48 hours his vessel would seem to have been still well up and going strong. The only other previous voyage that had in duration of travel approached this record was that made by M. Mallet, in 1892, and maintained for 36 hours. Next we may mention that of M. Herve, in 1886, occupying 24 1/2 hours, which feat, however, was almost equal led by the great Leipzig balloon in 1897, which, with eight people in the car, remained up for 24 1/4 hours, and did not touch earth till 1,032 miles had been traversed.

The fabric of Andree's balloon may not be considered to have been the best for such an exceptional purpose. Dismissing considerations of cost, goldbeaters' skin would doubtless have been more suitable. The military balloons at Aldershot are made of this, and one such balloon has been known to remain inflated for three months with very little loss. It is conceivable, therefore, that the chances of the voyagers, whose ultimate safety depended so largely upon the staying power of their aerial vessel, might have been considerably increased.

One other expedient, wholly impracticable, but often seriously discussed, may be briefly referred to, namely, the idea of taking up apparatus for pumping gas into metal receivers as the voyage proceeds, in order to raise or lower a balloon, and in this way to prolong its life. Mr. Wenham has investigated the point with his usual painstaking care, and reduced its absurdity to a simple calculation, which should serve to banish for good such a mere extravagant theory.

Suppose, he says, the gas were compressed to one-twentieth part of its bulk, which would mean a pressure within its receiver of 300 lbs. per square inch, and that each receiver had a capacity of 1 cubic foot, while for safety sake it was made of steel plates one-twentieth of an inch thick, then each receiver would weigh 10 lbs., and to liberate 1,000 feet clearly a weight of 500 lbs. would have to be taken up. Now, when it is considered that 1,000 cubic feet of hydrogen will only lift 72 lbs., the scheme begins to look hope less enough. But when the question of the pumping apparatus, to be worked by hand, is contemplated the difficulties introduced become yet more insuperable. The only feasible suggestion with respect the use of compressed gas is that of taking on board charged cylinders under high pressure, which, after being discharged to supply the leakage of the balloon could, in an uninhabited country, be cast out as ballast last. It will need no pointing out, however, that such an idea would be practically as futile as another which has gravely been recommended, namely, that of heating the gas of the balloon by a Davy lamp, so as to increase its buoyancy at will. Major Baden-Powell has aptly described this as resembling "an attempt to warm a large hall with a small spirit lamp."

In any future attempt to reach the Pole by balloon it is not unreasonable to suppose that wireless telegraphy will be put in practice to maintain communication with the base. The writer's personal experience of the possibilities afforded by this mode of communication, yet in its infancy, will be given.



CHAPTER XXV. THE MODERN AIRSHIP—IN SEARCH OF THE LEONIDS.

In the autumn of 1898 the aeronautical world was interested to hear that a young Brazilian, M. Santos Dumont, had completed a somewhat novel dirigible balloon, cylindrical in shape, with conical ends, 83 feet long by 12 feet in diameter, holding 6,500 cubic feet of gas, and having a small compensating balloon of 880 cubic feet capacity. For a net was substituted a simple contrivance, consisting of two side pockets, running the length of the balloon, and containing battens of wood, to which were affixed the suspension cords, bands being also sewn over the upper part of the balloon connecting the two pockets. The most important novelty, however, was the introduction of a small petroleum motor similar to those used for motor tricycles.

The inventor ascended in this balloon, inflated with pure hydrogen, from the Jardin d'Acclimatation, Paris, and circled several times round the large captive balloon in the Gardens, after which, moving towards the Bois de Boulogne, he made several sweeps of 100 yards radius. Then the pump of the compensator caused the engine to stop, and the machine, partially collapsing, fell to the ground. Santos Dumont was somewhat shaken, but announced his intention of making other trials. In this bold and successful attempt there was clear indication of a fresh phase in the construction of the airship, consisting in the happy adoption of the modern type of petroleum motor. Two other hying machines were heard of about this date, one by Professor Giampietre, of Pavia, cigar-shaped, driven by screws, and rigged with masts and sails. The other, which had been constructed and tested in strict privacy, was the invention of a French engineer, M. Ader, and was imagined to imitate the essential structure of a bird. Two steam motors of 20-horse power supplied the power. It was started by being run on the ground on small wheels attached to it, and it was claimed that before a breakdown occurred the machine had actually raised itself into the air.

Of Santos Dumont the world was presently to know more, and the same must be said of another inventor, Dr. Barton, of Beckenham, who shortly completed an airship model carrying aeroplanes and operated by clockwork. In an early experiment this model travelled four miles in twenty-three minutes.

But another airship, a true leviathan, had been growing into stately and graceful proportions on the shores of the Bodenzee in Wurtemberg, and was already on the eve of completion. Count Zeppelin, a lieut.-general in the German Army, who had seen service in the Franco-German War, had for some years devoted his fortune and energy to the practical study of aerial navigation, and had prosecuted experiments on a large scale. Eventually, having formed a company with a large capital, he was enabled to construct an airship which in size has been compared to a British man-of-war. Cigar-shaped, its length was no less than 420 feet, and diameter 40 feet, while its weight amounted to no more than 7,250 lbs. The framework, which for lightness had been made of aluminium, was, with the object of preventing all the gas collecting at one end of its elongated form, subdivided into seventeen compartments, each of these compartments containing a completely fitted gas balloon, made of oiled cotton and marvellously gas tight. A steering apparatus was placed both fore and aft, and at a safe distance below the main structure were fixed, also forward and aft, on aluminium platforms, two Daimler motor engines of 16-horse power, working aluminium propellers of four blades at the rate of 1,000 revolutions a minute. Finally, firmly attached to the inner framework by rods of aluminium, were two cars of the same metal, furnished with buffer springs to break the force of a fall. The trial trip was not made till the summer following—June, 1900—and, in the meanwhile, experiments had gone forward with another mode of flight, terminating, unhappily, in the death of one of the most expert and ingenious of mechanical aeronauts.

Mr. Percy S. Pilcher, now thirty-three years of age, having received his early training in the Navy, retired from the Service to become a civil engineer, and had been for some time a partner in the firm of Wilson and Pilcher. For four or five years he had been experimenting in soaring flight, using a Lilienthal machine, which he improved to suit his own methods. Among these was the device of rising off the ground by being rapidly towed by a line against the wind.

At the end of September he gave an exhibition at Stamford Park before Lord Bray and a select party of friends—this in spite of an unsuitable afternoon of unsteady wind and occasional showers. A long towing line was provided, which, being passed round pulley blocks and dragged by a couple of horses, was capable of being hauled in at high speed. The first trial, though ending in an accident, was eminently satisfactory. The apparatus, running against the wind, had risen some distance, when the line broke, yet the inventor descended slowly and safely with outstretched wings. The next trial also commenced well, with an easy rise to a height of some thirty feet. At that point, however, the tail broke with a snap, and the machine, pitching over, fell a complete wreck. Mr. Pilcher was found insensible, with his thigh broken, and though no other serious injury was apparent, he succumbed two days afterwards without recovering consciousness. It was surmised that shrinkage of the canvas of the tail, through getting wet, had strained and broken its bamboo stretcher.

This autumn died Gaston Tissandier, at the age of fifty-six; and in the month of December, at a ripe old age, while still in full possession of intellectual vigour, Mr. Coxwell somewhat suddenly passed away. Always keenly interested in the progress of aeronautics; he had but recently, in a letter to the Standard, proposed a well-considered and practical method of employing Montgolfier reconnoitring balloons, portable, readily inflated, and especially suited to the war in South Africa. Perhaps the last letters of a private nature penned by Mr. Coxwell were to the writer and his daughter, full of friendly and valuable suggestion, and more particularly commenting on a recent scientific aerial voyage, which proved to be not only sensational, but established a record in English ballooning.

The great train of the November meteors, known as the Leonids, which at regular periods of thirty-three years had in the past encountered the earth's atmosphere, was due, and over-due. The cause of this, and of their finally eluding observation, need only be very briefly touched on here. The actual meteoric train is known to travel in an elongated ellipse, the far end of which lies near the confines of the solar system, while at a point near the hither end the earth's orbit runs slantingly athwart it, forming, as it were, a level crossing common to the two orbits, the earth taking some five or six hours in transit. Calculation shows that the meteor train is to be expected at this crossing every thirty-three and a third years, while the train is extended to such an enormous length—taking more than a year to draw clear—that the earth must needs encounter it ere it gets by, possibly even two years running. There could be no absolute certainty about the exact year, nor the exact night when the earth and the meteors would foregather, owing to the uncertain disturbance which the latter must suffer from the pull of the planetary bodies in the long journey out and home again among them. As is now known, this disturbing effect had actually dispersed the train.

The shower, which was well seen in 1866, was pretty confidently expected in 1899, and to guard against the mischance of cloudy weather, it was arranged that the writer should, on behalf of the Times newspaper, make an ascent on the right night to secure observations. Moreover, it was arranged that he should have, as chief assistant, his own daughter, an enthusiastic lady aeronaut, who had also taken part in previous astronomical work.

Unfortunately there were two nights, those of November 14th and 15th, when the expected shower seemed equally probable, and, taking counsel with the best authorities in the astronomical world, it seemed that the only course to avoid disappointment would be to have a balloon filled and moored in readiness for an immediate start, either on the first night or on the second.

This settled the matter from the astronomical side, but there was the aeronautical side also to be considered. A balloon of 56,000 cubic feet capacity was the largest available for the occasion, and a night ascent with three passengers and instruments would need plenty of lifting power to meet chance emergencies. Thus it seemed that a possible delay of forty-eight hours might entail a greater leakage of gas than could be afforded.

The leakage might be expected chiefly to occur at the valve in the head of the balloon, it being extremely difficult to render any form of mechanical valve gas tight, however carefully its joints be stopped with luting. On this account, therefore, it was determined that the balloon should be fitted with what is known as a solid or rending valve, consisting simply of balloon fabric tied hard and fast over the entire upper outlet, after the fashion of a jam pot cover. The outlet itself was a gaping hole of over 2 feet across; but by the time its covering had been carefully varnished over all leakage was sufficiently prevented, the one drawback to this method being the fact that the liberation of gas now admitted of no regulation. Pulling the valve line would simply mean opening the entire wide aperture, which could in no way be closed again.

The management of such a valve consists in allowing the balloon to sink spontaneously earthwards, and when it has settled near the ground, having chosen a desirable landing place, to tear open the so-called valve once and for all.

This expedient, dictated by necessity, seeming sufficient for the purpose at hand, preparations were proceeded with, and, under the management of Mr. Stanley Spencer, who agreed to act as aeronaut, a large balloon, with solid valve, was brought down to Newbury gas works on November 14th, and, being inflated during the afternoon, was full and made snug by sundown. But as the meteor radiant would not be well above the horizon till after midnight, the aeronautical party retired for refreshment, and subsequently for rest, when, as the night wore on, it became evident that, though the sky remained clear, there would be no meteor display that night. The next day was overcast, and by nightfall hopelessly so, the clouds ever thickening, with absence of wind or any indication which might give promise of a change. Thus by midnight it became impossible to tell whether any display were in progress or not. Under these circumstances, it might have been difficult to decide when to make the start with the best show of reason. Clearly too early a start could not subsequently be rectified; the balloon, once off, could not come back again; while, once liberated, it would be highly unwise for it to remain aloft and hidden by clouds for more than some two hours, lest it should be carried out to sea.

Happily the right decision under these circumstances was perfectly clear. Other things being equal, the best time would be about 4 a.m., by which period the moon, then near the full, would be getting low, and the two hours of darkness left would afford the best seeing. Leaving, then, an efficient outlook on the balloon ground, the party enjoyed for some hours the entertainment offered them by the Newbury Guildhall Club, and at 4 a.m. taking their seats in the car, sailed up into the calm chilly air of the November night.

But the chilliness did not last for long. A height of 1,500 feet was read by the Davy lamp, and then we entered fog—warm, wetting fog, through which the balloon would make no progress in spite of a prodigal discharge of sand. The fact was that the balloon, which had become chilled through the night hours, was gathering a great weight of moisture from condensation on its surface, and when, at last, the whole depth of the cloud, 1,500 feet, had been penetrated, the chill of the upper air crippled the balloon and sent her plunging down again into the mist, necessitating yet further expenditure of sand, which by this time had amounted to no less than 3 1/2 cwt. in twenty minutes. And then at last we reached our level, a region on the upper margin of the cloud floor, where evaporation reduced the temperature, that had recently been that of greenhouse warmth, to intense cold.

That evaporation was going on around us on a gigantic scale was made very manifest. The surface of the vast cloud floor below us was in a perfect turmoil, like that of a troubled sea. If the cloud surface could be compared to anything on earth it most resembled sea where waves are running mountains high. At one moment we should be sailing over a trough, wide and deep below us, the next a mighty billow would toss itself aloft and vanish utterly into space. Everywhere wreaths of mist with ragged fringes were withering away into empty air, and, more remarkable yet, was the conflict of wind which sent the cloud wrack flying simply in all directions.

For two hours now there was opportunity for observing at leisure all that could be made of the falling meteors. There were a few, and these, owing to our clear, elevated region, were exceptionally bright. The majority, too, were true Leonids, issuing from the radiant point in the "Sickle," but these were not more numerous than may be counted on that night in any year, and served to emphasise the fact that no real display was in progress. The outlook was maintained, and careful notes made for two hours, at the end of which time the dawn began to break, the stars went in, and we were ready to pack up and come down.

But the point was that we were not coming down. We were at that time, 6 a.m., 4,000 feet high, and it needs no pointing out that at such an altitude it would have been madness to tear open our huge rending valve, thus emptying the balloon of gas. It may also be unnecessary to point out that in an ordinary afternoon ascent such a valve would be perfectly satisfactory, for under these circumstances the sun presently must go down, the air must grow chill, and the balloon must come earthward, allowing of an easy descent until a safe and suitable opportunity for rending the valve occurred; but now we knew that conditions were reversed, and that the sun was just going to rise.

And then it was we realised that we were caught in a trap. From that moment it was painfully evident that we were powerless to act, and were at the mercy of circumstances. By this time the light was strong, and, being well above the tossing billows of mist, we commanded an extended view on every side, which revealed, however, only the upper unbroken surface of the dense cloud canopy that lay over all the British Isles. We could only make a rough guess as to our probable locality. We knew that our course at starting lay towards the west, and if we were maintaining that course a travel of scarcely more than sixty miles would carry us out to the open sea. We had already been aloft for two hours, and as we were at an altitude at which fast upper currents are commonly met with, it was high time that, for safety, we should be coming down; yet it was morally certain that it would be now many hours before our balloon would commence to descend of its own accord by sheer slow leakage of gas, by which time, beyond all reasonable doubt, we must be carried far out over the Atlantic. All we could do was to listen intently for any sounds that might reach us from earth, and assure us that we were still over the land; and for a length of time such sounds were vouchsafed us—the bark of a dog, the lowing of cattle, the ringing trot of a horse on some hard road far down.

And then, as we were expecting, the sun climbed up into an unsullied sky, and, mounting by leaps and bounds, we watched the cloud floor receding beneath us. The effect was extremely beautiful. A description written to the Times the next morning, while the impression was still fresh, and from notes made at this period, ran thus:—"Away to an infinitely distant horizon stretched rolling billows of snowy whiteness, broken up here and there into seeming icefields, with huge fantastic hummocks. Elsewhere domes and spires reared themselves above the general surface, or an isolated Matterhorn towered into space. In some quarters it was impossible to look without the conviction that we actually beheld the outline of lofty cliffs overhanging a none too distant sea." Shortly we began to hear loud reports overhead, resembling small explosions, and we knew what these were—the moist, shrunken netting was giving out under the hot sun and yielding now and again with sudden release to the rapidly expanding gas. It was, therefore, with grave concern, but with no surprise, that when we next turned to the aneroid we found the index pointing to 9,000 feet, and still moving upwards.

Hour after hour passed by, and, sounds having ceased to reach us, it remains uncertain whether or no we were actually carried out to sea and headed back again by contrary currents, an experience with which aeronauts, including the writer, have been familiar; but, at length, there was borne up to us the distant sound of heavy hammers and of frequent trains, from which we gathered that we were probably over Bristol, and it was then that the thought occurred to my daughter that we might possibly communicate with those below with a view to succour. This led to our writing the following message many times over on blank telegraph forms and casting them down:—"Urgent. Large balloon from Newbury travelling overhead above the clouds. Cannot descend. Telegraph to sea coast (coast-guards) to be ready to rescue.—Bacon and Spencer."

While thus occupied we caught the sound of waves, and the shriek of a ship's siren. We were crossing a reach of the Severn, and most of our missives probably fell in the sea. But over the estuary there must have been a cold upper current blowing, which crippled our balloon, for the aneroid presently told of a fall of 2,000 feet. It was now past noon, and to us the turn of the tide was come. Very slowly, and with strange fluctuations, the balloon crept down till it reached and became enveloped in the cloud below, and then the end was near. The actual descent occupied nearly two hours, and affords a curious study in aerostation. The details of the balloon's dying struggles and of our own rough descent, entailing the fracture of my daughter's arm, are told in another volume.{*}

We fell near Neath, Glamorganshire, only one and a half miles short of the sea, completing a voyage which is a record in English ballooning—ten hours from start to finish.

* "By Land and Sky," by the Author.



CHAPTER XXVI. RECENT AERONAUTICAL EVENTS.

The first trial of the Zeppelin air ship was arranged to take place on June 30th, 1900, a day which, from absence of wind, was eminently well suited for the purpose; but the inflation proved too slow a process, and operations were postponed to the morrow. The morrow, however, was somewhat windy, causing delay, and by the time all was in readiness darkness had set in and the start was once more postponed. On the evening of the third day the monster craft was skilfully and successfully manoeuvred, and, rising with a very light wind, got fairly away, carrying Count Zeppelin and four other persons in the two cars. Drifting with the wind, it attained a height of some 800 or 900 feet, at which point the steering apparatus being brought into play it circled round and faced the wind, when it remained stationary. But not for long. Shortly it began to descend and, sinking gradually, gracefully, and in perfect safety, in about nine minutes it reached and rested on the water, when it was towed home.

A little later in the month, July, another trial was made, when a wind was blowing estimated at sixteen miles an hour. As on the previous occasion, the direct influence of the sun was avoided by waiting till evening hours. It ascended at 8 p.m., and the engines getting to work it made a slow progress of about two miles an hour against the wind for about 3 1/2 miles, when one of the rudders gave way, and the machine was obliged to descend.

On the evening of October 24th of the same year, in very calm weather and with better hope, another ascent was made. On this occasion, however, success was frustrated by one of the rear rudders getting foul of the gear, followed by the escape of gas from one of the balloons.

Another and more successful trial took place in the same month, again in calm atmosphere. Inferior gas was employed, and it would appear that the vessel had not sufficient buoyancy. It remained aloft for a period of twenty minutes, during which it proved perfectly manageable, making a graceful journey out and home, and returning close to its point of departure. This magnificent air ship, the result of twenty years of experiment, has since been abandoned and broken up; yet the sacrifice has not been without result. Over and above the stimulus which Count Zeppelin's great endeavour has given to the aeronautical world, two special triumphs are his. He has shown balloonists how to make a perfectly gas-tight material, and has raised powerful petroleum motors in a balloon with safety.

In the early part of 1900 it was announced that a member of the Paris Aero Club, who at the time withheld his name (M. Deutsch) offered a prize of 100,000 francs to the aeronaut who, either in a balloon or flying machine, starting from the grounds of the Aero Club at Longchamps, would make a journey round the Eiffel Tower, returning to the starting place within half an hour. The donor would withdraw his prize if not won within five years, and in the meanwhile would pay 4,000 francs annually towards the encouragement of worthy experimenters.

It was from this time that flying machines in great variety and goodly number began to be heard of, if not actually seen. One of the earliest to be announced in the Press was a machine invented by the Russian, Feedoroff, and the Frenchman, Dupont. Dr. Danilewsky came forward with a flying machine combining balloon and aeroplane, the steering of which would be worked like a velocipede by the feet of the aeronaut.

Mr. P. Y. Alexander, of Bath, who had long been an enthusiastic balloonist, and who had devoted a vast amount of pains, originality, and engineering skill to the pursuit of aeronautics, was at this time giving much attention to the flying machine, and was, indeed, one of the assistants in the first successful launching of the Zeppelin airship. In concert with Mr. W. G. Walker, A.M.I.C.E., Mr. Alexander carried out some valuable and exhaustive experiments on the lifting power of air propellers, 30 feet in diameter, driven by a portable engine. The results, which were of a purely technical nature, have been embodied in a carefully compiled memoir.

An air ship now appeared, invented by M. Rose, consisting of two elongated vessels filled with gas, and carrying the working gear and car between them. The machine was intentionally made heavier than air, and was operated by a petrol motor of 12-horse power.

It was now that announcements began to be made to the effect that, next to the Zeppelin air ship, M. Santos Dumont's balloon was probably attracting most of the attention of experts. The account given of this air vessel by the Daily Express was somewhat startling. The balloon proper was compared to a large torpedo. Three feet beneath this hangs the gasoline motor which is to supply the power. The propeller is 12 feet in diameter, and is revolved so rapidly by the motor that the engine frequently gets red hot. The only accommodation for the traveller is a little bicycle seat, from which the aeronaut will direct his motor and steering gear by means of treadles. Then the inclination or declination of his machine must be noted on the spirit level at his side, and the 200 odd pounds of ballast must be regulated as the course requires.

A more detailed account of this navigable balloon was furnished by a member of the Paris Aero Club. From this authority we learn that the capacity of the balloon was 10,700 cubic feet. It contained an inner balloon and an air fan, the function of which was to maintain the shape of the balloon when meeting the wind, and the whole was operated by a 10-horse power motor capable of working the screw at 100 revolutions per minute.

But before the aerial exploits of Santos Dumont had become famous, balloons had again claimed public attention. On August 1st Captain Spelterini, with two companions, taking a balloon and 180 cylinders of hydrogen to the top of the Rigi and ascending thence, pursued a north-east course, across extensive and beautiful tracts of icefield and mountain fastnesses unvisited by men. The descent, which was difficult and critical, was happily manoeuvred. This took place on the Gnuetseven, a peak over 5,000 feet high, the plateau on which the voyagers landed being described as only 50 yards square, surrounded by precipices.

On the 10th of September following the writer was fortunate in carrying out some wireless telegraphy experiments in a balloon, the success of which is entirely due to the unrivalled skill of Mr. Nevil Maskelyne, F.R.A.S., and to his clever adaptation of the special apparatus of his own invention to the exigencies of a free balloon. The occasion was the garden party at the Bradford meeting of the British Association, Admiral Sir Edmund Fremantle taking part in the voyage, with Mr. Percival Spencer in charge. The experiment was to include the firing of a mine in the grounds two minutes after the balloon had left, and this item was entirely successful. The main idea was to attempt to establish communication between a base and a free balloon retreating through space at a height beyond practicable gun shot. The wind was fast and squally, and the unavoidable rough jolting which the car received at the start put the transmitting instrument out of action. The messages, however, which were sent from the grounds at Lister Park were received and watched by the occupants of the car up to a distance of twenty miles, at which point the voyage terminated.

On September 30th, and also on October 9th, of this year, took place two principal balloon races from Vincennes in connection with the Paris Exposition. In the first race, among those who competed were M. Jacques Faure, the Count de la Vaulx, and M. Jacques Balsan. The Count was the winner, reaching Wocawek, in Russian Poland, a travel of 706 miles, in 21 hours 34 minutes. M. Balsan was second, descending near Dantzig in East Prussia, 757 miles, in 22 hours. M. Jacques Faure reached Mamlitz, in East Prussia, a distance of 753 miles.

In the final race the Count de la Vaulx made a record voyage of 1,193 miles, reaching Korosticheff, in Russia, in 35 hours 45 minutes, attaining a maximum altitude of 18,810 feet. M. J. Balsan reached a greater height, namely, 21,582 feet, travelling to Rodom, in Russia, a distance of 843 miles, in 27 hours 25 minutes.

Some phenomenal altitudes were attained at this time. In September, 1898, Dr. Berson, of Berlin, ascended from the Crystal Palace in a balloon inflated with hydrogen, under the management of Mr. Stanley Spencer, oxygen being an essential part of the equipment. The start was made at 5 p.m., and the balloon at first drifted south-east, out over the mouth of the Thames, until at an altitude of 10,000 feet an upper current changed the course to southwest, the balloon mounting rapidly till 23,000 feet was reached, at which height the coast of France was plainly seen. At 25,000 feet both voyagers were gasping, and compelled to inhale oxygen. At 27,500 feet, only four bags of ballast being left, the descent was commenced, and a safe landing was effected at Romford.

Subsequently Dr. Berson, in company with Dr. Suring, ascending from Berlin, attained an altitude of 34,000 feet. At 30,000 feet the aeronauts were inhaling oxygen, and before reaching their highest point both had for a considerable time remained unconscious.

In 1901 a new aeroplane flying machine began to attract attention, the invention of Herr Kress. A novel feature of the machine was a device to render it of avail for Arctic travel. In shape it might be compared to an iceboat with two keels and a long stem, the keels being adapted to run on ice or snow, while the boat would float on water. Power was to be derived from a petrol motor.

At the same period M. Henry Sutor was busy on Lake Constance with an air ship designed also to float on water. Then Mr. Buchanan followed with a fish-shaped vessel, one of the most important specialities of which consisted in side propellers, the surfaces of which were roughened with minute diagonal grooves to effect a greater grip on the air.

No less original was the air ship, 100 feet long, and carrying 18,000 cubic feet of gas, which Mr. W. Beedle was engaged upon. In this machine, besides the propellers for controlling the horizontal motion, there was one to regulate vertical motion, with a view of obviating expenditure of gas or ballast.

But by this time M. Santos Dumont, pursuing his hobby with unparalleled perseverance, had built in succession no less than six air ships, meeting with no mean success, profiting by every lesson taught by failures, and making light of all accidents, great or small. On July 15th, 1901, he made a famous try for the Deutsch prize in a cigar-shaped balloon, 110 feet long, 19,000 cubic feet capacity, carrying a Daimler oil motor of 15-horse power. The day was not favourable, but, starting from the Parc d'Aerostation, he was abreast of the Eiffel Tower in thirteen minutes, circling round which, and battling against a head wind, he reached the grounds of the Aero Club in 41 minutes from the start, or 11 minutes late by the conditions of the prize. A cylinder had broken down, and the balance of the vessel had become upset.

Within a fortnight—July 29th—in favourable weather, he made another flight, lasting fifteen minutes, at the end of which he had returned to his starting ground. Then on August 8th a more momentous attempt came off. Sailing up with a rapid ascent, and flying with the wind, Santos Dumont covered the distance to the Tower in five minutes only, and gracefully swung round; but, immediately after, the wind played havoc, slowing down the motor, at the same time damaging the balloon, and causing an escape of gas. On this Santos Dumont, ascending higher into the sky, quitted the car, and climbed along the keel to inspect, and, if possible, rectify the motor, but with little success. The balloon was emptying, and the machine pitched badly, till a further rent occurred, when it commenced falling hopelessly and with a speed momentarily increasing.

Slanting over a roof, the balloon caught a chimney and tore asunder; but the wreck, also catching, held fast, while the car hung helplessly down a blank wall. In this perilous predicament great coolness and agility alone averted disaster, till firemen were able to come to the rescue.

The air ship was damaged beyond repair, but by September 6th another was completed, and on trial appeared to work well until, while travelling at speed, it was brought up and badly strained by the trail rope catching in trees.

Early in the next month the young Brazilian was aloft again, with weather conditions entirely in his favour; but again certain minor mishaps prevented his next struggle for the prize, which did not take place till the 19th. On this day a light cross wind was blowing, not sufficient, however, seriously to influence the first stage of the time race, and the outward journey was accomplished with a direct flight in nine minutes. On rounding the tower, however, the wind began to tell prejudicially, and the propeller became deranged. On this, letting his vessel fall off from the wind, Santos Dumont crawled along the framework till he reached the motor, which he succeeded in again setting in working order, though not without a delay of several minutes and some loss of ground. From that point the return journey was accomplished in eight minutes, and the race was, at the time, declared lost by 40 seconds only.

The most important and novel feature in the air ships constructed by Santos Dumont was the internal ballonet, inflated automatically by a ventilator, the expedient being designed to preserve the shape of the main balloon itself while meeting the wind. On the whole, it answered well, and took the place of the heavy wire cage used by Zeppelin.

M. de Fonvielle, commenting on the achievements of Santos Dumont, wrote:—"It does not appear that he has navigated his balloon against more than very light winds, but in his machinery he has shown such attention to detail that it may reasonably be expected that if he continues to increase his motive power he will, ere long, exceed past performances."

Mr. Chanute has a further word to say about the possibility of making balloons navigable. He considers that their size will have to be great to the verge of impracticability and the power of the motor enormous in proportion to its weight. As to flying machines, properly so called, he calculates the best that has been done to be the sustaining of from 27 lbs. to 55 lbs. per horse power by impact upon the air. But Mr. Chanute also argues that the equilibrium is of prime importance, and on this point there could scarcely be a greater authority. No one of living men has given more attention to the problem of "soaring," and it is stated that he has had about a thousand "slides" made by assistants, with different types of machine, and all without the slightest accident.

Many other aerial vessels might be mentioned. Mr. T. H. Bastin, of Clapham, has been engaged for many years on a machine which should imitate bird flight as nearly as this may be practicable.

Baron Bradsky aims at a navigable balloon on an ambitious scale. M. Tatin is another candidate for the Deutsch prize. Of Dr. Barton's air ship more is looked for, as being designed for the War Office. It is understood that the official requirements demand a machine which, while capable of transporting a man through the air at a speed of 13 miles an hour, can remain fully inflated for 48 hours. One of the most sanguine, as well as enterprising, imitators of Santos Dumont was a fellow countryman, Auguste Severo. Of his machine during construction little could be gathered, and still less seen, from the fact that the various parts were being manufactured at different workshops, but it was known to be of large size and to be fitted with powerful motors. This was an ill-fated vessel. At an early hour on May 12th of this year, 1902, all Paris was startled by a report that M. Severo and his assistant, M. Sachet had been killed while making a trial excursion. It appears that at daybreak it had been decided that the favourable moment for trial had arrived. The machinery was got ready, and with little delay the air vessel was dismissed and rose quietly and steadily into the calm sky. The Daily Mail gives the following account of what ensued:—

"For the first few minutes all went well, and the motor seemed to be working satisfactorily. The air ship answered the helm readily, and admiring exclamations rose from the crowd.... But as the vessel rose higher she was seen to fall off from the wind, while the aeronauts could be seen vainly endeavouring to keep her head on. Then M. Severo commenced throwing out ballast.... All this time the ship was gradually soaring higher and higher until, just as it was over the Montparnasse Cemetery, at the height of 2,000 feet, a sheet of flame was seen to shoot up from one of the motors, and instantly the immense silk envelope containing 9,000 cubic feet of hydrogen was enveloped in leaping tongues of fire.... As soon as the flames came in contact with the gas a tremendous explosion followed, and in an instant all that was left of the air ship fell to the earth." Both aeronauts were dashed to pieces. It was thought that the fatality was caused through faulty construction, the escape valve for the gas being situated only about nine feet from the motor. It was announced by Count de la Vaulx that during the summer of 1901 he would attempt to cross the Mediterranean by a balloon, provisioned for three weeks, maintaining communication with the coast during his voyage by wireless telegraphy and other methods of signalling. He was to make use of the "Herve Deviator," or steering apparatus, which may be described as a series of cupshaped plates dipping in the water at the end of a trail rope. By means of controlling cords worked from the car, the whole series of plates could be turned at an angle to the direction of the wind, by which the balloon's course would be altered. Count de la Vaulx attempted this grand journey on October 12th, starting from Toulon with the intention of reaching Algiers, taking the precaution, however, of having a cruiser in attendance. When fifty miles out from Marseilles a passing steamer received from the balloon the signal, "All's well"; but the wind had veered round to the east, and, remaining persistently in this quarter, the Count abandoned his venture, and, signalling to the cruiser, succeeded in alighting on her deck, not, however, before he had completed the splendid and record voyage of 41 hours' duration.