HOW I BECAME AN AËRONAUT
of 80 meters (264 feet). A few minutes later I arrived above Longchamps, crossed the Seine, and passed on at full speed over the heads of the Committee and spectators and around the Saint-Cloud Aërodrome. It was then 11 minutes, 30 seconds past 3 o’clock, making the actual time exactly 29 minutes, 31 seconds. The air-ship, carried by its impetus, passed on across the line like a yacht or a race-horse. I turned and drove myself back to the Aërodrome, to have my guide-rope caught and be drawn down at 12 minutes, 40 seconds past 3 o’clock, 30 minutes, 40 seconds from the start.
I had now won the Deutsch Prize, and winter was approaching. From my friend, the Duc de Dino, and his charming American wife, I had received an invitation to their Monte Carlo villa; while from the Prince of Monaco assurances were sent me that the Prince, himself a man of science, would be pleased to build me a balloon-house directly on the beach of the Condamine, from where I might continue my experiments throughout the winter over the Mediterranean.
Monte Carlo
The story of these experiments has been already told in McCLURE’S MAGAZINE.[1] I will, therefore, add here only a few observations touching on the accident which caused me once again deliberately to wreck my air-ship.
As Mr. Heilig has written,[1] the ‘‘Santos-Dumont No. 6’’ left the Aërodrome of the Condamine at 2.30 p.m. of February 14, 1902, imperfectly inflated and imperfectly ballasted. The experimenter with dirigible balloons must be continually on his guard against the little errors and neglects of his aids. I have four men who have been with me three years; they are now, in their way, experts, and I have every confidence in them. Yet this thing happened. Imagine, then, what might be the dangers with a set of inexperienced subordinates.
In spite of their simplicity, my air-ships require constant surveillance on a few capital heads. Is the balloon properly filled? Is there possibility of a leak? Is the rigging in condition? Is the motor in condition? Do the cords commanding rudder, motor, water-ballast, and the shifting weights work freely? Is the ballast properly balanced? Looked on as a mere machine, the air-ship requires no more care than an automobile; but, from the point of view of consequences, the need of faithful and intelligent surveillance is simply imperious.
In the first years of my experiments I insisted on doing everything for myself. I ‘‘groomed‘‘ my balloons with my own hands. My present aids understand my present air-ships. Yet were I to begin experiments with a new type, I should have to train them all anew.
The air-ship left the Aërodrome imperfectly balanced, because there was no space outside in which to send it up and ascertain if its ballast were properly distributed. As a consequence, I perceived when over the bay that the whole system was too heavy behind. Thus, the push of the propeller sent the air-ship obliquely upward. It had been cool inside the shaded Aërodrome. Outside the direct rays of the sun immediately expanded the hydrogen. The balloon being imperfectly filled, the gas in its upward-pointing end became heated first, causing an upward rush of still more hydrogen and further exaggerating the inclination. That nothing should be lacking, the effect of all this was to react powerfully on the center of gravity of the whole system: ordinarily the keel is held rigidly parallel with the balloon, by piano wires tightly stretched; but now the strain of the inclined position, already an angle of almost forty-five degrees, dragged the keel downward and backward until the balloon’s nose pointed almost vertically to the zenith.
The rigging sagged behind; it caught in the propeller; then the guide-rope caught. I did not dare to stop the propeller, because the strong wind would have dashed me against the houses of Monte Carlo. Yet the propeller was tearing the rigging. There was nothing to do but to pull open the manœuver-valve, let out a quantity of gas, and come down gradually into the water.
Dangers and Difficulties
I have often been asked what present utility is to be expected of the dirigible balloon when it becomes thoroughly practicable. I have never pretended that its commercial possibilities could go far. The question of the air-ship in war, however, is otherwise. Mr. Hiram Maxim has declared that a flying machine in South Africa would have been worth four times its weight in gold. Henri Rochefort has said: ‘‘The day when it is established that a man can direct an air-ship in a given direction and cause it to manœuver as he wills. . . there will remain little for the nations to do but to lay down their arms.’’
Experience with spherical war balloons in South Africa has shown that they may be shot at and pierced with bullets without other
