The Aeroplane Speaks [10]
A brand new, rakish, up-to-date machine it is, of highly polished, beautifully finished wood, fabric as tight as a drum, polished metal, and every part so perfectly ``streamlined'' to minimize Drift, which is the resistance of the air to the passage of the machine, that to the veriest tyro the remark of the Pilot is obviously justified.
``Clean looking 'bus, looks almost alive and impatient to be off. Ought to have a turn for speed with those lines.''
``Yes,'' replies the Flight-Commander, ``it's the latest of its type and looks a beauty. Give it a good test. A special report is required on this machine.''
The A.M.'s[[8]] have now placed the Aeroplane in position facing the gentle air that is just beginning to make itself evident; the engine Fitter, having made sure of a sufficiency of oil and petrol in the tanks, is standing by the Propeller; the Rigger, satisfied with a job well done, is critically ``vetting'' the machine by eye, four A.M.'s are at their posts, ready to hold the Aeroplane from jumping the blocks which have been placed in front of the wheels; and the Flight- Sergeant is awaiting the Pilot's orders.
[[8]] A.M.'s: Air Mechanics.
As the Pilot approaches the Aeroplane the Rigger springs to attention and reports, ``All correct, sir,'' but the Fitter does not this morning report the condition of the Engine, for well he knows that this Pilot always personally looks after the preliminary engine test. The latter, in leathern kit, warm flying boots and goggled, climbs into his seat, and now, even more than before, has the Aeroplane an almost living appearance, as if straining to be off and away. First he moves the Controls to see that everything is clear, for sometimes when the Aeroplane is on the ground the control lever or ``joy-stick'' is lashed fast to prevent the wind from blowing the controlling surfaces about and possibly damaging them.
The air of this early dawn is distinctly chilly, and the A.M.'s are beginning to stamp their cold feet upon the dewy grass, but very careful and circumspect is the Pilot, as he mutters to himself, ``Don't worry and flurry, or you'll die in a hurry.''
At last he fumbles for his safety belt, but with a start remembers the Pilot Air Speed Indicator, and, adjusting it to zero, smiles as he hears the Pilot-head's gruff voice, ``Well, I should think so, twenty miles an hour I was registering. That's likely to cause a green pilot to stall the Aeroplane. Pancake, they call it.'' And the Pilot, who is an old hand and has learned a lot of things in the air that mere earth-dwellers know nothing about, distinctly heard the Pilot Tube, whose mouth is open to the air to receive its pressure, stammer. ``Oh Lor! I've got an earwig already-- hope to goodness the Rigger blows me out when I come down--and this morning air simply fills me with moisture; I'll never keep the Liquid steady in the Gauge. I'm not sure of my rubber connections either.''
``Oh, shut up!'' cry all the Wires in unison, ``haven't we got our troubles too? We're in the most horrible state of tension. It's simply murdering our Factor of Safety, and how we can possibly stand it when we get the Lift only the Designer knows.''
``That's all right,'' squeak all the little Wire loops, ``we're that accommodating, we're sure to elongate a bit and so relieve your tension.'' For the whole Aeroplane is braced together with innumerable wires, many of which are at their ends bent over in the form of loops in order to connect with the metal fittings on the spars and elsewhere-- cheap and easy way of making connection.
``Elongate, you little devils, would you?'' fairly shout the Angles of Incidence, Dihedral and Stagger, amid a chorus of groans from all parts of the Aeroplane. ``What's going to happen to us then? How are we going to keep our adjustments upon which good flying depends?''
``Butt us and screw us,''[[9]] wail the Wires. ``Butt us and screw us, and death to the Loops. That's what we sang to the Designer, but he only looked sad and scowled at the Directors.''
[[9]] Butt means to thicken