The Aeroplane Speaks [21]
went on the Pilot, a little nettled at having such a poor listener, ``it's very simple. Aeroplanes have `just growed' like Topsy, and they consequently contain this and many another relic of early day design when Aeroplanes were more or less thrown together and anything was good enough that could get off the ground.''
``By Jove,'' interrupts the Observer, ``I do believe the fog is lifting. Hadn't we better get the engine and body covers off, just in case it's really so?''
``I believe you're right. I am sure those hills over there could not be seen a few minutes ago, and look--there's sunshine over there. We'd better hurry up.''
Ten minutes' hard work and the covers are off, neatly folded and stowed aboard; the picketing wires are cast adrift, and the Pilot is once more in his seat. The Aeroplane has been turned to face the other end of the field, and, the Observer swinging round the propeller, the engine is awake again and slowly ticking over. Quickly the Observer climbs into his seat in front of the Pilot, and, the latter slightly opening the throttle, the Aeroplane leisurely rolls over the ground towards the other end of the field, from which the ascent will be made.
Arriving there the Pilot turns the Aeroplane in order to face the wind and thus secure a quick ``get-off.'' Then he opens the throttle fully and the mighty voice of the Engine roars out ``Now see me clear that hedge!'' and the Aeroplane races forward at its minimum angle of incidence. Tail up, and with ever-increasing speed, it rushes towards the hedge under the lee of which it has lately been at rest; and then, just as the Observer involuntarily pulls back an imaginary ``joy-stick,'' the Pilot moves the real one and places the machine at its best climbing angle. Like a living thing it responds, and instantly leaves the ground, clearing the hedge like a--well, like an Aeroplane with an excellent margin of lift. Upwards it climbs with even and powerful lift, and the familiar scenes below again gladden the eyes of the Pilot. Smaller and more and more squat grow the houses and hills; more and more doll-like appear the fields which are clearly outlined by the hedges; and soon the country below is easily identified with the map. Now they can see the river before them and a bay of the sea which must be crossed or skirted. The fog still lingers along the course of the river and between the hills, but is fast rolling away in grey, ghost-like masses. Out to sea it obscures the horizon, making it difficult to be sure where water ends and fog begins, and creating a strange, rather weird effect by which ships at a certain distance appear to be floating in space.
Now the Aeroplane is almost over the river, and the next instant it suddenly drops into a ``hole in the air.'' With great suddenness it happens, and for some two hundred feet it drops nose-down and tilted over sideways; but the Pilot is prepared and has put his craft on an even keel in less time than it takes to tell you about it; for well he knows that he must expect such conditions when passing over a shore or, indeed, any well-defined change in the composition of the earth's surface. Especially is this so on a hot and sunny day, for then the warm surface of the earth creates columns of ascending air, the speed of the ascent depending upon the composition of the surface. Sandy soil, for instance, such as borders this river produces a quickly ascending column of air, whereas water and forests have not such a marked effect. Thus, when our Aeroplane passed over the shore of the river, it suddenly lost the lift due to the ascending air produced by the warm sandy soil, and it consequently dropped just as if it had fallen into a hole.
Now the Aeroplane is over the bay and, the sea being calm, the Pilot looks down, down through the water, and clearly sees the bottom, hundreds of feet below the surface. Down through the reflection of the blue sky and clouds, and one might think that is all, but it isn't. Only those who fly know the beauties of the sea as viewed from above; its dappled pearly tints;
``By Jove,'' interrupts the Observer, ``I do believe the fog is lifting. Hadn't we better get the engine and body covers off, just in case it's really so?''
``I believe you're right. I am sure those hills over there could not be seen a few minutes ago, and look--there's sunshine over there. We'd better hurry up.''
Ten minutes' hard work and the covers are off, neatly folded and stowed aboard; the picketing wires are cast adrift, and the Pilot is once more in his seat. The Aeroplane has been turned to face the other end of the field, and, the Observer swinging round the propeller, the engine is awake again and slowly ticking over. Quickly the Observer climbs into his seat in front of the Pilot, and, the latter slightly opening the throttle, the Aeroplane leisurely rolls over the ground towards the other end of the field, from which the ascent will be made.
Arriving there the Pilot turns the Aeroplane in order to face the wind and thus secure a quick ``get-off.'' Then he opens the throttle fully and the mighty voice of the Engine roars out ``Now see me clear that hedge!'' and the Aeroplane races forward at its minimum angle of incidence. Tail up, and with ever-increasing speed, it rushes towards the hedge under the lee of which it has lately been at rest; and then, just as the Observer involuntarily pulls back an imaginary ``joy-stick,'' the Pilot moves the real one and places the machine at its best climbing angle. Like a living thing it responds, and instantly leaves the ground, clearing the hedge like a--well, like an Aeroplane with an excellent margin of lift. Upwards it climbs with even and powerful lift, and the familiar scenes below again gladden the eyes of the Pilot. Smaller and more and more squat grow the houses and hills; more and more doll-like appear the fields which are clearly outlined by the hedges; and soon the country below is easily identified with the map. Now they can see the river before them and a bay of the sea which must be crossed or skirted. The fog still lingers along the course of the river and between the hills, but is fast rolling away in grey, ghost-like masses. Out to sea it obscures the horizon, making it difficult to be sure where water ends and fog begins, and creating a strange, rather weird effect by which ships at a certain distance appear to be floating in space.
Now the Aeroplane is almost over the river, and the next instant it suddenly drops into a ``hole in the air.'' With great suddenness it happens, and for some two hundred feet it drops nose-down and tilted over sideways; but the Pilot is prepared and has put his craft on an even keel in less time than it takes to tell you about it; for well he knows that he must expect such conditions when passing over a shore or, indeed, any well-defined change in the composition of the earth's surface. Especially is this so on a hot and sunny day, for then the warm surface of the earth creates columns of ascending air, the speed of the ascent depending upon the composition of the surface. Sandy soil, for instance, such as borders this river produces a quickly ascending column of air, whereas water and forests have not such a marked effect. Thus, when our Aeroplane passed over the shore of the river, it suddenly lost the lift due to the ascending air produced by the warm sandy soil, and it consequently dropped just as if it had fallen into a hole.
Now the Aeroplane is over the bay and, the sea being calm, the Pilot looks down, down through the water, and clearly sees the bottom, hundreds of feet below the surface. Down through the reflection of the blue sky and clouds, and one might think that is all, but it isn't. Only those who fly know the beauties of the sea as viewed from above; its dappled pearly tints;