Part 12

I stretched myself nearly at full length in the car and went earnestly in for a doze. I believe, too, that the first stage of it was duly entered upon, when voices in the distance were indistinctly heard through the wicker-work.

I sprang up, casting aside the curtains of oiled silk, and listened attentively. Yes, there were men in the next field, they had doubtless seen and followed the balloon; to welcome them would be most expedient.

“Hallo there! here I am and the balloon as well.”

No sooner had I delivered this piece of information than I heard a voice say, “Hush!” Receding footsteps in an irregular stampede followed, and I was left in wonderment as to what it all meant.

I came to the conclusion that a gang of poachers were in the neighbourhood, and that I had disturbed their operations at the very outset.

After shouting again and again, I heard no more of the strange voices or footsteps; I determined upon again sallying forth, but this time in the opposite direction, when I armed myself with the liberating iron, a powerful weapon, and, if used dexterously, far more to be dreaded than a policeman’s truncheon.

Having again deposited another white stone in the lane opposite the gate, I walked for at least a mile, when I came to a village green having a pond at one side and cottages in the distance.

It had struck eleven o’clock when I heard some men approaching, and although they were not exactly steady still I was glad to meet with anyone for information’s sake, and for assistance in the packing up.

“Here my man, be good enough to inform me what place this is, I am a stranger and require assistance.”

“But you surely know where you are?”

“No, the fact is I’ve just popped down here in a balloon, and I require help.”

“Oh, that’s it; well, if you go to the ‘Red Lion’ down the street I daresay you’ll get what you want; the landlord is a retired fighting man, and he’ll put you to rights in no time.”

While I was in the act of laughing, my suspicious adviser moved off in an evident state of doubt and alarm, so I pressed forward down the street, and was glad to hear the measured steps of a policeman.

As he appeared I thus accosted him:--

“Officer, I am glad to have met you, being a stranger and not knowing what _county_ I am in. I have just----.”

The bull’s eye was immediately turned, and my liberating iron scanned, when the policeman backed a step or two and said, “Oh, you don’t know what county you’re in, don’t ye. Well, I should think you know the county gaol pretty well.”

Whether it was the provoking way in which I burst out laughing, or my close resemblance to some criminal character, I cannot say, but the officer drew himself together as if he were about to encounter a robber, and before I could speak with becoming gravity he held up his lantern and assured me that if I did not immediately move off out of the village he should take me to the station house.

“That’s just where I am going either with or without you as an escort,” I said; “but mind what you are about officer, the fact is, I have descended in a balloon not far from here this evening, and I have come for assistance. Which, pray, is the ‘Red Lion’?”

“I thought,” rejoined the policeman, “You didn’t know what county you were in; we had quite enough of you fellows a fortnight ago, and if you hang about here I shall take you into custody.”

“Do so at your peril,” I cried, holding up my iron defiantly.

The officer continued his beat as if he were perplexed as to my business in that part of the country; I observed that he kept his eye upon me, and turned round occasionally as he went up the street.

I failed to obtain an entrance into the “Red Lion,” nor did I see anyone to ask where the station house was, and as the persons met with appeared semi-savages, I became anxious about the balloon, and decided upon going back and having a parting word with the policeman.

That official, however, was not to be seen, he had either gone further on the road, or he was watching me from some unseen place.

On recognizing the stone, and regaining the field, sleep was once more sought, and this time successfully.

I did not awake until voices were faintly heard in the morning.

I then peeped from my cage, and found that farm labourers were going to work.

Feeling assured that they would pass the gate, notice the stone, and then the balloon, I remained quiet, but could clearly discern the men as they came to a dead halt, as if paralyzed with astonishment at the strange appearance in the field.

“What be that Jim?” said the foremost man with one leg raised on the gate.

“Dang’d if I know,” said another, “either the owld’un or sum’mut alive.”

“Let’s over and see lads.”

As the men approached the balloon their cautious movements and general expression betokened fear.

When they first reached the car, I threw aside my covering, anxious to convince them without further doubt, what it was they were gazing upon.

Whether or not I was too energetic, and sprang up like Jack in the box, I cannot say, but the moment their eyes rested upon me they fled in dismay.

I followed after them, urging that “it was only a balloon,” but the affrighted ones jumped through a hedge-gap, and it was not until they had drawn up on the other side, as if ashamed of their fear, that they listened to what I had to say, and on regaining self-possession they went back and examined for themselves; after getting reassured they conducted me to their master, who invited me to breakfast.

While we were finishing our coffee, the farmer continually apologized for the rude behaviour of his men, who were not at all polite.

Master Hector, the dog, kept eying and pawing me as if he would be rough, but for the presence of the farmer.

After breakfast we drove over to Basingstoke, and called at the “Red Lion” on our road to the railway station.

The landlord had heard a knocking the previous night, and had been warned by the policeman of a dangerous-looking fellow being about, with a house-breaker’s implement in his possession ready for use.

I showed him the liberating iron and explained its application, and who I was, &c., when the ex-pugilist was much amused, and informed me why the villagers were so cautious about strangers.

A fortnight previously, I learnt, several of the shops had been robbed by a gang of London thieves, and most of them, as well as the police, were apprehensive of a second visitation.

“Another thing,” said the burly landlord, “You must please not forget that you have come among the Hampshire hogs, and that a grunt or two is all in character.”

On putting me down at the railway station the farmer expressed his regret that he had not heard my call when I descended, and that the persons I sought information from were so unfriendly.

I told him that I had frequently met with almost similar receptions, and that the treatment I had received was owing to the balloon not having been seen in the air.

* * * * *

As the story of my life represents thoughts and acts in childhood, youth, and early experience, I have now to account for a break in the narrative, which must leave off while barely touching the year 1853. As there yet remains five and thirty years of my career to describe it follows that I cannot do so in the present volume, which, to be candid, owes its appearance to a circumstance which requires mentioning.

I had supplied my publishers with an article on Military Ballooning for one of their magazines. This led to the question whether or not the matter would lend itself to expansion for a small book, and as Military and Meteorological Ballooning had revived in Paris, I expressed myself ready to allude to the current topics of the day, and further stated that I had written part of my life. It was then decided to connect the two; but there is this striking contrast between the narrative and the more matured remarks which are added, viz, that the former gives faithfully the buoyant allusions to my early ascents in a gossiping, anecdotal strain, whereas the following chapters are the more matured opinions of later years.

I have noticed hitherto that ballooning best commends itself to general readers when amusement is blended with instruction, and especially if the scientific and practical part is introduced incidentally, so as to avoid abstruse treatment and long calculations.

I must ask the reader’s indulgence to recollect that the writer was born in 1819 (I ought perhaps, with becoming loyalty, to add that considering this is the era of Her Majesty’s Jubilee, I had the _honour_ of being born in that year). An apology is perhaps therefore due for a mixed composition, and for the writer’s boyish views in the earlier part, although it may not be unreasonably presumed that as I have seen some service in trying to advance Aëronautic Science and Military Ballooning, the latter remarks may have more value.

I may add that in a succeeding Volume my autobiography will be continued and concluded.

[Illustration]

THE BEGINNING OF MILITARY BALLOONING.

Many articles have appeared on this subject, but they are mostly concise compilations as to the dates of the employment of war balloons, and there is yet wanting a more simple and systematic arrangement of the order and particulars under which the respective balloons figured in early aëronautic history.

I have endeavoured to supply these requirements and to add a few practical and critical observations as to the merits and faults of the various equipments and plans from an aëronautic standpoint; as this kind of treatment may interest military aëronauts, and assist civilians who are studying the matter, and it may also prove more attractive to general readers who like to know what professional men have to say (in friendly rivalry) as to the ideas of naval and military officers, who have devoted attention to ballooning.

On the other hand military men, the young especially, who are apt to conclude that veterans know very little compared with modern tacticians, may find that in this speciality they are somewhat mistaken, and that ballooning is not to be “picked up,” so to speak, without having a regular and legitimate schooling in an art which so very few understand.

“One science only will one genius fit, So vast is art, so narrow human wit.”

The inventive genius of the French may be traced no less than their intrepidity in their early efforts to apply the balloon to purposes of warfare.

In the year 1793, a scientific committee was formed in Paris with this object, when it was suggested that balloons should be used both for attack and defence, and for ascertaining the movement of armies in the field, and to get at the strength of fortified places.

Here was a clear and comprehensive plan for a new departure in military science which the leading nations of Europe have been slow in imitating.

A great deal of doubt and ridicule have been cast upon those (myself included), who, in different countries had the courage of their convictions to urge such a movement upon the attention of those in power.

Austria, whose forces first faced a war balloon at the battle of Fleurus, directed her government not to neglect a bird’s-eye view of the enemy.

Russia took up the idea pretty early.

Italy followed suit.

Germany was slow to move in the air, but has been steady and scientific in carrying out her projects.

Old England, proverbially averse to new fangled notions, resisted all overtures even from an experienced aëronaut for many years, pooh-poohing this kind of feather-brained mode of strategy as at that period imagined.

At last, after experiments had been made by Colonel Beaumont and myself at Aldershot and Woolwich, a balloon corps was formed and permitted to try their hand with calico balloons.

This new force, however, ignoring the first instructors most persistently, ventured to teach the British army without recognized balloonists to aid them; but one day, in an unfortunate hour, a war balloon, while taking a preliminary canter, not, of course, in an official capacity, dashed off on a dark December evening to sea, with an enterprising and much lamented member of Parliament, who knew no fear, but had a poor chance of being rescued from a watery grave.

Then, after this calamity, the British balloon force languished, but not for long, as war clouds were to be seen in the East, where military balloons should have been sent, particularly to Alexandria, but they were not, nor to other places in which Lord Wolseley has himself admitted that they might have proved very useful.

Our own progress at home and the activity displayed on the continent form an instructive contrast, but if we want to ascertain and compare the present with the past we must go back to the year 1793, and follow on chronologically.

The Committee of Public Safety (an excellent kind of committee for London adoption) gave their approval on condition that the gas should be prepared without using sulphuric acid, as sulphur could ill be spared on account of its being so much needed for the production of gunpowder.

Guyton de Morveau showed that water could be decomposed by being forced over red hot metal and borings in a retort, the oxygen being thus separated from the hydrogen which was alone required for an inflation.

Experiments at Meudon were instituted under the direction of Guyton de Morveau, Coutelle, and Conté. Their report led to the formation of a company to be named the _Aërostiers_, who boasted a captain, a sergeant-major, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty men.

Coutelle was captain, and the aërostiers went to Meudon to be practised in the aëronautic art. After the preliminary experiments Coutelle was sent off to General Jourdan at Maubeuge with material for the inflation, but he arrived at the moment when General Chasal was under arrest for being involved in a plot to deliver the place to the enemy. Jourdan threatened to shoot him as a spy, but he softened down, as De Fonvielle relates, when he saw that Coutelle was not in the least disconcerted, and ended by congratulating him on his zeal in the defence of his country.

The balloon corps contained in its ranks, as indeed some of the modern associations do, some rather singular individuals. We are told in “Adventures in the Air” of a priest of Montmorency, whom the Reign of Terror had driven to take refuge in the camp, but who only waited the advent of more peaceable times to resume his cassock.

We may also mention Selles de Beauchamp, who entered the corps under the name of Cavalier Albert, and who rose to the rank of officer, and left interesting memoirs on the experiences of military balloonists.

The father of Beauchamp, an officer in one of the royal regiments, was seriously wounded in Piedmont, where two of his brothers were killed; he retired, moreover, and died in 1781, leaving a child six years old, who, two years later, lost his mother also. As an orphan of fortune, as soon as he was old enough, he was sent to the Harcourt College, where he was treated as a youth of quality.

His tutor adopted zealously the revolutionary cause, while Beauchamp stuck to the Court party. The latter, in attempting to leave the country, was arrested and sent to the army of the Loire, but rather than join it he engaged among the military balloonists, of whose life, but for him, we should have known nothing, for the memoirs of Coutelle, though very valuable from a scientific point of view, are too laconic, and enter into no details.

To these various characters Coutelle added a certain number of mechanics, whose services were indispensable. His first lieutenant, Delaunay, was formerly a master mason, and proved useful in the construction of furnaces, for it required no less than 12,000 bricks to build the furnace for the manufacture of gas.

The process of inflation lasted from thirty-six to forty hours. I may here call attention to the decided improvement which appears to have been made in the generation and storage of hydrogen gas for the English balloon force. Compressed gas is now supplied at Chatham in metal receivers, which can be sent abroad, as it was to Suakim. This plan has its advantages and difficulties. It must be very expensive, and the weight of the cylinders is an objection where every ounce of impedimenta has to be sometimes thought of.

The French balloons were made of silk, and so efficiently varnished that they retained the gas for two to three months.

In this important element we are behind the French, as mere calico was the first fabric used in the construction of the Woolwich balloons, and though professional aëronauts for public ascents may sometimes resort to cotton balloons, still for military objects, silk, although the most costly, is, I should say, the lightest, strongest, tightest, and best.

We must allow for considerable exaggeration in the much vaunted holding powers of the original French balloons, and, for the matter of that, for the latest productions as well, both in England and on the continent. I must include the Channel balloonists.

It is all very well to talk and write about such a volatile substance as hydrogen, or even coal gas, remaining good for three months or a month. Aëronauts deny it.

Will a volume of the lightest known fluid be fit for much after being a fortnight or even a week in either a silk, skin, or so-called india-rubber envelopes.

Until ballooning is divested of much that is absurd, untruthful, and misleading, real progress will be slow.

The balloon “Entreprenant” which was sent to the army of the north was only twenty-seven feet in diameter, and its lifting power was 500 pounds. It was held fast by two ropes which were attached to some extra network at the equator; but considering that in those days the network did not cover much more than half of the balloon, we should not fail to notice that at present balloons are enveloped in much more extensive and elongated nets which protect the lower hemisphere, and prevent the escape of the balloon unless the network gives way. It is generally made of thicker cord below, so that this danger is more guarded against than it was in the year 1794.

The army of the Meuse-Sambre had the “Céleste” balloon, while the “Hercule” and “Intrepide” were sent to the Rhine-Moselle.

The recent Naval Jubilee Review reminds one how interesting it would be could the aërial fleet of the last century be inspected by the side of the latest style of war balloons that England has produced.

I am not at all sure that comparisons would be in our favour. Fancy the British army under an amateur!

On June 18th, when Coutelle reconnoitred the Austrian position, the enemy fired at his balloon as it was ascending and descending.

From Maubeuge it was taken to Charleroi, floating at such a height as to permit cavalry and other troops to pass beneath.

At the battle of Fleurus, in Belgium, on June 26th, 1794, two ascents were made, each of about four or five hours, notwithstanding a strong wind; the success of the French was said to be generally due to observations from this balloon, as all movements were reported.

The balloonists were again brought into requisition in the campaign of 1795. The “Entreprenant” withstood an amount of buffeting which would shatter a modern balloon to shreds; we are reminded of this by a high French authority, and I am not prepared to dispute this bold assertion, when we remember of what material some of the latest war balloons are composed.

The strain on Coutelle’s balloon was lessened by attaching the cable to horses and men, rather than to fixed objects.

Of course it was; there are secrets in every art, and I may here mention a case in point as to the danger of a too rigid holdfast, which happened to my large balloon, which I made at my own cost for The British Association Experiments, in the year 1862.

While the committee at Wolverhampton, which included Professor Tyndall, Lord Wrottesley, Dr. Lee, Mr. Glaisher, and others, were watching the inflation during a high wind, I left the grounds for a short time, the balloon being in charge of my assistants, who were manœuvring at the nozzle of the lower opening, as that is a part requiring much care, and will not admit, without great risk, of being held too fast; the late Colonel Sykes, M.P., considered that if a crow-bar were driven in the ground, and the cord were attached, it would prevent the men from being rolled over occasionally, and his idea was put to the test.

I was surprised to observe from a distance, that the balloon had been badly torn, and could not account for it until I returned and saw that the neck valve had been pulled completely away. Had it been kept as I left it, with a give and take movement to obviate a sudden snatch, the balloon would have escaped injury.

It is really astonishing how the same ideas occur to all amateurs and novices. Those who read much about aërostatics must have noticed that a strong resemblance in these notions is constantly to be observed; they one and all begin with the valve and have ever since I can remember. Green’s and Coxwell’s notions are pronounced old-fashioned and exploded.

They all want to try india-rubber and other complicated springs instead of the rat-trap principle, which is so very simple, and cannot well fail to act in all weathers, whereas india-rubber will relax in heat, and beadings and other additions will swell and contract in the framework, if of wood, according to atmospheric changes; but the plan, which experienced aëronauts know to be the safest, is almost sure to be cast aside until an accident, as I have already pointed out, induces beginners to fall back upon the approved plan.

Then again, the varnishes are wrong, Mr. A. or Mr. M. has a varnish which is perfectly impermeable, the old stories and new pretensions are reiterated, while the old stager knows very well that there are objections to most of the new fancies, and that the colours and oils he has used are like those of the old masters in painting, not so easily to be surpassed, particularly in the present day, when most pigments are so impure and adulterated.

Thirdly, the grapnels are all wrong, but if the ropes and balloon equipments of early days were to be put side by side with many of the accessories of modern appliances, I believe the balance would be in favour of the experts of the last generation.

In 1796, the “Intrepide” was sent to the army of the Danube; a fifth balloon was prepared for the army of Italy, but for some reason it was never sent out.

In the year 1798, Napoleon took a balloon equipment to Egypt, but unfortunately for the French, the English managed to capture the ship which contained the apparatus.

After this, the aërostiers seem to have gradually died out of notice, and the balloons were sold in 1804.