Flying the Atlantic in Sixteen Hours

St

by the transatlantic machine as we stood by it, early in the morni

oss the Atlantic. Lucky Jim wore an enormous head, an untidy ribbon and a hopeful expression; whereas Twinkletoe was daintily diminutive, and, from the tip of her uprigh

d. Conditions otherw

l officer. We had definitely decided to leave on the fourteenth, if given half a chance; for

he Royal Air Force weather expert. His reports were fairly favorable; but a hefty cross-wind was blowing from the wes

condition. Neither could any fault be found with the gray-winged m

of these, shaped like a boat, could be used as a life-saving raft if some accident brought about a descent into the sea. This tank was so placed that it would be the first to be emptied of gas

ere side by side in what is usually the pilot's cockpit, the observer's cockpit at the fo

ggage, which consisted only of toilet kit and food-sandwiches, Caley's chocolate, Horlick's Malted Milk, and two thermos flasks filled with coffee. A small cupboard, fitted into the tail, contained emerg

ohn's had provided a special stamp. For one of these stamps, by the way, eight hundred and seventy-five dollars was offered and refused on the

he wind. As, however, it remained at about the same strength and showe

of into it, the machine would face down-hill, and owing to the shape of the a?rodrome we should have a better run

t we should have to "take off" into it. The mechanics dragged the machi

g-rope round the undercarriage, tightened one of the wheels against a petrol

we sat under the wing-tips at two o'clock and lunched, while conscious

o lose no more precious time. At about four o'clock we wriggled into our flying-kit, and climbed into the mac

he side of the fuselage, the drift-indicator fitted under my seat, and the Baker navigation machine, with my charts inside it, lay on the floor of the cockpit. I also carried an electric torch, and kept withi

a hundred miles out to sea, and that the wind velocities for the rest of the journey would not exceed twenty knots, with clear weather over the greater part of the ocean. This was respo

persuaded our day-to-day sightseers from St. John's that we must postpone a start. When all was ready I shook hands with Lieutenant Cle

e; but my impatience to take the plunge and be rid of anxiety about the start shut out all other impressions that might have been di

nd warmed them up. Finally, everything being satisfactory, he disconnected the starting magneto and engine switches, to avoid stoppage due to possible sh

s insufficient room to begin the run dead into the wind. What I feared in particular was that a sudden eddy might li

it had lurched and lumbered, at an ever-increasing speed, over 300 y

, and made climbing very difficult. At times the strong wind dropped almost to zero,

he danger of sudden upward gusts. Several times I held my breath

n, after a period that seemed far longer than it actually was, we were well above the build

til we were at about eight hundred feet. Then we turned towards the sea and continued to rise leisurely, with engines throttled down.

pounds per square foot, climbed satisfactorily, if slowly. Eig

r. The eddying wind, which was blowing behind us from almost due west, with a strength of thirty-five knots, made it harder than ever to keep the machine on a straight course. The twin-engine Vickers-Vi

elve hundred feet. Just before we left the land I let out the wireless a?rial, and tapped

-patterned roof-mosaic of St. John's, and of the tangled intricacy of Newfoundland's fields, woods and hills. Behind and below was America, far ahead and below was Europe, between the two were nearly two thousand mil

r the Irish coast, based, I suppose, on an assured knowledge that the machin

tride through the calmer spaces above the ocean. The westerly wind behind us, added to the power developed by

s made jagged at fairly frequent intervals by holes through which the blue sky could be glimpsed. Below, the sea was blue-gray, dull for the most part but brigh

with the chart, was on my knees. Not knowing what kind of weather was before us, I knelt on my seat and made

icult than the navigation of seacraft. The speed at which they travel and

In fact, navigators have taken their craft across the Atlantic without once having seen the sun or stars, and yet, at the end of the journey, been within five miles of the desired destination.

the sun or a selected star makes with the horizon, and noting the Greenwich mean time at which the observation is made. If the bearings of

o rely solely upon observations of the sun and stars and upon "dead reckoning," in preference to using directional

transparent chart which could be moved above it, and upon which were drawn the Sumner circles for all times of the day. I carried a similar special chart for use at night, giving the Sumner circles for six chosen stars. To measure the drift I

AN A?RODROME WITH

O THEMSELVES, WOULD H

zon was replaced by a bubble. This, of course, was less reliable than a true horizon since the bubble was affected by variations of speed; but it was at least a safeguard. Taking i

the conditions were good; for soon we ran into an immense bank of fog, which shut off completely the sur

and there were no more gaps in it. The occasional su

my first observations were satisfactory, I therefore carried on by "dead reckoning," and hoped for the best.

gan to jot down remarks for the log of the journey. At 5:20 I noted that we were at fifteen

the time and after we landed, showed no defect; and I am still unable to account for the fracture. Although I was too occupied with calculations to pay much attention to moods

one of the motors unnoted in supreme concen