Flying the Atlantic in Sixteen Hours

Ar

. In his log of the return flight, from New York to Norfolk, of the British airship R-34, Brigadier-General Maitland, C. M. G., D. S. O.,

e was still just underneath the clouds, and flying at two hundred and fifty feet; from which low height

ew minutes later, however, the wireless masts at Clifden gave the key to our position. To attract attention, I fired two red flares from the Ve

line of flight for Galway, at which place I had calculated to hit Ireland. Not f

en from sight by the mist would have been great, had we contin

he Vickers-Vimy still contained enough gasoline to keep the machine in the air for ten hours longer. Thus, had we

ound. The most likely looking place in the neighborhood of Clifden was a field near th

flection that the anxious flight had ended with a perfect landing. Then, so softly as not to be noticed at first, the front of the Vickers-Vimy tilted inexplicably, while the tail rose. Su

ng collision with the help of my nose. Alcock had braced himself against the rudder control bar. The pressure he exerted against

s it sprawled in ungainly manner over the sucking surface. The machine's nose and its lower wings were deep in the bog. The empty cockpit in front, used in a Vickers-Vimy bomber by the observer, was badly bent; but, being of steel, it did no

gasoline connections had snapped, and four of the propeller blades were buried in the g

ht course of one thousand six hundred and eighty nautical miles, lasted only fifteen hours and fifty-seven minutes, our average speed being

re still inside it. Very fortunately the liquid did not ignite. Alcock had taken care to switch off the current on the

nd our instruments. The gasoline rose rapidly, and it was impossible to with

diately a small party, composed of officers and men belonging to the

a?roplane is crashed-was the first remark

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when they had helped

eri

e evidently nobody received the statement seriously at first. Even a mention of our names meant nothing to them, and they remained unconvinced until Alcock showed them the mail-ba

a dragging discomfort. In addition, I suddenly discovered an intense sleepine

Vickers, Ltd., which built the Vickers-Vimy, to the London Daily Mail, which prom

gain; but this was coupled with a certain amount of dragging reaction from the tense mental conc

ld not confess to anything worse than a desire to stand up for the rest of his life-or at least until he could sit down painlessly. My hands were very unsteady. My mind was quite clear on matters pertaining to the flight, but hazy on

ly Mail. It was a strange but very welcome change to see solid objects flashi

onsciously I still missed the rhythmic, relentless drone of the Rolls-Royce a?ro-engines. My eyes had not yet become accustomed to the absence of clouds around and below, and my mind felt somehow lost, now th

l continuity, so that I answered questions mechanically and wanted to avoid the effort of talk. The outstanding events and impressions of the flight-for example the long spin from four thousand to fifty feet, and the sudden sight of the white-c

way curious crowds had gathered. Near Galway we were stopped by another automobile, in which was Major Mays of the Royal A?ro Club, whose duty it was to examine the seals on the Vickers-Vimy, thus making sure that we had not landed in Ireland in a ma