Part 5

When, after another flash or two, the gas rushed out of the safety valve, I looked at Mr. Gypson, wondering how he intended to act, and it was not long before I came to the conclusion that the upper valve ought to be opened so as to remove a visible strain on the lower hemisphere of the balloon. Had _I_ seized the line and opened the valve I should most assuredly not have done wrong, but I simply, by pointing and hinting, endeavoured, with too much deference, to persuade him to do as I thought expedient.

He was not, evidently, quite of the same way of thinking as myself; at last I cried out, “if the valve is not opened the balloon will burst.”

Hardly had I uttered the warning when the car appeared to drop suddenly some six or eight feet beneath the balloon.

We all looked up, of course, affrighted, thinking that the netting was giving way at the top, and Mr. Albert Smith was impressed with the idea that I had pulled the valve line, and broken the framework; but on looking upwards the sparks from the expiring fireworks, aided by a flash of lightning, disclosed the awful fact that the balloon had rent fully sixteen feet, and that we were falling headlong right over the west end of London, with myriads of gas lamps beneath us, and houses in such close proximity, that death stared us all in the face, and seemed inevitable.

Situated as I was, on the hoop, with a better opportunity of observing the torn silk and network than the rest, I noticed after the first shock to the nerves, that the line which connected the neck of the balloon was unduly tightened, and it immediately occurred to me if I cut that, the lower part of the balloon would the more readily form a resisting surface or parachute.

Much against the wishes of my companions I severed this cord, and a check was soon observable, but the sparks from the paper cases shot up among the gas through the tear in the silk, and once more the thunder roared, and lightning flashed, so that a more frightful descent to the earth could not possibly be imagined.

As the gas-lit metropolis appeared to come up towards us--for, strange as it may seem, there was no sense of giddiness or dropping--we collected the ballast bags and disconnected the grapnel rope in order to let them go just as we came in contact with the ground.

Fortunately, or rather say providentially, the balloon fell in a newly formed street in the Belgrave Road, Pimlico, while the network caught in some scaffold poles, which helped to break the force of collision.

Only one of the four of us was hurt, and that was myself, who received a cut in the hand from a bystander while he was trying to let us out of the network, which fell over our heads when the car touched the road.

Albert Smith and Mr. Pridmore lost no time in going back to Vauxhall Gardens to assure people of our safety; but the general public were not aware of the accident, although some few, who narrowly watched the course of the balloon, noticed that it appeared to be falling quickly and surrounded with sparks.

Almost the first person Albert Smith was said to have encountered on entering Vauxhall, was his brother, who looked amazed at seeing him, but observed a certain pallor and other indications of something being out of order.

“Good gracious, Albert,” he said, “I could have declared I saw you go in the balloon.”

“So you did,” was the reply, “don’t be alarmed, an accident happened, but no one is hurt. Come and tell Mr. Wardell particulars.”

After Mr. Gypson and I had returned with the luggage on top of a cab, a consultation was held as to the cause of the rupture; one thought the valve was broken, and another that the balloon was struck with the electric fluid, but the proprietor, as well as myself, knew the precise cause of the burst, and when an examination was made on the following morning, the valve line was found not to have been pulled, so the rent could clearly have been prevented had the valve been opened in time.

Divested in this way of a great deal of the horror associated with the stormy state of the weather, the accident assumed a more simple and comprehensible form.

No wonder, therefore, that after talking these points over, Mr. Gypson and I agreed, that in order to demonstrate that the balloon was not wanting in strength, it would be well to make another ascent by night with fireworks. Mr. Albert Smith was again invited, but a certain pressure, exercised perhaps wisely, by his friends prevented him from ascending again.

Mr. Pridmore, too, although as brave as need be, did not join us; but that very night week, with double the weight of fireworks, we ascended again with the restored balloon, and this time all went well, and we came down at Acton, having with us a third voyager, in the person of a captain, who had accompanied us under circumstances characteristic of an Englishman, and, perhaps, worth narrating.

Some little time before starting the said captain applied for a seat in the car, and I was asked to negotiate for him, in doing which I thought it but right to explain that an accident had happened the week previously and that Mr. Gypson was by no means desirous of taking a third person on the present occasion.

After I had again alluded in unmistakable terms to the perilous descent, the captain, in no way discouraged, said:

“Well sir, you are taking a great deal of trouble to inform me of that which is patent to everybody who reads, but I suppose the odds are that to-night there will be no smash.”

“Just so,” I added encouragingly, when the gallant gentleman stepped forward and took his place.

After the balloon was packed up at Acton I fancied that our companion looked as if he was happy and self-satisfied, he begged of us to go with him to his club, adding that he could well afford to offer an entertainment as he had made a wager of one hundred pounds that he would ascend that night, a decided opinion having prevailed at his club that he dare not do so, as a terrible catastrophe would be sure to take place, and so thought the public apparently, for Vauxhall was filled to such an extent that the garden officials described the crowd as so thick that one might have walked on people’s heads.

During the winter of 1847 Lieutenant Gale found that the expenses of establishing himself in popular favour were heavier than he had anticipated. He was associated with two other gentlemen in the proprietorship of his balloon, but his individual responsibilities caused a split, so that the aëronaut and his partners separated.

When Gale lost or threw up all controlling power over the balloon, the then sole owners having as they said a considerable amount of confidence in my judgment, called upon me, and proposed that as I had ascended so frequently and had encountered so many dangers, that I should make a series of ascents on my own and on their account, and that if I would manage the balloon that was styled Gale’s, but which was really theirs, I should have every facility for doing so, as Gale would have nothing more to do with it.

Such a thought never having entered my head, and being moreover engaged as a dentist, I at once declined, but not without explaining that my relatives had always discountenanced my balloon ascents, and would raise most positively a great outcry if ever my name appeared in a public capacity as a professed aëronaut.

Shortly after this refusal we again met in company with several of the admirers of aërostation, and whether by design or casual conversation I know not, but certain it was that gossip turned upon my former aërial adventures, and upon the advisability of my making it at once a business affair as well as a pastime. All the arguments I raised against the proposal were swept away by overwhelming opinions as to my aptitude and so forth.

“Look,” said one, “you are certainly risking your life without any profit, and the chances are you frequently dip your hand pretty deeply into your pocket minus any return.”

“Again,” said another, “look at the hair-breath escapes you have had, perhaps if you were to run alone these would be diminished.”

“And then,” suggested a third, “by being your own pilot you might attain to success and honour.”

This last inducement proved more weighty and seductive than the two former, and when the question was simply put whether if I would mind a run over to Brussels, just to put them right there for one or two ascents, I consented, but had no idea at the time that I was doing an act which would lead to my becoming a practical balloonist.

In the spring of 1848, therefore, I agreed to manage the said balloon, but before ascending I christened it the “Sylph,” and that word was painted three times in giant characters round the equator, so that wherever it appeared, or whichever way it turned, the name was always prominent.

My first ascent, as director in the Belgian capital, was to take place in the month of May, but a voyage by private arrangement was set on foot by way of a trial trip, and one of the owners, a Mr. S----, was to entrust his life to my care, and we were to go whither the winds blew us, on a sort of pleasure trip. The “Sylph” received a good supply of gas at the Independent Gas-works at Haggerston, London, on April 10th; early in the afternoon we ascended, and after being nearly three hours aloft came down near Colchester, passing directly over the county town of Essex.

This led on our way back to a call at Chelmsford, and as I knew several persons in that town who now learnt that I was commanding officer of the good craft “Sylph,” nothing would satisfy them but getting up an ascent there, and although I was averse to any undertaking of the sort in England, still I was over persuaded, and the rumour rapidly gained circulation that I should make a public ascent from the gas-yard of the town shortly, and that as it would be the first thing of the kind from Chelmsford for seventeen years, the inhabitants would hail such an exhibition with much pleasure and good attendance.

The first of my two ascents from this town took place April 28th, 1848. The weather was not exactly propitious, for the morning rose somewhat sulky.

“And her sick head was bound about with clouds, As if she threatened night e’er noon of day.”

In this state of things, a postponement was contemplated, but soon after midday, the sun, “of this great world the eye and soul,” scattered the clouds and revived the preparations; there was, in fact, a complete revolution in the weather, and the curious began to gather in and take up their positions, while the bright eyes of many Essex ladies were directed, not to the six points of Chartism, just then famous, but to the one point where the silken craft towered above the adjoining buildings, as it was influenced by the breeze in the gas-works.

The visitors having been treated with a series of partial ascents, at six o’clock the balloon rose. In the car were Mr. Chas. Livermore, of Felstead, and Mr. Isaac Livermore, of Dunmow, together with Mr. Church, the engineer of the gas-works.

We were greeted in our course by thousands of applauding voices--

“Followed far by many a wond’ring eye, They glide majestic ’twixt the earth and sky.”

The “Sylph” took a direction over the Hanning fields, and ultimately descended near Rettendon Common.

On May the 5th, a second illustration was made from the same locality. This time the atmosphere had all the sunshine and softness of balmy spring, the visitors were far more numerous than on the former occasion, and the reserved seats were filled principally with ladies, many of them from the leading families of the neighbourhood.

Captive ascents were found to be impracticable this day, but at length Mr. Ram, of Newland Hall, with two other gentlemen entered the car, and we mounted over the irregular forces who garrisoned the housetops in rapid style, and moved towards the Roothings.

Strange to say, the descent was made near Good Easter, where Mr. Ram lived, and here I kept the balloon all night; the following morning, soon after sunrise, I began taking people up, the length of the cable, and after breakfast Mr. Ram’s daughters had a panoramic view of the Hall and Park; the elder young lady would fain have ascended altogether, but papa had made up his mind to do so once more himself, so that soon after 11 o’clock we started again with the same gas, and after being up nearly an hour, descended at Forth-end, near Felstead.

Before starting from the gas-works, on the 5th instant, I made the following estimate of the weight of the “Sylph” and its appendages:--

Balloon, netting, and car 400 lbs. Mr. Ram 160 ” Two other gentlemen 304 ” Myself 148 ” Grapnel and rope 52 ” Coats, instruments, &c. 30 ” Ballast 160 ” ---------- Total 1254 lbs. ==========

being the weight which 32,000 feet of carburetted hydrogen gas would sustain at a specific gravity of about 440.

The temperature of the air on the earth was sixty-two degrees; at the greatest altitude, viz., three-quarters of a mile, forty-nine degrees. Temperature of gas on the earth, as obtained by placing a thermometer in the neck, sixty-three degrees; ditto in mid-air, forty-four degrees. Force of expansion, as indicated by the pressure gauge, 5·10, or half an inch; rate of travelling, twenty miles an hour; direction of wind, N.W.

About the middle of the merry month of May Mr. S---- and I formed part of a group of passengers at London Bridge Wharf, on our way to the Antwerp steam-boat.

Everybody but ourselves was looking after the porters and their luggage. We appeared to be gazing at the clouds, but were in reality watching a large wicker basket which was suspended some thirty feet under a crane, and was ready to be swung in on deck directly the mate saw all clear below, and sung out “lower away.”

This basket, owing to its unusual size, attracted general attention, a bystander, who took it for a large bread basket, observed that the passengers would be well off for the “staff of life,” even if they lacked delicacies. But the interest taken in the huge basket rather increased than diminished when the mate, a little angry with the seamen, cried out “bear a hand there, stow away that balloon.”

“Belongs to you Sir?” added the officer, directing a patronizing glance towards me, whereupon a hundred eyes or more followed suit, and my connection with the supposed bread basket was established beyond the shadow of a doubt. Assuming, rather than feeling, the required amount of nerve to endure this introduction to the ship’s crew, I nodded an affirmative, and tried to suppress a rush of blood to the cheek, but it would not do. I looked ashamed of this branch of publicity, and proposed to go below and see after our berths.

The first person I met in the chief cabin was an acquaintance, but glad enough was I to find that he had not noticed our luggage, and what was more, that he was merely seeing a friend off to the continent. No sooner had we deposited our portmanteaus in the sleeping berths than I proposed to go on deck again, whispering to my friend as we went up the companion ladder, “out of the frying-pan into the fire.” “That gentleman,” I added, “knows my family well, and I would rather not be identified with the big basket so uncommonly close to London Bridge.”

“That’s all a matter of taste,” observed Mr. S---- consolingly, “many men would be proud of the position.”

“But you know I am not, and you are aware of my reasons for not caring about being thought a professional aëronaut.”

“All right Mr. Coxwell, take it quietly and pass for an amateur.”

The vessel had not rounded the Isle of Dogs when we found ourselves in earnest conversation with an elderly gentleman, who was much interested in aërostation. It came out, too, that he had ascended himself, and that he was intimate with some of the aëronautic celebrities of the present century.

“Do you know,” said our communicative fellow-traveller, “I never could thoroughly understand the cause of the fatal descent of that poor man Cocking; being abroad at the time I had not the opportunity of keeping pace with our home newspapers.”

In reply I said, “You are aware that the principle of his parachute was diametrically opposite to Garnerin’s, which had descended successfully. Cocking’s was a sort of inverted cone, while that previously employed was more like an umbrella turned upside down with a weight appended to the stick.”

“Exactly,” said our intelligent acquaintance, “and the tendency of a rush of air was not to collapse but rather to keep it distended.”

I fully agreed, and added that “Two objectionable circumstances attended the use of Garnerin’s parachute, namely, the length of time which elapsed before it expanded, and the violent oscillating movement which accompanied the descent. In order to obviate these deficiencies a variety of plans had been proposed at different times, amongst which was that of Cocking’s.” The inverted cone principle, however, was not an idea originating with Cocking, although he had lectured on the subject in 1814 before the Society of Arts.

“Towards the end of the last century this kind of parachute was proposed in Paris, and revived by Sir George Cayley, and again more fully developed by Mr. Kerr in the Encyclopædia Edinensis.”

“Pray,” inquired our friend, “do you happen to know the weight and diameter of Cocking’s parachute?”

“Yes; the computations which appeared in the public press, previous to the inquest, were loose and incorrect. They were to the effect that the entire weight was 393 lbs., whereas, from the evidence taken before the coroner, it appeared that the apparatus weighed 413 lbs., and Mr. Cocking 170 lbs. The terminal velocity, therefore, would have been nearly twenty feet in a second had the parachute not collapsed. Its diameter was thirty-four feet.”

“Of course one of smaller dimensions on the concave plan would descend less rapidly?”

“Oh, certainly a parachute on the Garnerin principle would bring a man down at the rate of twenty feet in a second, even if it were fifteen feet in diameter.”

“According to the most reliable tables of atmospheric resistances, a weight of one pound under a square foot of sustaining surface would cause it to descend at the rate of 1320 feet per second, or fifteen miles an hour.”

“But as this is a far greater rate than is consistent with safety, the diameter should be at least twenty-five feet.”

“Then how is it that scientific men and practical aëronauts did not point out these faults?”

“They did; but poor Cocking was so confident and determined, that no sooner was a large balloon built by the Vauxhall proprietors, Messrs. Gye and Hughes, than he proposed appending a parachute to it, and he threatened in the event of refusal, to construct another balloon and offer opposition to Vauxhall.”

“Indeed, and I have no doubt that pecuniary inducements had their weight. But what did Mr. Green say?”

“Green, to do him justice, never liked the experiment, and he has been heard to say since, that for no amount of money would he repeat his experience on July 24th, 1837.”

“He is said at first to have declined to connect his name with it, but he was bound to ascend with the great balloon when called upon by the proprietors, as there was a legal difficulty in evading the ascent.”

“It has been suggested, and with some show of practicability, that he might by stratagem have brought Cocking down without allowing him to descend with his parachute alone, but Mr. Green distinctly stated on the other hand, that his individual impression was, that having withstood the pressure of the atmosphere in the ascent, the parachute would go down safely.”

“What with the danger to Mr. Green and his companion, Mr. E. Spencer, owing to the loss of so great a weight, it is evident that it was an ill-judged affair from first to last.”

“Most decidedly. Now please to tell me where this frail structure gave way.”

“The upper circle was made only of tin hooping, soldered together, and this broke before even the ascent was made.”

“It transpired, afterwards, that Cocking in all probability twisted the cord round his wrist, the better to enable him to effect his liberation by pulling hard at the trigger; in so doing it is conjectured that he was jerked against the smaller circle at the apex of the cone, and that his own body produced a fracture in the framework, which added to its weakness.”

“This concussion may have deprived him of sensibility as well, a wound found on his temple tends to confirm this view of the catastrophe.”

Thus ended our dissertation on parachutes; but long ere our further chat had ceased, we had approached the mouth of Father Thames, where a fresh breeze and a lively motion caused many passengers to go below, and others to obey the steward’s call to dinner. _We_ responded, and went through not only the ceremony, but the enjoyment of, a generous repast, without feeling indisposed. On landing at Antwerp an Englishman presented himself on the quay, whom we took, and rightly so, for a gentleman who had entered into the balloon speculation at Brussels, and who had in consequence engaged my services to ascend.

He was a red-haired, gaunt person, extremely short-sighted, and wore a cap and close-fitting dress-coat, which had seen more sunny days and was conspicuously short in the sleeves. But, notwithstanding his optical infirmity, he was a match for the sharpest porter, and by tact he was soon up with the steward and ascertained our names and errand with astonishing sharpness.

In introducing himself, he brought his hand down upon the great basket, or balloon car, with some degree of familiarity, saying, “Well, here you are,” as if he had been intimately acquainted with us previously.

It was, however our first meeting, and was essentially of a business character, but anything like a stiff commercial view of this preliminary interview was soon removed by a jaunty nonchalance on his part. He then drew out a showy cigar case, and almost immediately replaced it, saying, “Wait a bit, we will go over to the hotel and breakfast first,” which we decided to do, after his perceiving that the cigar case was empty.

All doubt being then removed, Mr. S---- and I looked at each other, as much as to say, perhaps he is a capital fellow, notwithstanding his manner, looks, and short-comings.

After refreshment, our long-haired short-sighted, short-sleeved countryman proposed, or rather peremptorily decided upon pushing on to Brussels forthwith.

Matters were not quite so forward as he could wish, and although the ascent was positively announced, and the king had promised his patronage, still there was much to be done, and for his part he had quite lost faith in Frenchmen and Belgians. What all this meant, we could only surmise and think over privately.

On arriving at Brussels we found that the intended balloon ascent had received such careless attention, that the prospect of its taking place on the day announced was doubtful in the extreme.

It seemed that a company had been formed to carry out this little enterprise, and that one Frenchman, two Belgians, a Dutchman, and an Englishman, had united their abilities and purses to put it into execution.

The Englishman was clearly neither the treasurer nor principal. The Frenchman had chiefly to do with the Prado Gardens, whence the “Sylph” was to rise; and whether the Dutchman or the Belgians were the sleeping partners, or the capitalists, they deposed not, nor could we gather, although it soon became evident that the relative positions of each member of so complicated an association, required to be well and at once understood by me, before proceeding further in the matter.