Kitabı oku: «Up in the Clouds: Balloon Voyages», sayfa 6
“‘This morning, at about six o’clock, we saw passing over our heads, at a prodigious height, an immense round form, to which was suspended some thing which looked like a square house of a red colour. Some people pretend to have seen animated beings in this strange machine, and to have heard issuing from it superhuman cries. What think you, Mr Editor? The whole country is in a state of alarm, and it will be long before our people recover their equanimity.’
“At seven a.m. we crossed over a lake near Yssel; the wind then again pushed us in a new direction, nearly at right angles with that which we were taking before. In less than a quarter of an hour the balloon got into Westphalia near Renheim; then we crossed the great river Ems, the towns of Rheine and Ibbenbüren, and returned to Hanover a little above Osnabrück. We traversed, without deigning to take notice of them, a little chain of mountains, and by way, no doubt, of relaxation after so long a journey, went all round a lake which is called in German Dummersee. We then got into a great plain, through which runs a road. At this time the balloon became almost motionless. The reason of this was, that the heat of the sun had caused the gas to expand. The thermometer was then at 145 degrees (about 59 degrees Fahrenheit (No! editor)). Louis Godard was very uneasy about this dilation. After two or three oscillations, our aerial courser decided upon going off rapidly in an eastern direction, with about two degrees variation towards the north. This course would have taken us to Hamburg and the Baltic; but we were all so completely absorbed by the splendour of the tableau before us that we took little note of the change. Our hippogriff passed over Wagenfeld-Steyerberg, where there is a river which flows into the Weser. We came within sight of the great river and Nienburg, a considerable town on one of its banks. We saw a steamboat going down the river from the town. The view here was charming. A rustling of the silk of our balloon made us look upwards; the monster, under the influence of the sun, now very hot, was palpably swelling. As it would have been supremely ridiculous, after having made such a first-rate journey, to have treated the inhabitants of Nienburg with the spectacle of seeing us blown up—to say nothing of the consequences of such a catastrophe to our own limbs—we resolved to come down. The remaining bags of ballast were got in order, the ropes and the anchors prepared, and Godard opened the safety-valve. ‘The monster is disgorging!’ exclaimed Thirion. And the balloon did vomit forth its gas with a tremendous noise, which may be compared to the snoring of some gigantic animal. While our companion made this observation, we were descending at the rate of two metres to the second. ‘To the ropes! to the ropes!—hold on well!’ cried the brothers Godard, who seemed quite in their element, ‘take care of the shock!’ Every one climbed up to the ropes which attach the car to the circular handles underneath the balloon. Madame Nadar, whose sang-froid was truly magnificent, grasped two large ropes with her delicate hands. Nadar did the like, but at the same time put his arms round his wife so as to protect her body. I was on one side towards the middle of the sort of hurdle which serves as a balcony. I was on my knees and clinging to two ropes. Montgolfier, Thirion, and Saint Felix were near me. The balloon descended so rapidly that it gave us the vertigo. The air, which we had left so calm above, became a violent wind as we neared the earth. ‘We are going to throw down the anchors,’ said Godard, ‘hold tight!’ Ah! the car struck the earth with tremendous violence. I cannot imagine how it was that my arms were not broken. After the first terrible shock the balloon went up again, but the safety-valve was opened—it again fell—and we suffered a second shock, if not more violent, at least more painful to us than the first. Up we went again; the balloon dragged its anchors. Several times we thought we should be thrown out. ‘The anchors are broken,’ exclaimed Godard. The balloon beat the ground with its head, like a kite when it falls down. It was horrible. On we went towards Nienburg, at the rate of ten leagues an hour. Three large trees were cut through by the car, as clean as if by a woodman’s hatchet. One small anchor still remained to us. We threw it down, and it carried away the roof of a house. If the balloon had dragged us through the town we should, inevitably, have been cut to pieces. But fortunately it rose a little and then bumped against the ground again with as much violence as before. Every one of these shocks wrenched our limbs; to complete our misfortunes the rope of the safety-valve got loose from us, and the safety-valve shutting up we lost all hope of the balloon emptying itself. It went on by bounds of twenty-five, thirty, and forty metres from the earth, and continued to fall upon its head. Everything that stood in the way of the car was dashed to pieces.
“Jules Godard then tried, and accomplished, an act of sublime heroism. He clambered up into the netting, the shocks of which were so terrible that three times he fell on my head. At length he reached the cord of the valve, opened it, and the gas having a way of escape the monster ceased to rise but it still shot along in a horizontal line with prodigious rapidity. There were we squatting down upon the frail osier car. ‘Take care!’ we cried, when a tree was in the way. We turned from it, and the tree was broken; but the balloon was discharging its gas, and if the immense plain we were crossing had yet a few leagues, we were saved. But suddenly a forest appeared in the horizon; we must leap out at whatever risk, for the car would be dashed to pieces at the first collision with those trees. I got down into the car, and raising myself I know not how,—for I suffered from a wound in my knees, my trousers were torn,—I jumped, and made I know not how many revolutions, and fell upon my head. After a minute’s dizziness I rose. The car was then far off. By the aid of a stick I dragged myself to the forest, and having gone a few steps I heard some groans. Saint Felix was stretched on the soil frightfully disfigured; his body was one wound; he had an arm broken, the chest torn, and an ankle dislocated. The car had disappeared. After crossing a river I heard a cry. Nadar was stretched on the ground with a dislocated thigh; his wife had fallen into the river. Another companion was shattered. We occupied ourselves with Saint Felix, and Nadar and his wife. In trying to assist the latter I was nearly drowned, for I fell into the water and sank. They picked me up again, and I found the bath had done me good. By the assistance of the inhabitants the salvage was got together. Vehicles were brought; they placed us upon straw. My knees bled; my loins and head seemed to be like mince-meat; but I did not lose my presence of mind an instant, and for a second I felt humiliated at looking from the truss of straw at those clouds which in the night I had had under my feet. It was in this way we reached Rethem, in Hanover.
“In seventeen hours we had made nearly 250 leagues. Our course infernale had covered a space of three leagues. Now that it is over I have some shudderings. It does not signify! we have made a good journey, and I marvel to see with what indifference we may regard the most frightful death, for, besides the prospect of being dashed about on our way, we had that of gaining the sea; and how long should we have lived then? I am glad to have seen this—happier yet at having to narrate it to you. These Germans who surround us are brave people, and we have been as well cared for as the resources of the little spot will allow.
“P.S.—I have just reached Hanover with my companions, and re-open my letter to tell you so. The King has sent an aide-de-camp to us. Are we at the end of our reverses? At any rate, I am consoled to think they can no longer laugh at us in Paris. We have kept our promises, and more.”
Making some allowance for the palpable exaggeration of small details, this excitable Frenchman’s description of the ascent is the best that we have seen, therefore we have given it in full.
The accounts given by other members of the party corroborate most of it, and correct a few of its errors. For instance, where Monsieur Arnould represents the anchor as dragging off the roof of a house, another account states that it tore away one of the rafters; and while he tells us that large trees were “cut through by the car as clean as if by a woodman’s hatchet,” Monsieur Godard says that they were knocked down or uprooted! But, upon the whole, after comparing the several narratives, we are of opinion that, with all his tendency to exaggeration and the use of inflated language, Monsieur Arnould has found it impossible to convey by means of words an adequate conception of this, perhaps, the most wonderful and thrilling balloon voyage on record.
Many dangerous voyages of thrilling interest have been undertaken since this ascent of Monsieur Nadar. We shall just give a brief account of two of these, which occurred at a comparatively recent date, to show the reader that men are not to be deterred by the misfortunes of predecessors from prosecuting inquiries and experiments in this field.
A fête was held some years ago in the park of Mr North, Basford, near Nottingham. Amongst the amusements, it was arranged that Mr Coxwell should make a balloon ascent. The balloon was almost new, but not of very large dimensions. After it had been fully inflated, Mr Coxwell tried it, and found there would be some difficulty in ascending in it, owing to its weight. At this juncture, a Mr James Chambers, of Nottingham, who had previously made many ascents, stepped forward and offered to go in his stead, saying that he was lighter than Mr Coxwell, and that he wished to make the ascent. After some conversation, it was agreed that Chambers should go up, but Mr Coxwell told him not to attempt an ascent unless he felt quite confident that he could manage the balloon. Chambers replied that he had no fear about managing it, and accordingly he was allowed to make the ascent. The balloon rose steadily, and was carried somewhat rapidly in a north-easterly direction towards Nottingham. It proceeded as far as Arno Vale, when it was seen suddenly to collapse, while still at a considerable altitude, and then to fall quickly in an unshapely mass. Some young men who were near the spot where the balloon fell, hastened to render assistance. The balloon dropped into the car as it descended, completely covering it, and ultimately both fell in a field near Scout Lane, three miles from Nottingham. The car struck the ground and rebounded several feet, and then fell again, when it was seized and stopped by the young men, who had followed it. At the bottom of the car lay stretched the body of the unfortunate aeronaut. He was lifted out and found to be breathing, but quite insensible. He was conveyed to the nearest dwelling, and means were adopted to restore animation, but without effect. Two medical gentlemen, named Robertson and Maltby, afterwards saw him, and it was discovered that his left thigh was fractured, and some of the ribs on his left side were broken, but they considered it very probable that the unfortunate man had died through suffocation, as a handkerchief, which had been found in his mouth, had probably been placed there by himself when he found that he was in danger of being stifled by the gas from the collapsing balloon.
On another occasion, still more recent, a perilous balloon voyage was accomplished by an aeronaut named Vouens. He ascended from the Bellevue Gardens, near Huddersfield, in a balloon which was capable of containing 20,000 cubic feet of gas. Its height was 50 feet, and it expanded to 100 feet in circumference. Away floated the balloon in a westerly direction, oscillating for a considerable distance in a most extraordinary and unusual manner. Mr Vouens experienced a stronger breeze than he had anticipated, and, the current changing rapidly, his energy and knowledge as an aeronaut were very severely taxed. A fresh current drove him to the east for a time, but presently another gust unexpectedly sent him in the direction of Halifax, and thence towards Bradford, in a northerly course. After the lapse of twenty minutes the balloon and its occupant pierced the clouds. Mr Vouens then began to make observations for the purpose of selecting a suitable site on which to descend; and in a few minutes concentrated his attention upon a field in which a fête was being held. The breeze, however, carried him some three miles further, and a second time Mr Vouens attempted to lower himself in a field adjoining some farm-houses at Denholme. Cautiously opening the escape-valve, he continued the journey downwards and threw out the grapnels. Impetuous blasts of wind increased the difficulty of bringing the balloon to anchor. A strong wind prevailing, it became unmanageable, and drifted over fields and stone walls with amazing velocity. The flukes of the grapnels penetrated the ground and uprooted the earth as they followed in the wake of the balloon, while the aerial chariot dashed onwards, making, in its career, wide gaps in several stone walls. Mr Vouens, preparing to encounter the worst fate, wrapped the end of the cord which opens the escape-valve round one of his wrists, and, burying himself in the car, permitted the balloon to proceed until the breeze subsided, when, after the car had been thrice capsized, and every article which it contained thrown out, Mr Vouens, who received no injuries, anchored, and completed a voyage of many miles, which occupied half-an-hour in its accomplishment.
Chapter Nine.
War-Balloons
As the French were the first to teach mankind the art of navigating the air by means of balloons, so they were the first to set the example of applying them to the art of war.
It may not be generally known, perhaps, that balloons have actually been used in war. They were first introduced to this new field of action at Valenciennes in 1793, and the result of the experiment was a failure; not, however, owing to the fault of man, but to the unpropitious nature of the winds. The garrison, being hard pressed by the English and their allies, attached a letter, addressed to the National Assembly, to a small balloon, or parachute, and committed it to a breeze which blew in the direction of Paris. Towards evening the wind changed, and the faithless messenger fell into the enemy’s camp!
About the same time the subject of war-balloons was brought before the Committee of Public Safety, who commissioned a young captain of Engineers, named Coutelle, to make experiments, and report on the matter. He made a balloon twenty-seven feet in diameter, with a car to hold two persons, which, when filled with hydrogen gas, was capable of lifting about a quarter of a ton, and cost a little above 80 pounds. It was not intended that this balloon should go free. It was to be held down by two guy-ropes, each between four and five hundred yards in length, by which, when at the full length of its tether, the balloon was to be hauled about in any direction, pulled down, or allowed to rise in obedience to the wishes of the aeronaut, who was to communicate his orders by means of a system of signals. Reports of what he might be thus enabled to discover of the enemy’s position were to be written on slips of paper, put into small sandbags, and tossed overboard. Small coloured flags were attached to each bag, so that it might be easily observed in its descent.
After several satisfactory ascents to the height of above 500 feet had taken place—the balloon being held easily by ten men, five to each guy-rope—an order was given, in April 1794, for the formation of a company of military aeronauts—styled aerostiers, to which Coutelle was appointed captain-commandant. His company consisted of one lieutenant, one sergeant-major, one sergeant, two corporals, and twenty privates, who wore a dark blue uniform, with black velvet facings, and were armed with pistols and swords.
This new and peculiar company of aerostiers was very soon sent to join the army at Maubeuge, and was regarded with some ridicule and contempt by the rest of the army. Coutelle, however, took an effectual method of commanding respect. He begged that he and his men might be allowed to take part in a projected sortie. They were permitted, and went; an officer and private were wounded, and the corps behaved with such gallantry that it was from that time treated with becoming respect.
Ascents were made daily in the balloon for reconnoitring purposes, and the Austrians fired at their audacious and inquisitive enemy both with muskets and cannon, but without effect.
After a time the balloon was ordered to take the road, and join that part of the army which was marching on Charleroi. Its march through the country in leading-strings was curious to spectators and harassing to the aerostiers. The car, with all its appurtenances, was placed on a cart, over which the balloon was allowed to float at a height sufficient to admit of the passage of cavalry under it. Twenty men, marching in single file, held it down by twenty stays; but they had a sad time of it, for their charge was headstrong and restive, jerking and tugging at them continually, not only with its own inherent power of ascension, but with the irregular impetus derived from gusts and squalls of wind, which caused it to make sudden and violent charges against trees, houses, or whatever chanced to come in its way, and sometimes to beat its blunt forehead wildly on the ground as if it had been a monster in despair!
It reached Charleroi, however, on the 22nd of June, after a journey of three days, and took part in the battle of Fleurus on the 26th. A high wind rendered it necessary, on the day of battle, to fasten its guy-ropes to thirty horses—fifteen to each rope—and, thus secured, it remained in the air eight hours, passing from place to place, and making observations. Its services were so highly appreciated by the generals on that occasion that a second balloon was made and sent to the field of action. The first one, which was named l’Entreprenant, met with accidents which rendered it necessary that it should be sent to Maubeuge for repair; but it afterwards rejoined the army and took part in the battle of Aldenhoven, at the capture of Bonn, and at the operations before Ehrenbreitstein, in all of which it escaped without a wound, although frequently exposed to a furious fire of musketry and shells from the exasperated Austrians.
Nevertheless, its natural enemy, the wind, did not allow it to escape scatheless, as Coutelle shows in one of his letters. He writes thus:
“I received orders to make a reconnaissance of Mayence. I accordingly posted myself between our lines and the town, at about half cannon-shot distance. The wind was very high, so, to counteract its effects as far as lay in my power, I ascended alone, with two hundred pounds additional buoyancy. I was at a height of five hundred metres when three successive gusts dashed me to the ground with such violence that several portions of the car were smashed to bits. Each time the balloon darted up again with so much force that sixty-four men—thirty-two at each guy-rope—were dragged to some distance. Had the guys been made fast to grapnels, as had been suggested to me, they must infallibly have given way.”
Notwithstanding this rough treatment, the aerial warrior managed, during a lull in the wind, to count the number of the enemy’s guns.
But the successes of these war-balloons were sadly intermingled with reverses of fortune and harassing difficulties. The aeronauts had, indeed, won the respect and admiration of the army, but this did not compensate for the terribly fatiguing work of holding on, with scarcely a moment’s intermission, to the ropes of the intractable monsters during long and frequent marches. The second balloon at length succeeded in breaking loose, and was so much damaged as to become unserviceable, and the first one was afterwards found riddled with balls—destroyed, it was supposed, by its own men, who had become tired of the hardships to which they were continually subjected. The balloon was repaired, but was taken prisoner at Wurtzburg in September 1796, after a short but brilliant, and, it is said, useful career.
After this the war-ballooning fell into disrepute. Some attempts have been made in modern times to revive it, but these are not worth mentioning.
