After ten minutes of this thrilling experience Mike decided to land, as he did not wish to try my nerves too severely the first time. The landing was perfect. Mike shut off the motor at a height of 70 feet, and the aeroplane came gliding down like a big bird. I could not tell just when we came to earth, so gently did the airship alight. It glided along on its runners for a short distance and then came quietly to a stop.
I stepped out on the grass like a man in a dream.
“How did you like it?” asked Mike.
For answer I fairly hugged him. He was pleased and asked at once about a trip through Ireland.
“It would be grand,” I exclaimed, “let us go.”
We had several other flights together and we were both confident that we could have a glorious time in the Emerald Isle with an airship.
We soon completed our arrangements. The aeroplane was taken to pieces and carefully packed. Each box was marked “Queenstown.”
In three weeks’ time we were ready to start. We booked on the Lusitania, and, as the boxes, in which our aeroplane was stored, were taken on board as baggage, we landed in five days at Queenstown, airship and all.
I had crossed the Atlantic several times before, but this voyage was the most exciting of all. We sat on deck and talked of our plans when we landed. Mike was sure of his ability to fly a day at a time, and so we outlined a strenuous program. I was well acquainted with Ireland, and I had marked our stopping places as we would fly through the island.
Sometimes fear of failure would take possession of my mind. The whole thing was so novel. Such a thing as flying round a country on a sightseeing trip had never been attempted. I was fearful I had been rash.