An important development in connection with the inspection and testing of aircraft parts, particularly in the case of metal, was the experimental application of X-ray photography, which showed up latent defects, both in the material and in manufacture, which would otherwise have passed unnoticed. This method was also used to test the penetration of glue into the wood on each side of joints, so giving a measure of the strength; and for the effect of ‘doping’ the wings, dope being a film (of cellulose acetate dissolved in acetone with other chemicals) applied to the covering of wings and bodies to render the linen taut and weatherproof, besides giving it a smooth surface for the lessening of ‘skin friction’ when passing rapidly through the air.
An important result of this experimental work was that it in many cases enabled designers to produce aeroplane parts from less costly material than had previously been considered necessary, without impairing the strength. It may be mentioned that it was found undesirable to use welded joints on aircraft in any part where the material is subject to a tensile or bending load, owing to the danger resulting from bad workmanship causing the material to become brittle—an effect which cannot be discovered except by cutting through the weld, which, of course, involves a test to destruction. Written, as it has been, in August, 1920, it is impossible in this chapter to give any conception of how the developments of War will be applied to commercial aeroplanes, as few truly commercial machines have yet been designed, and even those still show distinct traces of the survival of war mentality. When, however, the inevitable recasting of ideas arrives, it will become evident, whatever the apparent modification in the relative importance of different aspects of design, that enormous advances were made under the impetus of War which have left an indelible mark on progress.
We have, during the seventeen years since aeroplanes first took the air, seen them grow from tentative experimental structures of unknown and unknowable performance to highly scientific products, of which not only the performances (in speed, load-carrying capacity, and climb) are known, but of which the precise strength and degree of stability can be forecast with some accuracy on the drawing board. For the rest, with the future lies—apart from some revolutionary change in fundamental design—the steady development of a now well-tried and well-found engineering structure.
Part III
AEROSTATICS
I
BEGINNINGS
Francesco Lana, with his ‘aerial ship’ stands as one of the first great exponents of aerostatics; up to the time of the Mongolfier and Charles balloon experiments, aerostatic and aerodynamic research are so inextricably intermingled that it has been thought well to treat of them as one, and thus the work of Lana, Veranzio and his parachute, Guzman’s frauds, and the like, have already been sketched. In connection with Guzman, Hildebrandt states in his Airships Past and Present, a fairly exhaustive treatise on the subject up to 1906, the year of its publication, that there were two inventors—or charlatans—Lorenzo de Guzman and a monk Bartolemeo Laurenzo, the former of whom constructed an unsuccessful airship out of a wooden basket covered with paper, while the latter made certain experiments with a machine of which no description remains. A third de Guzman, some twenty-five years later, announced that he had constructed a flying machine, with which he proposed to fly from a tower to prove his success to the public. The lack of record of any fatal accident overtaking him about that time seems to show that the experiment was not carried out.
Galien, a French monk, published a book L’art de naviguer dans l’air in 1757, in which it was conjectured that the air at high levels was lighter than that immediately over the surface of the earth. Galien proposed to bring down the upper layers of air and with them fill a vessel, which by Archimidean principle would rise through the heavier atmosphere. If one went high enough, said Galien, the air would be two thousand times as light as water, and it would be possible to construct an airship, with this light air as lifting factor, which should be as large as the town of Avignon, and carry four million passengers with their baggage. How this high air was to be obtained is matter for conjecture—Galien seems to have thought in a vicious circle, in which the vessel that must rise to obtain the light air must first be filled with it in order to rise.
Cavendish’s discovery of hydrogen in 1776 set men thinking, and soon a certain Doctor Black was suggesting that vessels might be filled with hydrogen, in order that they might rise in the air. Black, however, did not get beyond suggestion; it was Leo Cavallo who first made experiments with hydrogen, beginning with filling soap bubbles, and passing on to bladders and special paper bags. In these latter the gas escaped, and Cavallo was about to try goldbeaters’ skin at the time that the Mongolfiers came into the field with their hot air balloon.