North Island, lying in San Diego Bay, a mile across from the city, was turned over to me by its owners, the Spreckels Company. It is a flat, sandy island, about four miles long and two miles wide, with a number of good fields for land flights. The beaches on both the ocean and bay sides are good, affording level stretches for starting or landing an aeroplane. Besides, the beaches were necessary to the water experiments I wished to make. North Island is uninhabited except by hundreds of jack rabbits, cottontails, snipe, and quail. It joins Coronado Island by a narrow sand spit on the south side, which is often washed by the high tides. Otherwise the two islands are separated by a strip of shallow water a mile long and a couple of hundred yards wide, called Spanish Bight. Thus the island on which we were to do our experimenting and training was accessible only by boat and it was a comparatively easy matter to exclude the curious visitor whenever we desired to do so. There was no particular reason for excluding the public other than the desire to work unhampered by crowds, which is always a distracting influence.
In the meantime Lieutenant Theodore G. Ellyson of the submarine service, then stationed at Newport News, Virginia, had been detailed by the Navy Department to report to me in California for instruction in aviation. He had joined me in Los Angeles, where, though there are all the climatic requirements, and good fields for practice flights, the ideal body of smooth water for experiments on that element was lacking. The War Department responded later, instructing General Bliss, commanding the Department of California at San Francisco, to detail as many officers as could be spared to go to San Diego for instruction in the art of flying.
There was much eagerness among the officers of the Department of California and I was informed that some thirty applications were made for the detail. Lieutenant (now Captain) Paul W. Beck, of the Signal Corps, located at the Presidio, San Francisco, and Lieutenant John C. Walker, Jr., of the 8th Infantry, Monterey, Cal., were named at once, and later Lieutenant C. E. M. Kelly, 30th Infantry, San Francisco, was added to the Army's representation. This made a list of four officers, three from the Army and one from the Navy, and with these I began work. In February, however, the Navy Department designated Ensign Charles Pousland of the destroyer Preble, at San Diego, to join Lieutenant Ellyson as a Navy pupil in aviation.
There are a dozen good landing or starting fields on North Island, but we chose the one on the south side, which gave us easy access to the smooth shallow water of Spanish Bight. A field was cleared of weeds and sagebrush, half a mile long by three or four hundred yards wide. Sheds to house the machines were built by the Aero Club of San Diego, and landings put in for the small boats that carried us to and from the city. The Spreckels Company gave us every assistance in fitting the place up, and the people of San Diego, anxious to make the island the permanent home of an aviation experimental station and school, were prompt to lend a hand and to impress upon us the climatic advantages of their city.
I have asked Lieutenant Ellyson to write his own story of the work on North Island, and it is to be found in another part of this book.
[CHAPTER V DEVELOPING THE HYDROAEROPLANE AT SAN DIEGO–THE HYDRO OF THE SUMMER OF 1912]
January had nearly passed before the first machine was ready. Although this proved unsuccessful, I was not discouraged and learned a good deal about what sort of a float was necessary to support the aeroplane and how it acted when under way over the water. Nearly every day for over two weeks we dragged the machine down to the edge of the water, launched it on the smooth surface of San Diego Bay, and drew it out again after testing out some new arrangement of floats and surfaces. We kept it in a hangar, or shed, on the beach, and there we would sit and study and change and plan how to improve the float.
We were in the water almost all day long; no thought was given to wet clothing and cold feet. We virtually lived in our bathing suits. The warm climate aided us, but there were some chilly days. Discomfort and failure did not deter the Army and Navy officers, who watched and worked like beavers, half in and half out of the water.
On the 26th of January the first success came. That day the aeroplane first rose from the water and succeeded in alighting gently and without accident after the flight. A page was added to aviation history, which extended its domain and opened the lakes, rivers, and seas to the hitherto land-locked flying machine. It was no more a land bird, but a water fowl as well.
The machine was crude, and there remained many things to be improved, but the principle was correct. We kept adjusting the equipment, adding things and taking them off again to make some improvement; perhaps the float was too heavy, or leaked, or the spray would fly up and chips would be knocked out of the whirling propeller, which the drops of water would strike like shot out of a gun. The least projection on the floats would send up spray while travelling at such high speed as was made through the water. The balance of the machine was as troublesome as anything, because the push of the propeller would give it a tendency to dive if the floats were not properly adjusted.