Let us commence with Mr. Gypson’s, as it was the first on the stocks, and the first to make a perilous ascent and descent. When this balloon was finished, Mr. Gypson and myself determined upon a private ascent; we desired a long trip, and would not even object to cross the Channel, if the breeze should waft us in that direction. The Imperial Gas Works, at Haggerston, in London, was the place we started from. The new machine was taken there to be inflated on the day selected, which was favourable, the wind being from the S.S.E., so that we had a long run before us, and a good opportunity of reaching Scotland.
Owing to the close proximity of the balloon to the gas-holders, the filling proceeded very rapidly; it appeared to me that the inflation should be checked somewhat, but the aëronaut considered his arrangements equal to any pressure that could be put on by Mr. Clarke, the gas-engineer. It was soon evident that the network was not liberated so quickly as it should have been; the consequence was that a lateral and unequal strain began to be imparted, and just as I had gone away to speak to some gentlemen who had arrived, by invitation, the netting began to break towards the lower part, but the damage was not apparently sufficiently serious to prevent the ascent being made. We therefore got into the car, and notwithstanding several broken meshes, prepared for a start, but while sitting in readiness, a sudden gust drove the silk with considerable force towards the fractured cordage, which continued breaking, until the lower part of the silken bag protruded, and then, the entire balloon surged through the opening, leaving the network behind, which dropped on our heads, so that the balloon itself escaped, leaving us in the car to receive the ironical congratulations of our friends, who had come to see us go up.
Not many seconds after the silken bag had bounded away, it split up, and descended in a brickfield, not far distant. It is almost impossible to imagine a more ridiculous position for expectant voyagers to be placed in than this.
The assembled spectators pronounced it a mercy that we had not ascended, and that the breakage had not happened in the air. They believed we must have been killed had not the balloon escaped just when it did; but I was of a different opinion, believing that if once we had got away, no bad results would have occurred while we were travelling aloft.
The balloon was forthwith repaired, and a second private attempt made on March 18th in the same year. This time we had a successful day, and came down all right at Hawkhurst, in Kent, not far from the residence of Sir John Herschel. In the evening we were invited to Collingwood, where we spent a most agreeable and instructive time with the eminent astronomer.
Soon after this event Lieutenant Gale’s balloon was launched at the Rosemary Branch Gardens, Peckham.
Here, too, I was invited, and almost persuaded to make the first trip; but as I had condemned certain new fashioned valve-springs, which I considered unsafe, I preferred to witness rather than participate in the ascent. Mr. Gale wished also to use a pair of supplementary small balloons to receive the expanded gas; but these, I thought, were open to objection, so that I could not possibly join the lieutenant at the time he was applying appurtenances, which I had pronounced dangerous.
The balloon, a very fine one, was duly filled, and the ascent nicely made. A Mr. Burn took my place, and I was rather joked, I remember, when the new balloon floated majestically in the still atmosphere.
Events, however, soon took a sudden turn. Gale had promised to travel far down towards the coast, and had, it appeared, suddenly altered his mind, as the balloon began descending fast.
“Perhaps,” said some one, “he has forgotten something as it is coming down so soon, and will go up again and continue his journey.”