A new fangled grapnel was used in this trip, and one ill adapted for arresting the progress of a balloon in a strong wind. It was on the ball and socket principle; but the socket, which was of brass, was inside the crown of the prongs. I prophesied before any strain was thrown upon the grapnel that it would break. It did so in trailing over a field, when the balloon dashed into a large oak tree, cutting asunder a thick branch, which ripped the silk from bottom to top, so that the gas escaped instantly, and we pitched to leeward of the tree with no trifling concussion, by the way, but got no broken bones or serious injury.
The second affair was, without doubt, the most perilous descent in the annals of aërostation.
In the year 1847, the far-famed Vauxhall had not altogether lost its prestige; but still, exciting amusements were indispensable to its continued existence, and aëronautics had enjoyed long-continued popular favour in that establishment. But a nocturnal voyage with fireworks displayed under the balloon, was not of frequent occurrence, and a night ascent with Mr. Gypson’s balloon was decided upon as an opportune attraction.
My own seat in the car was owing to special invitation on the part of the proprietor, but two other candidates—viz. Mr. Albert Smith and Mr. Pridmore, only secured places on the afternoon of the ascent.
Mr. Albert Smith at that time was a popular writer; and, as he had already made a day ascent, he wished to see London by night, and to give an account of it to the public.
When the balloon was filled during the afternoon, in the Waterloo Grounds, the air was calm and hot, with every prospect—as far as appearances went—of a fine summer evening. It was just the sort of weather for an aërial journey in the dark, there was no rustling of leaves, or wild gusts to induce the least apprehension of a disagreeable landing.
The inflation was completed with the utmost ease, and just before the variegated Vauxhall lamps were lighted, a circular framework, with Darby’s fireworks attached, was duly placed in position, so that it could be fixed on when the moment arrived for starting.
About this time it was observed that the atmosphere became oppressive, and that a threatening murky mist arose in the east; not long afterwards, distant thunder rumbled, and people began to scan the firmament, as if it looked uninviting, and as if the terrestrial sight-seers would be safer that night than the air explorers. As for us, we drew together and exchanged opinions, like mariners before leaving a port when dirty weather was looming on the horizon.
The lessee of Vauxhall Gardens, Mr. Robert Wardell, having noticed lightning playing over the city, came forth, with other interested parties, to look around him; and soon a grave discussion was going on near the car, for the storm was fast brewing, and there was doubt as to whether it would be safe to venture. In the midst of great diversity of opinion, a direct appeal was made to me, and I gave it in as my conviction that, if the ascent were made quickly, and everything well managed, there need be no apprehension.
The fireworks—weighing over 60 lbs.—were now connected, and gentlemen were requested to jump in; for my own part, I decided upon jumping up on the hoop, so as to see the neck clear, and report to Mr. Gypson when the upper valve required opening.