I had never made a night ascent previously, but had formed my own opinions as to the particular line of action desirable, and especially under existing circumstances, when the air was highly charged with electricity, and when a large amount of weight was about to be lost owing to the combustion of the fireworks.
We left in grand style. A salvo of garden artillery announced the slip of the cable, and the most beautiful red and green fires changed the hue of the silken globe as it rose over the heads of the people; and just as these grew faint the aërial pyrotechnics burst forth, and the cheers rose lustily as each device engaged attention—for every piece was artistically arranged; and when the Roman candles shot out their many-coloured stars, and petards burst with a crashing sound, and golden and silver showers enlivened the darkness of mid-air, every spectator seemed to be in ecstacy; nor was there a single shout of dissatisfaction or fear, until nature—as if displeased with man’s efforts to light up the elements—broke out in apparent discontent; and a wide-spread flash, with deep-toned thunder overhead, arrested public admiration, and produced a death-like pause, both with us in the car and those on the earth—all of whom had seen us enveloped, apparently, in a flame of fire.
Our own feelings at this critical period can very well be imagined. We were now some 4000 feet high, in a storm of thunder and lightning, our fireworks were hardly spent and the balloon was mounting rapidly and was fully distended, so that close watching, and a proper line of action, could alone secure our safety.
When, after another flash or two, the gas rushed out of the safety valve, I looked at Mr. Gypson, wondering how he intended to act, and it was not long before I came to the conclusion that the upper valve ought to be opened so as to remove a visible strain on the lower hemisphere of the balloon. Had I seized the line and opened the valve I should most assuredly not have done wrong, but I simply, by pointing and hinting, endeavoured, with too much deference, to persuade him to do as I thought expedient.
He was not, evidently, quite of the same way of thinking as myself; at last I cried out, “if the valve is not opened the balloon will burst.”
Hardly had I uttered the warning when the car appeared to drop suddenly some six or eight feet beneath the balloon.
We all looked up, of course, affrighted, thinking that the netting was giving way at the top, and Mr. Albert Smith was impressed with the idea that I had pulled the valve line, and broken the framework; but on looking upwards the sparks from the expiring fireworks, aided by a flash of lightning, disclosed the awful fact that the balloon had rent fully sixteen feet, and that we were falling headlong right over the west end of London, with myriads of gas lamps beneath us, and houses in such close proximity, that death stared us all in the face, and seemed inevitable.
Situated as I was, on the hoop, with a better opportunity of observing the torn silk and network than the rest, I noticed after the first shock to the nerves, that the line which connected the neck of the balloon was unduly tightened, and it immediately occurred to me if I cut that, the lower part of the balloon would the more readily form a resisting surface or parachute.
Much against the wishes of my companions I severed this cord, and a check was soon observable, but the sparks from the paper cases shot up among the gas through the tear in the silk, and once more the thunder roared, and lightning flashed, so that a more frightful descent to the earth could not possibly be imagined.
As the gas-lit metropolis appeared to come up towards us—for, strange as it may seem, there was no sense of giddiness or dropping—we collected the ballast bags and disconnected the grapnel rope in order to let them go just as we came in contact with the ground.