But though oiled silk, foreign post, or a banknote, can stop the sound, a film sufficiently thin to yield freely to the aërial pulses transmits it. A thick soap-film produces an obvious effect upon the sensitive flame; a very thin one does not. The augmentation of the transmitted sound may be observed simultaneously with the generation and brightening of the colors which indicate the increasing thinness of the film. A very thin collodion-film acts in the same way.
Acquainted with the foregoing facts regarding the passage of sound through cambric, silk, lint, flannel, baize, felt, and cotton-net, you are prepared for the statement that the sound-waves pass without sensible impediment through heavy artificial showers of rain, hail, and snow. Water-drops, seeds, sand, bran, and flocculi of various kinds, have been employed to form such showers; through all of these, as through the actual rain and hail already described, and through the snow on the Mer de Glace, the sound passes without sensible obstruction.
§ 4. Action of Fog. Observations in London
But the mariner’s greatest enemy, fog, is still to be dealt with; and here for a long time the proper conditions of experiment were absent. Up to the end of November we had had frequent days of haze, sufficiently thick to obscure the white cliffs of the Foreland, but no real fog. Still those cases furnished demonstrative evidence that the notions entertained regarding the reflection of sound by suspended particles were wrong; for on many days of the thickest haze the sound covered twice the range attained on other days of perfect optical transparency. Such instances dissolved the association hitherto assumed to exist between acoustic transparency and optic transparency, but they left the action of dense fogs undetermined.
On December 9th a memorable fog settled down on London. I addressed a telegram to the Trinity House suggesting some gun observations. With characteristic promptness came the reply that they would be made in the afternoon at Blackwall. I went to Greenwich in the hope of hearing the guns across the river; but the delay of the train by the fog rendered my arrival too late. Over the river the fog was very dense, and through it came various sounds with great distinctness. The signal-bell of an unseen barge rang clearly out at intervals, and I could plainly hear the hammering at Cubitt’s Town, half a mile away, on the opposite side of the river. No deadening of the sound by the fog was apparent.
Through this fog and various local noises, Captain Atkins and Mr. Edwards heard the report of a 12-pounder carronade with a 1-lb. charge distinctly better than the 18-pounder with a 3-lb. charge, an optically clear atmosphere, and all noises absent, on July 3d.
Anxious to turn to the best account a phenomenon for which we had waited so long, I tried to grapple with the problem by experiments on a small scale. On the 10th, I stationed my assistant with a whistle and organ-pipe on the walk below the southwest end of the bridge dividing Hyde Park from Kensington Gardens. From the eastern end of the Serpentine I heard distinctly both the whistle and the pipe, which produced 380 waves a second. On changing places with my assistant, I heard for a time the distinct blast of the whistle only. The deeper note of the organ-pipe at length reached me, rising sometimes to great distinctness, and sometimes falling to inaudibility. The whistle showed the same intermittence as to period, but in an opposite sense; for, when the whistle was faint, the pipe was strong, and vice versa. To obtain the fundamental note of the pipe, it had to be blown gently, and on the whole the whistle proved the most efficient in piercing the fog.
An extraordinary amount of sound filled the air during these experiments. The resonant roar of the Bayswater and Knightsbridge roads; the clangor of the great bell of Westminster; the railway-whistles, which were frequently blown, and the fog-signals exploded at the various metropolitan stations, were all heard with extraordinary intensity. This could by no means be reconciled with the statements so categorically made regarding the acoustic impenetrability of a London fog.
On the 11th of December, the fog being denser than before, I heard every blast of the whistle, and occasional blasts of the pipe, over the distance between the bridge and the eastern end of the Serpentine. On joining my assistant at the bridge, the loud concussion of a gun was heard by both of us. A police-inspector affirmed that it came from Woolwich, and that he had heard several shots about 2 P.M. and previously. The fact, if a fact, was of the highest importance; so I immediately telegraphed to Woolwich for information. Prof. Abel kindly furnished me with the following particulars: