“Now the parachute, where the weight of the car, of the attaching cords, and the wrigglings of the aeronaut, is in equilibrium with the expansion—the parachute, which seems to have no other aim but to moderate the shock in falling—the parachute even has been found capable of being directed, and aeronauts who have practised it, take care not to forget it. If the current is about to drive the aeronaut over a place where the descent is dangerous—say a river, a town, or a forest—the aeronaut perceiving to his right, let us suppose, a piece of ground suitable for his purpose, pulls at the cords which surround the right side, and by thus imparting a greater obliquity to his roof of silk, glides through the air, which it cleaves obliquely, towards the desired spot. Every descent, in fact, is determined by the side on which the incline is greatest.”
That these are not mere theoretical opinions or conjectures is certain from the fact that Mademoiselle Garnerin once wagered to guide herself with a parachute from the point of separation from her balloon to a place determined and very remote. By the combined inclinations which could be given to her parachute, she was seen in fact, very distinctly, to manoeuvre and tend towards the appointed place, and succeeded at length in alighting within a few yards of it.
Chapter Six.
Ascents by Messrs Glaisher and Coxwell.
We now come to that point in our subject where it is appropriate to give more detailed and graphic accounts of the recent doings of aeronauts. An extremely interesting description of a scientific balloon ascent is given by the celebrated aeronaut, Mr Glaisher, in a pamphlet, from which we shall make a few extracts. (See Note 1.) His description is illustrative of the subject of ballooning, and contains the salient points of several ascents.
He asks us to imagine the balloon somewhat more than half inflated, eager for flight, with only one link connecting it with earth, namely, a rope attached to an instrument, called a liberating iron catch. When all the ballast, instruments, etcetera, were placed in the car, Mr Coxwell brought the balloon to a nice and even balance, so that the addition of twenty pounds would have prevented it from rising.
As the moment for departure drew near, friends became impatient, and every one anxiously watched the final arrangements, which were made by Mr Coxwell, on whom was laid the important duty of letting go. His hand was on the catch, his countenance was fixed, and his expression stern, as he gazed up into the heavens. He was waiting for the right moment, for the sky was partially cloudy, and it was necessary to wait until the balloon was midway between the cloud that had just passed and the next that was approaching, so that the aeronauts might have a clear sky, and be able to see the earth they were about to quit for a time. Nor was this all; he knew that in every wind, however strong it might be, there are periods of calm. If he could start in one of these he would avoid much rotatory motion. The deciding, therefore, of the exact moment for making a fair start was not so easy a matter as one might suppose.
Some one at this critical time, with the characteristic eagerness of poor human nature to “put its finger in the pie,” cried out “Now!” and another shouted “Pull!” but Mr Coxwell, regardless of every one, decided for himself; and, just when the wind lulled and the sun shone bright, and the balloon stood proudly erect, he pulled the trigger and they were free.