'Very well. I will be there at four o'clock, and here is half-a-sovereign for you, to show that I am in earnest.'
'Thank you, sir,' the fisherman exclaimed, and departed, more than ever convinced that journalists were the most generous fellows in the world.
CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.
V.—THE FIRST ASCENT IN ENGLAND.
hough the English people, on the whole, disbelieved the tales they heard of the French balloonists, they became very interested when a certain young Italian, named Vincent Lunardi (Secretary to the Naples Ambassador), gave out that he was willing to build a balloon and make a voyage in it. Those devoted to science contributed willingly to the expenses, and large crowds paid to be allowed to see the balloon while it was being made. When nearly complete, it was exhibited in the Lyceum, and the arrangements made with the proprietor of that building very nearly led to disaster. He proved to be a greedy, dishonest man, and when Lunardi wished to move the balloon to where the ascent was to be made, he refused to let it go unless he was paid half of all Lunardi secured by the venture, and a large share in any profits that might be made on future occasions. Here was a difficulty Lunardi had not expected, and it came with many others equally unlooked for. When Lunardi first made the proposal, he had got leave from the Governors of Chelsea Hospital to ascend from their spacious grounds; but, while the balloon was being made, a certain Frenchman had set up in opposition, and announced that he would give a display immediately. This promise he failed to keep, and the disappointed sightseers paid him back by breaking up his machinery. The idea of such a thing being repeated terrified the Governors of Chelsea Hospital, and they requested Lunardi to go elsewhere. He had just got over this trouble by being promised the ground of the Honourable Artillery Company, when the proprietor of the Lyceum refused to release the balloon. The Artillery Company, thinking themselves the victims of a fraud, ordered the apparatus, which had been sent to them, to to be thrown off the ground unless Lunardi found securities in five hundred pounds to cover any injuries their premises might suffer at the hands of the mob. But the proprietor of the Lyceum had overreached himself, and when the matter was explained he was compelled to give up the balloon, which was forthwith taken to the artillery grounds under a special guard.
Two days later the scene of action was thronged by a noisy crowd, and Lunardi has spoken of the dread he felt lest anything should happen to delay the ascent. While the balloon was being filled, he viewed the assembly from the upper storey of the Artillery House. Windows, roofs, and scaffoldings were crammed, while in the large square below, the people were so closely packed that it 'looked like a pavement of human heads.' And they were by no means orderly, for most had come with the idea that they were to be deceived. The arrival of the Prince of Wales, however, put them in a better humour, and in less than two hours after the appointed time, Vincent Lunardi carried out his promise. He would not risk a longer delay. Though the balloon was only two-thirds full of gas, and he had to disappoint a friend who had arranged to sail with him, he gave the signal and weighed anchor.
The grumblings of the fickle crowd turned to roars of applause, as the balloon rose slowly over the house-tops. The noisiest and the roughest there forgot the jests they had made at Lunardi's expense. And Vincent Lunardi forgot them, too, for his worry was over, and his long labour rewarded.