The Aeroplane Speaks

The Aeroplane Speaks

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The Aeroplane Speaks

The Aeroplane Speaks

Read FREE!

Excerpt

The Aeroplane had been designed and built, and tested in the air, and now it stood on the Aerodrome ready for its first cross-country flight.

It had run the gauntlet of pseudo-designers, crank inventors, press "experts," and politicians; of manufacturers keen on cheap work and large profits; of poor pilots who had funked it, and good pilots who had expected too much of it. Thousands of pounds had been wasted on it many had gone bankrupt over it, and others it had provided with safe fat jobs.

Somehow, and despite every conceivable obstacle, it had managed to muddle through, and now it was ready for its work. It was not perfect, for there were fifty different ways in which it might be improved, some of them shamefully obvious. But it was fairly sound mechanically, had a little inherent stability, was easily controlled, could climb a thousand feet a minute, and its speed was a hundred miles an hour. In short, quite a creditable machine, though of course the right man had not got the credit.

It is rough, unsettled weather with a thirty mile an hour wind on the ground, and that means fifty more or less aloft. Lots of clouds at different altitudes to bother the Pilot, and the air none too clear for the observation of landmarks.

As the Pilot and Observer approach the Aeroplane the former is clearly not in the best of tempers. "It's rotten luck," he is saying, "a blank shame that I should have to take this blessed 'bus and join X Reserve Squadron, stationed a hundred and fifty miles from anywhere; and just as I have licked my Flight into shape. Now some slack blighter will, I suppose, command it and get the credit of all my work! . . ."

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