342 THE CONQUEST OF THE AIR. 



sinks the balloon. On putting his head out of the basket, an 

 aeronaut is struck by the branches of a fir tree. The next instant 

 the anchor drops. They have landed. 



The morning- comes and with it the people. The parson of the 

 little village tells them that they are in the North of Norway. 

 They had evaded the Germans, but the delivery of the mails was 

 somewhat delayed. 



Comparing the balloon with its predecessor of nearly loo 

 years earlier, it had grown but little. It was still the small and 

 unreliable child, as Benjamin Franklin said, when he saw the 

 ascent of the first Montgolfi^re in 1783. 



Let us return once more to France in 1884. We are on the field 

 of Chalais near Meudon, and see a large p-roup of French officers 

 and civilians in a lively conversation before a large shed. 



'T tell you. Captain," says a civilian, "that you will have little 

 pleasure with your electric battery. Imagine the terrible weight 

 which you will have to carry." 'T know that," answers the 

 Captain, "but I am confident that in a few month's time we shall 

 be able to store ten times the quantitv of electricity without in- 

 creasing the weight, and then the dirigible, electrically driven 

 airship will be an accomplished fact." "Nothing of the sort. I 

 will not deny that you will be able to have a little trip on a calm 

 day like this, but what will happen if the wind blows at twenty 

 miles an hour? In such a case the speed of your ship should be at 

 least 30 miles an hour, and it is not." 



"You are incorrigible, Doctor. With such a biting criticism 

 James Watt would never have attempted the problem of the steam 

 engine, nor Stephenson that of the locomotive. Without optimism 

 and hope nothing is ever done. Perhaps after all, the names of 

 Krebs and Renard will some day be known in the world." 



A sign to a servant and the gates of the shed open. Soldiers 

 bring out a huge cigar shaped balloon. Below is hanging a long 

 lattice-like cage. Bright propellors shine in the sunlight. Two 

 officers. Captain Renard and another, climb into the cage. Sand 

 bags are taken away. The balloon rises two or three metres. A 

 turn of the handle and in place of the sparkling propellors we see 

 a glittering transparent disc. The motor is rotating. En avant! 

 Gracefully the cigar rises and describes a loop over the field. On 

 the latter stands the Doctor, stopwatch in hand and looking 

 through a telescope. The time in which the ship appears and 

 disappears is nine seconds. As the balloon is 50 metres long, the 

 speed is about 5 metres per second or about 12 miles an hour. 

 Too slow, is the Doctor's comment. The ship moves in the direc- 

 tion of the Villa-Coublay. Twenty minutes have passed ; the ship 

 is well on its return journey. Twenty-three minutes. The ship 

 has arrived at its starting place. For the first time in history has 

 a dirigible balloon made a journey and come back to its starting 

 place. 



But the battery was completely exhausted. The inventors saw 

 that the electric propulsion was not a success. Only 23 minutes 

 did the current last. In the rejoicings which followed, the in- 

 ventors remained exceptionally quiet and out of humour. 



