594 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



THE NEW MEXICO 



Official Photograph, U. S. Navy Air Service 

 LEAVING LOCKS IN THE PANAMA CANAL 



Close-up photographs of this kind constitute a part of the argument of the aviation 

 advocates, who believe that the airplane is making obsolete the first-line battleships (see 

 "America in the Air," by Brigadier General William Mitchell, in The Geographic for March, 

 1921). 



she used to carry excursionists down 

 Long Island Sound. It is my convic- 

 tion that she will roll her rail under if a 

 gob misplaces a tin knife. Maybe I am 

 wrong, but I know what I know. 



A DEFENSE OP "GOB" 



At any rate, this seems a good place 

 t'o defend the word "gob." Every naval 

 officer resents its use. Not one will con- 

 cede there is such a thing or a word as 

 gob. It will be admitted that it does not 

 sound sweet and pretty, any more than 

 "chow" or "hike" or any of the other 

 one-syllabled words that came into use 

 through war. But as the sailors call 

 themselves gobs (and never by any 

 chance refer to themselves as tars or 

 bluejackets or seamen) and unquestion- 

 ably discovered or invented this name, 

 T submit that they are a sufficient au- 

 thority. 



Gold lace may fume, but between decks 

 they will continue to be gobs. 



Flying to Jamaica on board one of the 

 seaplanes did not seem a stunt at all. 

 There is something reassuring in the 

 bulk and weight of these giants, just as 

 there is in the apparent indestructibility 

 of a battleship. They are not as large as 

 the N. C. type, it is true, but a boat with 

 a top wing span of 107 feet and which 

 when loaded weighs seven tons is not as 

 terrifying as the butterflies in which one 

 flies over land. 



EIKE ELYING ON THE VERANDA OE A 

 COUNTRY CLUB 



From my seat in the rear cockpit, with 

 a 330-horse-power Liberty motor rasping 

 at either ear, I looked down the twin 

 lines of massive wing struts and felt as 

 though I were out for a fly in the veranda 

 of a country club. 



It was only as we sat upon the Shazv- 

 mnt's emotional deck in the calm waters 

 of Kingston harbor that I learned the 

 day had been a bad one for flying. 



