Around the World in Ten DaysFraser, Chelsea Curtis
General
Around the World in Ten Days
Fraser, Chelsea Curtis
Air pilots -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages around the world -- Juvenile fiction
It now became a question whether they should leisurely follow along the
inwardly curving coast-line, taking in Savannah, Charleston, and
Jacksonville, as guide-posts, or save a hundred miles or more by flying
straight across the waters to Miami. As they wished to test out each
member's ability to operate by compass rather than by landmarks, it was
decided to take the shorter route. So gradually they left the rugged
American shore behind and swept farther and farther out to sea.
The Sky-Bird II was flying as steady as a rock. All the bracing wires
were tuned to a nicety, the wind humming through them and along the
smooth sides of the great creature's body with a whistling monotone
which arose and fell with bewitching rhythm as the force fluctuated.
The varnish and fire-proofing compound glistened brightly in the
sunshine, attracting the attention of numerous seabirds, mostly gulls
and ospreys, which followed them at times for short distances, only to
be outdistanced. The engine was running at less than half its possible
speed, and purring like a contented kitten after a meal of fresh milk.
The clouds and fog had cleared away; the sky was as bright now as a sky
ever gets; far beneath, the blue-green waters of the Atlantic, flecked
with white-topped waves, spread on all sides. Two torpedo-boats,
looking like toys, went northward, and tiny white waving specks showed
that the Jacks aboard were waving a salute to them. Off seaward a
black trailing blot against the horizon showed where some unseen
steamship plowed her way between ports. Mr. Giddings and the boys were
filled with admiration.
A small airplane is ideal for short flights, joyriding the heavens, or
sight-seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and
stable about a big machine like the Sky-Bird II which a pilot soon
begins to love with a passion he never feels toward the little 'plane.
An exquisite community of spirit grows up between machine and pilot;
each, as it were, merges into the vitals of the other. The levers and
controls are the nervous system of the airplane, through which the will
of the aviator may be expressed--expressed in an infinitely fine
degree. Indeed, a flying-machine is something entirely apart from and
above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. It is the nearest
thing to animate life which man has created. In the air an airplane
ceases to be a mere piece of dumb mechanism; it seems to throb with
feeling, and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but
actually of expressing a pilot's temperament.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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