"These were the thoughts in my head as I climbed that monstrous inclined
plane with the wind sometimes beating in my face and sometimes whistling
behind my ears, while the cloud-land beneath me fell away to such a
distance that the folds and hummocks of silver had all smoothed out into
one flat, shining plain. But suddenly I had a horrible and unprecedented
experience. I have known before what it is to be in what our neighbours
have called a _tourbillon_, but never on such a scale as this. That
huge, sweeping river of wind of which I have spoken had, as it appears,
whirlpools within it which were as monstrous as itself. Without a
moment's warning I was dragged suddenly into the heart of one. I spun
round for a minute or two with such velocity that I almost lost my
senses, and then fell suddenly, left wing foremost, down the vacuum
funnel in the centre. I dropped like a stone, and lost nearly a thousand
feet. It was only my belt that kept me in my seat, and the shock and
breathlessness left me hanging half-insensible over the side of the
fuselage. But I am always capable of a supreme effort--it is my one
great merit as an aviator. I was conscious that the descent was slower.
The whirlpool was a cone rather than a funnel, and I had come to the
apex. With a terrific wrench, throwing my weight all to one side, I
levelled my planes and brought her head away from the wind. In an
instant I had shot out of the eddies and was skimming down the sky. Then,
shaken but victorious, I turned her nose up and began once more my steady
grind on the upward spiral. I took a large sweep to avoid the danger-
spot of the whirlpool, and soon I was safely above it. Just after one
o'clock I was twenty-one thousand feet above the sea-level. To my great
joy I had topped the gale, and with every hundred feet of ascent the air
grew stiller. On the other hand, it was very cold, and I was conscious
of that peculiar nausea which goes with rarefaction of the air. For the
first time I unscrewed the mouth of my oxygen bag and took an occasional
whiff of the glorious gas. I could feel it running like a cordial
through my veins, and I was exhilarated almost to the point of
drunkenness. I shouted and sang as I soared upwards into the cold, still
outer world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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