It is possible, with a modern-type compass, to make an allowance for
leeway. The airman studies a gauge before he ascends, ascertaining the
strength at which the wind is blowing. Then he sets a pointer upon his
compass by which he may correct, even while passing through the air, the
sideway thrust of the wind; that is to say, should he be flying to some
point due east of his starting-point, as was assumed in Fig. 66, and
should the wind--blowing from the south across his path--tend to force
him towards the north, then he would set his pointer so that he was
steering not due east, but to a point a certain number of miles south of
east. In this way, with the wind driving him always north, he would
arrive not at the imaginary destination towards which he steered, but at
the real point due east which he desired to make. The drawback of the
method may be this: should the pilot leave ground in a 10-mile-an-hour
wind, and should the strength of this wind increase say to 20 miles an
hour, his allowance for leeway would be insufficient; but against this
may be set the fact that the airman, becoming aware probably, by the
increased rolling of his machine, that the wind was tending to
strengthen, would steer still wider of his goal. Compasses are being
tested, also, which allow pilots to make an accurate and mechanical
allowance, even while in flight, for risings or fallings of a side wind.
There is one, a form of transparent compass, made so that the airman can
look down through it, and see the ground passing away below. Selecting
landmarks with his eye which are a little distance apart, he is able to
note--by contrasting his compass-course with that his machine makes when
in relation with these objects--just how much drift he should allow
for. Then he alters his leeway indicator and makes another observation
later on, should he think the wind has changed again.
[Illustration: FIG. 67.--An Airman’s Map.]
Vital to the equipment of a pilot is his map. In the infancy of flying,
when airmen first began to venture upon journeys between cities, they
had neither maps nor compasses, and contented themselves as a rule with
following a railway--the metals of which, gleaming below and appearing
as though ruled across the country, provided an excellent guide. But
soon, making longer flights and passing perhaps over districts where
there were no railways, pilots found they needed a map; but not an
ordinary map, such as a tourist upon the earth might use. Flying
thousands of feet high, the airman’s view of the land is bird-like. The
country stretches away on all sides below, apparently almost flat, and
with its hills so dwarfed that they hardly catch the eye (see Plates XI
and XII).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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