BENEATH THE WINDSOCK

Evening Star, Issue 20989, 31 December 1931, Page 2

BENEATH THE WINDSOCK

[By Gip»t Moth.]

“THE SWALLOW MOTH,” Tho Be Haviland Company, not content with producing a light ’plane which is known all over the world —the title “ Moth ” is, indeed, almost synonymous with the phrase light aeroplane ’’ —are busy experimenting with new designs of touring aircraft. Altogether tho company is studying the development of three or four different new types of light aeroplane, and at the same time an addition to the “Gipsy” range of air-cooled engines of moderate power is going steadily forward.

First of the new experimental machines to reach the stage of actual flying trials is a low-wing monoplane, numbered 81 in the D.H. series, and entitled the_ “ Swallow Moth.” this machine derives power from a new inverted air-cooled motor, called provisionally the “ Gipsy 1V.,” and the air frame design incorporates many novel features which are expected to improve flying efficiency and to simplify control of the machine in flight and on the ground. Other designs are being developed, one of them, a most interesting biplane, and the company is unlikely to decide on one or the other idea for some months to come. But one thing is certain: the new machine will not be sold at a very low price, as certain rumours have indicated lately. The world market does not at present permit the constructor to put down “ production” batches of thousands of light aeroplanes at a time, and there is not much hope of a very considerable drop in prices for some time to come. The new inverted engine, developing round about 80-85 h.p., promises well. It rivals the most “ box-like ” of motor car power units in tidiness, and the care with which all potentially unsightly components, such as pipe lines and so forth, have been tucked away.

COST OF LIGHT PLANE TRAVEL,

Statistics more complete and informative than any previously kept by a private flyer were compiled by Mr and Mrs Humble, who flew recently from Capetown to Glasgow, the trip being made to combine business with pleasure. Husband and wife learned to fly last year in South Africa, and they took turns at the controls during the flight home in their own “ Puss Moth ” cabin monoplane. Including a little “joy riding” at places along the route, and, in the wording of this most honest of all private flying chronicles, “ flying 152 miles unnecessarily and wasting 1 hour 33 minutes in regaining correct route,” the couple flew 10,496 miles in 107 hours, making an average speed of 98.1 miles an hour. The engine consumed 608 gallons of fuel, equivalent to 17.2 miles per gallon, a figure much better than is secured in most of the larger kind of motor cars. Oil used amounted to forty gallons. Although at some points in the interior of Africa fuel costs up to 6s 3d a gallon and oil anything up to 9s, the total cost of the entire journey in fuel, oil, and aeroplane maintenance along the route was only £lO6 3s lid, or 2.42 pence per mile for the carriage of two people and their luggage—less than third class railway fare. Travelling expenses under .the heads of “ general,” “ taxi-cabs,” and “ hotels ” amounted to £ll6, making the total cost of the journey equivalent to just over fivepence a mile, or the bare first class railway fare for two travellers. The tremendous advantages of light aeroplane travel are obvious in these few figures extracted from Mr Humble’s elaborate tables of costs. Further, he and his wife spent only 107 hours, or just under four and a-half days, in actual journeying. TEE PARACHUTE. AN INTERESTING TREATISE, ‘ Parachute ’• is the title of a very interesting volume which has been written by Charles J. V. Murphy (states the ‘ Observer ’ by way of comment on Mr Murphy’s work); — This story of the parachute is further evidence of the identity of the Preserver with the Destroyer. The parachute issued from among the ideas as a contrivance whereby dare-devils made quick money by risking their lives; and it is now, in Mr Murphy’s phrase, a vehicle of escape. The sinister glitter of the water below the platform of the high dive; the remoteness of the run-out below the ski-jump—many of us know the threat in these, but what is it to that of jumping into the void which stretches indefinitely below the man who throws himself from aircraft? The appeal to the imagination made by the parachutist needs no stressing, and it is easily intelligible that men with the courage to use the parachute found people to pay to see them do it. Mr Charles Murphy describes the early history of the device. It was discovered by accident 150 years ago, when a balloon that had burst in mid-air was forced by the wind into the shape of a parachute, with the result that the aeronaut, a Frenchman, was lowered safely to the ground. * “ Apparently unaffected by his narrow escape, the ' Professor ' set out to capitualise it.” For many years parachuting was what we now call a “ stunt ” —not only intrinsically dangerous, but with the element of danger artificially emphasised to make the descent more spectacular. Acrobats came down holding on by their legs to a trapeze. Mark Berg went farther; he nailed a strip of leather to the bar and dangled from it by his teef-. A day came when he bit through the leather and fell four thousand feet to his death. —Exigencies of War.— By this time, then, man had exploited to the utmost the element of danger in the parachute, and had demonstrated that he possessed the courage to use itk But by far the greater part of Mr Murphy’s book is given to the development of the parachute as a means of preserving life. The impetus towards this development came in the war. So many airmen were killed through “crashing” not only at the front but in the first few hours of training that it became obviously expedient to invest money, time, brains, and even life in discovering some means whereby the pilot could abandon disabled aircraft in safety. By the date of the armistice the parachute_ was safe, as safety goes in war. But it was far from being safe by the standards of peace. Mr Murphy, himself an American, proceeds to describe what was dofte iii the United States when it was realised both that the public would not take to cjvil and

commercial flying unless satisfied that ft was safe and that potentially there was Safety for the flyers in the parachute. In the experiments that fol j lowed there was all the dare-devilry of the showman’s acrobats, but daredevilry dignified by the _ purpose by, which it was inspired: it was not enough that the parachute should be safe: it was essential that the publio should think it safe; the risks taken by the professional parachutists were no longer emphasised. But they wqre no less real. Parachutes were more reliable and the use of them had become a science instead of a trick; but to set against that, it was required of the new experimenters that, instead of confining themselves in leaving the aeroplane to the safest methods known, they should deliberately bring about conditions in which the parachute might fail. . —Lindbergh’s Four Leaps.— Mr Murphy will delight the mechanically minded with his history of the evolution in . structure—with his account of the invention of “the Lobe ” and its effect as an ariel counterbalance; but no mechanical knowledge is needed for the enjoyment of his tales of the quick and correct thinking of brave men. Many of the incidents recorded are taken from the journal of the Caterpillar Club. All the members of this club have saved their lives by taking to a parachute when the aircraft in which they were travelling was, or was about to be, disabled. Few members have made more than one forced jump; it puts Colonel Lindbergh even above the place gained for him by his Atlantic flight to learn that he has made four; for it shows the flight to have been no fluke. A passage from his report of his third jump is evidence for his self-control. For hours he had been trying to find his way down in a fog; at last hh petrol gave out:— “ I rolled the stabiliser back, cut the switches, pulled the ship into a, stall, and was about to go over the right side of the cockpit when the right wing began to drop. In this position' the plane would gather speed and spiral, to the right, possibly striking my para-] chute after its first turn. I returnedto the controls, and after righting the* plane dived over the left side of the cockpit while the airspeed registered about seventy miles an hour and the altimeter 13,000 ft.” Most significant of the development of the parachute as a means of saving life is the understanding among airmen that the pilot jumps last; he does not lead a forlorn hope by jumping first; he stays by his ship until all on, .board have sought safety*