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165
The Aeroplane Speaks. Fifth Edition
·
H. Barber
34
And
the
Struts
and
the
Spars
groan
in
compression
and
pray
to
keep
straight,
for
once
"out
of
truth"
there
is,
in
addition
to
possible
collapse,
the
certainty
that
in
bending
they
will
throw
many
wires
out
of
adjustment.
And
the
Fabric's
quite
mixed
in
its
mind,
and
ejaculates,
"Now,
who
would
have
thought
I
got
more
Lift
from
the
top
of
the
Surface
than
its
bottom?"
And
then
truculently
to
the
Distance
Pieces,
which
run
from
rib
to
rib,
"Just
keep
the
Ribs
from
rolling,
will
you?
or
you'll
see
me
strip.
I'm
an
Irishman,
I
am,
and
if
my
coat
comes
off----
Yes,
Irish,
I
said.
I
used
to
come
from
Egypt,
but
I've
got
naturalized
since
the
War
began."
Then
the
Air
Speed
Indicator
catches
the
eye
of
the
Pilot.
"Good
enough,"
he
says
as
he
gently
deflects
the
Elevator
and
points
the
nose
of
the
Aeroplane
upwards
in
search
of
the
elusive
Best
Climbing
Angle.
"Ha!
ha!"
shouts
the
Drift,
growing
stronger
with
the
increased
Angle
of
Incidence.
"Ha!
ha!"
he
laughs
to
the
Thrust.
"Now
I've
got
you.
Now
who's
Master?"
And
the
Propeller
shrieks
hysterically,
"Oh!
look
at
me.
I'm
a
helicopter.
That's
not
fair.
Where's
Efficiency?"
And
she
can
only
sadly
reply,
"Yes,
indeed,
but
you
see
we're
a
Compromise."
And
the
Drift
has
hopes
of
reaching
the
Maximum
Angle
of
Incidence
and
vanquishing
the
Thrust
and
the
Lift.
And
he
grows
very
bold
as
he
strangles
the
Thrust;
but
the
situation
is
saved
by
the
Propeller,
who
is
now
bravely
helicopting
skywards,
somewhat
to
the
chagrin
of
Efficiency.
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