The Aeroplane Speaks. Fifth Edition

Now the bay is almost crossed and the Aerodrome at B. can be distinguished.... On the Aerodrome is a little crowd waiting and watching for the arrival of the Aeroplane, for it is of a new and improved type and its first 'cross-country performance is of keen interest to these men; men who really know something about flight. There is the Squadron Commander who has done some real flying in his time; several well-seasoned Flight-Commanders; a dozen or more Flight-Lieutenants; a knowledgeable Flight-Sergeant; a number of Air Mechanics, and, a little on one side and almost unnoticed, the Designer. "I hope they are all right," says someone, "and that they haven't had difficulties with the fog. It rolled up very quickly, you know." "Never fear," remarks a Flight-Commander. "I know the Pilot well and he's a good 'un; far too good to carry on into a fog." "They say the machine is really something out of the ordinary," says another, "and that, for once, the Designer has been allowed full play; that he hasn't been forced to unduly standardize ribs, spars, struts, etc., and has more or less had his own way. I wonder who he is. It seems strange we hear so little of him." "Ah! my boy. You do a bit more flying and you'll discover that things are not always as they appear from a distance!" "There she is, sir!" cries the Flight-Sergeant. "Just a speck over the silvery corner of that cloud." A tiny speck it looks, some six miles distant and three thousand feet high; but, racing along, it rapidly appears larger and soon its outlines can be traced and the sunlight be seen playing upon the whirling propeller.