as Navy-Curtiss seaplanes flew from Rockaway Beach, New York, to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and thence to Trepassey, Newfoundland, 1000 nautical miles, in varying times, but averaging about 16 hours of actual flying. Then from the jumping-off place they had reached, on Friday, May 16, 1919, an epochal date, they "hopped off" for Europe. Surely the proud exclamation had come true, "They are birds!" huge, man-made ones indeed, but with a soaring capability rivalling that of majestic and graceful condors. Each had a wing-span of 126 feet, a length of 69 feet, a throbbing heart of 1600 horse power in the four liberty motors, and a weight of 15,100 pounds exclusive of crew and fuel whereby about 13,000 more pounds were added, the 14 tons making a sizable creation of wings in the aviary of mechanics. Could there be anything more spectacular than these gigantic artificial flyers taking the air? There was a hurricane of cheers from the observers thronging the shore, and hats were flung wildly aloft, when, according to the corrected official announcement, the NC-1 rose from the surface of the water at 5.36 P. M., the NC-3 at 6.03 and the NC-4 at 6.07, New York time. They were off for a neck and neck race. Their route was marked by a line of ships 50 miles apart over the broad Atlantic to the Azores. Sixty des troyers, four battleships and a number of auxiliary naval vessels kept in radio touch with the aviators, who were guided at night by illuminating flares and red light, by star shells and electric searchlights. The NC-3 passed the ship station 13 at 2.23 A. M. Saturday, and the NC-1 at 3.13, while the NC-4 was at station 14 at 3.06, being thus in the lead, and maintaining it to the end, at 9.25 with a whir and roar of engines swooping down upon the island of Fayal in the Azores, landing at Horta and smashing all atmospheric records in the completing of the 1200 miles in a little over 15 hours. At the astounding feat thunderous applause rang round the globe, and must have almost waked the echoes on other planets. The two competitors were not far behind, for till daylight Saturday the three kept within sight of one another, flying in formation. Soon, however, two were thrown off their course by dense fog and squalls of rain and high winds. The NC-1 was picked up by a steamer Saturday afternoon to the saving of Commander Bellinger and his crew, though the plane in the towing to land finally went down in many fathoms of water. The NC-3, the flagship, was discovered late on Monday near Ponta Delgada, farther on among the Azores, and into the harbor there it serenely made its way under its own power, after nearly three days of drifting and of buffeting by storms and of inability to rise again from its floating on the water, and the damage received was sufficient to cause its dismantling for a subsequent reconstruction. The two technically failed but actually scored in view of turning up within sight of the very goal. The success was the more marked, since, as Commander Towers of the flagship and of the whole squadron said, they encountered "exceptionally bad weather which was totally unexpected." Meanwhile under English auspices, Harry G. Hawker, an Australian aviator, with Mackenzie Grieve, left St. John's Sunday afternoon, May 18, and took a different course, heading directly for the Irish coast in a valiant effort to beat the NC-4 in the trans-oceanic race, and to win the London Daily Mail's prize of $50,000. Disregarding the usual shipping lane, he struck out with his Sopwith biplane, which had a length of only 31 feet, and wing-spread of barely 46 feet, and a single motor of merely 350 horse power. The hawk took the air at 1.31 P. M., New York time. With the velocity of a tornado it shot forward, tore away at nearly 100 miles an hour, and in six minutes had faded from view. We could imagine it forging through the darkness, and we felt that momentous events, so close together, were tumbling over one another in the happening. The two intrepid airmen donned ostensibly nonsinkable suits, and they had a detachable emergency boat of ingenious construction to enable them to keep afloat for a while in the event of an accident. They divested themselves of their landing mechanism in order to be as little burdened and hindered as possible, and they staked all on what seemed a rash endeavor to reach their objective, and many feared lest they were repeating the presumption of Icarus, but they were vociferously cheered for their pluck. The world praised their fearlessness and bravery, as they dared every thing for victory or for death. Because of the heavy weather afterward reported as prevailing that Sunday night over the ocean, and because of the mountainous waves that were running, it was only natural to conclude when they had not been heard from for six days, that they had perished in the icy waters. If they had died, they would have lived forever in glorious history, as Dædalus and his son survive in classic story. The widow of the Australian received condolences from many, including King George of England. But behold! could there have been a miracle? On Sunday, just a week after the date of departure, a tramp steamer drew near the Scottish shore, to which it signalled with flags, that it had the supposedly lost on board. It had not reported before, because it was not equipped with wireless, but the two passengers could now tell their own tale. Eight hundred miles out they began to have trouble in the choking |