We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
THE EPISODE OF THE BLIMP
73
“Approaching the delta of the Rappahannock River, we hit a bumpy space of air, and I was looking around to steady myself when the blimp veered sharply as if to cross the bay. I couldn’t reconcile this with the plotted course and looked inquiringly at Captain Springs. He seemed very much perturbed about something. Shedding his gauntlets, he made his way to the pilot and took over the controls. We began to yaw wildly; Springs was tugging at the wheel savagely. He struggled for a few moments, then, with a futile gesture, cut the throttles. The vibrant roar of the motors changed to a staccato cough; the captain cupped his hands and shouted towards me:
“ ‘Guess we’ll have to cancel our joy ride. Look at that rudder.’
“I followed his glance as he turned and looked upward. The rudder was askew and visibly jammed. Just at that moment a strong gust of wind twisted the damaged fin from its hinges as though it were paper; the fabric ripped off, and a sharp corner of the exposed framework punctured the gas bag. I looked at the commander in dismay.
“ ‘No danger,’ he assured me. ‘We’ll send a man aloft, and he’ll fix the damage in no time.’
“Hoy! Here’s a real picture! I thought. I could visualize the title already: Daring Army Flyer Makes Repair In Midair.
“Focussing on the chap who had volunteered, I photographed him as he made his perilous way up the shroud lines. He placed an awful lot of confidence in those vulcanized anchorages. Reaching the rudder, he worked like a fiend to rectify the trouble; haste was important, as the gas was steadily flowing out of the rent in the envelope. Finally he looked down at us, shrugged his shoulders in a hopeless fashion, tilting his head to one side to indicate the futility of his efforts. The commander signalled him to retrace his way back to the gondola.
“Hy this time, owing to the strong, steady wind, we had drifted southwards considerably and were in the vicinity of Dismal Swamp. Captain Springs was consulting with the other officers; they seemed to agree on some point, and he then beckoned to me.
“ ‘We’ll have to do some free ballooning,’ the captain explained, when I reached his side. ‘In a little while I figure we will be over one of those North Carolina cornfields, and when we are. I’ll valve