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As they got closer to the buildings, Ethan and Carol hung back a little, content to observe while the others went into the larger building to help. When the group of men pushed the flying machine outside, Ethan and Carol immediately recognized the brothers as the two men they had seen at the tavern. Wearing business clothes, shirts with starched collars and neckties, they looked just the same as they had at Lottie Mae’s the previous night. The only thing different about their appearance was the caps they wore, which of course, as gentlemen, they would not have been wearing inside the inn.
Ethan noted that the brothers were setting up a single track of rail about sixty feet long about a dozen feet from their barn. Its purpose became clear when the surfmen lifted the flying machine onto the monorail. The sand was too soft to facilitate easy rolling – making the track necessary to help the machine pick up speed.
The thing itself was beautiful, a much larger version of the model Carol had accidentally knocked to the floor. Its long wings, covered in tightened cloth, looked like sails fully billowed by the wind and laid on their sides. Its two front wings were a good deal smaller, as were the two wings mounted vertically on the back. Altogether, they gave the craft balance and symmetry. Even the two sets of propellers complimented its appearance. Mounted halfway between the two main wings and to either side of the craft’s center, they told even the casual viewer that this was indeed a machine. It was a machine, however, designed to seek a balance with nature.
The men struggled to keep the medley of wood, wire and cloth steady as the northerly wind now blew at a steady twenty-miles per hour. Sitting closely together on a small dune behind the track, Ethan and Carol watched as the brothers prepared the machine for flight. Carol let Teach curl up in her lap to protect him from the wind.
Wilbur hooked a rope from the machine to the rail to keep it tethered in place, then spun one of the propellers. Although the noise from the engine was loud enough, the clattering of the transmission chains turning the propellers was nearly deafening. Teach was so scared he jumped out of Carol’s lap and darted behind Ethan, cowering. Carol began to shiver, more from the excitement of the moment than from the cold.
“Do you think it will fly?” she asked, half doubting, but completely hoping that it would.
“By all that’s holy, I hope so,” Ethan replied. Caught off guard by the excitement in his voice Carol turned to look at him. She could see that the machine had captured his imagination. He fully understood the importance of what they were witnessing – if it was successful. Man had dreamed of flying since the beginning of time. Now, here they were, two of just a handful of people who were about to witness the fulfillment of that dream.
Orville set up a bulky box camera on its tripod off to the side of the track, orienting it so that it would take a picture at the point just before the track’s end. He inserted a plate into the back of the camera, pulled out the protective black slide, then handed the rubber bulb that would trigger the shutter to Surfman Daniels.
Returning to the machine, he grasped hands with his brother, looking almost as if he were saying goodbye. With that, he climbed into the pilot’s cradle between the two spinning propellers and lay face down. Grasping the levers that moved the front wings up and down with one hand, he released the restraining rope with his other. Bumping up the throttle, the machine slowly moved down the track into the oncoming wind as Wilbur ran beside it, steadying the wings until its momentum could keep it from tipping over.
About twenty feet from the end of the track, the flyer lifted from its carriage and sailed into the air. When it was about ten feet up, Orville adjusted the front wings and the craft darted dangerously close to the ground. Another adjustment made it climb upward again, and everyone breathed easier. The up and down maneuver was repeated several more times until the flyer hit the ground hard. Despite the loud engine noise, Ethan and Carol clearly heard the sickening sound of cracking wood.
The men dashed to the craft as the engine came to a stop. A quick inspection revealed that it was only one of the landing skids that had cracked, and could be quickly repaired. Without realizing it Ethan had come to his feet, totally awed by what he had just witnessed. As the men pushed the flyer back to the track’s starting point, Carol got up from the dune to stand beside him.
“It didn’t go very far,” she said with disappointment.
“It’s not the distance,” Ethan responded intently. “I mean, it’s the control. He made it go up and down and up again – under its own power! The distance will come when he learns how to control it better.”
“But they’ve been doing that with balloons for years,” she said, not quite grasping the significance.
“That’s just it. A balloon is filled with hot air, or hydrogen if you really want to tempt fate. A balloon is lighter than air. But that,” he said, pointing to the flyer, “that is heavier than air. Not only did it lift itself off the ground – it flew with a man and a gasoline engine on board. Altogether, I bet it weighs six or seven hundred pounds.”
“Just imagine,” he continued excitedly. “With enough gasoline he could have flown all the way to Kitty Hawk.” As the significance of his own words began to sink in, his gaze became more distant and his body relaxed. Then, in a much quieter voice he said, “Hell, with enough gas he could have flown all the way to Hannibal.”
Carol stood beside him, clutching his right arm with both of hers, her cheek resting on his shoulder. She looked off toward the horizon, trying to see what he saw. It was all so exciting, watching the two brothers experiment with their flying machine. But, more so was the way it appeared to have captured Ethan’s imagination. For the first time, she was seeing him as a dreamer, and she liked it. For him, the future was beckoning, full of promise and adventure. Not only did she want to see what he saw, she wanted to be a part of it.
With the repair completed, the men went inside of the smaller building to warm up. Ethan picked up Teach, and the three of them went inside to join the Wright brothers and their makeshift ground crew. Surfman Daniels introduced the two newcomers to the Wrights as they gathered around the stove, rubbing their hands together. Ethan watched and listened to them closely. Though they did not talk a lot, they said enough for him to gain a little insight into their genius. The two men left nothing to chance, using even the few minutes by the stove to go over the difficulties of flight control and the technical changes that might be needed to improve performance. They were driven by detail and determined to succeed, but most of all, they were passionate about their endeavor, unwilling to accept failure as a possibility.
“I hope the picture will turn out all right,” Orville said to Surfman Daniels. The big man kept his eyes focused on the stove, as though he had not heard the comment. When he did not respond, the two brothers looked at each other and then back at him. “You did remember to get the picture, didn’t you?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure I took a picture, but I really don’t remember when I took it. I’m sorry, it’s just that I got caught up in the whole thing.”
Orville and Wilbur looked at each other again. There was no denying how important the photograph of man’s first controlled flight might be. Their short trip through the air was the culmination of years of work and the fulfillment of mankind’s oldest dream. But they also understood that the surfmen had always been more than willing to help them. Their efforts had contributed a lot toward their success.
“Don’t fret about it, John,” Wilbur said to Surfman Daniels, giving him a slap on the back. “I’m sure it will be a fine photograph. Besides, we’ll have plenty more opportunities before we’re done here.”
Both he and his brother knew that was a lie. They had precious few photographic plates, and besides, there would only be one first flight. If he had failed to trigger the camera’s shutter, the moment would be lost for all time. Still, they were more concerned about the well being of the man who was helping them. The significance of such a trait was not lost on Ethan.
Less than an hour after the first flight, the men returned to the flyer, ready to make another attempt. Now it was Wilbur’s turn. The older brother climbed into the flyer, positioned himself upon the pilot’s cradle and grasped the controls. Standing off to the side, Carol and Ethan watched intently. Again, the craft moved slowly down the track at first, then faster. Once in the air, the flyer went through the same up and down movements as the first flight. Despite its erratic motions, Wilbur’s flight was about fifty feet farther than Orville’s. A third flight followed, with Orville back at the controls, this time going a full three hundred feet from the point the flyer left the track.
Everyone was ecstatic with the success, including the stoic Wright brothers. Even their usual reserve gave way to the excitement of seeing years of hard work and experimentation finally paying off.
It was noon when the older Wright laid down in the pilot’s cradle for his second attempt and the fourth of the day. Ethan watched closely, hoping to learn how the levers controlled the flyer, already wishing that he could take a try at it. Wilbur released the tether and deftly piloted the craft from the rail. Once again, it darted up and down as it traveled the first three hundred feet. As Wilbur began to gain better control of his invention, the motions became less severe. The craft flew majestically another three hundred feet, showing no signs that it would ever stop. Just ahead of the flyer, a small knoll rose from the sand reaching just high enough to force Wilbur to adjust for more altitude. At the same time a strong gust of wind lofted the machine upward even higher. Trying to compensate, Wilbur made the front wing slant too far downward, driving the craft toward the ground. An instant later the flyer plowed into the sand and the sound of splintering cross members and ripping cloth told the gathering that the front wings had been destroyed. Carol gasped as she saw Wilbur pitch from the cradle and struggle to keep himself from falling into one of the spinning propellers.
Racing to his brother’s side, Orville was relieved to find him without serious injury. Despite the damage to their flyer, their spirits soared. Wilbur had flown their machine under its own power to a point as high as the one from which it had started. When they measured the distance, it came to eight hundred fifty-two feet and had lasted fifty-nine seconds. Ethan was sure he had forgotten to draw breath for at least that long. Even Carol had been impressed with the way the air ship had so gracefully sailed through the air on its last flight.
With all of the relevant measurements recorded, they took a few pictures of the damaged flyer. Together, the men carried the machine back to the camp, leaving it just outside of its storage shed.
“Do you think you’ll be able to repair it?” Carol asked.
“Certainly,” Orville said, happy to have the company of a woman in their camp for a change. “And when we do – I think I shall fly it all the way to Kitty Hawk – and back again!”
Everyone laughed at the audacious statement. Two hours earlier, controlled flight had still been a dream. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, it was still impossible. Now, Orville was already talking about flying great distances. To Carol, it was like walking into a dream. For Ethan, it was the opening of a door.
“The two front wings, I can see that they make it go up and down. But what makes it turn left and right?” he asked.
The brothers looked at each other, not quite sure how to answer. Ethan had no way of knowing that his question touched upon an aspect of flight that had eluded them for years. Some of the most respected names in flight experimentation would gladly make a pact with the devil for the answer to the question he had asked. But in the next moment, everyone forgot that the question had ever been asked.
“The machine!” Johnny yelled, pointing toward the flyer. “The winds got it!”
Everyone turned to see the flyer coming off the ground, held precariously aloft by a strong gust of wind that had found its way beneath its wings. Surfman Daniels was the first to get to it, grabbing the rear uprights. But his weight alone was not enough to hold it down. Orville joined him at the rear, while Wilbur tried to hold down the front. Before anyone else could grab on, the wind tore the flyer from their hands. Only Surfman Daniels continued to hold on, even as he was lifted off the ground. The flying machine began to tumble end-over-end, and Daniels, caught inside of the rigging of the wings, went with it. When it finally came to a stop, the big surfman scrambled out from beneath the wreck, shaken, scraped and bruised, but not seriously injured.
The flyer, however, was severely damaged. With the wing spars splintered and the engine ripped from its mount, there would be no more attempts to fly. Though disappointed with the sudden change of fortune, Orville and Wilbur remained in high spirits. They had collected vital data, confirmed several of their theories, and had plenty of ideas about how to improve their invention. Most of all, they were buoyed by the knowledge that they had unlocked the secret of flight. They had done it at last!
Do you remember feeling the hairs on your nape stand on end when Armstrong opened the door. And then as he bounced away from the lander, I remember the fear I felt for him, thinking he'll fall of the edge of the moon.
I had to laugh at your mention of the wind blowing hard on the Outer Banks. At our last campout on Hatteras, the wind was blowing so hard that if we hadn't tied the tent down with guy lines, we would've been set aloft, too.
Thank you for sharing and good luck finding a publisher. Hope to see you at the inaugural FRN Chapter meeting.