Faces and Places

Excerpt

CHAPTER I.

"FRED" BURNABY

I made the acquaintance of Colonel Fred Burnaby in a balloon. In such
strange quarters, at an altitude of over a thousand feet, commenced a
friendship that for years was one of the pleasantest parts of my life,
and remains one of its most cherished memories.

It was on the 14th of September, 1874. A few weeks earlier two French
aeronauts, a Monsieur and Madame Duruof, making an ascent from Calais,
had been carried out to sea, and dropping into the Channel, had passed
through enough perils to make them a nine days' wonder. Arrangements had
been completed for them to make a fresh ascent from the grounds of the
Crystal Palace, and half London seemed to have gone down to Sydenham to
see them off. I was young and eager then, and having but lately joined
the staff of the Daily News as special correspondent, was burning for
an opportunity to distinguish myself. So I went off to the Crystal
Palace resolved to go up in the balloon.

"No," said Mr. Coxwell, when I asked him if there were a seat to spare
in the car. "No; I am sorry to say that you are too late. I have had at
least thirty applications for seats, and as the car will hold only six
persons, and as practically there are but two seats for outsiders, you
will see that it is impossible."

This was disappointing, the more so as I had brought with me a large
military cloak and a pair of seal-skin gloves, under a general but
well-defined impression that the thing to do up in a balloon was to keep
yourself warm. Mr. Coxwell's account of the position of affairs so
completely shut out the prospect of a passage in the car that I
reluctantly resigned the charge of the military cloak and gloves, and
strolled down to the enclosure where the process of inflating the
balloon was going on. Here was congregated a vast crowd, which increased
in density as four o'clock rang out, and the great mass of brown silk
into which the gas was being assiduously pumped began to assume a
pear-like shape, and sway to and fro in the light air of the autumn
afternoon.

About this time the heroes of the hour, Monsieur and Madame Duruof
walked into the enclosure, accompanied by Mr. Coxwell and Mr. Glaisher.
A little work was being extensively sold in the Palace bearing on the
title-page, over the name "M. Duruof," a murderous-looking face, the
letter-press purporting to be a record of the life and adventures of
the French aeronauts. Happily M. Duruof bore but the slightest
resemblance to this portrait, being a young man of pleasing appearance,
with a good, firm, frank-looking face.

By a quarter to five o'clock the monster balloon was almost fully
charged, and was swaying to and fro in a wild, fitful manner, that could
not have been beheld without trepidation by any of the thirty gentlemen
who had so judiciously booked seats in advance. The wickerwork car now
secured to the balloon was half filled with ballast and crowded with
men, whilst others hung on to the ropes and to each other in the effort
to steady it.

But they could not do much more than keep it from mounting into mid-air.
Hither and thither it swung, parting in swift haste the curious throng
that encompassed it, and dragging the men about as if they were ounce
weights. The wind seemed to be rising and the faces of the experienced
aeronauts grew graver and graver, answers to the constantly repeated
question, "Where is it likely to come down?" becoming increasingly
vague. At last Mr. Glaisher, looking up at the sky and round at the
neighbouring trees bending under the growing blast, put his veto upon
Madame Duruof's forming one of the party of voyagers.

"We are not in France," he said. "The people will not insist upon a
woman going up when there is any danger. The descent is sure to be
rough, will possibly be perilous, so Madame Duruof had better stay where
she is."

Madame Duruof was ready to go, but was at least equally willing to stay
behind, and so it was settled that she should not leave the palace
grounds by the balloon. I cast a lingering thought on the military cloak
and the seal-skin gloves, in safe keeping in a remote part of the
building. If Madame was not going there might be room for a substitute.
But again Mr. Coxwell would not listen to the proposal. There were at
least thirty prior applicants; some had even paid their money, and they
must have the preference.

At five o'clock all was ready for the start. M. Wilfrid de Fonvielle,
a French aeronaut and journalist, took off his hat, and in full gaze of
a sympathising and deeply interested crowd deliberately attired himself
in a Glengarry cap, a thick overcoat, and a muffler. M Duruof put on
his overcoat, and Mr. Barker, Mr. Coxwell's assistant, seated on the
ring above the car, began to take in light cargo in the shape of
aneroids, barometers, bottles of brandy and water, and other useful
articles. M. Duruof scrambled into the car, one of the men who had been
weighing it down getting out to make room for him. Then M. de Fonvielle,
amid murmurs of admiration from the crowd, nimbly boarded the little
ship, and immediately began taking observations. There was a pause, and
Mr. Coxwell, who stood by the car, prepared for the rush of the Thirty.
But nobody volunteered. Names were called aloud; only the wind, sighing
amongst the trees made answer.

"Il faut partir," said M. Duruof, somewhat impatiently. Then a
middle-aged gentleman, who, I afterwards learned, had come all the way
from Cambridge to make the journey, and who had only just arrived
breathless on the ground, was half-lifted, half-tumbled in, amid
agonised entreaties from Barker to "mind them bottles." The Thirty had
unquestionably had a fair chance, and Mr. Coxwell made no objection as I
passed him and got into the car, followed by one other gentleman, who
brought the number up to the stipulated half-dozen. We were all ready to
start, but it was thought desirable that Madame Duruof should show
herself in the car. So she was lifted in, and the balloon allowed to
mount some twenty feet, frantically held by ropes by the crowd below. It
descended again, Madame Duruof got out, and in her place came tumbling
in a splendid fellow, some six feet four high, broad-chested to boot,
who instantly made supererogatory the presence of half a dozen of the
bags of ballast that lay in the bottom of the car.

It was an anxious moment, with the excited multitude spread round far as
the eye could reach, the car leaping under the swaying balloon, and the
anxious, hurried men straining at the ropes. But I remember quite well
sitting at the bottom of the car and wondering when the new-comer would
finish getting in. I dare say he was nimble enough, but his full arrival
seemed like the paying out of a ship's cable.

This was Fred Burnaby, only Captain then, unknown to fame, with Khiva
unapproached, and the wilds of Asia Minor untrodden by his horse's
hoofs. His presence on the grounds was accidental, and his undertaking
of the journey characteristic. He had invited some friends to dine
with him that night at his rooms, then in St. James's Street. Hearing
of the proposed balloon ascent, he felt drawn to see the voyagers off,
purposing to be home in time to dress for dinner. The defection of the
Thirty appearing to leave an opening for an extra passenger, Burnaby
could not resist the temptation. So with a hasty Au revoir! to his
companion, the Turkish Minister, he pushed his way through the crowd
and dropped into the car.

I always forgot to ask him how his guests fared. As it turned out, he
had no chance of communicating with his servant before the dinner hour.
The arrival of Burnaby exceeded by one the stipulated number of
passengers, and Coxwell was anxious for us to start before any more got
in. For a minute or two we still cling to the earth, the centre of an
excited throng that shout, and tug at ropes, and run to and fro, and
laugh, and cry, and scream "Good-bye" in a manner that makes our
proposed journey seem dreadful in prospect. The circle of faces look
fixedly into ours; we hear the voices of the crowd, see the women
laughing and crying by turns, and then, with a motion that is absolutely
imperceptible, they all pass away, and we are in mid-air where the echo
of a cheer alone breaks the solemn calm.

I had an idea that we should go up with a rush, and be instantly in the
cold current of air in view of which the preparation of extra raiment,
the nature of which has been already indicated, had been made. But here
we were a thousand feet above the level of the Palace gardens, sailing
calmly along in bright warm sunlight, and no more motion perceptible
than if we were sitting on chairs in the gardens, and had been so
sitting whilst the balloon mounted. It was a quarter past five when we
left the earth, and in less than five minutes the Crystal Palace
grounds, with its sea of upturned faces, had faded from our sight.
Contrary to prognostication, there was only the slightest breeze, and
this setting north-east, carried us towards the river in the direction
of Greenwich. We seemed to skirt the eastern fringe of London, St.
Paul's standing out in bold relief through the light wreath of mist that
enveloped the city. The balloon slowly rose till the aneroid marked a
height of fifteen hundred feet. Here it found a current which drove it
slightly to the south, till it hovered for some moments directly over
Greenwich Hospital, the training ship beneath looking like a cockle boat
with walking sticks for masts and yards. Driving eastward for some
moments, we slowly turned by Woolwich and crossed the river thereafter
steadily pursuing a north-easterly direction.

Looking back from the Essex side of the river the sight presented to
view was a magnificent one. London had vanished, even to the dome of
St. Paul's, but we knew where the great city lay by the mist that
shrouded it and shone white in the rays of the sun. Save for this patch
of mist, that seemed to drift after us far away below the car, there was
nothing to obscure the range of vision. I am afraid to say how many
miles it was computed lay within the framework of the glowing panorama.
But I know that we could follow the windings of the river that curled
like a dragon among the green fields, its shining scales all aglow in
the sunlight, and could see where it finally broadened out and trended
northward. And there, as M. Duruof observed with a significant smile,
was "the open sea."

There was no feeling of dizziness in looking down from the immense
height at which we now floated--two thousand feet was the record as
we cleared the river. By an unfortunate oversight we had no map of
the country, and were, except in respect of such landmarks as
Greenwich, unable with certainty to distinguish the places over which
we passed.

"That," said Burnaby from his perch up in the netting over the car,
where he had clambered as being the most dangerous place immediately
accessible, "is one of the great drawbacks to the use of balloons in
warfare. Unless a man has natural aptitude, and is specially trained
for the work, his observations from a balloon are of no use, a
bird's-eye view of a country giving impressions so different from the
actual position of places."

This dictum was illustrated by the scene spread out beneath us. Seen
from a balloon the streets of a rambling town resolve themselves into
beautifully defined curves, straight lines, and various other highly
respectable geometrical shapes.

We could not at any time make out forms of people. The white highways
that ran like threads among the fields, and the tiny openings in the
towns and villages which we guessed were streets, seemed to belong to
a dead world, for nowhere was there trace of a living person. The
strange stillness that brooded over the earth was made more uncanny
still by cries that occasionally seemed to float in the air around us,
behind, before, to the right, to the left, but never exactly beneath
the car. We could hear people calling, and had a vague idea they were
running after us and cheering; but we could distinguish no moving
thing. Yes; once the gentleman from Cambridge exclaimed that there
were some pheasants running across a field below; but upon close
investigation they turned out to be a troop of horses capering about
in wild dismay. A flock of sheep in another field, huddled close
together, looked like a heap of limestone chippings. As for the
fields stretched out in wide expanse, far as the eye could reach,
they seemed to form a gigantic carpet, with patterns chiefly diamond
shape, in colour shaded from bright emerald to russet brown.

At six o'clock the sun began to drop behind a broad belt of black
cloud that had settled over London. The mist following us ever since
we crossed the river had overtaken us, even passed us, and was
strewed out over the earth, the sky above our heads being yet a
beautiful pale blue. We were passing with increased rapidity over the
rich level land that stretches from the river bank to Chelmsford, and
there was time to look round at each other. Burnaby had come down from
the netting and disposed his vast person amongst us and the bags of
ballast. He was driven down by the smell of gas, which threatened to
suffocate us all when we started. M. Wilfrid de Fonvielle, kneeling
down by the side of the car, was perpetually "taking observations,"
and persistently asking for "the readings," which the gentleman from
Cambridge occasionally protested his inability to supply, owing either
to Burnaby having his foot upon the aneroid, or to the Captain so
jamming him up against the side of the car that the accurate reading
of a scientific instrument was not only inconvenient but impossible.

When we began to chat and exchange confidences, the fascination which
balloon voyaging has for some people was testified to in a striking
manner. The gentleman from Cambridge had a mildness of manner about him
that made it difficult to conceive him engaged in any perilous
enterprise. Yet he had been in half a dozen balloon ascents, and had
posted up from his native town on hearing that a balloon was going up
from the Crystal Palace. As for Burnaby, it was borne in upon me, even
at this casual meeting, that it did not matter to him what enterprise
he embarked upon, so that it were spiced with danger and promised
adventure. He had some slight preference for ballooning, this being his
sixteenth ascent, including the time when the balloon burst, and the
occupants of the car came rattling down from a height of three thousand
feet, and were saved only by the fortuitous draping of the half emptied
balloon, which prevented all the gas from escaping.

At half-past six we were still passing over the Turkey carpet,
apparently of the same interminable pattern. Some miles ahead the level
stretch was broken by clumps of trees, which presently developed into
woods of considerable extent. It was growing dusk, and no town or
railway station was near. Burnaby, assured of being too late for his
dinner party, wanted to prolong the journey. But the farther the balloon
went the longer would be the distance over which it would have to be
brought back and Mr. Coxwell's assistant was commendably careful of his
employer's purse. On approaching Highwood the balloon passed over a
dense wood, in which there was some idea of descending. But finally the
open ground was preferred, and, the wood being left behind, a ploughed
field was selected as the place to drop, and the gas was allowed to
escape by wholesale. The balloon swooped downward at a somewhat
alarming pace, and if Barker had had all his wits about him he would
have thrown out half a bag of ballast and lightened the fall. But after
giving instructions for all to stoop down in the bottom of the car and
hold onto the ropes, he himself promptly illustrated the action, and
down we went like a hawk towards the ground.

As it will appear even to those who have never been in a balloon, no
advice could have been worse than that of stooping down in the bottom of
the car, which was presently to come with a great shock to the earth,
and would inevitably have seriously injured any who shared its contact.
Fortunately Burnaby, who was as cool as if he were riding in his
brougham, shouted out to all to lift their feet from contact with the
bottom of the car, and to hang on to the ropes. This was done, and when
the car struck the earth it merely shook us, and no one had even a
bruise.

Before we began to descend at full speed the grappling iron had been
pitched over, and, fortunately, got a firm hold in a ridge of the
ploughed land. Thus, when the balloon, after striking the ground, leapt
up again into the air and showed a disposition to wander off and tear
itself to pieces against the hedges and trees, it was checked by the
anchor rope and came down again with another bump on the ground. This
time the shock was not serious, and after a few more flutterings it
finally stood at ease.

The highest altitude reached by the balloon was three thousand feet, and
this was registered about a couple of miles before we struck Highwood.
For some distance before completing this descent we had been skimming
along at about a thousand feet above the level of the fields, and the
intention to drop being evident, a great crowd of rustics gallantly kept
pace with the balloon for the last half-mile. By the time we were fairly
settled down, half a hundred men, women, and children had converged upon
the field from all directions, and were swarming in through the hedge.

Actually the first in at the death was an old lady attired chiefly in a
brilliant orange-coloured shawl, who came along over the ridges with a
splendid stride. But she did not fully enjoy the privilege she had so
gallantly earned. She was making straight for the balloon, when Burnaby
mischievously warned her to look out, for it might "go off." Thereupon
the old lady, without uttering a word in reply, turned round and, with
strides slightly increased in length, made for the hedge, through which
she disappeared, and the orange-coloured shawl was seen no more.

All the rustics appeared to be in a state more or less dazed. What with
having been running some distance, and what with surprise at discovering
seven gentlemen dropped out of the sky into the middle of a ploughed
field, they could find relief only in standing at a safe distance with
their mouths wide open. In vain Barker talked to them in good broad
English, and begged them to come and hold the car whilst we got out.
No one answered a word, and none stirred a step, except when the balloon
gave a lurch, and then they got ready for a start towards the protec