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This, at any rate, was the allegation of the more outspoken American press. But the proof or disproof of that never reached the public. Mr. Butteridge also involved himself passionately in a tangle of disputes for the possession of a great number of valuable money prizes. Some of these had been offered so long ago as 1906 for successful mechanical flight. By the time of Mr.
At the time they said it was a German spy had stolen his balloon." "Well, sir," said the flat-voiced man, "that fit of apoplexy at Dyrnchurch was the worst thing absolutely the worst thing that ever happened to the world. For if it had not been for the death of Mr. Butteridge " "No one knows his secret?" "Not a soul. It's gone. His balloon, it appears, was lost at sea, with all the plans.
Alfred Butteridge from the Crystal Palace to Glasgow and back in a small businesslike-looking machine heavier than air an entirely manageable and controllable machine that could fly as well as a pigeon. It wasn't, one felt, a fresh step forward in the matter so much as a giant stride, a leap. Mr.
Butteridge'll know of it and come along on my track." Butteridge would be a terrible person to be on any one's track. Bert thought of the great black moustaches, the triangular nose, the searching bellow and the glare. His afternoon's dream of a marvellous seizure and sale of the great Butteridge secret crumpled up in his mind, dissolved, and vanished. He awoke to sanity again. "Wouldn't do.
The despaired-of thing was done. A man was flying securely and well. Scotland was agape for his coming. Glasgow he reached by one o'clock, and it is related that scarcely a ship-yard or factory in that busy hive of industry resumed work before half-past two. The public mind was just sufficiently educated in the impossibility of flying to appreciate Mr. Butteridge at his proper value.
The others took a firmer grip upon the ropes and ring. "Are you ready?" said Mr. Butteridge. He stood upon the bed-bench and lifted the lady carefully. Then he sat down on the wicker edge opposite to Bert, and put one leg over to dangle outside. A rope or so seemed to incommode him. "Will some one assist me?" he said. "If they would take this lady?" It was just at this moment, with Mr.
A man with a flat voice distinguished himself by a display of knowledge and cunning. He told them all with confidence just what had been wrong with the German drachenflieger and the American aeroplanes, just what advantage the Japanese flyers possessed. He launched out into a romantic description of the Butteridge machine and riveted Bert's attention.
Butteridge remained in the air altogether for about nine hours, and during that time he flew with the ease and assurance of a bird. His machine was, however neither bird-like nor butterfly-like, nor had it the wide, lateral expansion of the ordinary aeroplane. The effect upon the observer was rather something in the nature of a bee or wasp.
And it buzzes, and don't drive about so. What can those things do?" Kurt was not very clear upon that himself, and was still explaining when Bert was called to the conference we have recorded with the Prince. And after that was over, the last traces of Butteridge fell from Bert like a garment, and he became Smallways to all on board.
Twenty officers of various ranks stood about the table and Bert. They all seemed extremely curious to see the famous Butteridge, and their astonishment at his appearance was ill-controlled. The Prince gave him a dignified salutation, to which, by an inspiration, he bowed.
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