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National Geographic : 1936 Dec
Contents
FLYING THE PACIFIC favorably on our tail. Having no more broadcast schedules for the night, See and I sought out our berths on top of the mail bags. Protected by additional clothing we had borrowed in Honolulu, we were snug and warm and soon asleep. SPARKS, AND BAD NEWS! The quiet purr of the motors was broken shortly after 3 a.m. and we were awakened by a blinding streak of sparks whisking past the windows on the left side. So close were they that the brilliance of the stars was dimmed. There was an unsteadiness in the Clipper and as we made our way for ward through the lounge, several ornaments on the tree crashed to the floor. We learned that No. 1 engine-left out board-was out of order, but no one for ward was dismayed. For a little while, the revolutions of the propeller were lessened and the back-firing and stream of sparks were less noticeable. Each man now was standing at his post, but there was no strain and no concern was visible in the faces of the crew. We looked out on the dark water, ten thousand feet below, through cloud banks, and wondered whether we would have to land. We had been in flight eleven hours and were 1,625 miles from Honolulu. San Francisco was still about 780 miles ahead. Now No. 1 engine was "revved" up again and there was considerable vibration in the ship. A stream of sparks slashed the black ness of the night. Crago came down from the bridge. "Move about as little as possible," he called out. "The automatic pilot is cut off now and we are flying manually." We tip-toed to a seat in the navigation cabin, looking out directly on No. 1 engine. For forty minutes or more, it was alter nately spitting fire, gasping, and dying to a whisper. We learned from the Captain, who came down from the bridge momentarily, that No. 1 engine was being used to pump gas oline to the other three motors and it would be cut off as soon as the pumping was com pleted. "Can we fly on three motors?" I asked. The Captain's twinkling eyes and grin an swered us. "With a little less gasoline load, we could fly on two," he declared. "We are all right; don't worry; but we won't make a record into Alameda." We looked out on the black water below and wondered, but the Captain's smile was reassuring. It was cold sitting around, so we slipped back to a rear compartment and burrowed down under the mail sacks again. We did not intend to sleep but to listen and watch the sparks fly past our window. The next thing we knew, dawn was break ing and the ship was steady once more. Getting up stiffly, we walked forward. Peering out a window in the lounge, we saw the propeller of No. 1 engine was still, its nacelle streaked with oil, black and grimy. FLYING WITH A DEAD "PROP" What a queer sensation you feel the first time you look out at a dead "prop" and realize that somehow you are still flying. But it was simple. Three motors were now carrying us, aided by a forty-mile tail wind. It required more exact operation of the other three motors and more skillful piloting to keep on the course, but this crew of the Pan American Airways was equal to the emergency and our flight continued, retarded but not in terrupted. We began to hope again that the tail winds might bring us in with a new record, but it was not until 16 hours after our de parture from Honolulu that, through the fog, we saw the California coast. We were south of San Francisco and, turning, we flew on, skirting the shoreline. In another hour, we picked out in the mist the skyline of San Francisco. Cir cling lower and lower, the Philippine Clip per settled, a little wearily it seemed to us, on the water just outside the breakwater. We taxied inshore to a throng gathered in the grayness of the afternoon. They were there-not to welcome us-but to watch a trial flight of the China Clipper, which was even then on the ramp, the crew mo tioning for us to stand off so that they might get under way. And thus our flight was done-17 hours and 17 minutes after our take-off from Honolulu, and 58 hours, 43 minutes actual flying time since leaving Manila. A sigh escaped us as the China Clipper roared off over the water. Our adven ture was over. To Pan American Airways their new route was established and operating. 707
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