ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND: The Untold Story of History’s First Flight. By Richard Kigel. Part 28.

THERE WERE TROUBLING SIGNS. THE PROPELLER WAS SLOWER. EARLIER IT WAS TWIRLING OVER OUR HEADS IN A SPEEDY BLUR. THE CLANKING RODS AND SHAFTS, LOUD AND RICKETY TILL NOW, WERE STRANGELY SUBDUED. THE ENGINE WAS LOSING POWER. WE WERE SINKING.


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SUMMARY: THE STORY SO FAR…


Josiah, a young slave 12 years of age, lives in a cabin in the slave quarters of a Virginia tobacco plantation with Auntie Bee, Mose, the plantation handyman, two young children, Randall and Emily. He notices Mose leaving the cabin in the middle of the night and follows him to his secret workshop in the woods where Mose is building some sort of strange contraption. Mose tells him it is a machine that will fly him to freedom. Now that he knows Mose’s secret, he stays to help build the flier. After mishaps, false starts and setbacks—the flier tumbles down the mountain and is seriously damaged—they are attacked by snakes—mountain lions lurk all around them—they realize someone has been spying on them and they think their escape plan has been discovered. Finally, their time has come. Now they are in the air, riding on the wings of the wind.


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The memory of their daring dash for freedom was seared into my mind. I will never forget, their cries, their prayers, their squeals of joy, as they looked at us, eyes wide, mouths gaping, their faces beaming. I felt like I was so close to them I could see the whites of their teeth.


Then it hit me. I was so fascinated by their flight to freedom that I didn’t notice how low we were flying. That’s why I could see their features so clearly—we were dangerously low. We were closer to the ground than at any time in our journey.


There were troubling signs. The propeller was considerably slower. Earlier it was twirling over our heads in a speedy blur. Now it was so sluggish I could see each blade as it turned. The clanking rods and shafts, loud and rickety till now, were strangely subdued.


The engine was losing power. We were sinking.


Ahead of us was a sea of green. We were approaching another patch of woods. This time, we wouldn’t be flying over the trees. I saw that we were lower than the topmost branches.


I had to do something. Did we need more water to make steam? My biggest fear was that we would run out of water. Once the water was gone there wasn’t anything we could do about it.


I touched the boiler. Still hot. But when I lifted the lid I saw the water level nearing the bottom. It was still smoking, still steaming but the water would soon boil off. We had two water bottles left in Auntie Bee’s basket. I picked one up.


“Here—take a sip.” I held the bottle while Randall and Emily took their final gulps of water. I drank some then poured the water into the boiler. Now it was more than half full.


Fuel. Maybe we needed more fuel to keep the water boiling.


We’d been flying all day on our first jar of gas. By now it was probably spent. Mose sent us with three bottles of fuel. I picked up the second bottle. With my free hand I pulled the nearly empty fuel jar out of the boiler and tossed it over my shoulder. Moments later, I heard the sound of glass shattering on the ground below.


I slid the pig’s artery sealed to the top of the jar into the slot on the boiler. Then I loosened the valve. Immediately, I heard a whoosh of gas
rushing into the chamber. I knew the gas was flowing in because it stank something awful.


The forest was coming on fast. The green sea of branches and leaves loomed ever closer. And there, in the middle of it was a big old tree, its thick stately boughs extending a hundred feet around. We were moving right to the center of it.


I had no idea how long it would take for the fuel to heat up and the water to boil hot enough to quicken the propeller and power the flier. Already I did everything Mose told me, everything I could think of.


I yelled at everyone to lie flat and we covered our heads for protection. We were going down. I thought we might crash but maybe we could survive and walk away without anybody getting hurt.


So this was how it would end. For a moment I regretted getting that band of slaves so excited they ran away. Soon, a small army of angry men would be combing the area searching for their runaway property. And the three of us would be stuck in one of these trees like sitting ducks. We might be the easiest runaways they ever caught.


I watched helplessly as the trees came upon us. Then I did something I had seen Auntie Bee do many times. In times of great trouble, she would go off somewhere by herself. And when she was alone she would sit still, become silent and pray.


So I drew in a long breath and sent it out to the Lord, saying, “Oh, Lord, you know who I am and where I am and what I want.” And that was all I could say.