lished the Channel flight of 20 miles in
37 minutes, he probably had a slight following wind.

The Daily Mail had offered a prize of L1,000 for the first Cross-Channel
flight, and Hubert Latham set his mind on winning it. He put up a
shelter on the French coast at Sangatte, half-way between Calais and
Cape Blanc Nez. From here he made his first attempt to fly to England
on Monday the 19th of July. He soared to a fair height, circling, and
reached an estimated height of about 900 feet as he came over the water
with every appearance of capturing the Cross-Channel prize. The luck
which dogged his career throughout was against him, for, after he had
covered some 8 miles, his engine stopped and he came down to the water
in a series of long glides. It was discovered afterward that a small
piece of wire had worked its way into a vital part of the engine to rob
Latham of the honour he coveted. The tug that came to his rescue found
him seated on the fuselage of his Antoinette, smoking a cigarette and
waiting for a boat to take him to the tug. It may be remarked that
Latham merely assumed his Antoinette would float in case he failed to
make the English coast; he had no actual proof.

Bleriot immediately entered his machine for the prize and took up his
quarters at Barraques. On Sunday, July 25th, 1909, shortly after 4 a.m.,
Bleriot had his machine taken out from its shelter and prepared for
flight. He had been recently injured in a petrol explosion and hobbled
out on crutches to make his cross-Channel attempt; he made two great
circles in the air to try the machine, and then alighted. 'In ten
minutes I start for England,' he declared, and at 4.35 the motor was
started up. After a run of 100 yards, the machine rose in the air and
got a height of about 100 feet over the land, then wheeling sharply
seaward and heading for Dover.

Bleriot had no means of telling direction, and any change of wind might
have driven him out over the North Sea, to be lost, as were Cecil Grace
and Hamel later on. Luck was with him, however, and at 5.12 a.m. of that
July Sunday, he made his landing in the North Fall meadow, just behind
Dover Castle. Twenty minutes out from the French coast, he lost sight of
the destroyer which was patrolling the Channel, and at the same time
he was out of sight of land without compass or any other means of
ascertaining his direction. Sighting the English coast, he found that
he had gone too far to the east, for the wind