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CYAN YELLOW
MAGENTA BLACK
PANTONE 123 C
PHP and
PHP and MySQL have long ranked among the world’s most popular technologies
for building powerful Web sites, and with little wonder. Both offer developers
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even to the most novice of developers. In the latest edition of this bestselling
Coauthor of book, you’ll learn all about PHP and MySQL, setting you along the path toward
Beginning PHP and creating the Web site you’ve long dreamed about.
PostgreSQL 8: From I begin with a vast overview of PHP’s capabilities, starting with a survey of the
Novice to Professional installation and configuration process on both the Windows and Linux platforms.
MySQL
Beginning PHP and Oracle: Next, I devote several chapters to basic PHP concepts, including variables,
From Novice to Professional datatypes, functions, string manipulation, object orientation, and user interaction.
I also explain key concepts such as PEAR, session handling, the Smarty templating
engine, Web services, and PDO. You’ll also find a new chapter devoted to creating
multilingual Web sites, and a new chapter that shows you how to create power-
ful Web sites faster using the popular Zend Framework. I’ve also updated the
material to introduce key new features found in the PHP 6 release.
I then introduce many of MySQL’s key features, beginning by guiding you
through MySQL’s installation and configuration process. Next, you’ll learn
about MySQL’s storage engines and datatypes, administration utilities, security
features, and data import/export facilities. I’ll also introduce you to several
advanced features such as triggers, stored procedures, and views. Along the
Third Edition
SOURCE CODE ONLINE
www.apress.com
Visit the companion site at
http://www.beginningphpandmysql.com/ ISBN-13: 978-1-59059-862-7
ISBN-10: 1-59059-862-8
W. Jason Gilmore
54699
US $46.99
Gilmore
Shelve in
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User level:
9 781590 598627
Beginner–Intermediate
this print for content only—size & color not accurate spine = 2.02" 1,080 page count
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page i Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
■■■
W. Jason Gilmore
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page ii Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
Contents at a Glance
iv
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page v Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
■INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 957
v
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page vi Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page vii Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
Contents
History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
PHP 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
PHP 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
PHP 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
General Language Features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Practicality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Possibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
Price . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Installation Prerequisites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Downloading Apache . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Downloading PHP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Obtaining the Documentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
Installing Apache and PHP on Linux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Installing Apache and PHP on Windows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Installing IIS and PHP on Windows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
Installing IIS and PHP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Configuring FastCGI to Manage PHP Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Testing Your Installation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
Configuring PHP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Configuring PHP at Build Time on Linux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Customizing the Windows Build . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
vii
Gilmore_862-8FRONT.fm Page viii Wednesday, February 27, 2008 9:00 AM
viii ■C O N T E N T S
Run-Time Configuration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Managing PHP’s Configuration Directives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
PHP’s Configuration Directives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Choosing a Code Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Adobe Dreamweaver CS3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Notepad++ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
PDT (PHP Development Tools). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Zend Studio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
Choosing a Web Hosting Provider . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
Seven Questions for Any Prospective Hosting Provider . . . . . . . . . . 51
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
■C O N T E N T S ix
Constants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Expressions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
Operands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
Operators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
String Interpolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Double Quotes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Single Quotes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
Heredoc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
Control Structures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
Conditional Statements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
Looping Statements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
File-Inclusion Statements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
x ■C O N T E N T S
■C O N T E N T S xi
xii ■C O N T E N T S
■C O N T E N T S xiii
Log Book:
* * * *
The wind held the key to our problems. For three days it blew
briskly from the northwest. This was ideal for the flight itself, but far
from ideal locally, as it stirred up such sea it was impossible to load
the gasoline with safety. What’s more, Bill feared that the heavy
weight of the load left on board the Friendship might seriously injure
her as she was buffeted about in the rough water.
The necessity of landing at all at Trepassey was a tragedy for us,
the extent of which became apparent during the fortnight of delay
which followed. Had we been able to carry enough gas from Halifax
we certainly would have kept on eastward as the flying conditions on
the day of our arrival appeared ideal. But once in Trepassey we were
trapped.
* * * *
Log Book:
(Next morning.) The wind is changing though still
stormy. The additional gas is being put aboard and Bill,
after looking over the situation, is snoozing. The wind is
veering back and forth, now from S. now from N.? The
old-timers say a S.W. wind is due. We hope so!!!!!
After supper, June 6. Bill has just been flying the kite
and trying out the emergency radio. Andy Fulgoni, Claud
Frazer and I went into the doctor’s and heard his signals
very plainly. He was trying to reach Cape Race. Just now
the gang has gone to W.U., and I haven’t heard whether
they were successful.
We have spent one indolent day. After the excitement
of the morning, when the wind seemed to be shifting
permanently, all of us had a sleep. Bill chopped a little
wood. Slim and I played “rummy.” I read one of the six
books here, “The Story of the Titanic Disaster.” We have
read telegrams and scanned maps and weather reports. I
took a walk with Andy and Claud Frazer.
For supper we had canned rabbit. Bill’s comment when
he first tasted it was: “Here’s something they caught last
year—something that couldn’t get away.”
We had fish today for the first time—canned last year
in Newfoundland. Slim hates fish, and had been told that
was all there was to eat. Also that even eggs would taste
of fish because hens were fed on fish. He has been eating
chocolates by the package and seems to thrive.
* * * *
Slim hails from Texas. Geographically and temperamentally he is
no sailor. Even the word “pontoon” made him stutter a bit, and
neither salt water nor its products held any joy for him.
Consequently he had been plentifully stuffed with stories of what life
meant in a fishing village by the sea. To make matters worse he had
had a severe attack of ptomaine poisoning from eating clams in
Boston just before we started. The only escape led to the little local
store and its limited supply of candy. Before we left we had
completely absorbed its entire stock.
* * * *
Log Book:
Bill has just come in, with weather reports. He has
wired Byrd for confirmation of plans and advice. If the
wind holds as now (from north) we can get away. The old
codgers talking here, told me the wind calms down about
4 a.m., so I suggested we get out of this trap and into the
next harbor. The change in the wind may make this
unnecessary. The boys have retired in the hope the wind
stays as is, or moves north.
Funny spelling in the paper from St. John’s. “D’oyleys”
meaning little paper mats. The language is peculiar. There
are too many “r’s.” And often an “oi” sound where one
doesn’t belong. “Poilet” for pilot.
I investigated hooked rugs today. Mrs. D. has them all
over the house; some made from cotton washed ashore
twenty years ago from a wreck. By the way, much of the
silver and some furniture is from wrecks which ground on
this “Graveyard of the Atlantic.”
* * * *
The cruelty of country and climate is surely a contrast to the kind
hearts of the people of Newfoundland. They were untiringly good to
us.
* * * *
Log Book:
June 7, 1928.
After an early rise to get the ship ready, the wind
calmed, and we waited for it to freshen and also for
weather reports. After getting favorable ones we thought
about noon we would be able to get off, as the wind
changed and water grew rough.
In vain we tried three times and had to give up. Slim
had cemented a pontoon which had sprung a leak and is
now soldering the cracked oil tank which the cement and
adhesive tape didn’t repair.
Just now Bill is playing on a strange instrument with
Andy. They are trying to learn it from directions given. The
fence is lined with listeners who are starved for music.
The only music here is two “Gramophones”—this
instrument, a “guitar harp”—and a piano. The fence is
lined with men as soon as any music is started. Though
the people crave it, they don’t try to have any. How
different from the expressive South! Here emotions are as
unexpressed as nature is barren.
Friday. Is it possible we have been here so long? I
didn’t get up very early ce matin as I depended upon
being waked. The thing which did get me up was the
strain of “Jingle Bells” played by Wilmer Stultz on the
strange instrument described before. Just now Slim is
asleep.
Bill and Andy and Frazer out in a dory with a sail. Bill
has my leather coat as neither of the boys brought
anything but ordinary coats.
They played at tying knots all the morning, and Slim
and I had “rummy” games. I have been having a terrific
run of luck—winning every game nearly, at a cent a point.
We played until after ten last night—very late hour for us.
The men are simply great under the strain. Our hopes
are high today as the barometer is rising and everything
points to favorable weather soon.
I went out in a launch yesterday and was run on the
rocks. The leak made was so bad that the boat had to be
beached this morning for repairs. The water is shallow
along the shore, and, as I have said before, the rocks are
cruel.
The men from here go fishing next week and will be
gone five weeks. They are preparing for their voyages
now. I should think they’d get out of the habit of working.
I am sure they would if living didn’t have to be scratched
for so hard.
Compared with Tyler St. the children here seem very
quiet. I think they are unusually so anyway. I just heard
two make some noise and it sounded very strange. Of
course, they are shy, too.
* * * *
For two years I have been associated with Denison House,
Boston’s old settlement center on Tyler Street, where the children
are anything but quiet. There they are mostly Chinese and Syrians.
All city children somehow seem noisy. Perhaps that is because of
their cramped surroundings. And especially, of course, the urban
child is boldly independent, while the children of remote
communities have so little contact with the outer world that they are
self-conscious with strangers.
* * * *
Log Book:
June 9, 1928.
The evening of the day is here. The boys and I played
“rummy” all the morning and I lost for a change. At
luncheon we had lamb stew. Apparently no one knows
about cooking lamb except by boiling. I should love to
have a chop. At supper we had fresh salmon. It was
delicious. Slim and I sat and talked over the meal while
Bill went to W.U. The boys had been out fishing in the
afternoon. They started to explore a cave but found the
water too rough. There are two good caves here which
have never been explored. How I’d like to explore them.
There might be buried treasure—in fact, there have been
several attempts to dig up some at the other end of the
bay. I don’t know who the “buriers” are supposed to be.
Mr. Deveraux has just come in and suggested we go
eeling. I have just returned from a walk and the boys from
Fulgoni’s. Eeling is off. The gang is going down on a
gasoline rail car for a ride. They have wired the Supt. for
permission to use it and are off to Biscay Bay. They wear
their flying suits, as the wind is really cold.
Our telegrams decreased today. I had time to wash my
hair. I wish I had manicuring facilities and a bath tub.
June 10.
The indefatigable Bill insisted on going eeling or
trouting or exploring. Slim refused to get up and slept
until five. Bill dragged the other two, and two natives,
with him to the other end of the bay. They constructed an
eel trap before they left but took poles too. At six they
returned with some beautiful speckled trout, nearly all
caught by B. S. He hiked back into the woods to a stream
while the others sat and caught one sea trout from the
boat.
Fog has come in thick and woolly and rain is now
accompanying. The weather reports sound favorable but
there is no chance of our getting out of this fog I fear. Job
had nothing on us. We are just managing to keep from
suicide.
June 11.
The fog has cleared and I think a wind is coming. Bill
has a hunch we move soon. I hope he is right. We have
not yet received G.P.’s report.
10:35 p.m. I have never been so faithful to a diary. No
luck today. We could have got off here but the Atlantic
wasn’t inviting. Reports today say mayhap tomorrow noon
will be propitious.
The gang went to see the old spiked cannon on the hill
at the mouth of the bay. They are overgrown and are at
least 200 yrs. old. They bear G.R. on them. We all came
home and tried to work puzzles the whole evening.
Andy has a passion for stuffing the town gossip here,
so slipped out to tell him the usual string of stories for the
day. This morning he had him [the t.g.] up at five for the
take-off which he promised rain or shine.
Oh, if only we can get away soon. It is hard indeed to
remain sans books, sans contact with one’s interests and
withal on a terrific strain.
The wind is chill tonight and even with a flannel
nightgown I know I shall shiver.
* * * *
The flannel nightgown referred to was borrowed and I began to
feel that even its sturdy fabric would be worn out before we ever got
away from Trepassey—although I didn’t know about the wearing
qualities of flannel gowns, never having had one before. Incidentally
its warmth was supplemented by the down beds upon which we
slept and into which we sank luxuriously.
I have said my outfit consisted of a toothbrush and two
handkerchiefs when we shoved off from Boston. The toothbrush was
holding out, which is more than I can say for some of the rest of my
personal equipment.
After a week of waiting, a telegram came from G. P. P. in New
York.
“Suggest you turn in and have your laundering done.”
To which I dispatched this reply:
‡[THANKS FATHERLY TELEGRAM NO WASHING NECESSARY SOCKS
UNDERWEAR WORN OUT SHIRT LOST TO SLIM AT RUMMY CHEERIO
A E
910PM]
© International Photos
SLIM ON THE JOB
THE INEVITABLE WINTER WOODPILE
It is a long time since I have bought hose at 35c a pair. That was
top-price in Trepassey. A khaki shirt was another purchase. With a
safety pin taking a tuck in the back of the collar, it fitted reasonably
well.
Bill and I wore the same size shirt. An echo of its tailoring came
later when Mrs. Stultz confessed to me that on first seeing Bill’s
Trepassey purchase she had asked him what it was.
* * * *
Log Book:
June 12.
This has been the worst day.
We tried for four hours to get away in a wind we had
been praying for. The most unexpected and disappointing
circumstance ruined the take-off. The receding tide made
the sea so heavy that the spray was thrown so high that it
drowned the outboard motors. As we gathered speed, the
motors would cut and we’d lose the precious pull
necessary.
The ship seemed so loggy that Bill felt there must be
water in the pontoons. So Slim stayed on the job and
opened every hatch to see. He found only about a gallon
and swears he’ll never open another one.
We unloaded every ounce of stuff from the plane—
camera, my coat, bags, cushions, etc.
She would have gone but for the motors. There was
salt water above the prop. hubs.
I received some letters today and Andy brought over
some “day after the take-off” papers in Boston. I couldn’t
read them under the circumstances of this day. We were
all too disappointed to talk. The boys are in bed and I am
going soon. We rise at six.
Wednesday Evening.
The days grow worse. I think each time we have
reached the low, but find we haven’t.
Vainly we tried to rise today with our load.
Today Bill and Slim tried to take her off after she had
been “degassed” by 300 lbs. The left motor cut and they
couldn’t get her off light. While working with it they set
some yokel to watch the tide, but he forgot, and it ran out
leaving them on a sandy ledge. They got the motor
repaired and will have to go out at midnight to float her
down to the buoy. We may try for the Azores tomorrow, if
possible at dawn.
I went to the Catholic School for maps but found
nothing helpful but a huge globe. I promised to write the
sisters if we hit land anywhere. I am going to bed as I
can’t help and none of us are sleeping much any more
and we need all we can get. We are on the ragged edge.
Bill is getting ship reports at midnight tonight and will
make his own weather map from them.
* * * *
The next log book entry emphasizes our isolation. The only
newspapers we’d seen had been a stray batch from Boston,
describing the take-off. By then that seemed in the dark ages. So far
as we knew we were comfortably forgotten by the world. Echoes
only came to us in personal messages, and at that time it was
impossible to realize that any general interest remained.
* * * *
Log Book:
Apparently from the telegrams to me today our
troubles are painted heavily for they all say—“stick to it,”
“we’re for you,” etc. One inventor has written he will
install his invention gratuitously and guarantee we can get
off with maximum load. Our efficiency will be increased
35% etc. It will take only a month to get the apparatus
here, and twelve hours to install. We all wish we had a
dozen with us.
I saw an interesting stunt. There are wells here and all
water has to be carried to the houses. A little girl—a really
little girl—put two buckets of H2O on a stick and then
separated the buckets by a barrel hoop and stepped
inside. Thus she could carry the two without having them
hit her legs.
The evening of the 15th day. We have had a musical
evening again tonight. The old harp was bro’t forth and
Bill and Andy played. It is very funny to see two able-
bodied men picking out “Jingle Bells.” Two are required for
the feat and I am terribly amused. Bill has a good deal of
music in him and knows some Spanish stuff of which I am
very fond.
Today has been happier as a whole. We all appeared
this morning vowing to change clothes and clean up. I
bought a 90c green checked Mother Hubbard, the best in
stock and a pair of tan hose. With borrowed shoes, skirt
and slip, I pitched in and washed everything else. Bill
borrowed trousers, and had his suit cleaned and pressed
and his shirts laundered. He purchased a new tie as the
one he had was fast “going to the devil” and some
Trepassey socks. Slim also is spic and span. All we need
are baths, manicures and haircuts—none of which are
obtainable here.
* * * *
In those last days at Trepassey, one bit of news that did filter in
from the outside world cheered us mightily. That was word of the
successful flight of the Southern Cross from San Francisco across the
Pacific. She was a tri-motor Fokker, engined with Wright Whirlwind
motors, practically identical with the Friendship except that she was
not equipped with pontoons.
They made it; so could we. Their accomplishment was a
challenge.
CHAPTER VIII
ACROSS
Log Book:
* * * *
That was the first entry in the log book following the actual take-
off from Trepassey. We left the harbor about 11:15 in the morning,
having waited until then for final weather reports. The villagers had
seen us “start” so often they had lost faith, so there were only a few
on shore to see the Friendship take the air.
I had left a telegram to be sent half an hour after we had gone.
“Violet. Cheerio.
“A. E.”
That was the message. The code word “Violet” meant “We are
just hopping off.” That was our official good-bye to America.
* * * *
Log Book:
A motion picture camera and the boys’ thermos bottle
left. We have only the small thermos filled with coffee for
the boys. I shan’t drink anything probably unless we come
down.
* * * *
By the way, our rations might be considered eccentric. About half
of the five gallons of mineral water put on at Boston remained.
There were three elephantine egg sandwiches. (Trepassey bread is
home-made in round loaves.) Eight or nine oranges survived from
the original supply. A couple of tins of Drake’s oatmeal cookies were
luxury. For emergency ration, we had a few tins of pemmican, a
bottle of Horlick’s Malted Milk tablets, and some Hershey’s chocolate.
And that, I think, completed the larder.
* * * *
This ship takes off better in a fairly smooth sea, it
seems. I have learned a lot and designers of pontoons
have something to learn too.
We are skimming the fluffy top of the fog now, having
wobbled through to 2500 feet. Bill is at the controls until
we get out of it. He thinks we shall pass through alternate
storm areas and clears the whole distance. Wisps of cloud
flit past the windows of the cabin. Sometimes the fog
obscures everything.
We are climbing fast to crawl over now. Almost 3000
ft.!
There is very blue sky above and when last I saw H2O
it was also brilliant.
THE FRIENDSHIP OFF TREPASSEY
B-A-A-A! A FRONT LAWN AT TREPASSEY
* * * *
People are so likely to think of planes as frail craft that I draw
attention to this entry. Friendship weighs 6000 pounds empty, and
on the flight she carried about her own weight again.
* * * *
Log Book:
Bill is nosing her down, all motors wide.
We are bucking a head wind and rain. Heaviest storm I
have ever been in, in the air, and had to go through. The
sea below looks fairly placid, but of course the surface
appears flat from 3000.
* * * *
A surprising element of flying, at first, is the flatness of the earth’s
contours as seen from above—even sizeable hills dwarf. This
tendency gives one a feeling of security and a comfortable belief
that a safe landing can be made almost anywhere.
“The higher the safer” is a good adage. The air itself isn’t
dangerous, as I have said before. The greater the altitude, the larger
the pilot’s choice in picking and being able to reach a landing field in
an emergency.
Don’t ask a pilot to stay close to the ground, unless he is flying
over geographical billiard tables.
* * * *
Log Book:
I see some clear sea ahead and the air is getting
bumpy, as one would expect between areas of cloud and
sun. Slim comes back to say snow is in the air. I know it.
I have just come back from sitting up front. Slim at the
controls with Bill advising him. Bill has homing pigeon
sense of direction.... He tells Slim to keep at 106.
We have been out of snow a long while now and the
sun is shining and the water blue as far as one can see.
There are some clouds ahead—what, I don’t know. They
look high and white.
* * * *
Those clouds ahead continued from there on. Not again on the
flight did we see the ocean. Skippy was right—it was no sea voyage.
* * * *
Log Book:
140 m.p.h. now. Wonderful time. Temp. 52. The heater
from cockpit warms the cabin too.
Bill says radio is cuckoo. He is calling now.
There is so much to write. I wonder whether ol’ diary
will hold out.
I see clouds coming. They lie on the horizon like a long
shore line.
I have just uncurled from lying on Major Woolley’s suit
for half an hour. I came off this morn with such a
headache that I could hardly see. I thought if I put it to
sleep it might get lost in the billows of fog we are flying
over.
There is nothing to see but churned mist, very white in
the afternoon sun. I can’t see an end to it. 3600 ft. temp.
52, 45 degrees outside. I have et a orange, one of the
originals. At T. our infrequent oranges came from Spain,
under-nourished little bloods.
* * * *
Very “original” those oranges, almost historic! They were
purchased in Boston in the dark ages of the Friendship’s take-offs. In
the three unsuccessful efforts during that fortnight of
disappointments, they went out to the ship with us each morning
and came back again to the hotel. But sturdy oranges they proved to
be, and nearly a month later were still in good form when they
finally found a place on our mid-Atlantic menu.
On the trans-Atlantic flight three oranges, appropriately from
California, comprised my full bill-of-fare with the exception of
probably a dozen malted milk tablets. The sandwiches and the
coffee I left to the boys. Somehow I wasn’t hungry and, curiously, at
the end of the trip there still wasn’t any particular desire for food.
* * * *
Log Book:
4:15. Bill has just opened the motor to climb over this
fog. We are 3800 and climbing.
Creatures of fog rear their heads above the
surroundings. And what a wallop we get as we go through
them.
Bill has just picked up XHY British Ship Rexmore, which
gives us bearing. 48 no. 39 west 20:45 GMT. The fog is
growing patchy and great holes of ocean can be seen.
XHY will inform NY of our position.
As I look out of the window I see a true rainbow—I
mean the famous circle. It is of course moving at our
speed and is on our right, sun being to port a trifle. I have
heard of color circles in Hawaii.
The sun is sinking behind a limitless sea of fog and we
have a bright rainbow, a fainter ring and, if I am not
seeing things, a third suggestion on the edge. The middle
is predominately yellow with a round grey shadow in the
center. Is it caused from us or our props?
* * * *
This is not an unknown phenomenon. Subsequently I learned the
rainbows were caused by our propellers.
* * * *
Log Book:
I do believe we are getting out of fog. Marvellous
shapes in white stand out, some trailing shimmering veils.
The clouds look like icebergs in the distance. It seemed
almost impossible to believe that one couldn’t bounce
forever on the packed fog we are leaving. The highest
peaks of the fog mountains, (oh, we didn’t get out) are
tinted pink, with the setting sun. The hollows are grey and
shadowy. Bill just got the time. O. K. sez he. 10:20
London time my watch. Pemmican is being passed or just
has been. What stuff!
The pink vastness reminds me of the Mojave Desert.
Also:
* * * *
Rollin Kirby in the New York World
© Wide World Photos
FOR NINETEEN HOURS ONLY A SEA OF CLOUDS
I was kneeling beside the chart table, which was in front of the
window on the port side. Through it I looked northward. It was at
this time that I took several photographs.
On the starboard side of the plane was another window. The
table itself, a folding device, was Bill’s chart table on which he made
his calculations. Close by was the radio. Even though one could
stand up in the cabin, the height of the table was such that to see
out of the window one had to lean on the table or kneel beside it.
There was nothing to sit on, as sitting equipment had been
jettisoned to save weight.
* * * *
Log Book:
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