The new machine worked well, though at one time the aerial navigator’s friends thought that they would have to pick him up in pieces and carry him home in a basket.  This incident occurred during one of the first flights in No. 5.  Everything was going smoothly, and the air-ship circled like a hawk, when the spectators, who were craning their necks to see, noticed that something was wrong; the motor slowed down, the propeller spun less swiftly, and the whole fabric began to sink toward the ground.  While the people gazed, their hearts in their mouths, they saw Santos-Dumont scramble out of his basket and crawl out on the framework, while the balloon swayed in the air.  He calmly knotted the cord that had parted and crept back to his place, as unconcernedly as if he were on solid ground.

It was in August of 1901 that he made his first official trial for the Deutsch Prize.  The start was perfect, and the machine swooped toward the distant tower straight as a crow flies and almost as fast.  The first half of the distance was covered in nine minutes, so twenty-one minutes remained for the balance of the journey:  success seemed assured; the prize was almost within the grasp of the aeronaut.  Of a sudden assured success was changed to dire peril; the automatic valves began to leak, the balloon to sag, the cords supporting the wooden keel hung low, and before Santos-Dumont could stop the motor the propeller had cut them and the whole system was threatened.  The wind was drifting the air-ship toward the Eiffel Tower; the navigator had lost control; 500 feet below were the roofs of the Trocadero Hotels; he had to decide which was the least dangerous; there was but a moment to think.  Santos-Dumont, death staring him in the face, chose the roofs.  A swift jerk of a cord, and a big slit was made in the balloon.  Instantly man, motor, gas-bag, and keel went tumbling down straight into the court of the hotels.  The great balloon burst with a noise like an explosion, and the man was lost in a confusion of yellow-silk covering, cords, and wires.  When the firemen reached the place and put down their long ladders they found him standing calmly in his wicker basket, entirely unhurt.  The long, staunch keel, resting by its ends on the walls of the court, prevented him from being dashed to pieces.  And so ended No. 5.

Most men would have given up aerial navigation after such an experience, but Santos-Dumont could not be deterred from continuing his experiments.  The night of the very day which witnessed his fearful fall and the destruction of No. 5 he ordered a new balloon for “Santos-Dumont No. 6.”  It showed the pluck and determination of the man as nothing else could.