thought he looked a bit tired and strained, but the journey from
Thurso would do that, even if he had not done before it the biggest
feat in navigation the world has known since Columbus. When the train
left at 10 o’clock there was a repetition of the scenes of
arrival, only with a bigger crowd.
“Every corner of stair and platform and bridge where one could
get a glimpse of Hawker and Grieve was crammed to the utmost. There
was wild cheering and the police were busy. The two dived quickly into
the Pullman as if a bit embarrassed with all this excitement; but,
after many requests, appeared at the carriage door to be photographed.
In a moment the train was away, and Edinburgh set to talking about the
magnificent young heroes, and to-night will read of the acclamations
all down the line.”
At Newcastle, some hundreds of people were on the platform when the
train steamed in, and Harry and Grieve met with a great reception.
The Lord Mayor and Sheriff (Mr. Cole), who were accompanied by other
members of the Corporation, and Mr. Herbert Shaw, representing the
Chamber of Commerce, congratulated them on their escape and wished them
better luck next time. The Lord Mayor presented each of them with a
volume of views of Newcastle and a case of cigarettes as a souvenir of
the occasion.
After thanking the Lord Mayor, Harry held a miniature reception by
shaking hands with some hundreds of people who passed in front of his
carriage door.
In acknowledgement of their great welcome to him, Harry addressed the
following message to Scotsmen, through the medium of the Press:
“I am deeply touched by all the marks of respect that have been
shown to me, and particularly by the kindness and sympathy displayed
towards my wife during a week that must have been a severe trial to
her. Only the kindness shown to her could have enabled her to get
through that trial.
“As for myself, I am simply overwhelmed by the warmth of the
greeting showered on me everywhere since first I touched British soil
on Sunday last. I shall remember it to my dying day. It almost makes
me feel that it was worth while failing to have such an ovation as has
been accorded to us. Certainly I am convinced that the public display
of appreciation more than repays me for anything I have gone through,
and convinces me that the attempt to cross the Atlantic was well worth
while.
“I am not discouraged in the least by what has taken place, and
I have not abandoned the idea of crossing the Atlantic. What I shall
do is a matter for discussion with my friends and backers, but I am
far from being out of the race.
“I have nothing to say about the criticisms of those who think
the attempt under the conditions then prevailing was foolhardy, save
to say that I do not regret anything I have done, and that under
similar circumstances I should act in the same way. The attempt was
well worth making, and it had to be made, for there was a danger of
the honour of being first across the Atlantic being wrested from the
old country. Someone else may succeed where I failed, but I hope that,
whoever does succeed, the honour will rest with Britain.
“I may say I have been loyally backed up by my wife; and when
a man embarks on an adventure of this kind the spirit in which it
is taken by his wife counts for a great deal. She has been splendid
through it all, and what credit there is for what has been achieved is
hers as much as mine.”
Commander Grieve’s message ran:
“I can only say ‘ditto’ to Harry Hawker. I have
been deeply touched indeed by the kindly interest taken in our flight
and the disappointment of failure is easily forgotten in the warmth
of the welcome given us. It was a fine stunt, well worth attempting,
and, like Hawker, I have no regrets. I am more than ever convinced
that the Atlantic can be crossed, and I am ready to try again when
circumstances permit of the battle being renewed under more favourable
conditions. Next time we ought to succeed, but if somebody gets in
before us we can only say ‘Good luck to you.’ Everybody
has been splendid in connection with our flight.”
[Illustration: A SOUVENIR OF THE FIRST TRANS-ATLANTIC AIR MAIL.
[_Facing p. 264._
]
At Darlington the welcome was magnificent. Hundreds of people
were congregated on the platform, and as the train—15 minutes
overdue—steamed in, loud cheers were raised and cries of welcome
greeted them. Harry came to the carriage door, and his bronzed face
was the signal for renewed hurrahs. The crowd surged round the door to
shake Harry by the hand. Smilingly he responded by gripping as many
hands as possible. As the train left the station cheers were renewed,
rattles sounded, and hooters and whistles were blown.
At York, the Scotch express was twenty minutes behind time, and for
over half-an-hour before the scheduled time a crowd had been steadily
assembling on the platform. Lord Knaresborough (Chairman of the
North-Eastern Railway) was among those present, and he subsequently
travelled on the train to London.The Sheriff of York (Alderman C. W.
Shipley) was also present.
When the train ultimately drew up at York station, shortly after three
o’clock, a rousing cheer went up. The police found it impossible
to restrain the crowds from surging up to the fore part of the train
where Harry and Grieve occupied a first-class compartment. They
swarmed round the door, crowded on the footboards and on the coaches,
and cheered themselves hoarse. Aided by the railway police, Mr. T.
C. Humphries, the station-master, was able to reach Harry’s
compartment and hand in some telegrams, including the Royal Command to
Buckingham Palace. For some minutes Grieve held the door while Harry
was busy with replies to telegrams; then he, too, appeared. There was
a fresh outburst of cheers. Describing the scene, the _Yorkshire Post_
said:
“... He looked well-bronzed, wonderfully fit, and smiled
genially in acknowledgment of a fresh outburst of cheers. For the
convenience of a group of photographers, who were poised on a pile of
baggage, Mr. Hawker pleasantly raised his head and leaned forward. The
cheering was continuous, and both Mr. Hawker and his navigator seemed
particularly interested in a portion of the crowd who, failing to see
from the platform, had climbed to the roof of a train on an adjoining
platform, swarmed over the tender and cab, and along the footplate
of a locomotive, while the more nimble juniors had clambered to the
under-girders and lattice-bracing of the station roof.
“Mr. Hawker did not attempt to make a speech, though encouraged
by the crowd to do so. He was also appealed to by autograph hunters,
several of whom vainly waved their albums from the densest part of the
crowd. Some Australian soldiers, not to be denied, forced their way
through the crowd and grasped the hand of their fellow-countryman,
congratulating him with characteristic warmth and vigour. When the
train, after ten minutes’ stay, was restarted, a perfect
forest of hands was thrust towards the carriage, and as his coach
slowly passed forward Mr. Hawker grasped such as were within reach.
It was a royal reception from a crowd moved to the highest pitch of
enthusiasm, and their deafening cheers completely drowned the noise
of the escaping steam as the powerful train moved on its southbound
journey.”
Harry’s next stop would be at Grantham, where he expected to meet
me.
At last the train came in, and there seemed to be an awful scuttle
outside. Then Harry literally fell into the little room where I
was waiting. He just said the sweetest and most wonderful thing I
could ever hear, and added, just as the people started to crush in,
“Don’t cry.”
Then we went back to the waiting train. Standing in the doorway of the
little room, we were faced by a veritable sea of cameras, which I tried
to count but could not.
We got into our carriage in comfort—the last comfort of the day—and
with an aeroplane as escort overhead, Harry and Grieve triumphantly
proceeded to King’s Cross, where a terrific reception awaited
them. As the train drew up at the platform, part of the enormous crowd
surged into our compartment. How they knew which one was hard to tell.
The civic reception party who were on the platform to give official
welcome to the heroes were completely shattered, and I believe it must
have been wonderful tactics which allowed the official Mace-bearer
to retain the mace in the face of 300 or so Australian soldiers who
thought they needed it. Anyway, the two adventurers were just carried
out of the train and placed in Harry’s big Sunbeam, which a few
hundred Australians, not content with towing, began to carry!
Harry, by then worried as to what would happen to his car, with about
forty people up, and carried by hands which caught hold of anything
which projected, decided, in consideration of the welfare of the car,
to leave it, and he began literally to crawl out over the heads of the
people. Eventually he was saved through the offer of a ride _in tandem_
on a police officer’s horse. Later, this officer relinquished
the animal for Harry, who arrived at the Royal Aero Club in Clifford
Street in triumph and to receive more welcomes. Arrived there, and
once inside, Harry and Grieve had to stay. The crowds outside grew
bigger and denser instead of the reverse. Mr. Sopwith and others, from
the balcony, tried to persuade them to disperse by telling them that
further jubilation was not desirable and the aviators wanted rest
badly. But these efforts were of no, avail, probably because owing to
the tumult below the words passed unheard rather than unheeded.
However, a little strategy, a side door, and about ten mounted police
who kept close to the car until it had gathered up enough speed to keep
people from jumping on, combined to facilitate an escape, and, having
parted from Grieve at the Club, we were speeding off for Kingston.
The employees of the Sopwith firm had organised a special entertainment
in the grounds of the Ham works, and Harry had promised to be there.
But when he arrived all seemed to be in a state of chaos. A singer
stopped singing in the middle of a word, and the whole audience rose
as one man and seemed to engulf Harry. It must be a very strange and
wonderful experience, even although it last but a few days, to be
continually the centre of a demonstrative crowd. Crowds waiting to see
you leave your house; more crowds waiting at your destination. It can
only be the very few who remain unspoiled by such ovations.
After having thoroughly broken up the proceedings at Ham, for which all
the artistes who had not yet appeared were probably thankful, our party
proceeded to Kingston in the car of honour, towed at a run for about
two miles by the Sopwith people. At Kingston an impromptu supper was
given to all and sundry by Mr. and Mrs. Sopwith.
At about 11.45 we all left for Hook, as I had promised the people in
the village they should get their welcome in some time during the
evening. Although it was about midnight when we reached our home, the
crowds around were far more than the population of which Hook could
boast. Here, as our car turned into the gate, Harry was greeted by a
fine set-piece which emblazoned the words, “Welcome Home!”;
and this was followed by a long and wonderful display of fireworks,
arranged by the men at the Sopwith Works and executed by Messrs. Brock.
More speeches and thanks returned and then to bed, after what must have
been a day which few men have experienced; especially as I know all
the welcomes and demonstrations were unexpected by Harry, who, having
failed to do what he set out to do, had thought of creeping home and
getting to work on another machine as quickly and with as little fuss
as possible, with a view to making a fresh start.
CHAPTER XVIII
AFTER THE ATLANTIC ATTEMPT
Harry and Grieve Receive a Royal Command—The King and Queen and
Prince Albert Hear their Story—The Air Force Cross—Comedy of a
Silk Hat—A Cheque for £5,000—Is Nearly Lost—The _Daily Mail_
Luncheon—General Seely Delivers Official Congratulations—Harry
Replies—And Grieve—Tributes to Lord Northcliffe—Another Luncheon,
also at the Savoy, on the Following Day—Royal Aero Club as Host—An
Appropriate Menu—The Derelict _Atlantic_ is Recovered—Harry is
Pleased.
CHAPTER XVIII
The vigorous expressions of public joy and enthusiasm evinced on
Harry’s arrival in London on Tuesday evening had by no means
abated by the following morning, when Harry and Grieve were to attend
at Buckingham Palace in response to a command telegram from the King.
The appointed hour was 10.30, and before that time many hundreds were
gathered near the gates, around the Victoria Memorial, and in the Mall.
A _Times_ correspondent’s account read:
“Most of the crowd clustered round the main gates to the Palace.
They were expecting the visitors to enter that way, and were looking
for two young men dressed in the easy garb which had proved singularly
appropriate for arrival at King’s Cross. Under this delusion
they paid no attention to two solemn men who drove up in a Rolls-Royce
car about 10.20 through the other gateway and were admitted into the
Palace. The solemn man in morning coat and silk hat was Mr. Hawker,
and his equally solemn companion in naval uniform was Commander Grieve.
“The error had been realised when the airmen left the Palace
about an hour later, and the crowd, now to be numbered in thousands,
seemed resolved to make up for lost time. Without his hat, as he
first appeared, Mr. Hawker was quickly recognised, and the cheers
rang out in a moment. There was a rush to approach nearer the
gates, but mounted policemen kept back the crowd. Girls waved their
handkerchiefs, men their hats, and all shouted as loudly as they
could.”
It was shortly before 10.30 when Harry and Grieve arrived at
Buckingham Palace in response to the Royal telegram which had reached
them during their southward journey of the previous day. They were
received by the King, who in congratulating them and bestowing upon
them the Air Force Cross, spoke in high terms of their attempt to make
the crossing when the weather conditions were not entirely favourable.
A few moments later the Queen and Prince Albert joined His Majesty
to listen to Harry’s and Grieve’s accounts of their
experiences. The conversation was informal, and Harry and Grieve were
entirely at ease. The King asked many questions about the flight, and
was particularly interested in Commander Grieve’s methods of
navigating when among the clouds. Harry said afterwards, “The
King was as much interested in the scientific attainments of the flight
as in anything concerning the adventure. He also questioned us closely
upon the personal aspect of the trip, and was deeply interested in the
description of our experiences and impressions. We were with Their
Majesties about twenty minutes, and when we left, the King and Queen
again shook hands most cordially with us.”
On May 29th, after the visit to Buckingham Palace, Harry and Grieve
were entertained to luncheon by the _Daily Mail_ at the Savoy Hotel.
Outside the hotel crowds of enthusiasts cheered them in appreciation of
the high honours conferred at Buckingham Palace by the King earlier in
the day.
In the absence of Viscount Northcliffe, who was unable to be present
owing to an impending operation on his throat, Mr. Marlowe, chairman
of the Associated Newspapers, Ltd., and Editor of the _Daily Mail_,
received the large and distinguished company of guests.
Harry sat on the right of Mr. Marlowe, on whose left was Grieve, while
the only lady present, myself, was honoured by the presence of the Lord
Chancellor on my left and the Air Minister on my right. Among others
present were:
Lord Inverclyde, Lord Morris, Lord Londonderry, Major-General
Sir F. Sykes, Admiral Sir Edward Seymour, Mr. Cecil Harmsworth
(Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs), Mr. Andrew Fisher, Sir W. A.
Robinson, Sir Edgar Bowring, Sir Joseph Cook, Mr. John Walter, Sheriff
Banister Fletcher, Sir Arthur Stanley, Sir George Sutton, Sir Campbell
Stuart, Sir Marcus Samuel, Sir William Sutherland, Sir Howard Frank,
Sir Jesse Boot, Sir Thomas Roydon, Sir George Frampton, Sir Squire
Bancroft, Sir Thomas Devitt, Sir Herbert Morgan, Sir Robert Hudson,
Brig.-General Sir Capel Holden, Sir Trevor Dawson, Sir Henry Dalziel,
Sir Edward Hulton, Sir George Watson, Sir Samuel Waring, Sir Charles
Wakefield, Sir William Treloar, Sir Harry Brittain, Sir J. Masterman
Smith, Sir Frank Newnes, Sir E. Mountain, Major-Gen. Sir Sefton
Brancker, Major-Gen. R. M. Ruck, Commander Perrin, Colonel F. K.
Maclean, Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith, Mr. Handley Page, Mr. Claude Johnstone,
Colonel T. O’B. Hubbard, Mr. Max Pemberton, Mr. Charles E. Hands,
Mr. Howard Corbett, Mr. W. Lints-Smith, Mr. H. W. Wilson, Mr. James
Douglas, Col. G. B. Cockburn, Mr. A. V. Roe, Mr. A. H. Fenn, Mr. Holt
Thomas, Mr. Harry Preston, Mr. Gerald du Maurier, Mr. C. B. Cochran,
Mr. Hamilton Fyfe, Mr. C. R. Fairey, Mr. Hamilton Fulton, Mr. R. O.
Cary, Mr. C. Grahame-White, Major F. C. Buck, Major Heckstall-Smith,
Mr. Sidney Pickles.
The chief table was surmounted by a floral model of a Sopwith biplane,
and graceful floral propellers were suspended from the electroliers.
Following the Royal Toast, the Chairman read messages of regret from
many distinguished people unable to be present.
* * * * *
The Duke of Connaught wired:
“I much appreciate having been asked to luncheon to-morrow to
meet Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve, and regret that I am unable to
do so. With every Englishman I rejoice that these two distinguished
airmen have been saved after their splendid endeavour to fly the
Atlantic.”
The Lord Mayor of London wrote:
“The City of London is immensely delighted that Hawker and
Grieve were saved, and joins in the welcome you are offering
them.”
The Duke of Atholl wired:
“Much regret, owing to my being High Commissioner in Scotland
representing His Majesty at General Assembly, it is impossible for me
to attend the luncheon to Hawker and Grieve. I cannot say how proud
we all are in Scotland of their performance, and congratulate them on
their safe return.”
From Paris, Mr. Hughes, Prime Minister of Australia, wired:
“I greatly regret that Fate denies me the opportunity of paying
my tribute to one of Australia’s most noble sons and his
estimable navigator.”
Admiral Sir Rosslyn Wemyss, First Sea Lord, telegraphed from a place
which, as Mr. Marlowe said, was significantly indicated by a blank
space:
“I regret that, owing to my having a Service engagement, I am
unable to accept your kind invitation for to-morrow. I shall be glad
if you will inform Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve how sorry I am
that I am prevented from joining in your welcome to them after their
gallant attempt to fly the Atlantic.”
Lord Weir, the late Secretary of State for Air, wiring from Glasgow,
said:
“I sincerely regret that, owing to my departure for the United
States, I am unable to accept your kind invitation to the welcome
luncheon to Hawker and Grieve to-morrow. In affording this opportunity
to two gallant airmen, the _Daily Mail_ has shown the same spirit of
enterprise which has always characterised its efforts on behalf of
aviation.”
Lord Northcliffe, who, as I have already stated, could not be present
owing to illness, wrote:
“I regret that my physicians forbid my taking part in any public
functions just now. Had I been present to-day I should have liked to
elaborate a few outstanding facts connected with this occasion.
“The war has shown us that the courage of the sister nations
of Australasia, Canada, South Africa, and Newfoundland is every whit
equal to that of the small Motherland from which they sprang. The
partnership of Hawker—the Australian flier—and Grieve, of the Royal
Navy, has proved what can be achieved by unity of members of our
British Commonwealth.
“Their flight is as great a step forward in the march of
science as was the first important but unsuccessful attempt to lay
the Atlantic cable, and it will so rank in history. The lessons they
have learned will help forward the time when a direct Atlantic flight
will be almost as easy as, and even more useful than, that across the
English Channel.
“As remarkable as the exploits of our two heroes is the
immutable confidence in Divine Providence of Muriel Hawker, who not
for one instant faltered in her absolute belief that her husband would
be restored to her.
“Were I present I should like to raise a glass in congratulation
of our American friends on their careful and characteristic
preparations for their fine record-breaking flight to the Azores and
Lisbon. They have still left to us the problem of a direct flight
from America to Europe. Personally I have no doubt but that, with the
lessons and experience gained by Hawker and Grieve, a direct flight
will soon be accomplished, and that by a British ’plane, with a
British motor, manned by Britons.”
Mr. Marlowe, in proposing the health of Harry and Grieve, said they
were thankful that day to be able to welcome them back to London and
back to life. When the master of the steamship _Mary_ last Sunday
answered “Yes” to the enquiry of that excellent signalman
at the Butt of Lewis, he lifted a burden of apprehension from many
minds. “We have not all been able to share the serene confidence
of Mrs. Hawker.”
* * * * *
“When the two airmen started, weather conditions were not
favourable, and if it had been a matter merely of winning the _Daily
Mail_ £10,000 prize the day would not have been selected; if that were
all, Mr. Hawker could have waited for better weather, but he felt that
for the honour of the British Empire he was no longer free to choose
his time. The United States seaplanes were at the Azores, and Mr.
Hawker decided to risk all, even defeat and death, rather than give
up the palm without a struggle. That was the spirit of Australia, the
glorious spirit of Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve, which had touched
the hearts of the people of this country.
“As Britons,” continued Mr. Marlowe, “we give
sincere congratulations to the United States airmen on their flight
to Lisbon, completed on Tuesday. It was an historic performance and
earned respectful admiration. But this afternoon we cannot refrain from
congratulating Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve, who, after all, in one
way or another, got across the Atlantic first. In the present stage of
flying there is no such word as ‘failure.’ Every effort
leads directly to accomplishment, and the flight of Mr. Hawker and
Commander Grieve will teach other airmen. It was not a failure: it was
a great effort which contained the seeds of success.”
The toast of “two very gallant gentlemen” was then honoured
with enthusiasm.
General Seely, who next spoke, said:
“Mr. Chairman, Mrs. Hawker, My Lord Chancellor, My Lords and
Gentlemen,—I think, my Lord Chancellor, you will allow that I put the
precedence right just for once, for you take precedence on all other
occasions in a gathering of His Majesty’s subjects—I have been
asked to present to Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve the cheque for
£5,000 provided by Lord Northcliffe and the great journals with which
he is associated.
“First of all, on behalf not only of the Air Ministry but of His
Majesty’s Government as a whole, and I know one may say of the
whole of the people of Britain and the Empire, we rejoice to see you
both safe and sound. It is a good thing that you have done. It has
not been a useless thing. Apart from your start against adverse wind,
not for the money, but for the honour of Britain, valuable lessons
were learned. The lesson that Commander Grieve taught us is that in an
aeroplane 15,000 feet up above the clouds you can, if you have got a
cool head and steady brain, take accurate observations from the stars
with a cloud horizon.
“There is another good thing, that there was no tinge of
jealousy of our Anglo-Saxon brethren, the Americans. They were more
anxious, I think, even than we were—and I cannot put it higher—for
your safety when the news came that it was probable that you were
missing. The American Ambassador told me last night that he believed
there was more concern in the belief that you two brave men were lost
than over almost anything else that had happened in America in his
recollection. Of course, it was not an angry race—it was a generous
emulation. Just as in the field for many months British and American
soldiers vied with one another and finally succeeded in overcoming the
foe, so we vie to see who will overcome the difficulties and dangers
of the Atlantic crossing.
“Still less is there jealousy on the part of the Royal Air
Force, for whom I am entitled to speak to-day. The presence of
General Sykes, fresh from injuries sustained in a landing a little
less fortunate than yours, though not so far from safety, testifies
to one side of our organisation. General Trenchard, whom you know as
Chief of the Air Staff, but better still, perhaps, as Commander of
the Independent Air Force, to whom we owe so much for the victory
we gained, asked me to say on his behalf, and on behalf of the Royal
Air Force, that he hoped you, Mr. Hawker and Commander Grieve, would
accept a message from him—a characteristic, simple message:
General Seely continued: “On behalf of every officer in the
Royal Air Force, I can say they are proud of your achievement, and
that they rejoice that His Majesty the King was pleased to-day to
give to each of you the Royal Air Force Cross for distinct acts of
gallantry in the air.
“I think I disclose no secret when I say that it was due to His
Majesty’s direct intervention that all difficulties as to time
and precise statutes and other difficulties and red tape were swept
away in order that he, the head of the State, the head of our great
Empire, might to-day present to you this coveted distinction for acts
of gallantry.
“These are two good men we are honouring to-day. Mr. Hawker,
as I was told by one best qualified to know, by his technical and
practical knowledge, by his nerve, skill, and gallantry in deciding
every type of new invention during the war, contributed in the first
degree to produce those wonderful machines which helped us to gain
supremacy over the enemy. He may well be proud of that war record.
Then there is Commander Grieve, of the ‘Silent Service,’
who served with his comrades in the Royal Navy, and always with
distinction.
“They have rightly had a welcome; they filled our hearts with
joy because there was a happy ending to this glorious adventure with
such possibilities in the future. They dared and did a great thing,
but in the hearts of us all we rejoice, Mrs. Hawker, that your husband
was brought back to you from the jaws of death.
“On behalf of the Air Ministry I am privileged to hand you this
scrap of paper. It is a very real scrap of paper. It contains not
only a generous gift from a man to whom the whole of aviation owes so
much—and whom we hope shortly to see restored to health—but it is
also an emblem of the thoughts of your country for a gallant deed done
for the honour of your country. I congratulate you, Mr. Hawker and
Commander Grieve.”
* * * * *
Amid loud and prolonged cheers, General Seely then handed The _Daily
Mail_ cheque for £5,000 to Harry and Grieve. The cheque was the joke
of the luncheon, for when it was all over Harry and Grieve were so
busy signing autographs that they forgot all about it, until General
Seely cried out, “What about this scrap of paper?”
Harry had an enthusiastic reception. Blushing and stammering slightly,
he expressed his thanks for the handsome gift, and caused great
amusement by alluding to his feat as a feeble effort which any one of
the company would have performed in the same circumstances.
“When the Americans started,” he said, “Raynham
and I determined to proceed by way of the Azores also, as the wind
was in favour of a journey by that route. But on Sunday week there
was a change in the conditions, and I set off by the direct route.
Unfortunately Raynham was unable to rise.
“We could not have wished for better assistance than we had
from the Air Ministry. The non-success of the wireless was not due to
the wireless itself but to our fittings. As to the reports of ships,
I think that if we had had ships every twenty yards apart you people
would have looked on it as a joke and not a serious attempt to fly
the Atlantic. If you are going to fly the Atlantic you have to weigh
it up in your mind whether it is a serious proposition or a do-or-die
effort, as the Americans like to call it.
“We weighed it up perfectly well, and it was a perfectly serious
attempt in every way, and with the ordinary means and the ordinary
amount of luck that you get in a machine there is no reason why you
should not fly the distance to-morrow. You would think nothing of it
overland. If you put a ship every fifty miles apart it only shows that
you have no faith in your motor or in your machine.”
Commander Grieve, also received with loud and prolonged cheers, said:
“When I left St. Johns I did not know how things would pan out.
The sun was shining and there were clouds below. I said, ‘Here
are clouds, here is the sea, navigate as on the sea and use the clouds
as your horizon’—with certain technical differences. This went
on very well for four hours, until the middle of the night, when the
clouds got up higher than ourselves at a time when they were most
required. I got no sights for about four or five hours, until the moon
came up and the clouds flattened themselves out a bit, and I managed
to get a sight of our position.
“This only shows that navigation in aircraft is quite possible.
Wireless is a valuable adjunct, the position of ships is valuable as
a check, but unfortunately our wireless went wrong through lack of
trial. We only got our fittings out just before we left. In every way,
I think the navigation on the whole was a success, so far as it got.
“In conclusion, I would like, on behalf of my parents, to thank
the _Daily Mail_ for the sympathy shown and for the way they kept them
informed of events.”
The health of Mr. Marlowe, the Chairman of the gathering, was proposed
by the Right Hon. Andrew Fisher. Mr. Marlowe, in reply, said he could
not help wishing that his chief, Lord Northcliffe, had been able to
be present. All the great flying prizes which the _Daily Mail_ had
offered—the £10,000 prize for the flight from London to Manchester,
another for a flight round England, the seaplane prize, in which Mr.
Hawker played a very gallant part, and many others—all owed their
origin to the personal initiative and action of Lord Northcliffe,
who was, in his opinion, the first Englishman to foresee the great
importance of aviation to the people of our islands, and to grasp,
with that practical imagination which is one of his richest gifts, the
developments of which it had shown itself to be capable.
* * * * *
On the morning of May 30th Harry, Grieve, and myself had the honour of
being received by Queen Alexandra, who was greatly interested in the
story of their rescue by Captain Duhn.
Later Harry and Grieve were the guests of the Royal Aero Club at a
luncheon in their honour at the Savoy. The menu was:
Barquettes Hawker.
Suprème de Sole Atlantique.
Poulet Reine Sopwith.
Salade Southern Cross.
Timbale de Fraises Northcliffe.
Gâteau Danois.
Café.
In proposing the toast of “The King,” the Chairman of the
gathering, Brigadier-General Sir Capel Holden, paid a tribute to His
Majesty’s intense interest in aviation. His Majesty had, he said,
acted according to the old motto, “He gives twice who gives
quickly,” by his having “done away with red-tape” in
promptly decorating their two guests.
The Chairman also mentioned that in 1913 Harry was congratulated
on having been nearly successful in flying round Great Britain in a
Sopwith seaplane for the _Daily Mail_ £5,000 prize; and it was again
owing to the foresight and generosity of Lord Northcliffe that the
attempt to cross the Atlantic was due.
Mr. Thomas Marlowe said that Harry had given him to understand that
if he and Grieve had not found the steamship _Mary_ they would have
found another in an hour or two, and that in any case there was no
danger whatever—a statement which provoked considerable amusement. Mr.
Marlowe paid a tribute to the very great assistance rendered by the
Royal Aero Club, and in particular by the secretary, Commander Perrin,
in the making of arrangements in connection with the flight.
[Illustration: TRANS-ATLANTIC AVIATORS’ REUNION DINNER. THE LATE
SIR JOHN ALCOCK IS ON THE EXTREME LEFT; MR. F. P. RAYNHAM ON THE RIGHT
(NEAREST THE CAMERA); SIR ARTHUR WHITTEN-BROWN IN UNIFORM (OPPOSITE
THE CAMERA); AND ON HIS LEFT LIEUT.-COMDR. K. MACKENZIE-GRIEVE, A.F.C.
HARRY IS THIRD FROM THE LEFT OF THE PICTURE.
[_Facing p. 282._
]
Colonel F. K. Maclean, introduced as “the father of British
aviation,” said he remembered how in navigation the compass
had a habit of turning round and round somewhat faster than the
machine. He had flown without a compass, but he thought that to get
one’s position in mid-Atlantic, even with a compass, was the most
extraordinary thing of which he had heard.
When the toast of Harry and Grieve was being drunk, an extra special
cheer was given for me, and someone added, “And for the little
Hawker!”—and so Pam was toasted too.
Harry was relieved of most of the onus of replying by Mr. Sopwith, who
mentioned that he and Grieve had arranged to share the £10,000 prize if
they won it in proportions of 70 and 30 per cent. Harry had, however,
insisted that they should halve Lord Northcliffe’s prize of
£5,000, because they had both suffered equal risks. Mr. Sopwith also
paid a warm tribute to the generosity of Lord Northcliffe and to his
staunch belief in aviation, and concluded by saying that Harry had told
him that if he made another Atlantic flight he would have nobody else
to navigate but Grieve.
Grieve said he was much amused to see himself referred to as an aviator
in certain papers. “I’m not an aviator, and never will be.
But it has been a great source of pride to me to be associated with the
Royal Aero Club.”
On Friday, May 21st, the American steamer _Lake Charlotteville_, bound
from Montreal for Danzig, with 3,500 tons of flour and 500 tons of
coal, sighted the derelict Sopwith aeroplane at longitude 49° 40´ N.,
latitude 29° 7´ W. at 2 p.m., on her starboard beam. The machine was
considerably more submerged than when it was abandoned by the aviators,
and only the remains of the tail and the rear part of the fuselage
remained above water, projecting vertically. The steamer arrived at
Falmouth at 4 p.m. on the following Wednesday afternoon with the
remains of the aeroplane lashed on deck in her forepart, looking at
a distance like a broken perambulator. Although the engines did not
appear to have suffered a great deal from the effects of the immersion,
the aluminium was noticeably corroded with brine. The propeller was of
course smashed and splintered, as also was the timber structure of the
machine. There was a mass of twisted wires among the fractured wings
and soaked canvas.
There was a heavy swell running when the captain of the _Lake
Charlotteville_ bore down on the derelict and, not knowing that the
airmen had been rescued, searched for survivors. As a matter of fact,
the machine was not so damaged when picked up as when it reached
Falmouth. It was hoisted on board by winches, and later the sea swept
the deck and caused further damage.
Harry was delighted when he heard that the machine had been salved.
“Its recovery will be of the greatest value,” he said,
“for on it are many records which will be of great assistance
to the future science of aviation. In addition there are a number of
mails on the machine, which happily will not be very much damaged by
the water, as they are in waterproof casings. Some of the appliances
of most delicate construction and adjustment, too, are attached to the
machine, and these, we hope, will give first-class information for
future flights.”
The undercarriage, which Harry had released before passing beyond the
Newfoundland coast, was subsequently found and now reposes in the
museum at St. Johns.
After all the necessary festivities were over we decided to leave
London for a little while.
We went to stay at a little seaside place in Norfolk where, for
the first evening at least, Harry was quite unknown. It was a very
enjoyable rest, but the next day, returning to lunch after a long walk
along the coast, we were met with many interested glances, and at lunch
a small child appeared with an autograph book. This spoilt everything,
and by tea-time the whole village had brought their books for
signatures. We hastily arranged to leave the place. We had not used the
Sunbeam, since it might have been conspicuous, but this had evidently
been the tell-tale, and we left for Cromer. Harry’s popularity at
this time must have been enormous, for the crowd that assembled round
the hotel when it was known he was staying there was quite a terrifying
spectacle, and again we left. We went for a short tour then, staying
one night in each place, and then went back, Harry being anxious to
superintend the construction of the new Schneider Cup machine.
Towards the end of August the machine was ready, and we went down to
Southampton for a week or two before the race, which was to be held
on September 10th at Bournemouth. Harry sent his racing motor-boat
down with the machine and used this boat as a conveyance between
Southampton, where we stayed, and Hythe, where the machine was housed.
A very serious accident was only just averted on the machine’s
maiden trip. The machine was small, fitted with a 450 h.p. Cosmos
Jupiter engine, fitted with special floats made to Harry’s
design. After starting up the engine, however, prior to her first
flight, and opening out to get away, instead of speeding across the
water the machine gave a lurch and dug her nose into the water, the
tail coming up until it was almost perpendicular. The cockpit of the
machine was very small, in fact so small that only a tight-fitting
sweater could be worn in it, so it was not the quickest thing to get
out of in the case of emergency. However, it was not many seconds
before Harry appeared out of the cockpit, from which he hopped with
agility, shouting to the mechanics on the slipway to hang on to the
tail to prevent the machine sinking. They successfully beached the
machine, and it was discovered that the floats, by some error in the
drawings, had been fitted too far back. The machine was packed up under
Harry’s supervision with extraordinary haste and was ready on
the lorry to return to London. The lorry was then found unfit for the
journey, something having happened to it on its journey up. Harry,
nothing daunted, had decided that the machine was to go to London that
night, and so it did. He got his Sunbeam from Southampton, to which he
securely fastened the loaded lorry and towed it, at a speed that must
have made the lorry’s hair stand on end, to London that night.
There are occasions when the very high-power car has its uses which the
smaller car could not carry out.
Within two days the machine was back, and it exceeded expectations in
the form of speed, attaining at one time a speed of 180 miles per hour.
Four British entries for the Jacques Schneider International Seaplane
Race, necessitated eliminating trials being arranged on September
3rd at Cowes. At the time of the start only three of these turned
up—_Supermarine_ (450 h.p. Napier Lion, piloted by Squad.-Com. B. D.
Hobbs, D.S.O., D.F.O), the _Fairey_ (450 h.p. Napier Lion, piloted by
Lieut.-Col. Vincent Nicholl, D.S.O.), and Harry, so the eliminating
trial was unnecessary, the Avro being held as reserve. This was very
lucky for Harry, as on alighting on the water he was seen to be sinking
rapidly, and only succeeded in getting to land with the aid of a
rowing-boat, which was put under a float. It appeared that a large part
of the under-surface of the float had been torn away by some floating
object on landing and so it would have been necessary to get new floats
before another flight was made.
Harry had the broken floats removed and put on _Kangaroo_ II, his own
motor-boat, for removal back to Hythe. This hydroplane was designed
to carry two people at speed, and not as a useful conveyance for
friends and baggage, so it was with feelings of qualm that I took
my seat beside Harry, my sister on my knee, two floats securely tied
on the bows, and two men at the stern. Heading towards the Solent it
did not take much movement of a limb to list the boat, and Harry was
continually singing out, “Trim the boat!” However, in
rounding the bend out of the harbour into the open sea the _Kangaroo_
decided it was over-worked, and thereupon turned over completely,
pitching all and sundry on the waters. Only one of the party could not
swim, and he luckily found a float at hand to which he desperately
clung.
It is no joke to be suddenly put in the sea clothed in thick coats and
furs. The first few minutes one swims with much gusto, but things get
very heavy after a little while and a kind of effort is required to
keep up.
Harry bobbed up somewhere near me and started a sort of roll-call.
Meanwhile a rowing-boat had put out from the shore and come alongside
my sister and I. We had just about had enough of floating about,
although I do not suppose it was really so long as it seemed, and
thankful enough for the boat; but suddenly one of the two Australian
soldiers, who had pushed out the first boat they could find, found
it was sinking, and unceremoniously left for the shore alone. They
had forgotten to put the bung in! However a launch soon came up and
we were safely “beached.” Harry towed the _Kangaroo_ to
shore, where he found the magneto had suffered badly by its immersion
in water, and proceeded to dismantle it. By about nine o’clock
he was ready to start back with it, this time without the floats. It
was quite dark, and little more than half-way across the Solent the
magneto gave out again. They moored behind an anchored vessel and in
the dark Harry had no little job in getting things right. He eventually
arrived back at the hotel at about eleven o’clock, still in
his wet clothes. As for my sister and myself, Mr. Smith, who was one
of the victims, took us back by the Southampton steamboat, in which
the captain, hearing of our plight, kindly allowed us the use of the
engine-room as a drying-ground, and for the journey of just over an
hour we steamed away merrily.
The new floats were procured, but the actual race itself was a fiasco.
There were three French and one Italian competitor beside the English,
and on September 10th, the day of the race, the weather was good and
everyone had arrived. Just at the hour arranged for the start a thick
fog descended, completely blotting out the points to which the machines
had to fly.
Harry, who had again damaged his racing floats on landing at
Bournemouth from Hythe, only just managed to get off the water with
one float nearly submerged. In the compulsory landing after one lap he
landed near the shore, the machine being pulled on to the beach by the
mechanics before it had time to sink.
The fog had not lifted, and as it was impossible to find the boundary
buoys everyone gave it up, with the exception of the Italian
competitor, who did round after round at a terrific speed, but it was
very doubtful if the actual round was flown each time, as the outpost
people could not distinguish the passing of any machine.
In fairness to the Italian competitor, it must be said that nearly all
the French and English competitors had had float trouble, and it was
doubtful if, had the weather been good, he would have had many rivals.
There was a good deal of controversy afterwards as to whether the Cup
should be awarded; ultimately it was agreed that the race should be run
the following year in Italy, but the 1919 race was to be considered as
null.
After this race Harry and I had arranged to go to Scotland on a visit
to Mr. Sopwith, there to enjoy a stag-shoot. Harry was an exceptional
shot, and the previous autumn had had the unique experience of shooting
two royal stags in one day. This year, however, the railway strike
prevented our going, which naturally was a great disappointment to
Harry.
CHAPTER XIX
MOTOR RACING
Harry Turns to Motor-racing—Successful Début at Brooklands—Why
I Stayed at Home—The 250 h.p. Sunbeam Touring Car Takes Second
Place—When the 450 h.p. Racer Comes on the Scene—Harry Drives
the Largest Car in the World—A Terrible Crash—Without Serious
Consequences—Back to the Air—The R.A.F. Tournament—Reunion of
Pioneer Aviators—Eleventh-Hour Entry for the Aerial Derby—Second
Place, but Disqualified—A Very Busy Month—Aeroplane Trials at
Martlesham—British International Motor-boat Trophy at Cowes—More
Motor-racing at Brooklands—His Aeroplane Enables Harry to be
(nearly) in Three Places at Once—Harry “Brings Home”
a £3,000 Prize for the Sopwith Company at Martlesham—I Decide
that Motor-racing is Too Risky—And Fate Deprives Harry of a
Race—Motor-boat Racing—Racing an A.C. Light Car—And a D.F.P.—The
Gordon-Bennett Air Race of 1920—Bad Luck—The 450 h.p. Sunbeam Again.
CHAPTER XIX
During the winter of 1919-20 there was little to be done in the way
of flying and the prospects of it recovering its pre-war popularity
not very hopeful. Harry looked round for other fields of achievement
to fill in the spare time he now had on his hands. Always keen on the
possibilities of the racing car, it was with great enthusiasm that he
accepted the offer from Mr. Coatalen to drive the new 6-cylinder racing
car which Sunbeam’s had built for the meeting at Indianapolis
and wished to put through its paces at the first post-war Brooklands
meeting on Whit-Monday, 1920. Harry went down to Wolverhampton to see
the car, and was amazed at the care with which the racing cars are
produced, and to quote his own expression, “The Sunbeam people
do the whole thing properly.” A day or so before the meeting the
car was brought down by road from Wolverhampton, and the trial runs
on the track proved more than satisfactory. The race-meeting itself
was a record one, and the scene, even for Brooklands, a memorable one.
“From the bottom of the Test Hill to the entrance to the course
the track was lined on both sides with packed masses of cars, while the
Hill was crowded with people breathlessly following the fortunes of
their favourites as the burnished bonnets of the great cars glittered
like shooting stars round the great track,” to quote from a
current issue of the daily Press.
Judging by his reception and the notices which appeared on Tuesday,
Harry was the popular figure of the day. In the first of the two races
in which he was to drive the Sunbeam six, the Short Lightning Handicap,
he won the race from scratch, overhauling his most formidable opponent,
Mr. Kilburn’s Vauxhall, just as they were entering the finishing
straight, when his average speed from start to finish was 98½ miles
per hour. Harry’s victory in this, and again in his second race,
the Long Lightning Handicap, where after an exciting race he was first
home by about a length, brought him a tremendous reception from the
delighted crowd. His best lap for the day was at the speed of 106·65
miles per hour.
It is interesting to note that in passing the Opel, another competitor
in the first race, at a very bumpy part of the track the gear lever of
the Sunbeam jumped out of gear, and in attempting to replace it Harry
accidentally put it into second gear. The car continued to gain on
the Opel, and before changing up into top while running at 100 miles
per hour the revolution counter showed the extraordinary turnover of
5,700 revolutions per minute. Afterwards the motor was dismantled, but
no damage of any description had been incurred by this exceptional
achievement.
This was Harry’s début as a motor-racer, and it was the first day
of complete success he had ever had. I well remember him saying that
now he felt his luck had changed and he was finished with failures,
glorious or otherwise.
It was a great disappointment to me not to have seen his first
attempt at motor-racing, but Mary, who was born on the anniversary
of Harry’s start to fly the Atlantic, and named after the boat
which subsequently saved him, being a few days old, I was reluctantly
compelled to stay at home and be contented with watching them set out
in the car in the morning, receiving my reward when just after tea they
all returned home bubbling with pride.
This new form of speed had got well hold of Harry, and he filled in
the time before the next meeting, at which he was to drive the new
450 h.p. Sunbeam racer, the largest car in the world, by tuning up
his own 12-cylinder Sunbeam. Stripping the car of all unnecessary
equipment—lamps, mudguards, wind-screens, etc.—he attained, after
much “changing of jets” and general tuning, a speed of 107
miles per hour with a four-seater touring body. Shedding about half
the rubber off a front tyre, high on the banking at nearly 100 miles
per hour, causing a series of tremendous skids out of which it did not
seem possible to straighten successfully, did not deter him, for he
seriously contemplated having the car properly streamlined. Luckily
the 450 h.p. Sunbeam got down to Brooklands, and after a run on her
Harry brought our Sunbeam home, spent an evening tightening up the
body everywhere and replacing all the impedimenta. He also ordered new
tyres, saying that, after all, a car only capable of under 110 miles
per hour was only fit for a touring car, and so ended its racing career.
On June 26th, the B.A.R.C. held their Midsummer Meeting, at which the
450 h.p. Sunbeam was to make its début.
The car not having arrived down from Wolverhampton until late in
the week, Harry decided to give it a lap or two on the morning
of the meeting. Accordingly he set out early on his Ford, and I
was to follow later with the Sunbeam. We arrived at the gate and,
the congestion being so great, we were held up for some time in
the “queue.” During the wait someone coming on foot
from the paddock shouted across to some people in a car near us,
“Hawker’s crashed on the Sunbeam in practise!” What
one does on these occasions is generally hard to remember, but I know
I got out of the stationary car and walked on to the paddock, almost
dazed, to find out what had happened. Arriving at the gate, the sight
of Harry standing there was such a relief that instead of hurrying
to tell him of the great anxiety of the last few moments I could say
nothing. He was surprised to see me walking in, and asked where the car
was. “You don’t generally walk to Brooklands.”
“And you don’t generally wait patiently just at the gate
for me to come.”
“No,” he replied, “but I have just blown a tyre off
the Sunbeam and shan’t be able to race to-day, so I’ve
nothing on earth to do.”
So much for coming off the banking at the fastest part of the track
with a flat tyre at something over 110 miles per hour, crashing
through a fence and jumping a ditch the other side. A Press account of
the accident taken from Harry’s own description of the incident
shows how a terrible disaster was only just averted.
“Hawker had the car out on just an ordinary race-meeting
practise run. On the banking under the Members’ Bridge the car
was doing 125 miles per hour beautifully, with plenty of power and
speed in hand, a black-snouted, white-bodied speed monster, hurtling
round in the fresh morning air, well up the banking, when—the Fates
being liverish—the front offside tyre burst. A swerve, a struggle
with the wheel, utter disaster averted, and with the front axle
chattering uncushioned on the concrete the car plunged on under its
momentum down the railway straight. Try as he will, Hawker cannot get
the car to answer to the wheel and bear left. The drag of the erring
tyre holds it to the right of the track. Careering almost parallel
with the fence which runs alongside the straight for a quarter of
a mile, the car at last digs its forepart into the corrugated iron
sheets, still doing over 80 miles per hour, rips them apart for eleven
or twelve yards, gambols obliquely down a four-feet drop, and finishes
up on all fours, right side uppermost a paling immovably jammed in one
of the front wheels, but otherwise unhurt. Mr. Hawker, too, seemed
but little shaken by his experience and far more interested in the
glorious running of his mount before taking the toss than in the
accident itself.”
On the same day during a race the 6-cylinder Sunbeam, the car which
Harry had handled at the previous meeting, came to grief. What actually
happened was not definitely known, but the car was seen to swerve
at almost the same part of the track that Harry had his trouble,
and, after coming down the railway straight, left the track for the
Sewage Farm, where it turned two complete somersaults, the driver,
Captain Geach, miraculously escaping any serious injury. Perhaps it
was the penalty of fame or a proof of popularity that in the next
morning’s papers there were lurid accounts of Hawker’s
escape from death, one heading reading, “Hawker, the man who
won’t be killed!” while little comment was made on Captain
Geach’s more serious accident.
A few days later, July 3rd, saw him in the air again, at the Royal
Air Force Tournament at Hendon, where a huge crowd had assembled to
witness what proved to be the finest exhibition of all kinds of flying
ever seen in one afternoon. Here Harry, on his Swallow monoplane, went
through a series of stunts which he loved so well, and according to a
current flying paper, “executed many extraordinary evolutions
which seemed quite different to those just witnessed.”
Perhaps it would have been more extraordinary still to all those
watching him had they known he was undergoing certain treatment for
his back at this time that caused him great pain and sleepless nights.
During the time that he was receiving this drastic treatment he was
hardly fit to be walking about, and certainly not to be flying and
racing, but with that indomitable courage and determination to go on as
usual, he refused to give up any part of his work.
On July 12th he was present among numbers of well-known airmen at the
dinner given at the Connaught Rooms to the survivors of the first
hundred British aviators. Forty-eight of that number were present,
including two women, Miss Bacon and Mrs. Hewlett. The Duke of York, who
was present, replied to the toast of the Royal Family, in which speech
he modestly referred to himself as an indifferent pilot.
The Aerial Derby for 1920 was arranged for July 24th, but Harry not
having a machine which could put up a good enough “show”
decided not to compete, but agreed to come over to Hendon during
the afternoon on the Swallow and help to amuse the crowd during the
somewhat tedious wait from the start of the last competitor to the
return of the first. About a day before the race, gripped by the
lure of the contest, he decided to fly the Sopwith Rainbow and take
a sporting chance. Immediately his entry was received the papers
announced Hawker’s mount as the “dark horse” of the
race, and consequently he became favourite, with three machines faster
than his as competitors.
However, they say the public backs the pilot, as though by some
extraordinary prowess the popular favourite can produce an extra ten
miles per hour from his mount.
The Rainbow was the Schneider Cup machine of 1919 with the floats
replaced by a land chassis and the Cosmos Jupiter engine substituted by
an A.B.C. Dragonfly engine.
In a field of sixteen competitors Harry was No. 13 to start, having
1½ minutes’ start on the Bristol Jupiter, eight minutes on the
Martinsyde Semiquaver with 300 h.p. Hispano Suiza, and 9 minutes on the
Nieuport Goshawk with 320 h.p. A.B.C. engine.
Harry made a very spectacular get-away at 3.47 and was soon out of
sight in his attempt to catch up the twelve other competitors, the
first of which had started just over one hour and a half before. He
flew high, as he always did, and was back again at Hendon, having
completed the first of the two laps of 100 miles in 41 minutes 31
seconds. The Nieuport Goshawk, the fastest machine in the race, having
landed at Brooklands, and Harry having passed the Bristol Bullet during
the lap, the Martinsyde Semiquaver was the only fast machine to be
overtaken.
The last machine to finish the first of the two circuits to be flown
was the Martinsyde F4, which arrived at 4.40, and fourteen minutes
later Captain Hammersley arrived on his Baby Avro (30 h.p. Green
engine), having completed his second lap, and was thus winner of the
Handicap.
The winner was closely followed by Hinckler on an identical machine,
and ten minutes later Harry appeared at speed, having picked up
nearly 1½ hours on these two machines, when, except for finishing
incorrectly, he would have taken second place in the Aerial Derby and
third in the Handicap. He was unfortunately ruled out of the race, as
he finished by flying straight across the centre of the aerodrome,
as in previous years, instead of making a circuit of the pylons. The
Semiquaver then appeared, having finished the whole of the course of
205 miles in 1 hour 18 mins. as against Harry’s 1 hour 23 mins.,
and so won the Aerial Derby. Unfortunately, in landing, the Semiquaver
overturned, but the pilot, Mr. Courtenay, who had at the last moment
taken Mr. Raynham’s place, was uninjured.
The next month was a very busy one for Harry, as during one week his
presence was required in three different places each day as far apart
as Cowes, Brooklands, and Martlesham Heath in Suffolk, and he was only
enabled to do this by the use of his monoplane.
The first fortnight in August he was due at Martlesham Heath, to fly
the Sopwith Antelope through the Air Ministry Competition.
On August 4th, 10th, and 11th, he was to steer _Maple Leaf V._ in the
British International Trophy at Cowes, and on August 2nd he was to
drive the 12-cylinder Sunbeam racing car at the Brooklands Meeting.
As it was necessary to spend a good deal of time in practise and trial
before each of these events, some idea of the effort required to carry
them through may be gathered.
The Air Ministry had offered prizes of £64,000 for speed and
reliability of the various types of aircraft, and the Sopwith Aviation
Company entered the Antelope, fitted with a Wolseley Viper engine, to
compete in the small type of machines. This machine had an enclosed
saloon for its two passengers, fitted with two comfortable armchairs,
sliding windows, a sliding panel in the roof, by which when sitting
in the raised chair one could have the benefit of an open machine
if required. A hot and cold air regulator was fitted and also a
speaking-tube to the pilot in front.
The tests consisted of slow flying, speed, economy (a comparison
between useful load carried, in pounds, not including weight of pilot,
oil, and petrol, and the amount of fuel and lubricant consumed),
landing and getting-off tests, and self-controlled flights.
In the slow flying test the Antelope got down to 43 miles per hour,
the lowest recorded, and in speed attained 110·35 miles per hour,
the second best performance. It also put up a good performance in the
landing tests in which the machine had to land in a given circle over a
row of balloons tethered 50 feet from the ground by means of threads.
The Antelope, in landing in 187·7 yards, beat all the others by a good
margin, the second being the Westland Napier, taking 235 yards.
In economy the Antelope took second place, and also in the getting-off
test, taking 23 feet as against the Westland’s 22·75 feet.
Harry arrived from Cowes on the monoplane and was soon up with
the Antelope on the reliability tests, which consisted of two
three-and-a-half-hour periods at a speed of not less than 80 miles per
hour and at above 3,000 feet up. Harry took Mr. Sopwith as passenger
and carried out both periods himself, although a different pilot was
allowed for the second three-and-a-half-hour test.
In the uncontrolled test the Antelope flew for five minutes by itself.
The result of these competitions was very hard to judge, the Sopwith
and the Westland running very close together, but the official result
showed the Westland first, thus winning the prize of £10,000, and the
Sopwith gaining the second prize of £3,000.
During this time Harry had been officially living at Martlesham, flying
down to Cowes almost daily on the monoplane to watch the progress of
the Saunders boat which he was to steer in the British International
Trophy.
On August 2nd, Harry was to drive the 450 h.p. Sunbeam at Brooklands.
The narrow escape which he had with this car at its first public
appearance on the track perhaps accounted for the unsportsmanlike
attitude I took up on the occasion of its second.
While Harry was staying at the aerodrome at Martlesham I was at
Bournemouth with the babies, and on the Friday before the race-meeting
on Monday, Harry came down for the week-end. On Saturday he went over
to Cowes to see how the Saunders boat was progressing for the coming
race, and returned to London on Sunday. Perhaps it was continually
hearing from people who knew, or should know, that the wonderful new
Sunbeam car was too fast for the track, and catching stray sentences,
as one does in the paddock, I could not rest. On the Friday he came
down I tried to persuade him to give up the racing on Monday, but
I only succeeded in thoroughly upsetting him, as I did not see the
position I was putting him in, and that he had no excuse for cancelling
his arrangements for the track at the eleventh hour. I expect the
unusualness of my attitude worried him, since it was the first time I
had tried to deter him from any of his precarious activities. On Monday
morning I decided to go to town, praying that something might happen to
prevent his driving the car. Arriving at Surbiton, I found the only car
in the garage was the racing A.C. before it had come into fame, which
I managed to start, and arrived at Brooklands past the time of the
Sunbeam’s first race.
I found Harry and Mr. Coatalen beside the car, which had not been out,
as its first race had been passed over through wetness of the track.
Surprised at seeing me, Harry told me to cheer up—he had had some laps
in the morning and she was running beautifully.
The time approached for the second and last race, and, the track having
dried, the meeting was resumed, and the huge 450 h.p. car roared out of
its “stall” and slowly made its way to the starting-line.
Having by this time worked myself into a perfect example of the panicky
old woman, and with the words “too fast for the track”
always tingling in my ears, I longed for anything to happen to stop
its racing, quite regardless of any possible damage to the reputation
of both driver and maker in the fear of the awful something that might
happen. I watched all the competitors start one by one, as of course
the Sunbeam was scratch, and when, as it was standing roaring on the
line, the flag fell for it to start, there was a jerk and a silence.
Harry had stopped the motor on the line, and the Sunbeam was not to be
seen at speed at that meeting. Such carelessness, accident though it
was, and so unlike Harry in any of his efforts, especially when I knew
his heart was set on doing well with the car, was hard to understand. I
knew that, although I had got what I prayed for, I had failed him, and
his disappointment afterwards was my punishment. He said very little
about it afterwards, just called it “damn bad luck”; but
then he was always the real kind of sportsman—a good loser.
He took me to the station next morning on my return to Bournemouth, and
saying “Good-bye,” added, “See you at Cowes to-morrow
for the B.I.T.; it will sure to be some fun,” and the whole
incident was forgotten.
[Illustration: HARRY ON BOARD A YACHT DURING ONE OF THE PERIODS WHICH
HE DEVOTED TO MOTOR-BOAT RACING.
[_Facing p. 300._
]
[Illustration: PAMELA SETS THE PACE ON THE LAWN AT HOOK.
[_Facing p. 300._
]
The next day, August 4th, he was out on _Maple Leaf V._, in practise
for the eliminating trials which were to be run off during the day.
_Maple Leaf V._, entered by Sir E. Mackay Edgar, Bart., was 39 feet
in length, equipped with four 12-cylinder Sunbeam engines of 400
h.p., making a total of 1,600 h.p. The hull was built of the famous
“Consuta” wood, which looked, but was not too fragile to
bear the weight of those four enormous engines.
_Maple Leaf VI._, steered by Lieut.-Col. A. W. Tate, D.S.O., was of
similar construction, fitted with two Rolls-Royce engines together
supplying 1,100 h.p.
There were six British entries for this Trophy and eliminating trials
were to be held to find the three best boats.
The 900 h.p. Sunbeam-engined _Despujols II._ shipped water just before
the start, and all efforts to start her up failed.
Bad luck was also experienced by _Miranda V._, a 33-feet Thornycroft
boat equipped with an engine of 475 h.p. of the same name, which,
although first over the line at the start, had to give up hurriedly in
the first round, making for shore with a hole in her stern by which she
filled rapidly, and finally sank in shallow waters near the shore.
The remaining four boats consisted of _Maple Leaf VI._; a 39-feet
Saunders boat fitted with two Rolls-Royce engines of 1,100 h.p.
complete; the 8-_metre_, 450 h.p. Sunbeam-engined _Despujols_; and
_Tireless V._, a Cox and King boat fitted with Green engine of 900 h.p.
The results of the trials were _Maple Leaf V._, _Despujols_, _Maple
Leaf VI._, and lastly _Tireless V._ The time results were very
disappointing, the winning boat having averaged little over 30 knots.
America had sent over three representatives in the form of _Miss
Detroit_, of 38 feet length, and _Miss America_, of 26 feet, both
fitted with 800 h.p. Smith Marine Twin motors, which were rebuilt
Liberty aeroplane installations of two V-type engines of 400 h.p. each.
The third boat was _Whip-po’-Will_, which during a preliminary
run a few days earlier had burst into flame and sunk, and was a
complete loss.
The total course of the race was 33 nautical miles, broken up into five
rounds.
At the start of the first race on August 10th there was some dexterous
manœuvring for the advantage of being first to get away, the boats
circling round a space before the starting-line while three-minute
signals were given. Harry managed to get _Maple Leaf V._ over the
line first in great style, 12 seconds after the gun had fired. He
was followed after an interval of 8 seconds by _Miss Detroit_, _Miss
America_ following but 1 second behind.
_Maple Leaf VI._, steered by Lieut.-Col. A. W. Tate, D.S.O., soon
followed, and _Despujols_, steered by Sir A. G. Guiness, Bart., brought
up the rear 33 seconds after the gun. At the end of the first round
_Miss America_ showed her superiority, leaving _Maple Leaf V._ to set
the pace to _Miss Detroit_; _Maple Leaf VI._ throwing up spray and
seeming to proceed by means of hops, gaining for herself the name of
_The Kangaroo_, passed the line fourth, and _Despujols_ last. The same
order held for the second round, while in the third round Harry’s
boat was seen to be in trouble, and in the fourth round seemed almost
to stop. He managed, however, to complete the course well within the
time limit on one engine, thereby qualifying for the second race. The
race had been easily won by _Miss America_, followed by _Maple Leaf
VI._ _Miss Detroit_ had engine trouble, but finished the course.
The next day the weather proved good, the sea being quite calm—too
calm for the British boats, who hoped for a choppy sea—and there was
hardly a breath of wind blowing in Osborne Bay.
The start this time was a good one, _Maple Leaf VI._ being over the
line first 7 seconds after the gun, the last man away being within
20 seconds. When the boats got thoroughly going the order was _Miss
America_, _Miss Detroit_, _Maple Leaf V._, _Maple Leaf VI._, and
_Despujols_. This order was maintained till the finish, _Miss America_
winning easily. The actual times over the whole course of 33 miles were:
_Miss America_ 37 min. 9⅕ sec.
_Miss Detroit_ 37 min. 43⅘ sec.
_Maple Leaf V._ 37 min. 59 sec.
_Maple Leaf VI._ 40 min. 59⅕ sec.
_Despujols_ 41 min. 5⅕ sec.
The average speed of the winner over the whole course was slightly
faster than in the first race, _Miss America’s_ speed being 53·42
miles per hour as against her speed the day before of 51·45 miles per
hour.
The American boats were conspicuous by the manner in which they
skimmed over the water, which they hardly seemed to displace, and very
little white spray ever appeared. It was quite easy to distinguish
the various boats at a distance by the amount of foam. _Maple Leaf
VI._ could easily be found by the periodic banks of spray as she
“hopped” along, and _Maple Leaf V._ seemed to proceed
through two walls of water. And so the British International Trophy
went to America for the fifth time since 1903.
On September 4th, the date of the Junior Car Club’s Autumn
Meeting, Harry, in entering an A.C. car which he had lately acquired,
was to have made his first attempt at light car racing.
His entry was received and accepted, and it was not until the cars were
lined up in the paddock prior to entering the track that the gods that
be decided not to permit him to race as the car was not standard.
The car was a new 4-cylinder overhead valve model which the A.C.
Company had made with a view to a fast standard sports model
production, and the race was for standard cars only. But the word
“standard” involuntarily brings a smile when applied to any
of the veterans’ mounts. And also being a handicap race, there
is always the energetic handicapper at work at Brooklands who has a
wonderful knack of letting the light in on dark horses. However, if the
mount had been a Mr. Brown’s entry it would probably have been
allowed to race, and possibly even spoilt the reputation and interest
it gained that day, but the speeds put up by the rest of the standard
cars must have brought complaints from many a disappointed owner, who,
trading on his all too standard production to little effect, wondered
if personal training would produce the missing 20 or so miles an hour.
On September 25th, at the last B.A.R.C. Meeting of the year, Harry,
having formed a company in Australia with an agency for D.F.P. cars
decided to enter a perfectly ordinary 4-cylinder D.F.P. car.
The handicapper notes H. G. Hawker’s entry of a D.F.P., gives him
plenty of time at the starting-line to study the various “get-aways” of
the other competitors, and has the satisfaction of seeing him coming up
the finishing straight as the cars for the next race were proceeding to
the starting-line, having been “all out” the whole race. So much for a
name.
Harry’s next activity was to have been, with any sort of luck,
as one of the three representatives for the Gordon-Bennett Air Race
of 1920, to be held at Etampes, France, on September 28th, the other
two entries being Raynham on the Martinsyde Semiquaver which had won
the Aerial Derby, and Tait Cox on the Nieuport Goshawk, which had also
flown in the Aerial Derby. Fear was expressed as to the possibility of
the latter’s entry owing to the closing of the Nieuport firm, but
although the entry was satisfactorily arranged, it was not among the
starters in the race, as it had not arrived at Etampes early enough the
previous day to comply with the rules.
Neither was Harry’s ill-luck at rest, as a week or so before
the race it was found necessary to withdraw the machine, the Rainbow,
fitted now with the Bristol Jupiter engine in place of the A.B.C.,
owing to the liquidation of the Sopwith Aviation Company. These were
the beginning of the very lean days which do not seem to fatten
even yet, and England was left with the Semiquaver as its only
representative.
There were three American and three French entries, which latter
country had but to win the race this time to gain the Cup right out,
having won the two immediately preceding competitions.
Any competitor could fly the course any time after 7 a.m. during the
day, and times were compared afterwards to ascertain the winner.
Raynham was the last of all the competitors to start, and it was a
very melancholy moment for England when, with Tait Cox standing by
his disqualified machine, and Harry, hands in pocket and no machine,
Raynham was seen to descend after the first lap owing to oil trouble.
Harry and Raynham, staunch friends and rivals since the days of the
Michelin Cup incident in 1912, consoled each other, bemoaning their
“same old rotten luck as usual.” And who had attempted
more, from the days when flying was a very risky hobby, and failed so
often, than these two sportsmen? The Trophy was won outright by the
French.
Early in December it was arranged that Harry should attempt to break
world’s records for short distances with the 450 h.p. Sunbeam.
A day was chosen and the track booked for the event. A very large
gathering of the Press sat down to an excellent luncheon, but the
weather clerk did not approve of the proceedings, as rain fell heavily
all the morning. Hopes were entertained of the track drying after
lunch, as the rain had ceased, but these hopes were not fulfilled.
However, during the afternoon Harry took the car round for a few laps,
but although a speed of nearly 125 m.p.h. was attained, it was not
a fair test of the car, as owing to the wet and greasy state of the
track the wheels failed to grip and most of the power was lost. The
revolution counter showed a speed of 140 miles per hour had the wheels
gripped the track.
It was disappointing to the many people present, but one cannot back
the English weather in December, and it was visibly unsafe to attempt
anything further on such a wet day.
CHAPTER XX
MOTOR ENGINEERING AND RACING
Formation of the Hawker Engineering Company—The Racing
A.C.—Amusing Experiences—Remarkable Performances Due to Efficient
Streamlining—Several Records Broken—An Accident—The Hawker
Two-stroke Motor-cycle.
CHAPTER XX
Immediately after the war efforts were made by the Sopwith Aviation and
Engineering Company to turn out domestic utensils from aluminium. Mr.
Sigrist tells the tale of Harry walking into his office one morning
after discovering the new object the firm was to produce, and sitting
down, said: “Well, Fred, what do you think of it! Saucepans!
Where do I come in? I never thought I should live to find myself in a
job that Mrs. Beeton could do better than I.”
I believe a good many saucepans were made, which, according to a
contributor to a flying paper, “involved strenuous work on the
firm’s chief tester,” and also a certain wooden toy was
turned out in good numbers; but the firm commenced real post-war work
in the production of the A.B.C. motor-bicycle.
The company continued with the production of this cycle for some time,
but was eventually unable to weather the slump of 1920, and in the
September of that year the Sopwith Aviation and Engineering Company
closed down.
In November a new company was founded by Messrs. Sopwith and Sigrist
and Harry, known as the H. G. Hawker Engineering Company, which started
in the production of a 2-stroke motor-cycle and also special aluminium
body-work. After the appearance of Harry’s streamlined A.C. a
considerable demand for like racing bodies appeared, until most of the
best known racing light cars became furnished with Hawker streamline
bodies.
In the meantime Harry had been working hard at every spare moment on
his A.C., the acquisition of which is very interesting. One day in
the summer Harry went for a short run with one of the directors of
Messrs. A.C. in a new model fitted with an overhead valve engine. It
was purely an experimental production, and after the run Harry wanted
to see the drawings. He immediately saw possibilities as a racing car,
and then and there wanted to buy it. He did buy it, and then followed
months of real hard work, bringing in its wake alternate successes and
disappointments. From the moment he brought the car home there was
little rest for all concerned with it, his own energy and enthusiasm
being enormous. The engine was hurried into a standard sports chassis
and headed for Brooklands in a remarkably short space of time, to be
back again for modification almost as quickly. Many dark days followed.
Troubles that would have broken the heart of some men followed in
what seemed like endless succession. In one day he had six gaskets
“blow” before he found the right means and material to
withstand the tremendous pressures involved. It does not take much
experience to know what this means in terms of work, as the gaskets
were all hand made, and the “head,” complete with pipe
systems, connections, etc., had to come off each time.
This trouble over, and a set of pistons with decidedly ambitious tops
having been designed and fitted, he proceeded to lap at what were
then remarkable speeds indeed, and in spite of the fact that the very
necessary parts frequently fell either in or out of the engine, he
never lost faith in it. I remember, towing him home for it seemed
the hundredth time, saying with a lack of his optimistic patience:
“Let’s burn the thing and buy a motor-car!” but his
cheery reply was: “Never mind, we’re really beginning
to go now!” and proceeded to take the motor down prior to an
all-night sitting. Coffee and cakes figured at intervals in these
“all-night jobs,” and I expect the neighbours wondered if
he ever slept.
On one occasion he walked into the office of Mr. Weller, the designer
of the engine, at the A.C. Works and, laying a mutilated mass of metal
down on the desk, exclaimed: “Here you are. How’s this
for an A.C. con.-rod? How soon can I have another?” One had
to be produced, and off down to the track again. He fitted stiffer
valve-springs and reconsidered the “cam contours,” with the
result that the speed kept creeping up and curious rumours regarding
some kind of forced induction floated round the paddock, much to his
amusement.
Mr. Weller tells of a very funny incident. When everything had been
looking promising, one afternoon Harry, smiling as usual, came into the
office and called him down to the yard. “Come and have a look at
the engine,” he said. “I’ve got something to show
you.” And he had. Mr. Weller found the remains of the precious
engine strapped to the back of Harry’s Rolls-Royce, the body of
which he had recently discarded, and in the interval of the fitting of
the new body ran it for “use,” as he called it.
A gaping hole was in the crank-case of the engine big enough to put a
boot in. Harry then produced a tangled remnant which had once done duty
as a connecting-rod, saying: “It shot clean across the track! I
walked back and found it lying on the grass; it was still warm when I
picked it up.” It was quite true he found it in the exact spot he
shed it, but while the design was almost identical, on close inspection
the stamping number proved conclusively that it was not an A.C. rod at
all, but some other unfortunate who must have gone round just before.
As far as I know, the proper remains were never found.
Even this disaster failed to deter Harry. Although the cross-shaft was
smashed and A.C.’s had no spare crank-case available, he very
quickly improvised a bracket and remounted the magneto in front of the
engine, where, driven by a chain, it operated very well. A patch was
welded on the crank-case and the engine was soon running again with as
much “pep” as ever.
With the advent of high and sustained speeds the exhaust valves
commenced to give trouble. The valve-heads could usually be found
reposing on the bottom of the sump, but on one occasion, after a
fruitless three-hour search, Harry discovered the valve-head must have
gone out through the exhaust-pipe!
Once, as the car was coming off the Byfleet banking on the track,
after a lap or two at speed, unmistakable sounds proclaimed that the
“umpteenth” valve-head had broken. It being the day before
it was to race at a meeting, it was a very serious matter, but Harry,
nothing daunted, mechanically began to tie the rope attaching the A.C.
on to the Minerva, saying: “We’ll be with them when the
flag falls.” That his confidence was justified is now a matter
of light-car history. The Minerva I have just mentioned was my car,
which Harry had had fitted with an enclosed body upholstered in Bedford
cord for comfortable winter motoring. It degenerated into a travelling
workshop for the A.C., which little car I always followed proudly to
Brooklands, complete with tow-rope and spares, and nearly always, less
proudly, preceded it home, connected by the rope.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_Temple Press, Ltd._
THE 12-CYLINDER RACING SUNBEAM AFTER HARRY’S SMASH AT BROOKLANDS,
WHEN SEVERAL YARDS OF CORRUGATED IRON FENCING WERE TORN DOWN.
[_Facing p. 312._
]
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_Temple Press, Ltd._
MR. T. O. M. SOPWITH, C.B.E., AND HARRY, WITH THE HAWKER TWO-STROKE
MOTORCYCLE—A POST-WAR ENTERPRISE OF THE HAWKER ENGINEERING COMPANY.
[_Facing p. 312._
]
Soon the A.C. started to reach the 90 miles per hour mark, and it was
then that the single-seater streamline chassis was made in which Mr.
Weller gave great care to questions of weight distribution as well as
the elimination of any external details which might cause resistance.
To this chassis Harry designed and built in his works his now famous
streamlined body, and in his able hands the success of the combination
exceeded everyone’s expectations from the start, and at its début
created a sensation in racing circles.
The car made its first public appearance in its streamlined form at
the Easter Meeting of the B.A.R.C., where it caused a great deal of
enthusiasm, it being the first really streamlined racing car ever
seen at Brooklands. But it was not the first time it had actually
been on the track, so although “terrificly fast for a 1½-litre
car,” as one current motor paper had it, it was handicapped out
of any hope of winning either of the races entered, but succeeded
in taking second place in both. In the second race he made a very
spectacular run through the whole field, with the exception of the
limit man who won the race.
After winning the 1,500 cc. Scratch Race at the Junior Car Club Meeting
and also the very interesting short sprint of 250 yards against Captain
Fraser Nash’s famous G.N. named _Mowgli_, he began to really
“tune up” for records. He was very anxious for his A.C.
to be the first 1,500 cc. car to attain 100 miles an hour, and on
June 3rd he gained the coveted distinction on his A.C. under official
observation. He attacked the flying and standing half-mile records,
which stood to the credit of the G.N., and established world’s
light car records by achieving the speed of 105·15 miles per hour for
the flying and 61·43 miles per hour for the standing starts. Those
records caused a great sensation in the motor world, and even the lay
Press showed some sort of enthusiasm for the latest achievement of the
world whose efforts are generally ignored.
Harry received many letters of congratulation from the people
interested in the first “100 miles an hour light car,” and
I think the real sporting atmosphere of Brooklands was conveyed in a
genial letter of congratulation from Mr. Lionel Martin, who was not too
proud to say he had coveted the distinction for the Aston-Martin car,
which I know Harry appreciated very much, as also the hearty grip of
Captain Nash who, till then, had swept the board at Brooklands with his
G.N., but who now realised he had met his match in the A.C.
In practising for the Midsummer Meeting of the B.A.R.C. on June 25th,
he had a very narrow escape from disaster. I was timing his lap speed
from the stand, when, as he was about to enter the railway straight
at about 100 miles per hour, he suddenly appeared to slide down the
banking, and a huge cloud of dust concealed him from view. A man
immediately behind me, who had been watching the A.C., exclaimed:
“Hawker’s off the track! He’ll need his luck now!” Running down the
steps of the stand, the first person I saw in the paddock was Mr.
Coatalen just getting into his car. He took me round to the spot,
where, as one would quite expect, Harry was standing up by the side
of the track, waving his hands to denote his complete fitness. His
appearance, however, was terrible, as his whole face was covered with
blood, but, rubbing it with his handkerchief, asked for volunteers to
help him out with the car, which could not at first be seen. It had
completely hopped the three-feet concrete parapet that surrounds the
track, and was reposing, right way up, in the long grass.
Remonstrances to him to leave the getting up of the machine to the many
willing volunteers who had arrived on the scene were of no avail; he
hated any sort of fuss, and only left for the paddock when the car was
on the track again. It appeared the cause of the accident was the side
of the bonnet, over which there was no strap, coming loose and hitting
Harry on his forehead, dazing him for the minute. Later, holding out
his goggles, complete, but splintered in a thousand pieces and covered
with blood, Harry said: “Hang it all, these are my favourite
goggles! Just fitted me before; only fit for Triplex display window
now!”
We towed the A.C. home, very little damaged considering the jar it must
have received in negotiating the parapet, and the whole of that night
was spent in taking the body off and looking for any possible trouble.
New wheels were substituted for the two completely buckled ones, and
Harry raced the car the next day at the B.A.R.C. Meeting, where,
unfortunately, engine trouble prevented him winning any races.
After the sprint records he had put up, Harry’s intention was to
go for sustained and still greater speeds with the object of attacking
world’s records irrespective of size before the end of the year,
but he was only destined to live three more weeks, leaving the car, his
loved car on which he had spent so much of his interest and time during
the last six months, at the height of its fame, for others to carry on
to the 120 miles per hour goal.
During this time, Harry and Sopwith displayed much enthusiasm in their
two-stroke motor-cycle production, and they entered and themselves rode
machines in many competitions and trials, with a good amount of success.
Harry designed and made in the works a special racing two-stroke cycle,
but although he had it out on the road on its maiden trip, he was never
to have it out on the track, and after his death the work on this cycle
was not continued.
CHAPTER XXI
THE PASSING OF A BRAVE AVIATOR
“_One moment stood he ... high in the stainless eminence of air.
The next he was not._”
CHAPTER XXI
Harry had elected to pilot a Nieuport Goshawk biplane in the Aerial
Derby on Saturday, July 16th, 1921. Another pilot had already attained
a speed of 166 miles per hour on this machine, and Harry hoped to
maintain British prestige in competition with the principal French
champions, or “Aces,” who were coming over with machines on
which they had exceeded that speed. In short, Harry would get the best
possible performance out of the aeroplane.
* * * * *
“Hawker, Ennadale, Hook Rd., Surbiton.—Machine ready for flying
Tuesday afternoon.—FOLLAND. ”
So reads the telegram which Harry received on Saturday, July 9th,
intimating that on the following Tuesday the machine would be ready for
him to test.
* * * * *
Those who closely followed aviation during the late spring and early
summer of 1921 will remember that there was a striking coincidence
between a spell of exceptionally hot weather and an unusually large
number of flying accidents (although not all fatal).
* * * * *
Exactly what happened or what was the cause will never be known, but
it seems probable that something serious, which, Harry realised, might
cause a fire, occurred while he was fairly high over Burnt Oak, Hendon;
and it was evident that he proceeded to land, but was unable to do so
before the machine took fire. As the aeroplane struck the ground the
petrol tank exploded. That Harry died instantaneously there is no
doubt, for his body, terribly fractured, was found some 200 yards away.
* * * * *
HARRY GEORGE HAWKER.
AGED 31.
DIED, JULY 12, 1921.
* * * * *
I have said enough: but let the tributes which more learned judges have
paid to the father of my Pamela and Mary be widely known.
* * * * *
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_Daily Sketch._
FLORAL TRIBUTES BEING TAKEN TO HARRY’S GRAVE, AT HOOK, SURREY, ON
THE 225 H.P. SUNBEAM, BY MY BROTHER, CAPTAIN L. PEATY.
[_Facing p. 318._
]
“Hawker’s one ambition was to get more from an internal
combustion engine of given size than anyone else had succeeded in
getting, and his perpetual success became a byword.... It was in this
particular that Hawker shone most brilliantly, and never an engine
passed through his hands but it showed an increased power capacity
of from 20 per cent. to 100 per cent. when he had finished with it.
The same applied to his work in aeroplane and motor-car design. He
began where others had left off, and carried what they considered the
final stage of development to a point that they had either not dreamed
of or had definitely decided to be impossible of achievement.... No
one but Hawker could have avoided death at the end of that skid. It
took place on a car which, originally capable of some sixty miles an
hour, regularly accomplished, when he had finished with it, over a
hundred.”
* * * * *
“If ever there was a trier, Hawker was one. Once he made up his
mind to do a thing, he would try, and try, and try again until he
succeeded. Failures served to spur him on to new effort.... He loved
to do things that were worth while, and did them for the sake of doing
them, not with any sort of gain in view.”
* * * * *
“The nation has lost one of it most distinguished airmen, who by
his skill and daring has contributed so much to the success of British
aviation.”—H.M. KING GEORGE V.
* * * * *
“The nation is the poorer for the loss of one who always
displayed such splendid courage and determination. To such pioneers we
owed our supremacy of the air during the war.”—RT. HON. D. LLOYD
GEORGE.
* * * * *
“No man has done more to further the march of modern practical
science than has Mr. Harry Hawker. A man of deeds and few words, his
name will go down in the annals of history as a pioneer airman and
motorist. The development of the aeroplane as an arm of warfare owes
much to his skill and bravery—skill that was not only shown in his
handling of experimental machines in the air, but also in the way
he applied his remarkable fund of practical technical knowledge to
eliminating faults and improving existing designs. His war record as
test pilot of Sopwith machines is unmatched.... Mr. Harry G. Hawker,
A.F.C., will ever be remembered as one to whom the word fear was
absolutely unknown.”
* * * * *
“Harry Hawker was stamped with genuineness. He was a simple,
clean, straight-souled man. He was bred and born to do things. He did
them; he did them thoroughly, deep-bitten. He made and left his mark.
But in all that he did he worked so simply, so single-mindedly, that in
his passing the world of actualities loses not merely a fine airman and
a cunning handler of motor-cars.”
* * * * *
“The world of aviation has lost a champion; his wife, near
relatives and friends have lost something which is quite irreparable,
but in our sorrow let us be comforted by the thought that Harry Hawker
died as he had lived, doing the work he loved.”
THE END
PRINTED BY THE ANCHOR PRESS, LTD. TIPTREE ESSEX, ENGLAND.
Transcriber’s Notes
Page xv — Ascent changed to Asçent.
Page xxii — Capain changed to Captain.
Page 79 — nseo changed to nose.
Page 83 — seal changed to sea.
Page 87 — 3.2 changed to 3.20.
Page 94 — 8.8 am changed to 8.08 am.
Page 139 & Page 140 — Denham changed to Denman.
Page 146 — experiened changed to experienced.
Page 146 — manœurve changed to manœuvre.
Page 191 — Mercedes changed to Mercèdes.