CHAPTER IX
AERIAL PROPAGANDA IN AUSTRALIA
Back to Australia—Harry Expresses Some Views—Australian Air Policy—He Speaks of Stabilising Devices—A Reminiscence of the Round-Britain Seaplane Flight—A Civic Welcome—Harry’s Father Speaks—Assembling the Tabloid—First Flight in Australia—Preparations for Flight—Flying from a Street—An Object Lesson at Government House—Harry Dispels a Fallacy—And Speaks about Whirling Propellers—A Flying Call on the Governor-General—Interrupts a Game of Tennis—What the Governor-General Thought of Harry—Old Melbourne Friends Fly—The Australian Press—Enterprising Lady Passengers—Passengers pay £3 per Minute—Curious Attitude of an Association Official—Organisation of a Big Public Flying Exhibition—Harry’s Views on Flying—A Crowd of 25,000—Is Difficult to Handle—And Affects Harry’s Programme—An Accident—Without Serious Consequences—The Minister of Defence Ascends 3,500 Feet.
CHAPTER IX
There arrived at Fremantle on Tuesday, January 13th, 1914, R.M.S. Maloja, having on board the Sopwith Tabloid and Harry, who landed at Melbourne on the following day to visit his parents. Interviewed by a representative of the Press, Harry said the difference between a modern biplane, such as that he had with him, and an old “box-kite” biplane, an example of which the Australian Government had recently acquired, was as great as that between a motor-car and a bullock wagon or pantechnicon. Aviation, he said, had made great strides during the previous year or two. The “box-kite” biplanes were still regarded as serviceable school machines, but had not sufficiently good speed capabilities for military requirements, which the higher-powered modern machine undoubtedly possessed. He pointed out that the costs of the Tabloid and of a “box-kite” machine were about equal, and that, considering its power, the former was the cheapest machine on the market then.
With an eye to business, Harry said he was prepared to fly from Melbourne to Sydney in about 4½ hours. He would also loop-the-loop. The latter offer was received with some surprise, as no one, least of all a layman, had contemplated the possibility of doing this in anything but a monoplane then. He was prepared to take off from the street in his small speedy biplane, provided there were not, of course, any cross wires or paddocks. Reminded of the attempt of one, Cugnet, to rise from the Melbourne cricket ground, Harry said he would not have tried to do that in a slow, low-powered machine. “What Cugnet did said more for his pluck than his brains,” was Harry’s way of putting it.
Regarding stabilising devices, Harry declared them to be superfluous. “The bird has no mechanical stability device,” he said. “The muscles of its wings give it stability, and, as pilots have become more skilful and have gained a better knowledge of their machines, the risk of capsizing has been reduced to practically zero.” Aviation, said Harry, had advanced in the direction of knowledge and greater power and control. Never had he heard of an aviator being blown over. On account of the high degree of natural stability in the modern aeroplane it was, he said, a difficult matter to keep a machine on its back when deliberately flying upside down. Natural stability received too scanty attention, and if pilots would let their machines “fly themselves,” so to speak, there would be fewer accidents, was Harry’s opinion.
“Flying,” he said, “is full of interest and is not half so dangerous as the public imagine. Over 90 per cent. of the accidents are due to carelessness, not necessarily on the part of the pilot, but of workmen who leave wires slack and do not test the structural parts of the aeroplane.”
Asked for reminiscences of the Round-Britain Seaplane Flight, Harry replied: “I don’t think there is much left to be said about it. Every inch of the way has been discussed and every experience told. We were in danger several times; out of sight of land, and at times out of sight of the sea beneath as well, owing to thick fog. The strongest impression I have retained is of an old Scotsman. Having landed somewhere on the Scotch coast to repair an oil-tube, we were met by this gentleman sauntering down with his dog. Was he astonished? Not at all. One would have thought he had seen thousands of aeroplanes. His conversation was limited. He sat on a stone while we worked, and asked us where we were going and why, and whether ‘Yon thing all goes up together,’ a question which has since become almost a classic among the humorous anecdotes of aviators. We assured him it did. He did not seem in the least surprised when we came or when we departed.”
On his return home to St. Kilda, Harry was welcomed by the Mayor, at the Town Hall. It was mid-day, and there was a distinguished assembly. The presence of the Postmaster-General was significant, for postal authorities had then, and even now still have, to be educated as to the value of aircraft for mail-carrying. The Mayor said they had all followed with the greatest interest their fellow-townsman’s advancement in the Old World, and it was hoped when he returned to England he would put up further records in the world of flight. Mr. Agar Wynne spoke of Australians having all wished Hawker every success in his attempted flight round Great Britain. There, in Australia, they were far away from the big centres, and it was only by the push and energy of their young citizens at the other end of the world that Australia had become known among all the nations. He expressed regret that Hawker had again to leave Australia, but hoped that when he came back again they would be able to congratulate him on still greater achievements. After others had said their say, Harry in reply expressed his pleasure in knowing that as an Australian he had gained successes in England, where, on his return, he would do his best on behalf of Australia. Harry’s father said that amidst all the successes and applause his son had not forgotten his home. He had brought a machine with him, partly of his own design, which had not been publicly demonstrated in England to any extent. Victoria was to have the first opportunity of seeing that machine fly.
The welcomes over, Harry lost no time in assembling the Tabloid, on which the necessary work was almost complete by January 22nd. On Monday, the 26th, the machine was on view, assembled, at the C.L.C. Motor and Engineering Works, Melbourne. The highest-powered aeroplane ever seen in Australia, it was regarded as a most serviceable type. A trial flight, which Harry provisionally arranged to make on the 26th, had to be postponed owing to the fact that the special castor oil, necessary for lubricating the Gnome engine, had not passed the Customs. There was talk of Harry taking part in the Sydney Aerial Derby, timed to be flown in February, and it was generally supposed that, if it did compete, the Tabloid would win easily. Harry certainly was considering the question of making a non-stop flight from Melbourne to Sydney on behalf of a well-known rubber tyre firm. The Australian Defence Department had recently acquired a number of aeroplanes, and it was hoped that some at least of these could take part in a race to Sydney.
Harry made his first flight in Australia on Tuesday, January 27th, 1914, a fortnight after his arrival. Several flying-men had visited Australia before, and one or two had left the ground, but Harry was fairly acclaimed the first to show Australians the immense possibilities of mechanical flight. One who stood by while he carefully went over every nut with a spanner, tested each wire and each moving part, recalled to mind previous flights that failed, and bethought himself care is not the whole of an airman’s equipment. But the tightening of a nut might prevent a broken neck, and it was little wonder that an airman should not overlook anything that might mean the saving of his own neck.
There was nothing theatrical about the preparations. The hero of the day did not gaze anxiously up aloft, frown, and shake his head. He did not have long and heated arguments with his mechanic, nor did he attire himself in large yellow clothes or look unduly nonchalant with a cigarette hanging from the lower lip. The onlookers, contrary, perhaps, to expectations, saw only the man whose interest was centred in carefully tightening the nuts and adjusting the bracing-wires. As one said, each airman who came to Melbourne had a different expression just prior to the appointed hour for flight. Cugnet, he said, looked stern and perhaps a little sad; Hammond bore the impassive countenance of an Indian chief; but Hawker smiled as if it were an enjoyable game.
His decision to make his maiden Australian flight was, apparently, sudden. In the morning it was announced there would be no flying, but by 4 o’clock in the afternoon the news had gone round in some mysterious manner to the effect that he was about to make a trial flight. One wing was put on the machine in the garage in which it was stationed, the other being put on and adjusted when the machine had been wheeled out into the street. When everything had been trued up, and there only remained the engine to be tested, Harry got into his seat, the propeller was swung, and several people lost their hats in the draught caused by the rotating mass. Much dust was raised too. The engine having cracked and spluttered and roared, and Harry being assured of its good tune, he waved his arm, and the four begrimed individuals who had been holding the machine back let go. Down New Street, lined by crowds on both pavements, the machine raced for thirty yards or so before rising into the air. Harry climbed steeply, at once turning westward over the golf-course, while a maddened horse, drawing a van, rose on its hind legs, seemingly pointing out the aeroplane to the crowd, who watched a beautiful demonstration of the aviator’s art.
At a height of about 600 feet Harry described right-and left-hand circles, banking at 45 degrees and more. Then he dived at what appeared to be an unprecedented speed to within a few feet of the ground, afterwards steeplechasing above fences and trees. He climbed and climbed again, alternately switching off his engine and diving, as it were, to the attack. Finally he mounted higher than previously and set off in the direction of Toorak. After following the valley of the Yarra at a height of about 5,000 feet, he glided down above the grounds of Government House and switched on again at about 2,000 feet. He then crossed above the lake in Albert Park, returning by the seashore to the Elsternwick golf-links, to which he descended in a fine spiral glide, ending in a sharp vertical dive and a beautiful landing at only 34 miles per hour. The flight occupied about 20 minutes. He was received with vociferous cheering. As the good horseman after finishing a journey sees that his horse is fed, watered, and bedded before he seeks his own dinner and repose, so did Harry carefully stow away his machine out of reach of the crowd before yielding to any calls for speeches and interviews.
It appears that airmen who had previously made unsuccessful attempts at flight in Australia sought to justify their failure by declaring the Australian air to be unsafe and mysteriously different from the air of Britain or France. This fallacy was clearly dispelled by Harry. “There is not the slightest difference,” he said. “It is the same sort of air, except that it is clearer than the English. When I crossed the Albert Park lake I could see Geelong very plainly.”
Speaking of his machine, Harry said: “The engine worked splendidly. The highest barograph record shows 5,000 feet. The engine developed its full revolutions, and I was doing 90 miles per hour.” He explained that there was one point upon which the Australian needed education. That was—that it is unsafe to get in the way of an aeroplane when it is rising from or coming to ground. “The whirling propeller,” he said, “has played a part in not a few tragedies at European aviation meetings, and crowding in on it is a very good method of suicide.”
This short trial flight which Harry made was considered by far the best that had been seen in Australia, both as regards speed and control. Getting off from the street was in itself a unique performance. The value of swift flight under precise control in warfare was appreciated by the onlookers as incalculable.
A few days later, on February 3rd to be precise, the Governor-General, Lord Denman, received a literally flying visit from Harry. It was shortly after luncheon, when Lord and Lady Denman, about to play tennis with some friends whom they were entertaining, were surprised by a telephone message to the effect that Harry had just left Elsternwick and would be over to see them in a few minutes. Their Excellencies had barely time to reach the lawn before a tiny speck became discernible against the blue sky and fleecy white clouds to the south-east. After very few minutes had elapsed, Harry in the Tabloid passed, seemingly slowly, over the massive buildings of Government House, at a height somewhere between 3,000 and 5,000 feet. To those on the ground it was apparent that Harry had experienced no difficulty in finding his way, for he came straight as a die from the south-east, where Elsternwick lay, and as soon as he was above his destination he began to descend in a magnificent spiral, whizzing round and round and down and down at a terrific pace. As he came nearer to the ground he executed several manœuvres for the benefit of those below. Making sharp turns, he banked his machine to such a degree that many considered it miraculous that he kept his seat at all. Then, when above the polo ground and facing Government House, he glided down to the lawn, steeply and with startling suddenness.
Harry’s main concern while landing was thinking out how he should present himself to the Governor-General. As the Tabloid came to rest, like a great winged beetle, at the far end of the lawn, Lord Denman and his party walked over to it and came upon an unassuming, clean-shaven young man, clean and unruffled as if he had just done no more than merely walk from St. Kilda road opposite. A little bit nervous, Harry shook hands and thanked the Governor-General for the warm welcome. He had, he said, a very good flight from Elsternwick, and the stiff breeze which blew did not trouble him at all. The landing, too, had presented no difficulties.
Harry stayed for about half an hour, during which he explained his machine to his hosts. They were particularly interested in the cockpit and controls. Harry learned that Lord Denman was very interested in aviation and before going out to Australia had enjoyed one or two flights as a passenger in a Grahame-White biplane. There was also present Captain Pollocks, A.D.C. to the Governor-General, who had also had some flying experience in England. The departure was as informal as the arrival. The machine was pulled round a little so that it would have a clear run against the wind. Harry then said he thought he “had better be getting along,” and, after again thanking His Excellency for his warm reception, he climbed in and was away.
After skimming along the ground for thirty yards or so, the machine rose grandly over Government House and sailed at full speed round the grounds, under such perfect control that the whole business looked very simple. Again he banked his machine on sharp turns, and at times he appeared to be almost on the point of turning over. But Harry did not indulge in any trick flying of that nature, but was contented to attempt no more than well-balanced turns and “zooms.” One of his dives was so sudden that Harry’s manager, Mr. Sculthorpe, remarked that it looked more like the influence of an awkward air-pocket than an intentional manœuvre. After climbing to an altitude of about 3,500 feet, Harry at last headed south-east for Elsternwick, leaving a trail of smoke behind. In a few minutes the machine, after dwindling to a mere speck, passed from sight.
When informed subsequently of the allegation that Harry was far more nervous of meeting him than of flying in the teeth of a gale, Lord Denman laughingly said that so far as he could see, “This young Australian airman seemed to be little concerned over one thing or the other.” His Excellency added that the flight seemed not to have any physical effect on Harry. “His hand was as steady as mine when we met,” he said.
On his return to Elsternwick, Harry, feeling less restrained, gave an even more spirited display of fancy flying for the benefit of the crowd gathered to watch his landing. He alighted on the golf-links without incident, and after a brief rest made two more flights, each time accompanied by a passenger. His two passengers were two old Melbourne friends, Cecil de Frager, who subsequently lost his life in a motor-cycling accident in France while serving as a captain with the Australian Forces, and Maurice Smith.
Commenting on Harry’s flights, the Melbourne Argus remarked that a characteristic feature common to all of them was the complete absence of theatrical display. Harry flew as unconcernedly as an expert drove a motor-car, and apparently with the same degree of ease and comfort. He made the whole business delightfully simple, and his personal preparations before starting a flight were considerably less formal than those of a motorcyclist before mounting his machine. He wore ordinary clothes, his sole extra covering or protection being a pair of goggles. When he stepped on to the lawn at Government House he was not even ruffled. His hair was nicely parted and his tie straight. To the uninitiated it seemed absurd to think that he had been tearing through the air at 90 miles per hour, a mile above the earth. One could understand his not wearing a dustcoat in such circumstances, but might have expected something less ordinary than a lounge suit and a grey cap.
Another matter upon which the Press commented was the rapidity with which the Tabloid was prepared for action. At 2.20 p.m. the machine had been reposing more or less dismantled in the garage of the C.L.C. Motor Works. In less than an hour it was soaring aloft with a man, nearly as high up as the top of Mount Buffalo. In that brief interim the biplane was pulled out from its shed, the wings were attached, and everything made ready for flight. On no occasion did Harry omit to thoroughly examine his machine before flight.
Although his intention to fly to Government House had been kept a close secret, the flight was, of course, witnessed by several thousands of the populace, who happened to catch sight of the machine or hear the murmur of the Gnome engine as it passed high overhead. A large crowd, including nearly a hundred amateur and professional photographers, gathered at Elsternwick to see the start and end of the flights. A special exhibition of flying was arranged to take place at the Caulfield Racecourse, and while in the air Harry distributed handbills announcing the fact and vouchers valid for admission to the course.
On February 3rd, the day on which he flew to Government House, Harry was waited on by two ladies who desired to fly as passengers. The flights were arranged to take place on the Saturday following, although one lady offered £10 to be taken there and then, so that she might be certain of being the first lady passenger in Australia. She was disappointed, however, as Harry was not prepared to undertake any more flying until Saturday.
Passenger flight tickets found a ready sale at £20 each. In anticipation of a rush for tickets at the Caulfield Racecourse meeting, combined railway and admission tickets were on sale at tourist booking-offices beforehand. Special tramway services were also announced. The biplane was arranged to be in a prominent position where all who entered the course would be able to make a reasonably close inspection of it.
THE DETACHABLE BOAT CARRIED ON THE ATLANTIC FLIGHT.
[Facing p. 142.
THE SOPWITH TRANS-ATLANTIC BIPLANE IN THE HANGAR NEAR ST. JOHNS, NEWFOUNDLAND.
[Facing p. 142.
On February 4th the Melbourne Argus published a letter from the Hon. Secretary of the Caulfield Progress Association, protesting against “the use of the public park and recreation reserve known as Caulfield Racecourse for a display for which a charge was to be made,” and pressed the point that the proceeding was illegal. This letter did not, however, cut enough ice to prevent the Melbourne Argus from announcing on the following day special railway services for the occasion, as well as the intention of Sir John Madden and Sir George Reid to be present on the course.
Further correspondence relating to the use of the public preserves was received and published by the Melbourne Argus. One correspondent expressed surprise at the short-sightedness of the Hon. Secretary of the Caulfield Progress Association in objecting to the racecourse being used in the interests of aviation, and highly commended the action of the authorities in recognising the national aspect of the event. Another correspondent, probably a pessimist this time, who expressed doubt as to the power of the Minister of Lands to give permission to make a charge for admission to a display on the Caulfield Racecourse, stated that nothing short of an Act of Parliament could give the organisers of the display authority to make a charge. The Hon. Secretary of the Caulfield Progress Association endeavoured to justify his first by another letter, which appeared in the Melbourne Argus on February 6th. The morning paper announced that the gates would be opened at 1.30 p.m. The public were warned that on no account would they be permitted to encroach on the straight required for rising and alighting, but they would be allowed to cross the course between the flights. Further train and tram services were announced.
The Australian Press were not lacking in giving every possible support to aviation, and in particular to Harry’s enterprise. On Saturday, February 7th, the Melbourne Argus devoted a whole page to descriptive details and pictures of the Tabloid, with which Harry was to give his exhibition in the afternoon. Asked how much there was in the art of flying, Harry replied: “All you have to do is to get off the ground, keep up, and get back again, when and where you want to.” Replying to a request for his opinion as to a certain accident, when an aeroplane fell to the ground and was smashed as if it were an egg, Harry said that the source of the trouble was a heavy machine flying low down near the ground. What one required most of all was plenty of air beneath one. He himself never from choice flew below 3,000 feet. If anything happened while one was well up, there was a chance of making a good recovery before making contact with solid earth.
Upwards of 25,000 people assembled at the Caulfield Racecourse to witness Harry’s flying exhibition on the Saturday afternoon. In New Zealand, Sydney, and Adelaide, the public had already seen a fair amount of good flying, but, excepting those who had happened to see his previous informal flights, the people of Melbourne had not until this Saturday made the acquaintance of an experienced pilot who was as much, if not more, at ease in the air as on the ground. Many factors probably accounted for the extraordinarily large attendance. The display was unique, for one thing; then the fact of Harry being an Australian, and young at that, would draw many from pure sentiment. Again, was not the man of the hour distinguished in the world of flight?
The early part of the day was rainy and cheerless and there was little improvement by the time the flights were to start. The outlook was far from promising. Nevertheless, all the scheduled special trains, numbering eighteen, were filled to overflowing, carrying 8,500 people in all. All roads leading to the racecourse were filled with motor and other vehicular traffic, which accounted for another 17,000 people. It was a veritable Derby Day. Although several thousands paid to enter the course, as many, and probably more, occupied points of vantage outside, from where a clear view of the sky was to be had. The top of the fence which surrounded the field was lined with hundreds of heads of boys, youths, and men, all craning their necks to see as much as possible without expending more than a little energy. Others thronged the roads and streets in the vicinity.
It was most unfortunate that, owing to the fact that the crowd was too great to be amenable to the wants and dictates of the management, the display was marred. Carried away by their enthusiasm and curiosity, parts of the crowd overran the landing-ground, and so forced Harry, in the interests of their safety, to abandon some of his programme. Harry had previously been at great pains to choose this straight stretch and arrange for it to be kept clear as a starting-and alighting-ground. But across the end of the straight, near a newly-erected grandstand, a densely-packed mass of people gathered, while hundreds of others persisted in lining the rail of the steeplechase course. It was thus rendered very difficult for Harry to land, and these two masses of people considerably reduced the landing-space available. In fact, as a result of the heedlessness of the crowds to warnings, cajoling, and the attempted force of the police, at the end of his second flight Harry was forced to make a fast landing, which terminated by his swerving on the ground and running into the railing at the flat side of the straight, where the crowd was exceptionally dense. One man, Mr. G. K. Francis, an uncle of Harry’s friend and mechanic, Kauper, was struck on the nose by the still slowly revolving propeller, and several others in the vicinity received blows from other parts of the machine. Fortunately no one was seriously injured, and the damage done to the machine was very slight. Apart from a damaged landing chassis and a splintered propeller, no other fracture occurred. Before this happened Harry had decided that the crowd was making matters impossible for him. His original intention was to make a solo flight first and then follow this up by a series of passenger flights. A Miss Dixon was to be the first passenger and Mrs. Clive Daniel the second. Lord Denman, the Governor-General, accepted an invitation to make a flight. Several other passenger flights had also been arranged beforehand.
However, when the first ascent had been made according to schedule, the crowd became unmanageable. The primary cause of the trouble was without doubt the immense enthusiasm of the crowd and the intense admiration which they had for Hawker. After his first flight, Harry managed to have his machine drawn back to its original starting-point near the beginning of the straight. Then the crowd which blocked that end of the course broke from behind a police cordon and swarmed round the biplane. The number of police present was inadequate to be of any avail. The crowd would not be forced back. The two or three mounted police who were stationed in the straight galloped up to the assistance of their colleagues on foot and did their utmost to force the crowd away. Miss Dixon had just walked down the course to the point where the biplane stood, ready to take her seat. The crowd swarmed round on every side, and meanwhile people from the other side of the straight were climbing the fences and running across the track. The police did the most they could to stem this new tide, but fully half an hour elapsed before anything approaching order was restored. Even then the people lining the end of the straight had advanced their position a considerable way up the track, and thousands were lining the high fence on the flat side of the course. Harry and his mechanics and members of the racing club harangued the crowd and warned them of the danger, but their efforts to clear the course were of no avail. Harry therefore decided not to take the risk of making a landing in the cramped area with a passenger on board. Nevertheless, in order that the entertainment should not be entirely spoiled, he determined to make one more flight, with Miss Dixon as a passenger, and land at Elsternwick.
His altitude record having been broken in England a few days previously, Harry had felt inclined to attempt to regain it in the course of his exhibition on Saturday, but in view of all the circumstances which I have outlined he abandoned the idea. Nevertheless, his second flight was an effective exhibition of altitude flying. He topped 6,000 feet and was almost lost to the view of the spectators. Descending after a flight of about fifteen minutes, Harry experienced the landing difficulties which he had expected and which terminated as already described. Sweeping in from above the new grandstand, he switched off his engine and swooped down, only to find the space too small for landing. He switched on again and passed above the crowd. Three times he repeated this manœuvre, which the crowd cheered and regarded as an intentional feature of the exhibition. On the fourth occasion he landed and ran into the crowd as explained. Speaking of the accident afterwards, Harry said: “I made a very bad landing, but it was a very difficult place. If there had not been so many people there it would have been all right. It was difficult work, but the machine stood the test.”
To review these flights in greater detail.
However great was the difficulty when near the ground, Harry was perfect master of the machine in the air. Like a snipe hopping along the ground before it takes wing, the machine shot forward. No one seemed really to expect that it would fly, and the shout which rent the air as the machine left the ground seemed one of half astonishment and half satisfaction. At first Harry was content to traverse the course, circling round and round above the heads of the people, who cheered and cheered again. Turning the nose of his machine into the south-westerly wind which blew, Harry began to climb in ever-narrowing circles. Suddenly he pulled back the “joy-stick,” and from the crowd below came a long-drawn “Ah!” To those on the ground it seemed impossible that the machine could right itself. But Harry had done no more than wilfully stall his machine, which, instead of turning upside down, merely slid down about two hundred feet on its tail. Righted once more, the machine was made to bank, volplane, twist and turn like a great bird circling and hovering above the sea of upturned faces. Then apparently it grew tired and swooped gracefully to earth again. Passing over the stewards’ stand, Harry several times playfully swooped down and up, leaving only a few feet between the machine and their heads. Momentarily the crowd felt a thrill of fear.
Cheers rent the air as the machine at last came to a standstill, and when Harry, after he had scrambled out, walked towards the grandstand, there was a general rush to congratulate him and shake his hand. Thus ended the first flight.
The second flight seemed to the watchers below far more sensational than the first. Scarcely waiting to circle the course, Harry began to climb. The bark of the motor became no more than a purr as the machine forced its way upwards, towards the sun apparently; 5,000 feet up, the Tabloid appeared as a soaring bird to the crowd below. Suddenly the purring of the motor ceased, and like a black-winged peer of the eagle, the biplane sailed across the sky, twisting and turning as it were in pursuit of visible prey. As it descended, the machine appeared to change from black to grey. It was swallowed up by cloud and disappeared altogether, only to return to earth with surprising suddenness.
“Wet? No!” said Harry afterwards. “That wasn’t a wet cloud I went through, it was a dry one. White clouds are always dry. You go through black ones, and you’ll know the difference. A white cloud is just like a dry white fog and the sun lights this up beautifully. It is not a very clear day down here, but it is really a very nice day up there. I was thinking while I was up that there seemed to be just about one hundred miles of snow mountains, and the sun was lighting up every one of them.”
When Miss Dixon came down from the clouds, she, too, remarked on their beauty as seen from above. Miss Dixon incidentally paid £20 for the trip, which worked out at more than £3 per minute. Although it was a costly business, many other ladies wished the flight could have been theirs. Mrs. Clive Daniel who had also made arrangements for an excursion on Saturday afternoon, was naturally very disappointed at not being able to make the flight owing to the unavoidable change in Harry’s plans. Mrs Daniel went so far as to offer Harry an extra £10 if he made the flight, but Harry would not incur the risk. He offered instead to make another flight with Mrs. Daniel from Elsternwick after landing Miss Dixon there. When it was suggested by someone the ladies should toss a coin in order to determine who should have the privilege of the first trip, Miss Dixon declined to abandon her bargain of having purchased the right to be the first lady passenger, and accordingly she made the flight, which I will now describe.
For about five minutes the biplane circled the course and then, pointing its nose homeward, flew directly for Elsternwick. The journey took about a minute, and Harry brought the machine down on the golf-links. Apparently it was Harry’s unlucky day, for a further accident befell the machine as it came to earth.
When the news spread abroad that Harry had decided to land at Elsternwick, another great crowd assembled there. As soon as he saw the people, Harry realised that he was confronted with a very difficult landing problem. In order not to injure anybody, Harry purposely made a steep descent. Unfortunately the biplane swung sharply round when it touched the ground, with the result that the propeller splintered, the landing chassis was badly wrenched from its mountings, and sundry wires were strained. Luckily, no one received any injury.
Miss Dixon thoroughly enjoyed her experience, and her enthusiasm was shown by the fact that she at once arranged to make another flight with Harry at Sydney.
As Harry had been careful to bring one or two spare propellers with him to Australia, the damaged Tabloid was soon restored to flying trim.
On the following Wednesday, four days after the foregoing sensational incidents, Harry had the honour of taking the Minister of Defence, Senator Millen, for a flight. Senator Millen thus had the distinction of being the first member of the Federal Cabinet to make an aeroplane ascent in Australia. He was greatly impressed by the bird’s-eye view of Caulfield, Malvern, Armadale, and St. Kilda, which he had during a flight lasting about a quarter of an hour at a height of 3,500 feet and a speed of 90 miles per hour. The flight was kept as secret as possible. Nevertheless a crowd assembled in the hope of seeing something, and, as usual, they pushed forward and occupied the fairway. Mounted on a box, Harry’s father announced that there would be no flight until all had withdrawn to the wall. This had the desired effect, and Harry took his seat, ready to make a preliminary test flight. After a run of about 40 yards, the machine rose gracefully, and, steering a south-easterly course, Harry climbed to about 1,000 feet. After circling round the park, he switched off his engine and glided to earth, landing on precisely the same spot from which he had taken off.
Surrounded by a circle of friends, including the Minister of Customs, Senator Millen watched this preliminary display with obvious interest, and when it was over he made his way forward as it were to congratulate Harry. But a burly policeman intercepted him and requested him to retire. At the time very few of those present knew what the Minister really intended to do. Senator Millen, turning to the constable, spoke a few words to the latter, who at once broke into a smile and allowed him to proceed. During the ensuing minutes the policeman bore the air of one who had been entrusted with an important secret.
But the Senator’s real mission was soon disclosed. Putting on a pair of motor-goggles, he handed his hat to one of the mechanics, and, after donning a cap, stepped up, and down into the passenger’s cockpit. “Good boy, Millen!” shouted somebody, and the crowd applauded. This time the machine took the air after a run of no more than thirty yards. Heading into the wind, they soared steadily above the electric power station until the only background was the cloudless sky. After attaining a height of 3,000 feet, Harry, heading eastward, took the Minister over the neighbouring suburbs. The purr of the engine was distinctly heard by the people as the machine passed above their heads. A white cloud from the exhaust-pipe indicated the path of the machine, like the foam in the wake of a liner. To the onlookers it seemed as if the machine proceeded out to sea during part of the flight, but Harry explained afterwards that he did not actually cross the water, but merely followed the coast. As the aeroplane turned down-wind, Lieut. Petre and Lieut. Harrison, of the Defence Department, estimated its speed at over 100 miles per hour. Time and again it appeared to pitch and roll under the influence of the strong breeze, but always under perfect control. After flying for about a quarter of an hour at considerable height, Harry shut off his engine and glided down, heading into the wind. After sinking and disappearing for a few seconds behind the Elsternwick Hotel, the machine climbed just high enough to clear the building by a few feet and swept between two tall pine-trees, close to the ground, skimming along for about 50 yards, a few inches above the turf, as if undecided whether or not to land. Then it touched gently and, after a single hop, came to a standstill. Senator Millen was received with loud cheering as he stepped from his seat.
After his flight with Harry, Senator Millen said: “I cannot say that there was any feature one could describe as thrilling; nothing can make one feel that one is heroic or any sort of a dare-devil: it seems so beautifully simple, so steady, and so safe.” After stating other opinions of his flight, he said: “My flight with Hawker was one of the most enjoyable experiences I have had. Hawker is master of his machine and seems to manipulate it by a movement of his finger. While I watched him he never at any time made a movement with his arms. In any case there is very little room to move in the cockpit. I have done a great deal of fast motoring from time to time, but there is no comparison between that and soaring in the air.”
Harry afterwards took Lieut. Harrison, an airman of the Australian Defence Force, and then Mr. T. G. White, holder of the motor speed record between Melbourne and Adelaide. Mr. Francis Syme also had his first experience in the air. On each occasion the rising and alighting of the machine was accompanied by vociferous applause.
Harry found the weather conditions the most boisterous he had yet experienced in Australia. The strength of the wind he estimated at 35 miles per hour, and the fact that it was not steady, but gusty, called for most skilful piloting. The distance covered in his flight with Senator Millen was about 20 miles. Prior to this flight Harry had only flown an aggregate of about three hours in Australia, in which time he covered in all about 270 miles. With Lieut. Harrison he ascended to about 3,800 feet.
Harry certainly displayed a keen appreciation of the economics of flying propaganda while in Australia. Naturally his main object was to popularise aviation as much as possible, and to do this he spared no effort in giving exhibition flights at principal centres of population. On the several occasions when he spoke of his preparedness to fly from Melbourne to Sydney in under five hours he did not overlook the fact that a remunerative inducement was a necessary concomitant. During most of the time he would be flying over open country where there would be few people to appreciate the object lesson provided by the aeroplane. Therefore the expense of the flight must be retrieved.
The weather conditions on Friday, February 13th, being good, Harry had his machine out at 10.30 a.m. Two ladies and two gentlemen enjoyed fairly lengthy flights during the morning, and Harry could have continued carrying passengers until sundown had not the weather been too good! As there was absolutely no wind it was difficult for Harry to land below 40 miles per hour, and, the space available being rather limited, he would not risk any further landings. As usual, a large number of spectators was present. “How do they get wind of it?” asked Harry. “I thought we had kept this little flight absolutely secret.” But whenever the biplane was ready for ascent there was an eager crowd waiting to watch and applaud or to take photographs. By 2 o’clock a huge crowd had assembled outside the garage in anticipation of witnessing further flights, but they had to be disappointed as there was not a breeze of strength to ensure a safe landing. Although Harry several times sent word to the effect that there would be no flying during the afternoon, the people were content to wait until dusk in a spirit of expectation.
During Harry’s stay at Melbourne the Tabloid was continuously on exhibition, either in the air or in the garage. Although a charge of only one shilling was levied for admission to the garage, the sum received soon totalled more than fifty pounds, representing over one thousand visitors. To a Londoner this may seem, at first sight, very few, but when it is realised that the population of the whole of Australia is practically equal to that of London, it is clear that the show was a great success.