CHAPTER VI
SECOND ATTEMPT TO FLY ROUND BRITAIN
Harry Recovers—And Takes Charge Again—An Early Start—Almost Unseen by the Starter—Thick Fog—Behind Time at Ramsgate—An Explosion—A Favourable Breeze—But Bumpy Air off Cromer—Scarborough—A Forced Landing—Five Hundred Miles in a Day—Resting at Beadnell Overnight—The Second Day—A Spiral Glide at Aberdeen—A Terrible Journey to Oban—The Third Day—A Water-Logged Float—Another Forced Landing—Ireland—“A Piece of Ghastly Bad Luck”—Kauper Goes to Hospital.
CHAPTER VI
By Thursday, August 21st, 1913, Harry had made good progress towards recovery, and expected to be ready to make a second attempt on Saturday, August 23rd, exactly a week after his first effort. Pickles held himself in readiness in case Harry should still be unable to proceed. However, by Monday morning, the 25th, Harry had completely recovered from the effects of sunstroke and the exhaust gases, and a start was made at 5.30 a.m.
Public interest was not lacking through his being the only competitor. As a matter of fact, the previous failure served to enhance the appreciation of the difficulties with which the aviator had to contend on such a journey. The physical trial was dramatically revealed through the pilot’s collapse at Yarmouth on August 16th, and in the second attempt a special sporting touch was introduced by the doubtful possibility of his getting further or not so far, which more than compensated for the absence of other competitors to provide a neck-to-neck race.
Harry tested the machine on Saturday the 23rd, and was well satisfied with everything. The engine had been muffled by the fitting of a longer exhaust-pipe. Although at dawn on Monday the atmosphere was bright and clear, a thick mist rolled up, and as Harry, this time making a flying start, passed above the starting-line punctually at 5.30 a.m., only a fleeting glimpse of the machine was enjoyed by those aboard the Enchantress, as she sped overhead.
Nevertheless, in the Solent Harry found the weather clearer than on the other occasion, but in the Channel he met with a good deal of fog and had to rely on his compass several times while skirting the South Coast. He was wearing helmet and goggles and running no risk of sunstroke this time. Seeing that he and Kauper had been over this stage of the course only a week before, he hoped they would reach Ramsgate in slightly better time, but the fog was against them, and it was not until 8.08 a.m. that they alighted at Ramsgate, having taken 159 minutes from Southampton, or 15 minutes longer than when they made their first attempt. They expected to sacrifice a little speed through the provision of the longer exhaust-pipe, which would offer a slight additional resistance to the free passage of the burnt gases from the engine.
Photo by]
[J. Cecil Gould, Weybridge.
THE SOPWITH DOLPHIN, PUT THROUGH ITS INITIAL TESTS BY HARRY.]
[Facing p. 94.
Photo by]
[J. Cecil Gould, Weybridge.
THE SOPWITH CAMEL—A WORLD-FAMOUS FIGHTING BIPLANE. HUNDREDS OF MACHINES OF THIS TYPE WERE TESTED BY HARRY DURING THE WAR.
[Facing p. 94.
Exactly one hour afterwards Harry started for Yarmouth. Between Ramsgate and Southwold they were practically out of sight of land all the time, so dense was the fog. A curious incident, which happily had no serious consequences, befell them while they were crossing the Thames mouth. Kauper accidentally switched off the engine. His switching on again was accompanied by a loud explosion in the streamlined exhaust-pipe, due to the unburnt charge taking fire. The pipe was deformed from a streamlined to a circular section, but otherwise no damage was done, and there was no necessity to alight. Kauper felt the effects of the exhaust gases a little, but Harry was as fit as a fiddle.
Yarmouth was reached at 10.36 a.m., the 96 miles from Ramsgate having been traversed in 1 hour 28 minutes through the aid of a southerly breeze. Mooring their machine, Harry and Kauper went on board the boat of an Australian friend, Mr. A. Williamson, where a short rest and a meal were enjoyed. Before leaving, they were presented with a sprig of Australian eucalyptus as a memento. Kauper was feeling the strain of the flight, but not severely enough to prevent his proceeding. The official inspection had been completed quickly, but one or two minor adjustments necessitated their spending a whole hour at Yarmouth.
At 11.44 they were well under way for Scarborough, 150 miles distant. There was still much fog about, and off Cromer the air was particularly bumpy. After relying on the compass during the greater part of the journey, and flying at a steady height of 1,000 feet, they reached Scarborough at 2.42. The town was crowded with people, who had flocked from neighbouring districts to see the wonderful sea-bird, and, if possible, its personnel. But of course Harry did not venture ashore. He rested awhile aboard Mr. W. Jackson’s yacht Naida. Arrangements had been made here for illuminated boats to be moored at the control area in the form of a triangle in case Harry should have arrived in the dark. The next stage to Aberdeen being 218 miles, Harry decided he would stop at Berwick to take in some petrol. At four o’clock the several boats, that had been attracted to the machine with almost magnetic precision, were cleared away, and at 4.22 Harry took leave of Scarborough.
After about an hour and a quarter it was found necessary to descend at Seaham Harbour, owing to a water-pipe springing a leak owing to the heat of an exhaust-pipe causing fusion of a rubber connection. Having repaired the trouble and refilled the radiator, Harry started again at 6.40 after a delay of 65 minutes. Exactly one hour later the same trouble showed again, and he was obliged to descend at Beadnell, 20 miles south of Berwick. He had piloted the machine over 495 miles during the day at an average flying speed of over 53 miles per hour, and had been on the go for more than 14 hours. It was almost too dark to see the compass, the air was very bumpy, and the engine inclined to misfire. Harry and Kauper therefore agreed to stay overnight at Beadnell and get going at 5 a.m. on the morrow. Nothing was wrong with the engine, and the water connection was effectively repaired.
On Tuesday morning Beadnell was left at 8.5 and 20 minutes later Harry passed Berwick. At 9.55 a stop was made at Montrose for the purpose of taking in water and making a few adjustments. After half an hour’s spell they set out for Aberdeen, the next control after Scarborough, which was reached at 10.58. They came down from 1,500 feet in a spiral glide. Both Harry and Kauper felt very fit after their night’s rest at Beadnell, and the fine weather prevailing gave them an additional stimulus to renewed efforts. At 11.52 they set out for Cromarty, the next control, 134 miles away. Near there the air was exceptionally rough, but an otherwise good passage was made in 2 hours 13 minutes. At this point let us leave the itinerary for a while to enjoy further comments of “The Dreamer,” which were published in Flight on August 30th, 1913:
“The Sopwith-Hawker-Green Combination.
“I really cannot let this issue go to press without having a word to say about the topic which is on everybody’s lips: the race round Britain. At the time of writing, H. G. Hawker has only reached Cromarty. I say ‘only,’ with regard to the full distance to be covered, and not as meaning I had expected him to have got further; and what a magnificent flight! Southampton to near Berwick in a single day! I wonder what some of those who lived during the old coaching days would think could they know of the advance in modern travel. I wonder what the versatile Sam Weller would have said about a machine which could have delivered the venerable Pickwick safe and sound at Ipswich, whilst he, following in the coach, was changing horses at the Castle at Woodford.
“Mr. Sopwith has every reason to be proud of his machine. That he himself is a pilot of skill and great experience, experience gained not only in this country, but abroad, is liable, if we are not careful, to slip one’s mind for the moment, now that, as head of the Sopwith Aviation Co., he is placed in a position where his services are of far more value on the ground than in the air. A year ago and Tom Sopwith would undoubtedly have piloted his machine round personally. That his experience is now standing him in good stead as a constructor is proved by the splendid performances of the machines emanating from his works. When one considers the comparatively short time in which this company has been building, and then remembers that their machines hold all the altitude records—and good ones at that—for this country, together with the Michelin Cup No. 1, the Mortimer Singer prize for six flights, with alternating landings on land and water, and the splendid performance now being put up, the Sopwith machine must be rated as one of the very best.
“And what of the engine? Surely no one will say after this that England cannot build a good aerial engine. Think for one moment of this engine, so light that it only weighs some three pounds per horse-power, pounding away hour after hour, and asking nothing but to be kept well fed with petrol and oil. Have you ever seen the crank-case of an engine, with the crank-shaft in position, having the bearings tested by a bench run, by power applied from without? I have; and at top speed the cranks move so fast as to appear as one straight line of shining metal, and do not seem to be moving at all. Imagine this Green engine moving at this speed with the pistons in position, and induction, compression, explosion, and exhaust taking place so rapidly, together with all that it means in the way of moving valves, and keeping this up for hours on end! It says something for construction.
“Of the pilot, what can I say? The strain, mental and physical, must be enormous. Think of some one or other of the long journeys you have done in a motor-car; remember how stiff and tired and worn-out you have felt at the end of the day, with nothing but the ordinary care needed on the road to worry you; and think of this man sitting there twelve hours a day, day after day, thousands of feet up in the air, ears keenly on the alert all the time to notice any different note in the tune of the engine, eyes, whenever they can be removed from the petrol and oil gauges—not forgetting the compass, altimeter, and other instruments—for a moment, striving to pick up and follow the coast-line, always alert, always watching, always ready, and always the excitement of the race—the knowledge that one is attempting something never before accomplished; it needs nerves of steel to stand it, and Hawker has evidently got them. May he come in safe and sound with time to spare, and get all that he deserves.”
At Cromarty, Harry and Kauper were well aware of the fact that they had to set out from there on what was probably the most difficult stage of the journey—from Cromarty to Oban, 94 miles along the Caledonian Canal. At 3.5 they started: nor did they reach their destination until 6 o’clock. This represented an average speed of slightly more than 32 miles per hour. Not only had they to drive against a high south-westerly wind, which had previously been aiding them, but also they suffered the consequence of the wind being terribly gusty owing to the mountainous nature of the region they were traversing. At times Harry changed his altitude by as much as 2,000 feet in his endeavours to dodge the particularly bumpy air currents. Many changes in their height were made involuntarily, the machine rising and falling in vertical air currents over which no human control was possible. All who have flown in an aeroplane in bad weather can appreciate what Harry and Kauper went through on the way to Oban. Having reached there at 6 o’clock, and it being out of the question to proceed to Dublin at such a late hour, Harry decided to spend the night at Oban and set out for Ireland at dawn.
At Oban they had a wonderful reception. There was a large dinner arranged for them, without regard to the fact that they had only the clothes in which they stood, with the exception of a clean collar and a pair of socks. Harry had arrived at his last pair of socks, and oil was continually dripping on his feet while he was flying. Having an hour to spare before dinner, for comfort’s sake he proceeded to wash and dry his socks. He tried to get out of the dinner on the ground, that he had no raiment fit for social functions; but he was jokingly told he need not trouble to dress. Nevertheless, Harry and Kauper spent a most enjoyable evening, and their only regret was that the proceedings had to be cut short in order that they might have adequate rest before their start at dawn.
Rising at 4 a.m. on Wednesday, the partners enjoyed a hurried breakfast, and then had a good look over their machine. At 5.30 they were all prepared, and at 5.42 they started for Dublin, having previously arranged to call on the way at Larne for petrol. But the machine was reluctant to leave the water, and Harry beached her about a mile from Oban. After spending an hour in extracting water from the floats, he made a good restart. Before leaving Scotland he landed at Kiells, in Argyllshire, in order to effect a minor engine adjustment. At 8.25 he was in the air again; and 65 minutes later he glided down into Larne Harbour. He made south for Dublin at 11 o’clock, only to be foiled a few miles short of the Irish capital by what he described as “just a piece of ghastly bad luck.”
Suspecting that some of the valve-springs had failed, Harry decided to come down to inspect them. Meanwhile the engine had been running and developing its power, but an ominous rattle had worried Harry and Kauper. It was unfortunate that they did not know that Mr. Green, the designer of the engine, was awaiting them at Dublin with a set of new valve-springs. Had they been so acquainted, Harry would, of course, have continued on to Dublin without coming down to have a look at the springs. As it was, while descending in a spiral he lost control owing to his greasy boot slipping on the rudder-bar, and the aeroplane side-slipped into the water. Harry was unhurt, but poor Kauper suffered a broken arm and some cuts about the head. He was soon taken to the Mater Misericordia Hospital, at Dublin, where he made a good recovery, ultimately leaving the hospital on September 18th, 1913, with all his wounds healing well. The machine, of course, was done for.
Thus ended the most important event held under the auspices of the Royal Aero Club during 1913, in which 1,043 miles were covered in 55¾ hours, the actual flying time being 21 hours 44 minutes—a world’s record for a seaplane in those days. In recognition of his skill and courage, the Daily Mail made Harry a personal present of £1,000.
On the morning after the crash near Dublin Harry was busy superintending the work of dismantling the wrecked aeroplane. While so employed he was considerably interrupted by photographers and autograph hunters. Apparently souvenir hunters were also on the scene during his absence, for one of the radiators had been carefully detached. Having seen to the packing-up of the remains of the machine, Harry returned to Brooklands, where on Friday, with his usual nonchalance, he was testing machines for the Admiralty.