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.
HARRY ON BOARD A YACHT DURING ONE OF THE PERIODS WHICH HE DEVOTED TO MOTOR-BOAT RACING.
[Facing p. 300.
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.