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.
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.