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.