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.