Before the start of the Round-Britain Seaplane Circuit Harry was inundated with messages from unknown correspondents, and, in order to be spared the attentions of the public, he stayed aboard a yacht while not tending his machine.
As a starting and finishing base for the Seaplane Circuit, the Royal Motor Yacht Club very kindly lent to the Royal Aero Club their floating club-house, the Enchantress. Among those on board on the occasion of the start were Sir Thomas Lipton, Colonel Holden, C.B., Commander Cummings, Major Lindsay Lloyd, Major Stephens (secretary of the Royal Motor Yacht Club), Captain Robinson, the Mayor of Southampton, the Sheriff of Southampton, Mr. and Mrs. James Valentine, Mr. W. B. R. Moorhouse, Mr. J. H. Ledeboer, Mr. Thomas Marlowe (Editor of the Daily Mail), Mr. Hamilton Fyfe, and Mr. Harold E. Perrin (secretary of the Royal Aero Club). Prior to the race, Harry’s machine was stationed on the Medina River at Ryde, where on Friday the 15th, the day before the race, the officials proceeded to mark the various components of the aeroplane in due accordance with the rules of the competition.
The intensity of the interest aroused by the Round-Britain Seaplane Race may be gauged by the fact that on the morning before the start of the competition the passengers on one of the Cowes-Portsmouth steamers loudly cheered, and cried “Good luck!” to Mr. Sopwith as they passed him on his yacht Ceto, which was anchored near the Enchantress. In an aside to a friend while acknowledging the cheers, Mr. Sopwith said he only hoped no one would wish Harry good luck. Every time he had done that during the Mortimer-Singer Competition he had failed. The last time he had not done it, and Harry won. In none of the big things which Harry had done had he received a good wish from him.
Harry and Mr. Sopwith had a big talk at the hangar before parting on Friday night, and one read in the newspaper on Saturday morning of “the owner giving his jockey the last instructions.”
Hopes were particularly high in the Sopwith bunks on Friday night when a fresh southerly breeze sprang up, for it was realised that such a wind on the morrow would greatly help Harry after he had passed Dover. But the glass remained high. Fog would be the greatest danger, and if only sufficient wind would rise to blow it away, all would be well.
The race was originally scheduled to begin at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning, August 16th, but late on Friday night the start had to be postponed until after 10 a.m., as it was found that the shed in which the machine was housed made it practically impossible for the machine to be launched until high tide. It was hoped, too, that the delay would enable McClean to bring his Short machine along in time to start with Harry and provide the added excitement of a neck-to-neck race. Those who were privileged to enjoy the hospitality of the Enchantress overnight were delighted with the prospect of a good night’s rest without the necessity of breakfasting at an unearthly hour in time to witness a 6 a.m. start.
Nevertheless, at 5 a.m. one heard voices diligently enquiring for Mr. Perrin, the secretary of the Royal Aero Club, and a general commotion and clamour seemed to be in progress on the gangways and in the corridors outside the cabins. A little bird told that the Mayor of Southampton, who through having retired early had not received notice of the postponement of the start, announced late on Friday night, came on board the Enchantress before 6 a.m. in full regalia, to be greeted by the secretary of the Royal Aero Club clad in plebeian pyjamas. The outcome of all this was that most people got up and had a 6.30 “brekker,” while a Sopwith Bat Boat and a Borel hydro-monoplane, carrying out evolutions in naval hands, relieved to some extent the monotony of the few hours pending the time when Harry would be ready to start. The water was remarkably calm and the day bright and sunny. Any wind that was rising came from the south, and would obviously be an aid to Harry in traversing the East Coast.
At about 11.30 Harry arrived on the scene with his machine, and landed a considerable distance from the Enchantress, about midway between it and the shore. A medley of racing yachts, motor-boats, steamers, and boats put out to meet him, and after about ten minutes these were seen to draw away—a sign that Harry was about to start.
The scene as Harry and Kauper were starting up their engine was inspiriting. The sunlight dancing on the water, the throngs lining the Netley shore, the countless mastheads with their pennants, all combined to make a charming spectacle. From 5 a.m. thousands of people had been lining the shore and sojourning in boats to see the flight begin. Just before the start, Mr. Sopwith, Mr. Perrin, and other officials gave Harry his final instructions from a motor-boat. With a “Right—thanks!” Harry put in his breast-pocket the official landing-cards handed up to him by Mr. Perrin. Somebody in a yacht cried out, “Good-bye, Hawker! Good luck!” which must have moved Mr. Sopwith to tears if he heard it.
At 11.47 a.m. on Saturday, August 16th, 1913, Harry rose from Southampton Water, and after disappearing from sight past Calshot and passing over the Solent, he sped off for the open sea. Before most people had realised that a great attempt to defeat the elements had begun, he was out of sight.