A very true description of the start was given by Mr. H. Hamilton Fyfe of the Daily Mail, in which he said:
“The morning was perfect. The sunshine made the landscape glitter in a warm glory of light. The southerly breeze tickled the surface of the water into sparkling ripples—the ‘smiles without number’ of summer. A wind had come up out of the sea and said, ‘Oh, mist, make room for me!’ The coast-line was clear. The Isle of Wight shimmered well within view. This had been the weather from the early hours, and it was a great pity the intention to leave at six was not carried out—a pity I mean from Mr. Hawker’s point of view. The delay was by everyone else hailed with joy. ‘Oh, it’s nice to be up in the morning, but it’s nicer to stay in your bed,’ sang Sir Thomas Lipton, quoting Mr. Harry Lauder’s song, and everyone sat up later than usual because there was no need to cut short the hours of bed.
“The reason for the delay was twofold. At the last moment the compass in the machine was found to need adjusting, and also it would have been necessary to put the waterplane into the Medina River from its shed between 1 and 2 a.m. ‘I need a good night’s rest before I start,’ Mr. Hawker pleaded, and so it was settled that he should wait for another tide. The telephone was kept busy announcing the postponement, but unfortunately there were many people who could not possibly hear of it.
“As soon as Mr. Hawker dropped into the water between the Enchantress and the shore, Mr. Perrin went out to give him a copy of the final rules and regulations and to take the exact time of his start. The pilot and his passenger, young Kauper, had no elaborate flying-suits on. Their coats and caps were of rough waterproof canvas, but they wore their ordinary trousers and boots. They might have been doing an everyday practice flight. ‘Have you got any grub with you?’ I asked them. ‘No,’ they said. ‘Can’t be bothered. We’ll get it at the stopping places.’
“Nothing in their manner, save a little suppressed excitement, betrayed by a slight huskiness of voice, suggested that they were starting on an attempt to fly 1,600 miles over sea almost straight on end. I suppose the thought, ‘How foolish and unnecessary,’ was in the Oriental minds of a party of lascars in a launch who were being taken up to Southampton from the troopship Rohilla lying close by. They hung over the side to see as much as they could of this latest invention of the ‘white mad folk,’ but I know every English man and woman there heartily admired the two Australian boys for their nerve and skill.
“A Great Day.
“As they made their last preparations I saw as in a moving picture kaleidoscope the scenes of the starts in earlier Daily Mail flying contests. I saw Louis Blériot in the field behind the beach at Baraques, near Calais, setting off at sunrise across the Channel and asking just before he started, ‘Where is Dover?’ I saw Grahame-White pelting off from Wormwood Scrubbs at six o’clock in the evening and vainly chasing Paulhan, who had got away from Hendon an hour before. I saw Brooklands in that hot afternoon when one after another the machines entered for the Circuit of Britain rose and sailed away to the delight and amazement of the huge crowd.
“The actual letting go was unemotional. Ours was the only boat close by. There was a clear path for the start. The crowds were too far away to cheer. Exactly at 11.47 the motor began its rattling din and the machine moved off without difficulty, foamed along over the water, and leapt suddenly into the air. Gradually, as he went down towards the Solent, Mr. Hawker climbed up to a good height. He was watched with intense sympathy until he disappeared into the sky. Then everyone heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction and said, ‘Well, it has been a great day.’”
“The two naval airmen, Lieutenant Travers and Lieutenant Spencer Gray, were to have convoyed him as far as Ramsgate, but to the grim amusement of Mr. Green, inventor of the air motor used by Mr. Hawker, and of Mr. Fred May, managing director of the company, both their foreign engines had broken down. The Gnome in the Borel machine was repaired by the afternoon, but the Austro-Daimler in the ‘Bat Boat’ had something seriously wrong with it, and Lieutenant Spencer Gray had to tow his waterplane to Calshot as evening fell.”
Seen from the Enchantress, Harry’s machine appeared to the special correspondent of the Daily Mirror as a big dragon-fly chased by a crowd of angry little water-beetles. At times it seemed that the “beetles,” sending up clouds of spray, would overtake their quarry, but the “dragon-fly” shot ahead desperately; and suddenly, as though it had just found the use of its wings, leapt out of the water and soared up gloriously into the air. The motor-boats snorted and grunted at this sudden manœuvre, slowed down their engines and abandoned the chase!