“Mr. Hawker’s breakdown was most dramatic. When the machine came to rest on the water he hopped out of the seat, and, standing on the floats, was active in directing the disposition of the machine.
“‘Be ready to fill her up,’ were his words on leaving her.
“I walked up the beach with him to the officers’ quarters. ‘Fit as a fiddle,’ was his own phrase, and though grimy and travel-stained, he looked fit.
“Suddenly a change occurred. He passed his hand wearily over his eyes, and his whole complexion changed.
“The room was speedily cleared, a draught was administered by the doctor, and a cold compress applied to the forehead, but it was apparent to onlookers that he could not possibly go on.
“Indeed, Lieutenant Gregory tells me that had Mr. Hawker essayed to do so he should have put his official veto on the attempt.”
The fact that Yarmouth was one of the controls proved to be one of the big local attractions of the season, and people flocked in from all parts of Norfolk and Suffolk. Lieutenant Gregory, R.N., who was in charge of the East Coast Naval Air Stations, spared no pains in perfecting the local organisation. The control area was a triangle, of which the apex was the familiar lightship which faced the Naval Air Station. The Mayor of Yarmouth, Mr. Westmacott, personally assumed responsibility for keeping the control area free from intruding boats.
When they landed, Harry and Kauper were very deaf from the incessant roar of the engine during the flight, and their friends had to shout their loudest to make themselves heard.
As soon as it was found to be out of the question for Harry to proceed with the flight, Mr. Sopwith at once took steps to find a pilot to assume control of the machine and carry on the work which Harry had so well begun. Through the kindness and sportsmanship of Messrs. Short Brothers, he was able to engage the services of their pilot, Mr. Sydney Pickles—like Harry, an Australian. The Daily Mail not expecting pilots to fly on Sunday was a fortunate circumstance which gave Mr. Sopwith all the time needed to get Mr. Pickles on the scene by Monday morning without sacrificing flying time or having his new pilot tired out before the start.
At 5.30 a.m. Pickles with Kauper made a determined effort to get away, but the sea was too rough, and there was nothing to do but switch off the engine and be taken in tow. This was just as well, as subsequent reports showed that much rougher seas were running at Scarborough, the next control, where the buoys marking the official control area were washed away.