On Tuesday morning Beadnell was left at 8.5 and 20 minutes later Harry passed Berwick. At 9.55 a stop was made at Montrose for the purpose of taking in water and making a few adjustments. After half an hour’s spell they set out for Aberdeen, the next control after Scarborough, which was reached at 10.58. They came down from 1,500 feet in a spiral glide. Both Harry and Kauper felt very fit after their night’s rest at Beadnell, and the fine weather prevailing gave them an additional stimulus to renewed efforts. At 11.52 they set out for Cromarty, the next control, 134 miles away. Near there the air was exceptionally rough, but an otherwise good passage was made in 2 hours 13 minutes. At this point let us leave the itinerary for a while to enjoy further comments of “The Dreamer,” which were published in Flight on August 30th, 1913:
“The Sopwith-Hawker-Green Combination.
“I really cannot let this issue go to press without having a word to say about the topic which is on everybody’s lips: the race round Britain. At the time of writing, H. G. Hawker has only reached Cromarty. I say ‘only,’ with regard to the full distance to be covered, and not as meaning I had expected him to have got further; and what a magnificent flight! Southampton to near Berwick in a single day! I wonder what some of those who lived during the old coaching days would think could they know of the advance in modern travel. I wonder what the versatile Sam Weller would have said about a machine which could have delivered the venerable Pickwick safe and sound at Ipswich, whilst he, following in the coach, was changing horses at the Castle at Woodford.
“Mr. Sopwith has every reason to be proud of his machine. That he himself is a pilot of skill and great experience, experience gained not only in this country, but abroad, is liable, if we are not careful, to slip one’s mind for the moment, now that, as head of the Sopwith Aviation Co., he is placed in a position where his services are of far more value on the ground than in the air. A year ago and Tom Sopwith would undoubtedly have piloted his machine round personally. That his experience is now standing him in good stead as a constructor is proved by the splendid performances of the machines emanating from his works. When one considers the comparatively short time in which this company has been building, and then remembers that their machines hold all the altitude records—and good ones at that—for this country, together with the Michelin Cup No. 1, the Mortimer Singer prize for six flights, with alternating landings on land and water, and the splendid performance now being put up, the Sopwith machine must be rated as one of the very best.
“And what of the engine? Surely no one will say after this that England cannot build a good aerial engine. Think for one moment of this engine, so light that it only weighs some three pounds per horse-power, pounding away hour after hour, and asking nothing but to be kept well fed with petrol and oil. Have you ever seen the crank-case of an engine, with the crank-shaft in position, having the bearings tested by a bench run, by power applied from without? I have; and at top speed the cranks move so fast as to appear as one straight line of shining metal, and do not seem to be moving at all. Imagine this Green engine moving at this speed with the pistons in position, and induction, compression, explosion, and exhaust taking place so rapidly, together with all that it means in the way of moving valves, and keeping this up for hours on end! It says something for construction.
“Of the pilot, what can I say? The strain, mental and physical, must be enormous. Think of some one or other of the long journeys you have done in a motor-car; remember how stiff and tired and worn-out you have felt at the end of the day, with nothing but the ordinary care needed on the road to worry you; and think of this man sitting there twelve hours a day, day after day, thousands of feet up in the air, ears keenly on the alert all the time to notice any different note in the tune of the engine, eyes, whenever they can be removed from the petrol and oil gauges—not forgetting the compass, altimeter, and other instruments—for a moment, striving to pick up and follow the coast-line, always alert, always watching, always ready, and always the excitement of the race—the knowledge that one is attempting something never before accomplished; it needs nerves of steel to stand it, and Hawker has evidently got them. May he come in safe and sound with time to spare, and get all that he deserves.”
At Cromarty, Harry and Kauper were well aware of the fact that they had to set out from there on what was probably the most difficult stage of the journey—from Cromarty to Oban, 94 miles along the Caledonian Canal. At 3.5 they started: nor did they reach their destination until 6 o’clock. This represented an average speed of slightly more than 32 miles per hour. Not only had they to drive against a high south-westerly wind, which had previously been aiding them, but also they suffered the consequence of the wind being terribly gusty owing to the mountainous nature of the region they were traversing. At times Harry changed his altitude by as much as 2,000 feet in his endeavours to dodge the particularly bumpy air currents. Many changes in their height were made involuntarily, the machine rising and falling in vertical air currents over which no human control was possible. All who have flown in an aeroplane in bad weather can appreciate what Harry and Kauper went through on the way to Oban. Having reached there at 6 o’clock, and it being out of the question to proceed to Dublin at such a late hour, Harry decided to spend the night at Oban and set out for Ireland at dawn.
At Oban they had a wonderful reception. There was a large dinner arranged for them, without regard to the fact that they had only the clothes in which they stood, with the exception of a clean collar and a pair of socks. Harry had arrived at his last pair of socks, and oil was continually dripping on his feet while he was flying. Having an hour to spare before dinner, for comfort’s sake he proceeded to wash and dry his socks. He tried to get out of the dinner on the ground, that he had no raiment fit for social functions; but he was jokingly told he need not trouble to dress. Nevertheless, Harry and Kauper spent a most enjoyable evening, and their only regret was that the proceedings had to be cut short in order that they might have adequate rest before their start at dawn.
Rising at 4 a.m. on Wednesday, the partners enjoyed a hurried breakfast, and then had a good look over their machine. At 5.30 they were all prepared, and at 5.42 they started for Dublin, having previously arranged to call on the way at Larne for petrol. But the machine was reluctant to leave the water, and Harry beached her about a mile from Oban. After spending an hour in extracting water from the floats, he made a good restart. Before leaving Scotland he landed at Kiells, in Argyllshire, in order to effect a minor engine adjustment. At 8.25 he was in the air again; and 65 minutes later he glided down into Larne Harbour. He made south for Dublin at 11 o’clock, only to be foiled a few miles short of the Irish capital by what he described as “just a piece of ghastly bad luck.”