And thus they left London for Kingston, the novice at his first steering-wheel being towed by Harry on the Sunbeam. The very natural qualms on the part of the man were testified by the state of the brakes when they eventually did get home, showing it was doubtful if they were ever released in his manful endeavour to follow instructions and “keep the rope tight.”
All went well, proceeding at little more than double the lawful speed of five miles per hour for towing vehicles, until they reached Putney, when a Benz, manned by a good portion of the British Navy, started to tempt Harry. Undoubtedly the Sunbeam interested them, and they kept passing and stopping, inviting yet hardly expecting a “strafe,” considering the Rolls chassis tied on behind. Still, Harry studied the feelings of his friend behind and plodded on into the open road between Putney and Kingston. At last, having just been passed like the wind by the Benz, the temptation got the better of him, and with a glance behind to notify his intention, he opened out, and up the hill he roared with his freight behind, passing the Benz with its highly-amused and excited crew like an express train. And the man behind only said two words when they arrived home to tea: “Never again.”
It was never amusing to be towed home by Harry, as I know well from experience. Once at Brooklands the 6-cylinder A.C., then in its experimental stage, had broken something while on the track, and Harry offered its driver, Victor Bruce, a tow home on his own racing A.C., then fitted with a two-seater body. Just before starting, a little delay was caused by someone taking the passenger seat on the 6-cylinder A.C. for a lift home, which said seat was apparently booked by another member of a little gang of speed merchants who forgather at Brooklands, called generally “Moir,” although he has other and very nice names. The gentleman having been placed gently but firmly on his feet by Moir, he started to walk up the hill from the paddock towards the gate.
Harry, having tied the six-cylinder on behind with a bit of thin string he had found lying about, we started off, accelerating to take the hill. Halfway up, just passing the seat-usurper, to whom Moir, standing on the seat that he could be better seen, was bowing with that courtly manner lost to us centuries ago, the string broke through the jerk in changing gear, and the bow had a sudden and undignified ending. However, in a very up-to-date manner, the gentlemen assisted in replacing him, and the rest of the homeward journey, with the same string, only much shorter, leaving a couple of feet between the two cars, was of sufficiently diverting a nature to remedy any discomfort that might have been felt from the bruises. Harry and I being very late for something that night, we hurried, making a run home in record time, which time I should hate to see in print.
And yet he had very few accidents. The only one that might have had bad results, but which fortunately did not, was when driving his Austro-Daimler in 1917 with Lieut. Higginbotham, who was the Admiralty representative in inspecting the Sopwith machines, and two other men. Entering Brooklands for the flying-ground, they had just left the paddock, and in negotiating the S bend which the road takes here, at a good speed, the car turned completely over and landed in the ditch.
The three got out unhurt, but the car had to be lifted off Harry’s arm where the steering-wheel had caught him. His shoulder was badly put out, necessitating his arm being in a sling. The next afternoon, in making some enquiries about some machines, he was advised not to go near Brooklands for a day or two, or he might be tempted to fly. He replied: “That’s all right, old man. I put three of them through this morning, but this wretched sling is a nuisance flying; I must have it off to-morrow”—which he did, although it was very painful and took much longer to right itself. Another outcome of the incident was that Lieut. Higginbotham the next morning lodged a humorous complaint against the Sopwith Aviation Company for trying to dispose of the Admiralty representative owing to his strictness in supervising their productions.
Photo by]
[Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd.
THE SCENE OUTSIDE KING’S CROSS STATION, LONDON, WHEN HARRY RETURNED FROM THE ATLANTIC. THE AUSTRALIAN SOLDIERS DECIDED THAT HARRY MUST HAVE SOMETHING MORE TRIUMPHANT THAN A CIVIC RECEPTION.