In the meantime Harry had plenty to do on the ground, with such duties as supervising the turning of the machine on the ground while Grieve was adjusting the compass. In England betting books were being made, and Harry’s chances of making the flight before May 31st were estimated at 5 to 1 against about the middle of the month, and he was first favourite, Raynham being second at 7 to 1.
The mail, consisting of about a hundred letters, included, in addition to the letter for His Majesty, others for the Prime Minister, Cabinet Ministers, and other celebrities. “First Trans-Atlantic Aero Flight” stamps were printed by Newfoundland, but there was no demand for them at £100 each.
On the following day, Sunday, at the appointed hour, Harry was ready to start, but a strong south-east wind, heavy rain, and thick fog would not permit. Moreover, it had been raining throughout the night. At 1 o’clock the proposal to start was definitely abandoned. Harry and Grieve were now very concerned as to their prospects, seeing that rival machines were now getting ready and would probably be able to start as soon as they did, whenever the weather became propitious. The hangar was besieged by crowds of reporters, photographers, and cinema operators.
Early on Monday, April 14th, Harry cabled to Sopwith the words “Bad weather,” which intimated that the flight was not likely to start on that day. As a matter of fact, after the week-end a spell of continued bad weather set in, and on Tuesday Raynham was practically ready to make his trial trip.
Harry was by several days the first to arrive and be in readiness at Newfoundland, and small wonder that when he was robbed by the weather of such valuable advantage there should be very keen competition between him and Raynham. For several days they did not come in contact very much, but when both had had time to realise that they might be held up for weeks and months, the rival crews continued on terms of most intimate friendship.
Thus one effect of the delays of Harry’s departure was to increase the possibility of a race across the ocean by him and Raynham, who was ready to start without a preliminary trial if necessary in order to gain an advantage. Both crews were burning with eagerness to be first away, but they fought the contest in a thoroughly sporting spirit. They stayed at the same hotel in St. Johns and were on terms of close personal friendship. When at one time it was thought that Raynham’s aerodrome might be too small for his machine to get off safely, Harry, with characteristic grace, offered the use of the Sopwith field. They agreed that the first away should carry the mails.
The unavoidable delays in starting also served at least one useful purpose in that they provided an opportunity for Harry to review and, where necessary, amend his plans. His final decision was to head due east until striking the northern steamship route, to which he would keep, because, owing to alterations in the wireless equipment, he would probably only be able to receive messages and not transmit them. On sighting a ship he would fire a red Vérey light as a signal for the ship to notify her position. These arrangements were communicated by wireless from Cape Race to ships already on the high seas.
It was Harry’s intention to fly fairly low, gradually gaining height, until reaching the Grand Banks, frequently fog-bound from sea-level up to 2,000 feet. Beyond there he expected finer weather, and would ascend to 8,000 feet, which he would maintain for the greater part of the flight, until nearer home, where he would climb to about 12,000 feet. At 8,000 feet he anticipated freedom from the impediment of fog usually very prevalent in that season, and as Grieve used clouds, not the horizon, for navigation, it was necessary to be above them. But if they were uncertain of their position at dawn Harry would decide to come down low near some passing ship or other in order to get a check on his reckoning. Arrangements were made whereby as soon as the flight was begun the Admiralty wireless at St. Johns would advise all the coast stations and ships in the Atlantic zone; and it was anticipated that general interest in the flight would keep every wireless operator on the Atlantic keenly alive to the importance of getting news of the machine.
As for Grieve, his chief concern was as to the weather conditions over the ice area from St. Johns to the Grand Banks. He conceived four weather zones between Newfoundland and Ireland, the first of which was that just mentioned, where conditions were complicated by the existence of heavy Arctic ice-floes drifting south on the Labrador current into the Gulf Stream, the fog being caused by this confluence of currents having a temperature difference of 20 degrees. From Grand Banks to mid-ocean was an area regarding which atmospheric conditions above sea-level were very little known, but where frequent storms were reported by shipping in the early spring. Farther east was an area less notorious for violent weather changes, and beyond this the region round the Irish coast, where, on account of the complete meteorological records of the United Kingdom, the condition could be forecasted with approximate accuracy.
Although Grieve had a good understanding of weather, forecasts were useless unless the type of weather prevailing was known. This essential information, obtainable only from vessels carrying wireless, was very difficult to get, and when it arrived was generally days late. A weather chart of the Atlantic was plotted out daily by the local meteorological officer, Mr. Clements, to the best of his ability, but he was handicapped by the absence of necessary reports and had to assume a good deal. Regarding the weather during the Atlantic attempt, Grieve wrote: