Excitement was keen on Tuesday, April 22nd, when Raynham announced his intention to make another “trial” flight. Although the fog prevented Raynham from carrying out this project, Harry had his machine out, suspecting an attempt to outwit him, for on the previous Sunday Raynham had declared that his next flight would be The Flight, and Harry knew Raynham’s tanks were full. This episode resulted in both parties coming to an agreement not to make a “hurried unconsidered departure,” and not to start unless the weather conditions were fairly settled. The local betting was by now 5 to 1 against Harry and 8 to 1 against Raynham. The weather conditions at St. Johns, around the Newfoundland coast, and across the Atlantic continued to be most unpropitious for flying, and there was little prospect of an early change. Weather experts, who expressed doubts as to the possibility of the flight being accomplished before May, said that the only day during the previous two months on which flying was possible was Friday, April 12th, when the Sopwith machine was scarcely ready and the Martinsyde only arrived. Harry was now greatly concerned over the prolonged delay and did not expect to be able to start before April 25th, or 26th.
Consternation was caused in the airmen’s camp on Wednesday, April 23rd, by what appeared to be a genuine message from the Air Ministry asking the reasons for Harry’s and Raynham’s failure to start. The message, which was addressed to Mr. Clements, the meteorological expert of the Royal Air Force at St. Johns, declared that all the weather reports reaching England indicated favourable conditions for a start. Harry replied that wireless reports from vessels at sea announced conflicting winds, making the start inadvisable.
The weather had not improved on Thursday, April 24th, when rain fell all day. It was discovered that impostors had been busy sending messages purporting to come from the meteorological bureaux of Canada and the United States. One such message, which advised the airmen to leave at once, said that the weather was suitable, notwithstanding the fact that it was the worst possible.
The Air Ministry, in emphatically denying having sent any cable asking why Harry or Raynham did not start, indicated that their function was merely to prepare forecasts and not to say when a machine should or should not start, this decision being within the province of the pilot and navigator concerned.
Considerable mystery surrounded the circulation of the false weather reports which held back both Harry and Raynham, who were waiting for favourable weather at St. Johns, with their petrol tanks filled and all stores on board their machines.
It appears that these reports were entirely in disagreement with those supplied by the Meteorological Department of the Air Ministry. During one spell of 24 hours the conditions were ideal and almost unprecedented for the time of year, the anti-cyclone area extending all over the route; and had the airmen started through the coastal fog they would have soon flown into bright skies and light winds. As it was, misguided by false reports from unknown sources, Harry and Raynham, greatly to the surprise of the Air Ministry, decided not to start. After this happening the Air Ministry arranged to transmit their reports by secret code and so prevent interference.
Naturally, before the matter was cleared up, Harry bitterly resented the attitude of the Air Ministry which resulted in his receiving communications containing implied criticisms of his failing to fly when weather conditions were favourable; for during three successive days no mid-ocean reports of any kind turned up. He could not be expected to risk a start without such information, seeing that it had to be made in the “foggiest place in the world.” Having once ascended, he would not be able, in case of emergency, to regain the aerodrome, owing to the fog, and off the coast he might have had to face sleet which, if it accumulated on the wings, would soon have driven him into the sea.
April saw no change for the better, and Harry and Raynham continued weather-bound throughout the last week. On Saturday, the 26th, the fog was reported as spreading many miles out to sea. Raynham having received many mascots, including a wooden parrot, “Emma,” which was built into the cockpit of his machine, Harry was interrogated as to what special charms he intended to carry. “I only believe in one mascot,” he said, “and that is Grieve.” Grieve, on the other hand, was carrying mascots such as white heather and a lady’s handkerchief.
With the pilots straining at the leash to get away, the navigators made good use of every opportunity to improve their wireless skill. A Marconi representative gave them daily tests in receiving, wireless communication being maintained between the two aerodromes, eight miles apart. “D.K.A.” was the wireless “call sign” of Harry’s machine.
Chatting with the special correspondent of the Times, after running his engine, Harry said: “It’s simply splendid; to hear it makes me long to be up and off.” He said that he had arranged to throw overboard his charts and maps with a message asking the finder to forward them to the Royal Aero Club, London, as soon as he had crossed the Irish coast. On the back of the charts would be written the time of crossing the shore and other details for identification purposes. The Ardath Tobacco Company, Ltd., announced the offer of an additional prize of 2,000 guineas to be given to the winner of the Daily Mail £10,000 prize for the first Atlantic flight.