“‘I tell you ’ow it is with that there ’Arry ’Awker, sir; he’s my fancy for anythink every time. It’s like this: we were standin’ there down the Solent chattin’, and that there Tommy Sopwith was remarkin’ as nobody’ adn’t looped-the-loop on a seaplane, and mentioned a matter of 40 quid for the man as did it first on one of his machines. ’Awker, who was standin’ by, got ’im to confirm it; then went across to his machine and started up the engine. There wasn’t what you might call more than a couple of ’andfuls of water where it was moored; but he just bumped and splashed it into a flight, and a couple of minutes after he looped over our ’eads twice. That’s ’Arry ’Awker; no ‘alf measures, no stintin’; and it was the first time a seaplane had looped-the-loop. Then he brought ’er down and walked straight up to Tommy Sopwith, ’olding out ’is ’and for the boodle—that’s ’Arry ’Awker, too. ‘E’s there and the goods ’as to be there. I tell you, sir,‘e’s my fancy every time.’”
The fact of no attempt having been possible in April probably accounted for the comparative silence of the Press during the first days of May. The public was beginning to doubt whether the flight would be possible in the then immediate future. Nevertheless, Harry was by no means idle. Among other things, with Raynham, he was busy looking for a more suitable starting-ground, but, as most of the country was under the plough, their efforts met with no success. Meanwhile, the Americans were rapidly completing arrangements to make their now famous attempt to cross the ocean, via the Azores, in three flying-boats, with the aid of several warships as guides and refuges in case of emergency. These machines made their start at 10 p.m. (Greenwich time) on May 16th, but Harry was still delayed by weather on that day. The American route bore distinctly southward, whereas the British route was slightly northward.
When Lieut.-Com. Read in one of the American seaplanes had reached the Azores, and so accomplished two-thirds of his journey across the ocean, Harry and Raynham felt keenly that the blue riband of aerial navigation was slipping not only from their hands but also from Great Britain. Nevertheless, they were wise enough to know that to throw precaution to the winds was to court disaster and so yield to the rival nation. The last four days before Harry’s start were very trying for him under such circumstances. He was continually in touch with the weather office, only to hear of raging storms on his route and fair weather on the Azores route. At one time he seriously contemplated also flying to the Azores, but the difficulty of the petrol supply ruled this out.
In spite of many preoccupations, Harry and Grieve passed a few hours of the last few days of their sojourn at St. Johns by indulging in motor-drives, while Raynham played golf and Morgan kept watch on the weather bureau.
The Start
On the morning of the 18th there came a change. The Atlantic was brought out of her hangar, the petrol tanks were quickly and carefully filled, every drop being passed through a perfectly clean strainer. Oil and water tanks were filled and the machine thoroughly looked over and the engine tested. While Harry busied himself with such operations Grieve was seeing that all maps, charts, flares, smoke-bombs, and other impedimenta were in order. The mail bag having been divided between Harry and Raynham, the letter from the Governor of Newfoundland to His Majesty, the one from the Prime Minister of Newfoundland to the Rt. Hon. D. Lloyd George, and another from the people of Newfoundland to the people of England, fell to Harry’s lot to be carried. In addition to letters for Lord Northcliffe, the Daily Mail, the Daily Express, and others, he also had a letter from the French Consul to be delivered to the French Ambassador in London. He was also entrusted with the medal of the American Joan of Arc Statue Society, for delivery to the British Museum. Some dates, chocolates, and a flask of brandy for use in emergency were included in the commissariat sufficient for three days.
Harry arrived at the final decision to start not only for the reason that the weather was better, although not perfect, but also because owing to the progress made by the American flying-boats there was a likelihood of his missing a chance of getting a British machine over first. The moon was well on the wane, and any further delay would probably have meant another matter of weeks. One American machine was already known to have reached the Azores, and reports were current to the effect that two others had as well. The night before starting Harry and Raynham both agreed to set out if the weather looked at all promising, and on the morrow they received fewer weather reports than on any previous occasion.
At 3.5 p.m. Harry and Grieve were getting into their flying clothes. Ten minutes later Harry waved his arm and the chocks were pulled away. As he sped down the field he heard the rising cheers of the spectators, which were soon drowned by the engine’s roar.
Before leaving, Harry was feeling particularly confident. “I have a perfect machine for the trip,” he said, “and the engine is the best in the world. I am confident that we shall get across. The great problem is to find Ireland, but I have every confidence in Grieve.” Grieve’s parting message to friends assembled about the machine was, “See you in London.”
Speaking of landing without the undercarriage, Harry said, “I expect to make a perfectly good landing, and have no fear of badly crashing the machine.”