H. G. Hawker, airman: his life and work

by Muriel Hawker

The moon had not yet risen and it was well-nigh impossible to discern anything. Flying at 10,000 feet, Harry could just make out innumerable clouds, many of them terrible, ominous-looking peaks extending upwards to about 15,000 feet. Having to go round the clouds, it was difficult to steer a good course, and he could not really afford to waste time and petrol in making any deviations from a truly straight course. Furthermore, he and Grieve, side-by-side, were feeling not too comfortable bodily. The cane ring forming the neck of Harry’s suit, which kept his neck free, was jumping about. Grieve frequently had to replace it, and his fingers became frost-bitten, as it could not be done with gloves on. Otherwise they did not suffer from cold, although it was freezing hard. As they forged ahead the temperature of the water in the radiator rose from 168 degrees F. to 176 degrees F. in the space of a few minutes. At the latter temperature it stayed practically constant for a couple of hours or more.

It was at 1.30 a.m. that they realised the great extent of their drift owing to the strong north wind. Taking sights regularly had become impossible owing to the clouds having broken up and ceased to provide a level horizon. Grieve managed to get a Pole Star down to a flat piece of cloud, and discovered with no little surprise that they were about 150 miles south of their intended course. Harry therefore turned more northward to counteract this drift. Nevertheless, half an hour later they were still drifting southward and not making their course, and so, realising that the strength of the gale must be terrific, they had to force the machine still more northward up to latitude 50 degrees and into the track of the ships.

Harry was somewhat concerned when Grieve told him that their drift was equivalent to a side wind of 20 miles per hour, but this did not deter him from sticking to the job. The effect of a strong side wind would of course mean having to travel “crabwise” in order to keep to the course, a proceeding which must lessen their forward speed.

Both pilot and navigator came to the decision that there must be a cause for this abnormally high temperature in the radiator, which persisted, and, if it continued, was likely to jeopardise their chances of success, owing to all the water being ultimately boiled away. Harry, having concluded that some obstruction had got into the water-filter between the radiator and the water-pumps, knew that the only possible means of removing it was by switching off the engine and diving down steeply in the hope that this would clear the refuse in the filter. This he actually did, and the result was for the time being successful.

But after another hour, by which time they were about 800 miles out from St. Johns, the trouble recurred. The weather was still no better and the clouds very high. Repeatedly Harry switched off and dived, but the obstruction would not clear itself now. Every such dive entailed losing several hundred feet in height, and it is not surprising, therefore, that they gave up the diving process. Each time, after climbing, the water began to boil; and so after getting to 12,000 feet they agreed to maintain that altitude for the latter half of the journey. These episodes of the choking radiator had not yet given them to doubt their being successful in making the crossing. They had got above most of the clouds now, and, with the moon coming well up, they could keep a good course. The fact that by closing the throttle a little they were able to nurse the engine and keep the water from boiling, although done at the expense of a little speed, ensured for them every confidence that all would be well. Thus, with the engine throttled, they cruised along at a constant height of 12,000 feet for about four hours more until they came up against more of those very, very high black clouds significant of unknown, unexplored wastes of the Atlantic vault. They had encountered a depression which had travelled north from the Azores.

So thick were these new clouds that it was almost impossible to get between them. They extended upwards to an altitude of 15,000 feet, 3,000 feet higher than the machine, and the only thing to be done was to get above them.

Once, twice, thrice did Harry try to get above those clouds; and as many times steam belched forth ominously from the radiator and was turned to ice. The radiator trouble having thus prevented a very necessary and desirable manœuvre that would otherwise have been possible, Harry could only go down into the abyss and find the bottom of the enveloping clouds. Incidentally, the glide gave the water system an opportunity to cool down.

Having glided down to about 6,000 feet, they entered an even darker region than that from which they had just descended, due, of course, to the presence of more clouds above them cutting off the light.

Climbing being out of the question, down they went to 1,000 feet only above the water before they could see to fly. While they dived through the clouds their engine was stopped, and when Harry opened up the throttle it refused to restart. Only when they were within a few feet of the water did it pick up by a lucky chance after Harry had given up hope of its recovery. In fact Harry had hit Grieve on the head to warn him to desist from pumping-up, which might result in his suffering a broken arm when they struck the water. At that moment the engine started. It was a very narrow escape. There they were greeted by those delightful signs of the sun just getting up, one of the real joys of Nature which has delighted the eyes of most flying-men. Again they set their course, but that water would not be kept from boiling. It was then that they agreed to “play for safety,” as Harry himself expressed it.

At 5 a.m. two stars enabled Grieve to determine their position as being directly on their course and about 950 miles from St. Johns, representing an average speed of about 85 miles per hour. No more sights were possible, owing to the clouds and the approach of daylight. When they came down low to look for ships about 6 a.m. their position was estimated by Grieve as 50 degrees north, 29 degrees 30 minutes west; and they pursued a more northerly course to get well on to the steamship route.