Soon afterwards a local inhabitant—Mr. Lester, who had done all our carting—offered us a field under more reasonable conditions, at a place called Monday's Pool. We found it to be a large meadow, half on a hill and with a swamp at the bottom. It possessed, nevertheless, a level surface of about three hundred yards, running east and west.
We examined and paced out four other fields on the hilltop, and found that by taking them in we could obtain a full run of five hundred yards. The owners of this additional ground wanted extortionate prices for its use, but after much haggling we closed a deal with them.
Thirty laborers, with pick and shovel, set to work to prepare the aërodrome by removing hillocks, blasting bowlders and leveling walls and fences. Finally it was completed, well within the time for the trial flight.
During the first few days spent on the erecting of the machine there was little for me to do. I unpacked and verified wireless and navigation equipment, and having rigged up a receiving station on the roof of the Cochrane Hotel, with the consent and help of Lieut. Clare, of the Mount Pearl Naval Wireless Station, I practiced the sending and receiving of wireless messages, and tuning in on various wave-lengths.
Rain and high wind caused a delay of three days, during which the machine necessarily remained in the open, with tarpaulins over the engines and only a small windscreen to break the force of the gales. When better conditions arrived the body of the Vickers-Vimy grew slowly into the semblance of a complete aëroplane, spurred thereto by our impatience and the willing work of the mechanics. The wings being in place, the Rolls-Royce experts became busy, examining and checking every little detail of their motors, so that there should be no avoidable trouble on that account. Water for the radiator was filtered, and then boiled in a steel barrel.
Our day-to-day watchers from St. John's showed much interest in this boiling process, and asked many questions. They seemed content with our explanation that we were boiling the gasoline so as to remove all water. Several asked whether we filled the planes with gas to make them lighter. Others were disappointed because we did not intend to drop our undercarriage over the sea, as Hawker had done, and prophesied that such neglect would lead to failure.
The machine was ready to take the air on the morning of Monday, June the ninth, and we decided to make the first flight that same afternoon. We had meant to keep the news of the forthcoming trial as secret as possible, so as to avoid a crowd. It leaked out, however, and long before the engines were warmed up and tested a large gathering had collected at Quidi Vidi.
The weather was on its best behavior, and our "take off" from the ground was perfect in every way. Under Alcock's skillful hands the big Vimy became almost as nippy as a single-seater scout. We headed directly westward, passing over the sea for some fifteen minutes. It was a clear day, and the sea reflected the sky's vivid blue. Near the coast it was streaked and spotted by the glistening white of icebergs and the evanescent appearances and disappearances of white-caps.
Trial observation with my navigation instruments proved them to be O. K.; but not a spark could be conjured from the wireless apparatus. The machine and motors seemed in perfect condition.
Alcock turned the Vickers-Vimy, and brought us back over St. John's at a height of four thousand feet. Newfoundland from above looked even more bleak and rugged than it did from the ground; and we saw that landing grounds would be impossible on the eastern side of it.