Transcriber’s Notes.

Hyphenation has been standardised.

Other changes made are noted at the [end of the book.]

H. G. HAWKER

AIRMAN:

HIS LIFE AND WORK

HARRY GEORGE HAWKER, A.F.C.

Photo by]

[Swaine.

H. G. HAWKER, AIRMAN:

HIS LIFE AND WORK

By

MURIEL HAWKER

WITH A FOREWORD BY

Lt.-Col. J. T. C. MOORE-BRABAZON, M.C., M.P.

WITH FRONTISPIECE AND 24 ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON:

HUTCHINSON & CO.

PATERNOSTER ROW

FOREWORD

By Lt.-Col. J. T. C. MOORE-BRABAZON, M.C., M.P.

I have been shown the great honour by Mrs. Hawker of being asked to write a Foreword to this book about her late husband. I can do nothing better than give the advice to all to read it, because, if they have followed aviation for some time back, they will live over again that heroic epoch when flight was really being made possible and will appreciate some of the difficulties and many of the successes that make the early days of aviation such a fascinating story; and if, on the other hand, they have only taken an interest in aviation lately, they will get conveyed to them from this book the atmosphere that pervaded the little community of enthusiasts who existed in the early days.

The figure of Hawker looms up large in the early days of aviation, and such was the man, that even after the war, with the hundreds of thousands of people that came into the movement, he still stood out a noteworthy figure.

His name will go down for all time coupled with others who gave their lives for the cause, such as Rolls, Grace, Cody.

It does indeed show a singular change in the mentality of the nation that the most popular sporting figures of recent times have been men whose prowess has been associated with their domination over machinery rather than animals. The bicycle was the instrument that first compelled the attention of all to a knowledge of mechanics, the motor-car demanded further knowledge on the subject, but it was not until the advent of the aeroplane that the imagination of the youth of this country was fired to appreciate the necessity for knowledge of mechanics.

Hawker, thirty years ago, was an impossibility, but when he died he was the idealised sportsman of the youth of the country, and it was rightly so. Modest in triumph, hard-working, a tremendous “sticker,” yet possessed of that vision without which no man can succeed, he stands out a figure whose loss we mourn even to-day, but whose life and career will serve as an example for others to attempt to follow.

J. T. C. Moore-Brabazon

July 4, 1922.

PREFACE

With his words still fresh in my memory, that, should anything ever happen to him, the one thing to do was to get work which would occupy my mind, I took upon myself the task of writing my husband’s life. I have been encouraged by many letters from people suggesting my undertaking this work, and, thus encouraged, I present this book.

I make no apologies for the errors of style, the technicalities of which I know nothing, but I have tried in simple language to convey some idea of the great work and spirit of one who attempted much, and, although crowned by few successes, was never for one moment discouraged as a loser.

I leave others to judge the merits of his works, but I leave to no one but myself the disclosure of the real goodness of his nature. This book being, more or less, a record of his achievements, it has been difficult to convey any idea of his true worth, which did not stand in anything he did, but in the firmness with which he held to what he considered was right. This sense of honour, not cultivated but innate, kept the fame, which he earned, from detracting in any way from the integrity of his character, and he always remained to the end his cheery, unaffected self.

His buoyant nature did not admit of defeat. I have never seen him disheartened and never has he given in. He always did his very best, and was ever ready to try again when that best was not good enough.

At the height of his popularity he declined good financial offers for lecturing tours in England and the States, which would have kept him for the rest of his life. Money could not divert him from his calling.

His goodness of heart would never let him turn away anyone in distress, and, in this, lack of discrimination played a big part.

Many people came to the house after his attempt to fly the Atlantic, with pitiful tales of woe. One, a musician, who said he had fallen on bad times, wanted a loan of £10, stating that he was a member of the Queen’s Hall Orchestra, in which he played a mandoline. He got his £10, but I do not believe the mandoline has ever figured amongst the instruments in the Queen’s Hall Orchestra.

A few days later another musician, very probably a friend of the first, arrived, but Harry said he would not see him. However, he was so persistent that Harry saw him at last, and heard his tale, which was to the effect that unless he could get a certain sum of money he would be sold up the next day, and, rather than that, he intended taking his life that night, although he had a wife and child. With tears, he asked if his life was not worth the few pounds, which he would surely return within a month. He received his cheque, left some of his own compositions for me to try, which he said he would call for when he repaid his debt, and was never seen again.

It would seem that Harry’s perfections have been exploited and his imperfections ignored, but I find the first so easy, my pen willingly covering many pages, and the second, not irksome, since his very imperfections were interesting, but hard to define.

Before our marriage he warned me of his terrible temper, which, he said, appeared at intervals, making him for a short time an unapproachable individual, and advised me that on such occasions I should leave him completely alone. I never witnessed one of these outbreaks and doubt if they ever occurred. Fits of irritability would seize him, sometimes for little or no apparent cause, and at others under great provocation, and while they lasted he was a very trying companion. But he would not be irritated for long; and these, I think, must have been his fits of terrible temper.

If neglect of his financial responsibilities, through disinterestedness, was a fault, then he had a big one. He was as unmercenary as it is possible for a normal man to be. He liked to have money in order to procure the necessaries of his hobby, but the matter of procuring proper payment for the work he did he left entirely in the hands of those for whom he was working, to pay him what they thought fit. And having received the money, the proper investment of it he ignored, until he was reminded, leaving his money idle in the bank. In his last year of life he began to look at these things more seriously, as his outgoings had increased and his income diminished, and, with the responsibilities of a company under his own name, probably another year would have made him a different man—a business man perhaps, but never so great a man.

I should like to mention here a trouble we often encountered and which was a great worry to us both, however we tried to ignore it.

I refer to the people who persist in suggesting that a man with dependants should not continually risk his life unless they were securely provided for. How many a man has been asked upon marriage to give up his work, if it happens to be of a precarious nature, and the firm, instead of having made progress with the new partner, has decayed because that partner did not face the risks the old one was willing to sustain? Never will I understand why a man of a hazardous career should have to choose between that career and the comforts of his own home, and possible parenthood, because of a fearful dread of a premature parting which is allowed to exist.

Harry was a true optimist, and the way he came out of his many troubles warranted his optimism. It was so natural if he had a smash to know he was not hurt, or if he had any trouble it would be righted very quickly. This feeling is so real that, even now, apart from all religion, I know he has come up smiling somewhere and all is well with him.

MURIEL HAWKER.

PREFATORY NOTE

(POST SCRIPTUM)

The production of this book has necessitated the collecting and sifting of a considerable amount of detail, particularly as regards the earlier chapters and those dealing with the Atlantic flight. In this and in the general plan of the book I have received considerable assistance from Mr. W. R. Douglas Shaw, F.R.S.A., who has rendered invaluable help in many ways through his wide knowledge of aeronautical matters.

This introduction would not be complete without my also acknowledging the help received from Lt.-Commander Mackenzie-Grieve, R.N., who has kindly read through the chapters dealing with the Atlantic flight; from Mr. Alan R. Fenn, formerly of the Sopwith Aviation Company, for details of Harry’s experiences at Villacoublay; from the authorities at Australia House in allowing me to consult their records, and from many others who have contributed in various ways to this work.

My acknowledgments are also due to the Press, on whose reports I have relied in many cases, and I would mention The Times, Morning Post, The Daily Mail, Temple Press, Iliffe & Sons, Flight, The Aeroplane, and particularly the kindness of the proprietors of the Melbourne Argus and Sydney Bulletin in giving me free access to their files of 1913-14.

MURIEL HAWKER.

May, 1922.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I

EARLY STRUGGLES

Harry’s Parents—His Sisters and Brothers—Schooldays—Four Schools in Six Years—The Attraction of a Cadet Corps—Motor Work at Twelve Years of Age—The Expert of Fifteen—Managing a Fleet of Cars—First Desire to Fly—The Kindness of Mr. and Mrs. McPhee—Harry Meets Busteed—And Comes to England with Him—Kauper—Seeing London—Quest for Employment—A Job at Sevenpence per Hour—Another at Ninepence-Halfpenny—Thoughts of Returning to Australia—Forty Pounds in the Bank—Kauper Strikes Oil—And Helps Harry—Sigrist—How Harry was Happy on Two Pounds per Week—His First Flight—Reminiscences of Brooklands Days.

CHAPTER I

There was born at Harcourt, in Victoria, Australia, on January 10th, 1862, one George Hawker, whose father was a Cornishman. Grown to manhood, this George Hawker followed the blacksmith’s calling, and on May 24th, 1883, he married Mary Ann Gilliard Anderson, a spinster, of Scottish stock, who was born on October 9th, 1859, at Stawell, also in Victoria. There were four children of the marriage: Maude (the eldest), Herbert, Harry, and Ruby (the youngest). The elder boy, Herbert, born in 1885, was unlike his brother in many respects. For instance, as a child he was very delicate, a circumstance which hampered him in his studies. Nevertheless, he was very fond of school, and he invariably worked well and progressed in spite of his ailments. He excelled in music. Although he had only recently married, Herbert Hawker joined the Australian Forces at the outset of the Great War, and he suffered great privation and illness at Gallipoli. He was later badly gassed on the Western Front, and his life was despaired of in consequence. Having partially recovered, he returned to Australia, bearing the honorary rank of captain. He has two children, a girl and a boy.

Maude and Ruby Hawker are both married, the elder having two boys, Alan (“Bobbie”), born in 1910, and Howard (“Bill”), born in 1912. Both boys display the aptitude for engineering which undoubtedly runs in the family, the elder having driven and attended to his father’s car at the age of nine years.

Harry Hawker, or—to give the subject of my biography his full names—Harry George Hawker, was born on January 22nd, 1889, at the little village of South Brighton (now known as Moorabbin) in Victoria, where his father had a small blacksmith’s and wheelwright’s shop which brought in enough to keep the family in comfort. George Hawker has at least two claims to fame, which, arranged chronologically in order of occurrence, are, first, that he was the father of a great aviator, and, secondly, that he himself was a fine shot, for in 1897 he came to England with the Bisley Rifle Team and won the Queen’s Prize.

At the age of six, Harry was sent to the school of Mr. W. J. Blackwell, B.A., at Moorabbin. He took no interest whatever in his studies, either then or ever during his school career. For this inadvertence he was sorry in later years. He was almost continually running away from school and always in trouble. In the space of little over six years he went to four different schools. After leaving Mr. Blackwell, Harry was sent to a school at East Malvern, presided over by Mr. M. T. Lewis. He was not long there, for in 1896 he was attending a school at St. Kilda, whither his parents had moved. Harry was even more unsettled at St. Kilda, for, without as much as telling anyone at home, he left his school and presented himself at another school, at Prahran, where they had a cadet corps which attracted him. He became a cadet, but, still restless and unmanageable, he ran away from school for good at the age of twelve and started work with a motor firm, Messrs. Hall and Warden, for five shillings per week. When fifteen years of age he had an extraordinary knowledge of motors for such a youngster, and he was considered one of the best car drivers in Victoria at that time. As a child, Harry’s sole ambition was to become an engineer, and while at school he designed and built engines in his spare time.

After leaving Hall and Warden’s, he joined the Tarrant Motor Company, with which firm he made considerable headway and soon became one of their leading motor experts, and that notwithstanding his extreme youth, which he always tried to hide by adding a year or two to his age. However, that restlessness, which was probably only due to his having reached the limit of progress in his present job, again claimed him, and, tempted by the offer of a workshop of his own, he took up the work of looking after a fleet of private cars belonging to a Mr. de Little, for which he received a salary of £200 per annum. About this time, too, Harry’s father was running a small steam plant which enabled Harry to test several of his ideas. It was while Harry was with Mr. de Little that his old ambition to follow an engineering career resolved itself into a desire to fly. It may have been the fact that very little was then known of aeronautical science, particularly in Australia, or perhaps Harry was attracted by the most intricate branch of engineering—but whatever the origin of the idea, Harry had made a firm resolution, and he looked around for his opportunity to carry it out; but for several months the prospects were not bright.

While Harry was working for Mr. de Little he lived at a small country hotel at Caramut, kept by Mr. and Mrs. McPhee, of whom he could never speak too highly. They were extraordinarily good to Harry, and when he left Australia they insisted on insuring his life; and they continued to pay the yearly premiums until he died. After Harry’s death, one of the most human letters I received came from Mrs. McPhee, with the insurance policy enclosed. The amount was very small, but the wealth of good nature which prompted such a disinterested tribute to his lovable personality was worth untold gold.

When he had been with Mr. de Little for nearly three years, Harry, then about twenty years old, met by accident one Busteed, who, inspired by the sight of a Wright and a Blériot, was leaving for England in a week. Having saved about £100 during his period of service with Mr. de Little, Harry decided to go with him, with the idea that in England his ambition to learn to fly would easily be realised. Accordingly, within a week he had thrown up everything, and with no misgivings was crossing the world in search of the knowledge of flying for which he had yearned so long. He was, as always, full of confidence in himself. From the time he started work at five shillings per week he never looked back. He gave no thought to the possibility of his not making good in England. He left Australia for England to learn to fly, and either did not or would not recognise that in the Old Country he would be likely to meet with keen competition in his quest.

There is no doubt that the trouble he experienced in getting any sort of work, even apart from that on which his heart was set, was a great blow to his confidence, for after nearly a year in very poor jobs in large workshops, where there seemed to be little or no scope for his ability, he contemplated returning home and taking up his old work. This was the only occasion, in a life full of ups and downs, when he seriously thought of throwing up the sponge and yielding to the line of least resistance. In all other adverse circumstances he revealed a spirit of indomitable courage and endurance. There is no measuring a man’s actual worth, but had Fate not kept Harry here we should have been several iotas deficient in our air supremacy in those dark days which followed on so soon, when iotas were of incalculable worth.

Harry and Busteed first arrived in London in May, 1911, with Harrison and Kauper, two other friends who had also travelled from Australia. All four were destined for aeronautical careers, Harry and Kauper, with nothing definite in view, left the others and looked for “diggings.” Although they had very little money, they decided to have a holiday and enjoy the sights of London before seeking employment. After a couple of weeks or so, Harry started to look around for a firm who wanted to teach someone to fly. This preliminary search was unsuccessful, so Harry, full of life and confidence, thought he would obtain work in an engineering shop and bide his time in finding the work he most wanted. Funds were getting low, and the quest for any sort of job was rendered very difficult by the fact that most of the people whom he approached would not consider employing him because he had no references in this country, a circumstance which Harry was at a loss to understand. In Melbourne there was not a firm but would have taken him, but in England his own word for his ability was not enough.

Eventually he offered to work for a week for nothing, as a test of his ability, but this was of no avail. The outlook became very black. With Kauper, he moved to cheaper lodgings, where he was barely able to afford the necessities of life. They knew no one in the country except their two fellow-travellers, but Harry was too proud to let them know his plight, and would starve first. He continued to write cheerful letters home, telling of prospects, but never a word as to the actual state of his affairs. He would not have his parents think he needed financial help from them.

On July 29th, 1911, after two bad months, fortune changed a little for the better, as he managed to get work with the Commer Company at a remuneration of 7d. per hour. He continued, of course, to hunt for the opportunity which would bring him nearer to the realisation of his hope of flying, and so, when offered a remuneration of 9½d. per hour by the Mercèdes Company he had no scruples about leaving the other firm at the end of January, 1912. He was with the Mercèdes Company for less than two months, as on March 18th he accepted a better post with the Austro-Daimler Company. In the meantime, although he had approached very little, if any, nearer his goal, he had gained invaluable experience. Furthermore, whenever possible, he had saved his money, and any that he spent on recreation paid for weekly visits to Brooklands to watch the flying there.

He was thankful that he had been economical and saved £40, enough to take him back to Australia, when, after nearly a year, he despaired of ever realising his ambition to fly. Then it was that Kauper, who had been experiencing bad times as regards work, saw that Sopwith’s were advertising for a mechanic, and, being out of employment, immediately applied for the job, with success. It was arranged that if the work turned out to be what they wanted, Kauper was to let Harry know. Having regard to what he had suffered, Harry would not now give up his job with the Austro-Daimler firm unless for something equally secure and permanent, and he would wisely have refused even a flying opportunity that did not fulfil such conditions. He did not want to run any unnecessary risk of being without work again.

Within a week of Kauper taking up his new work Harry received a wire from his friend, telling him to come down at once and that the prospects were good. Without a second’s delay, Harry packed up and left London for Brooklands, but little dreaming that he was on the point of realising his wildest hopes. Meanwhile, Kauper had discovered the work to be exactly what Harry was seeking. The Fates were kind, and a few days after Kauper had joined the Sopwith Company a lot of extra work turned up, necessitating the employment of still another mechanic. Kauper approached Mr. F. Sigrist, the works manager, by whom he was engaged, and told him he knew of “an Australian, a good mechanic, very keen to fly and ready for any sort of job with an aeroplane firm.” Sigrist told him he could arrange an interview, and so it was that, in reply to the wire mentioned above, Harry, complete with bag and tool-kit, presented himself ready to start work at once on June 29th, 1912.

It did not take Sigrist long to find out that in Harry he had a good man. He was very hard-working and exceptionally quick and accurate, and he could tackle any mechanical construction work. That Harry shone as a mechanic was Sigrist’s opinion. His whole heart was in his work. He worked fifteen hours a day on seven days a week, with £2 at the end of it. For the first time in England he was happy, notwithstanding hard work and little pay. His old confidence returned, and he no longer thought of getting home. The £40 he had saved he offered to Sigrist to be allowed to use a machine. Sigrist told Mr. Sopwith his star mechanic wanted to fly, and so Harry’s hopes materialised and he received his preliminary lessons.

MRS. GEORGE HAWKER—
HARRY’S MOTHER.

HARRY AS A CADET AT
THE AGE OF 12.

MR. GEORGE HAWKER—
HARRY’S FATHER.

[Facing p. 30.

At this time Sopwith was conducting a flying-school and had several pupils, between whom there was great competition for getting the use of the school machine. After Harry had done a little taxi-ing on the aerodrome he seemed never to be able to get hold of the machine. But at last it was arranged that he could have a fly at 7 o’clock one morning. In those days a flight of such a nature by a pupil would last for from three to ten minutes. Not so in Harry’s case, for Sigrist appeared on the scene at 8 o’clock, to find Harry still in the air after almost an hour! His progress under Mr. Sopwith and Mr. Hedley was exceedingly rapid, and he was acting in the capacity of an instructor before he had passed the tests for the Royal Aero Club Aviators’ Certificate. Among his pupils were Major H. M. Trenchard and Captain J. M. Salmond, both now officers of high distinction in the Royal Air Force.

Harry’s hopes and prospects were now as bright as they could possibly be. As soon as he had taken his “ticket” (i.e., R.Ae.C. Aviator’s Certificate), he was placed in charge of the hangars at Brooklands, where his real career began. Some of the gay times they had in those early flying days are worthy of record.

The firm, which later developed into the Sopwith Aviation Company, employing about 3,000 men, but consisted then of Mr. Sopwith, Mr. Sigrist, and about a dozen men, launched out with the purchase of a “racing” car when they had made a few pounds. This was an old Panhard of 16 h.p., fitted with a Victoria body and always accompanied by sundry disturbing noises. This genuine piece of antique was later fitted with a two-seater body, not to satisfy the wishes of its many drivers for a sporting effect, but because it provided at the back an enclosed space for carrying various impedimenta. On Saturdays and other festive nights it was customary for this useful part of the body to be discarded, and the turn-out would proceed, covered with mechanics, mud, and a very little glory, to the Kingston “Empire.”

This weekly trip from Weybridge to Kingston was never accomplished without incident in the form of some hitch or adventure. For instance, the tail-light, which no one had time or energy to adjust during the week, was wont to fail, and the policeman’s whistle was not infrequently heard. Whistle! “What’s that, Fred?” Harry would say to Sigrist. “Tail-light out, or did we run over that old girl?” “No, it’s only the light.” And so they proceeded, leaving the back to take care of itself. The eight or nine mechanics, carried on these journeys, were generally needed. Tyres were always going off; lamps always going out; and various bits and pieces of the car going astray on the road. All had, therefore, to work their passage.

Harry never tired of telling of the fun of those days, and although he was the keenest of workers, he was always ready for some fun, not a little being provided by the antics of a pet bear kept in the sheds at Brooklands and brought from America by Sopwith.

Harry’s delight in playing tricks never left him. Only a short while before he died we were spending a week-end with my parents. After we had all retired for the night I overheard a council of war between my brother and Harry. They crept stealthily downstairs. When, after about an hour, Harry arrived upstairs, I could extract no lucid explanation of what he had been doing. However, the next morning the sight of a white door in the dark dining-room when we sat down to breakfast explained his activities of the previous night. He had changed the white door of the drawing-room for the dark one of the dining-room. The cook gave my mother notice to leave immediately after breakfast, as she was not used to “being made a fool of.” There was only one person who saw her being made a fool of, but that person’s tale of cook’s exit through a door she knew so well which had suddenly gone “all gleaming white” was so funny that I am sure her manner of accepting the joke was better appreciated by the perpetrators than by the fools for whom it was intended.

CHAPTER II

THE BRITISH DURATION RECORD

Harry’s Aversion to Publicity—Circumstances of His First Brooklands Associations—The Sopwith-Burgess-Wright Biplane—Harry’s Effort in a Quick-starting Competition—Beating His Employer—Early Attempts for Michelin Laurels—A Real Success—Tuning-up for the Duration Record—Raynham Makes a Race—And Secures an Advantage—Raynham Lands after 7 hours 31½ minutes—And Holds the Record for an Hour or Two—Opportunity Knocks at Harry’s Door—And is Well Received—Harry Lands after 8 hours 23 minutes—To Him the Spoils—His Own Account of the Experience—A Reminiscence of Cody—The Significance of Harry’s Achievement—Other Flights at Brooklands—The Growth of a Pioneer Firm.

CHAPTER II

During the latter half of 1912, with the buoyancy of the enthusiast and no idea of the meteoric way in which his latent abilities would be developed, Harry embarked on the flying career on which his heart was set, at a time when the spirit of quantity production had not descended to meet the necessities of war and the aeronautical fraternity was happy in its smallness.

Even when he had carried out not a few, but many, flights of a nature unprecedented for a beginner, Harry was known only to a very few near associates; and he eschewed publicity not only before, but also after, he was drawn automatically and unavoidably within its fold. Fortunately, Harry had no cause to sever a well-made alliance with Mr. Sopwith, who was quick in recognising the genius of his protégé, as a pilot then, and as an engineer later. Had circumstances been less promising, and if Harry had elected to seek work as a pilot elsewhere, the scanty knowledge of his early experiences that had been disseminated would have stood him in little stead, for in 1912 the experiences of most pilots were generally reported in considerable detail; and here would have been a man with a brilliant record who had deliberately contrived to have as few papers as possible to show for it. A few genuine Press reports are surely of some value to a youngster who, looking for employment, has to make an impression, and particularly if he is not a great talker. But one cannot blame Harry for this seeming inadvertence, for he never required such testimonials.

Harry first arrived at Brooklands at a time when things were literally moving rather slowly and the hub of British enterprise in aviation was showing a pronounced tendency to deviate to Hendon, whither many of the bright spirits that were formerly the life of Brooklands had already departed. Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith (now C.B.E.), who gave Harry his start in aviation, had recently returned from a successful American tour, during which he had participated in several motor-boat races and incidentally had commissioned the well-known American boat-builder, Burgess, to construct, under licence from the Wright Brothers, an aeroplane, known as a Burgess-Wright biplane then, and as a Sopwith-Wright after reconstruction by its owner in England.

As it was on this machine Harry made his reputation as a pilot of the first rank, a few references to its design and construction are not out of place. The original machine built by Burgess to Sopwith’s instructions, contrary to the customary Wright practice, was fitted with controls of the Farman type and a Gnome rotary engine. Having brought the machine to England, Sopwith replaced the Gnome engine by a British-built A.B.C. of 40 h.p., and proceeded to manufacture in his sheds at Brooklands duplicates of all the component parts of the aeroplane. Thus the machine, when ultimately reconstructed, became all-British in conformity with the requirements of the competition for the British Empire Michelin Cup No. 1. The machine had twin propellers, driven through the medium of chains connected with the single engine, and on the right-hand side of the latter was arranged the pilot’s seat. The machine was therefore of a distinctly novel type, at any rate so far as concerned this country, where few Wright machines had been seen. One innovation added to the design by Mr. Sopwith (to protect the pilot from the wind) was a nacelle, resembling in appearance a side-car body, and it is probable that without this feature Harry would not have been able to put up as many long flights as he did. Passengers in this machine enjoyed a particularly novel sensation in sitting beside the engine instead of in front of or behind it, and in landing they received the impression that the chassis had collapsed, so low was the build of the machine as compared with other contemporaneous types.

Four days after he had his first lesson in the art of flying, Harry flew alone in the Sopwith-Farman machine. His remarkable genius was thus revealed at the very beginning of his career in aviation; and by Sopwith, his tutor, he was afforded full scope for the development of his abilities. Within a month he qualified for his R.Ae.C. Aviator’s Certificate, the number of which was 297; and so rapid was his progress that when he successfully essayed his flight for the British duration record he had only put up a total flying time of about twenty hours.

After obtaining his certificate, Harry lost no time in pursuing the purely sporting side of flying, and on Saturday, October 5th, 1912, he participated in a Quick-Starting Competition, at Brooklands, on the Sopwith-Farman biplane. There were eight other competitors. Harry tied for second place with the late Harold Barnwell, who was piloting a Vickers-Farman biplane, their times being 6 seconds. An interesting circumstance of this contest was that on running off—or, rather, flying off—the dead heat, Harry and Barnwell both completed the evolution in faster time than E. C. Pashley, the accredited winner of the race, whose time was 5⅖th seconds. Harry’s time for this second performance was 5 seconds and Barnwell’s 4⅘th seconds. Sopwith, who competed on two machines, a Sopwith-Farman and a Sopwith-Tractor, for which his times were 7 seconds and 7⅖th seconds respectively, had the doubtful pleasure of being beaten by his pupil.

Harry essayed his first flight on the Burgess-Wright, on which he was subsequently to achieve the British Duration Record, on October 15th, 1912. Being already accustomed to the Farman type controls, he found no difficulty in handling the machine, and after completing a few circuits and practising landings he felt thoroughly at home on it. The following morning at 6.51 a.m. he set out on a test of 3 hours 31 minutes in competition for the British Empire Michelin Cup No. 1 and the £500 prize. The Cup had previously been won by Moore-Brabazon in 1909 and twice by Cody, in 1910 and 1911. In the 1912 competition a continuous flight of not less than five hours’ duration had to be made, the award going to the competitor remaining the longest time in the air in a single flight without touching the ground. Although unsuccessful as a qualifying flight in the competition, Harry’s first attempt, lasting as it did for three-and-a-half hours, on a machine of a novel type which he had flown only for the first time on the previous day, was a most creditable achievement, especially, too, for a pilot who had won his brevet only a month previously. Such a flight, in such a remote period in the annals of aviation as 1912, would have been considered no mean performance for the most experienced of pilots. The flight, which was carried out at Brooklands at an average height of 500 feet, was terminated owing to the fracture of a valve-spring. Harry made two other unsuccessful attempts to win the Cup, the first lasting 2 hours 43 minutes, and terminating abruptly owing to a sudden gale, and the second of 3 hours 28 minutes, ending owing to rain.

As the Michelin Competition definitely closed on October 31st, there was no time to lose, and on Thursday, the 24th, Harry put up a flight of 8 hours 23 minutes, which proved to be the British Duration Record held by him for several years. On the same day a flight of 7½ hours was made by his friend Raynham, who held the British Duration Record for a brief spell of 1 hour 35 minutes, having started and finished before Harry. Lord Charles Beresford was among those who witnessed these record flights. I cannot do better than reproduce the following account communicated to the Aero by its special correspondent in November, 1913.

“We were astir early in the Sopwith camp on Thursday, October 24th. Not that this was the first early-morning attempt on the Michelin prize. The same thing had been going on for a week past, and no fewer than three times in this week had the new Sopwith twin-screw A.B.C.-engined biplane sallied forth. Hawker, the pilot, had been chosen to fly the Sopwith ‘bus,’ and his determination, skill, and enthusiasm through this and the previous attempts justified the faith put in him for such a task. Hawker is a young Australian, and, like his fellow countrymen Busteed, Pickles, and Harrison, he shows very great promise as a flier. Joining the Sopwith school as a mechanic, he was allowed to learn on the orthodox school type Farman, and he early displayed his aptitude for this work by going up to 1,000 feet and remaining there for fifty minutes on the fourth day of his training.

“Of his three previous attempts on the Michelin Duration Competition little need be said; the first one was terminated after 3 hours 31 minutes by a valve-spring breaking. On the second attempt the wind, after 2 hours 43 minutes proved too much for further flight, and the third attempt ended after 3 hours 28 minutes in a rainstorm, which soaked the magneto through, and temporarily ended its career.

“With serious designs on ‘durating,’ the Sopwith camp was awake and bustling, and excitement ran high when it was seen that Raynham was to make a simultaneous attempt on the military Avro biplane (enclosed body type), fitted with a 60 h.p. Green engine. Hawker got away just before 7 a.m., but was brought down again after a flight lasting no more than twenty minutes by the magneto cutting out occasionally. Apparently it had not recovered from the effects of its previous soaking. This contingency had been anticipated, however, and a brand-new British-made Bosch had been ordered previously, which, however, had only arrived late the night before. The old ‘mag.’ was hurriedly removed and the new one fitted, but even minor details of this kind take time, and in this case the time was all too precious. In timing the magneto it was found to run the wrong way round, and it had to be dismantled and a new commutator fitted.

“Meanwhile Raynham got away on the Avro at 7.40, which meant eventually a start of 1h. 35m. He seemed to have a little trouble in carrying his load, as he had to make three attempts to get off, and he was flying very cabré through the earlier part of his flight. The Green engine, however, sounded serious, solemn, and steady, and seemed to inspire confidence. Hawker made a start at 9.15 without even testing or trying the magneto in any way.

“Then commenced a magnificent and exciting contest which lasted till well after dark.

“The A.B.C. spluttered a little at first for want of a warming-up, but by the time it had done one circuit of Brooklands its revolutions were up to 2,000 per minute, and Hawker was able to throttle down slightly. There was a tense feeling all round, and an ache in the heart of the Sopwith crew that the magneto had not been properly fitted during the previous night. Hawker’s handicap was realised more and more when it was found that if Raynham remained aloft until within 1 hour and 35 minutes of the limiting hours of the competition (which were from sunrise till one hour after sunset), Hawker could not possibly win.

“There was a stream of people to and from the anemometer throughout the day, which instrument happily showed the atmospheric conditions to be little short of ideal. The speed of the wind during the day did not vary more than five to eight miles per hour.

“Raynham, with his wide experience, took the greatest possible advantage of this, and made a really splendid flight, with the Green throttled down to the very slowest revolutions that the machine would fly with, and with the tail dropping in what appeared to be a fearful position to the onlookers. Hawker, with tail well up (and his machine lifts the loads remarkably easily), was flying steadily round at a height of about 400 feet, the A.B.C. emitting a steady hum. Raynham, on the other hand, was flying very low, and on some occasions was only about 30 feet high. By about eleven o’clock he evidently had become extremely bored with pottering round and round, because he commenced a series of antics round the sheds, and at one time about half-way round a turn he suddenly doubled back on his own track, and did a turn or two round the wrong way, all the time, however, with his engine ticking round at something like 950 revolutions per minute only, the appearance of the machine being terrifying to behold to those who dread sideslips.

“Hawker all this time was steadily plodding away, making the safest flight possible, and the very machine had a look of determination about it. The two slow-speed propellers turned solemnly round, and the engine explosions were lost in a continual buzz through the high engine speed. That he was out to win if possible was obvious from every movement. Raynham’s champions grew a little nervous over the flippancy of their pilot, and a shutter of one of the sheds was quickly requisitioned, on which were painted the words in large letters: ‘Fly higher.’ It had not much effect, however, although it served apparently to sober him a little.

“Towards one o’clock impatient questions as to how much oil and petrol they were carrying began to circulate amongst the onlookers, and it appeared that Raynham’s oil supply was likely to run out before anything else. On more than one occasion the Green suddenly slowed down in revolutions, only to pick up again just as quickly. Someone pointed out later on that the short pipes coupled to the exhaust ports in the cylinders of the Green no longer emitted the puffs of smoke that had been prominent in the earlier stages of the flight, and misgivings as to the oil supply began to travel abroad.

“Excitement reached fever-heat between two and three o’clock, the strain of watching the two machines circle round hour after hour becoming intense. It was not even like a motor race, where one can see fairly early in the run who is likely to be the winner. In this conflict, speed did not even count, and the contest might terminate any second by either running out of fuel or by an engine stoppage. Little work was done in the sheds, and every few minutes mechanics would appear at the various doors to find and call out to their mates that both machines were still up.

“‘Raynham’s down!’ The cry spread across the ground at about 3.10 p.m., and a frantic rush was made to the front of the sheds, and sure enough he was just on the point of touching. He terminated his flight at 3.11½ p.m. exactly, having been in the air 7 hours 31½ minutes—truly a splendid performance. We all rushed across the ground, and Fred May, of the Green Engine Co., jumped into his car and came tearing up to the spot. Raynham climbed out, looking somewhat tired, but apparently none the worse for the 7½ hours’ toil. He said that the oil had run out, and though he had held on as long as he could, the engine had been dropping in revolutions for the last half-hour, and he did not want to risk it seizing up altogether.

“Up to the very minute of Raynham’s landing it is doubtful if a single person on Brooklands would have given a shilling for Hawker’s chance of putting up better time than Raynham with the latter’s hour and a half start; but things now changed, and as all eyes were turned upwards and ears listening to catch the rhythmic beating of the engine, the question went round: ‘Will he keep up for another two hours?’ The engine sounded happy enough, and if nothing happened there was no reason why he should not, as he had a big load of fuel. The excitement now began steadily to rise as the minutes were ticked off, and to the Sopwith enthusiasts every minute seemed an age. They all went back to find something to do that would pass the time more quickly, but had to come out again with dread in their hearts that they might find Hawker ‘taxi-ing’ along the ground.

“Gradually the time went along, and Hawker was still steadily travelling at his 400 feet altitude. Then Sopwith appeared on the scene at about four o’clock, and brought out his 70 h.p. Gnome Tractor biplane with the intention of cheering Hawker up a little. Taking Charteris as a passenger, he did one or two circuits, climbing up to Hawker’s level, then very skilfully cut across a sharp turn and came alongside. Hawker, in fear of not lasting out the time, had throttled down to the smallest amount he could fly with so as to economise petrol and oil; his machine was therefore very slow, and Sopwith had to switch off and dive a little so as not to pass him. The two on the Tractor waved frantically, and shouted encouragements, which, of course, Hawker could not hear at all, but which he undoubtedly understood. Down planed the Tractor again, leaving Hawker with just another half-hour to go through to equal Raynham’s time (which, by the way, was for 1 hour 35 minutes the British Duration Record).

“The next half hour was the worst period experienced by a great number of the Brooklands clan, and it is doubtful if any other event ever held on the ground has caused so much interest. Tea was forgotten altogether, and exact minutes and seconds were in the greatest demand, everybody walking about watch in hand. After ten more minutes had passed it was observed that Hawker had throttled really to the very limit so as not to run the slightest risk of running short of petrol. The machine was flying at a terrible angle, with the tail pointing strongly earthwards, and the spectators began to feel nervous. Another shutter was acquired, on which was whitewashed: ‘Keep your tail up,’ and this was displayed for the pilot, who, however, took but little notice of it.

“Gradually the minutes passed, and a little crowd gathered round the timekeeper, who slowly (horribly slowly to some) counted 9 minutes, 8 minutes, and so on. ‘One more circuit will do it!’ someone cried, and it did, and as the last seconds passed away, never to be recalled, a huge sigh escaped from the lips of everybody. To some it was a sigh of relief, to others perhaps not, but now the crisis was over everybody was sporting enough to express admiration for a very plucky flight.

“Hawker had evidently had his eye glued to the clock which he carried on board, for now his tail was up high again, the machine sped away full of life, and the time also slipped by much faster now that the face of the watch was not being scrutinised so carefully. Another half hour passed and darkness began to close in. It had been arranged that a huge petrol fire should be lit when it was time for Hawker to come down, an hour after sunset being 5.48 p.m. It was, however, quite dark at 5.20, and a difficult problem arose in the minds of those on the ground. It was naturally wished to make the flight as long as possible, and therefore to light the bonfire then would have been to bring him down unnecessarily early; on the other hand, complete darkness might quite possibly cause him to lose himself. A better arrangement would have been to light one fire half an hour before the specified finish, another one a quarter of an hour later, and a third when the time was up, leaving the whole three for him to land by.

“Any misgivings that may have remained in the minds of a few regarding the condition of the engine were quickly put at rest by Hawker at about 5.30 opening the throttle wide and shooting up to between 1,200 and 1,500 feet in so short a space of time as would have made some of our military competitors envious. It was evident he did this to run no risk of petrol running out when he was over the sewage farm or behind the sheds at a low altitude. It was now quite dark, and wanted but ten minutes to the time limit. At this stage one was impressed by the appearance of the long flame from the exhaust. The exhaust pipes were apparently quite red hot the whole time.

“Suddenly Hawker was seen to be intent on making a landing without further delay, and he came down in a perfectly straight line from the far end of the ground with the engine about half throttled. He made a very shallow angle of descent, apparently with the intention of striking as gradually as possible, as the earth could not be seen at all. Those in charge of the bonfires instantly realised the situation, and applied matches to the petrol, which flared up in the nick of time. Hawker straightened up, closed the throttle, and made a perfect landing seven minutes before the time limit.

“There was a rush for the spot where the machine was, and the next five minutes were occupied in cheering, congratulating, shaking hands and patting backs. Hawker climbed out of his seat, having been exactly 8 hours 23 minutes in the air, but he looked easily capable of undergoing the same trial again.

“Relating his experience, Hawker said: ‘When I got away first at about 9.15 I thought the new magneto had been timed incorrectly, because the engine was only turning at 1,600, and would hardly carry the load; before I had done a circuit, however, I discovered it was only a case of getting the engine warm, this taking a particularly long time, because we had fitted two radiators where there only used to be one, even in the summer, and I was carrying nearly six gallons of water all told. This I found afterwards to be really too much, because towards the end I tried to warm my hand on the water-pipe which runs from the bottom of the radiators and found it too cold to touch.

“‘Within five minutes of the start the engine was turning round at just over 2,000 revolutions per minute, and I realised that if I wanted to economise I must throttle down a little. This I did, and ran along steadily at about 1,800 revolutions. I was extremely worried to think that we had let Raynham get such a lead, but there was no hope for it, so I settled down to a long, slow job, determined to stick to it to the end.

“‘I was quite snug and warm inside the little body that had been provided, and the weather throughout was ideal. The engine ran splendidly, and I can truthfully say that it never made a single misfire for the whole period of 8 hours 23 minutes.

“‘I occupied most of my time in keeping one eye on the clock and one on Raynham, who was flying below me, and on several occasions he quite appeared to be “taxi-ing” along the ground. I always noticed that he never came to rest, however, and concluded that he must be flying low. Once he shot across my path about some 150 feet under me, giving me quite a start for the second. On several occasions I lost sight of him for half an hour at a time, and was sometimes worried by wondering whether I was going to give him my backwash or whether I was getting into his.

“‘I had a Thermos flask of cocoa on board, some chocolate, and some sandwiches, all of which I found useful in either passing the time away or relieving the monotony by giving me something to do. I did not look at the exact time that I started, but I knew that I had about an hour and three quarters to do after Raynham had finished. Everything was plain sailing with regard to the petrol supply and oil. The petrol was gravity-fed and the oil pressure-fed. I had a twenty-gallon petrol tank just behind my back, which was coupled directly to the carburetter, and above that I had a twelve-gallon tank, both being full. The twelve-gallon tank was connected by a pipe to the larger tank, and after I had been flying for four hours I turned on the tap in the twelve-gallon tank and allowed the contents of this tank to flow down to the larger one. I discovered afterwards that the pipe from the twelve-gallon to the twenty-gallon tank was not large enough, because when I came down in the evening I could hear the petrol still slowly trickling into the large tank. For the oil, I had a glass gauge in the sump of the motor and a five-gallon tank also behind my back, I started off with two gallons in the sump, and occasionally pumped up a little pressure in the oil tank, opening the tap between the tank and the sump to keep the oil level in the sump somewhere within sight. As the petrol was used and the weight lessened I closed the throttle slightly, the engine running equally well at all speeds.

“‘Later on I saw a shutter being carried out with the words “Fly higher” painted on it. I could read it quite distinctly from 400 feet, but as I felt quite comfortable where I was I did not pay any heed to it. It was not until after I came down that I discovered that this sign was meant for Raynham. It was a great relief to me to see Raynham come down, and I knew this time that he was going to land, because I could see all the people running across the ground towards him.

“‘From then onwards I kept my eyes glued to the face of the clock, the last half hour that would make my flight equal Raynham’s being the most anxious and worrying of the whole day. Every minute seemed an hour, and as I was afraid that the petrol in the top tank might not be flowing properly into the main tank, I closed the throttle for the last twenty minutes down to the very limit the machine would fly with. I must have been flying then at only about thirty-five miles per hour. Then I saw the 70 h.p. Gnome Tractor ’bus come out, and watched Mr. Sopwith with interest. I guessed what he was coming out for, and when I saw him make straight for me, broadside on, I kept on a perfectly straight course, knowing well that he would be careful not to hinder me in any way. He came quite close alongside, and I distinctly heard them both shout (my A.B.C engine had a silencer fitted), but I could not tell what they said.

“‘Painfully slowly the minutes rolled away, but at last I realised that I was the holder of the British Duration Record. When I was quite sure of this I opened up the throttle again, as I had not much to fear now, but I was still determined to keep up in order to give anyone else a good run in order to beat it. When it was getting nearly dark I pulled open the last notch of the throttle and climbed up to 1,400 feet on the meter, and I did this very rapidly. Darkness came on, and I could see very little but the red-hot exhaust pipe and the reflection from the burnt gases. The dim lights of the Blue Bird served as a little guide to the position of the ground, and when I felt sure it must be quite 5.50 I decided to come down immediately and make a guess at where the ground was, as I felt sure they had forgotten all about the fires, and I did not want to get lost and smash the machine up. Just as I was landing the fires flared up, and I came to rest and found everyone as pleased as I was.’”

Note.—The foregoing verbatim report of Hawker’s experiences in making the British Duration Record is reprinted from the Aero of November, 1912.

In attempting, with characteristic pluck, to beat Harry’s record on the last day of the competition, Cody unfortunately collided with a post on landing after a trial flight, and a wing was buckled in consequence.

The performance whereby Harry not only won the British Empire Michelin Cup No. 1, but also captured the British Duration Record, brought him into the front rank of British pilots and marked an important point in the annals of British aviation. Public attention was attracted to a type of machine of which little was known in this country, although it bore the pioneer hall-mark of the Wrights. For the Sopwith Aviation Company the flight was a great business asset and a sure foundation for the goodwill of the concern.

Harry took part in an Altitude Competition on Saturday, November 9th, 1912, at Brooklands, in which event Barnwell was the only other competitor. Unfortunately the race had to be given to Barnwell, as Harry had omitted to set his barograph at zero before starting, so that the exact height he reached was not recorded. Nevertheless, the immediate excitement of the contest did not suffer through this inadvertence.

A Bomb-dropping and Alighting Competition, in which competitors had to drop their bombs on or near a given target and land within a minimum radius of a given mark was held on the Saturday following. The first and second places went to Merriam and Knight respectively, Sopwith, Bendall, and Harry being the “also rans.” Sopwith, having succeeded in making a direct hit with his bomb, misjudged his landing, a circumstance which disqualified him.

Harry shared in a big success in a Relay or Despatch-carrying Race on Sunday, November 17th. In this contest the competitors worked in pairs. One pilot would start off with a despatch, and, after flying one-and-a-half laps, land and hand the commission over to his partner, who in turn would fly over the same course, alight, and hand the despatch to the judge, the winning pair being those who made fastest time. In the particular contest, which was flown in perfect flying weather, it was originally intended that each pair should comprise a biplane and a monoplane, and Hamel flew over from Hendon on a Blériot for the special purpose of competing, but the scarcity of monoplanes owing to the War Office ban on machines of that type resulted in only biplanes taking part. The first prize went to Harry and Spencer, the latter flying a machine of his own construction. Their total time for the course was 9½ minutes. Barnwell and Merriam, of the Vickers and Bristol Schools respectively, on Farman and Bristol machines, took 10 minutes 10 seconds, and Bendall and Knight, on a similar pair of machines, took 10 minutes 12 seconds.

On Sunday afternoon, November 24th, just before dusk, a Speed Handicap over two laps of the Brooklands course was decided. The handicapping was, on the whole, good, Alcock,[1] Sopwith, and Knight, the first three home, all finishing in that order within a space of four seconds. Harry finished, but was unplaced. It is interesting to note that this was the first race in which Alcock participated. He had recently obtained his brevet at the Ducrocq school. Sopwith made fastest time.

[1] The late Sir John Alcock, K.B.E.

Harry had his machine out on the following Sunday to take part in another Bomb-dropping and Alighting Competition, but as the contest was on the point of starting rain came on and put an end to flying for the remainder of the day. The contest was postponed until the next Sunday, but Harry was unavoidably absent.

Busteed, Harrison, and Harry, who had all migrated from Australia together in April, 1911, had all now achieved some distinction in flying, and Australian prowess in the art was well in the ascendant. Busteed and Harrison were doing big things for the Empire as instructors of flying, and Harry, by his record flights, was doing much to promote British aerial prestige.

The business of the Sopwith Company having expanded extensively in the meantime, Mr. Sopwith had decided to lease a skating-rink in Canbury Park Road, Kingston-on-Thames, so that more room than could be provided in the sheds at Brooklands should be available for the construction of machines to meet increasing demands from the Admiralty, War Office, and foreign governments. The skating-rink was ideal, not only on account of the space available for erecting big machines, but also owing to the level floor, which was a great facility. Mr. Sigrist, who had been largely responsible for the design of the Sopwith Tractor biplane and had accompanied Mr. Sopwith on his American tour, was the works manager there.

And so I leave 1912, conscious of the fact that, in the few months during which he had been flying, Harry had contributed in some considerable measure to the fostering of that record-breaking spirit so necessary for the advancement of the new art and science.

CHAPTER III

ABOUT ALTITUDE AND OTHER RECORDS

A Colleague’s Impression of Harry in 1913—Harry in the Passenger’s Seat—“Aerial Leap-Frog”—Competition Flights at Brooklands—Testing the First “Bat Boat”—End of the First “Bat Boat”!—Harry as a Salesman-Demonstrator—Testing the Second “Bat Boat”—70 Miles per Hour in 1913—Asçent to 7,450 feet in 15 minutes—A Prize Flight—How Harry Deserted from a Race which He Won—How a Biplane Beat a Monoplane—More Seaplane Testing—The British Altitude Record—11,450 Feet—“Bravo, Hawker!”—A Journalist’s Tribute—Flying in a High Wind—To the Isle of Wight and Back.

CHAPTER III

Even greater things were in store for Harry in 1913, for although the British Duration Record was an achievement to be handed down to posterity, it pertained only to British aviation. His performance in the Round-Britain Seaplane Race, so generously promoted by Lord Northcliffe and the Daily Mail, as one of the milestones in the early progress of marine aircraft, will live in the world’s history unbounded by nationalities.

A friend who worked in the shops at Canbury Park Road, where he took part in the construction of the Round-Britain seaplane, well remembers with the observant eyes of a hero-worshipper seeing Harry make daily tours through the works in company with Messrs. Sopwith, Sigrist, and R. O. Cary, the general manager. Other than a sturdy physique and cheery countenance, Harry bore nothing to indicate that he was an aviator by profession. He was wholly without affectation and a favourite with everyone belonging to the Sopwith concern.

Sir Charles D. Rose, Bart., M.P., Chairman of the Royal Aero Club, handed to Harry on Tuesday, January 7th, 1913, a cheque for £500 in respect of the prize awarded in connection with the Michelin Competition. Of this sum, Harry received 25 per cent. as remuneration for his special services to the Sopwith concern. On the same day, too, Cody received his cheque for £600 in connection with the No. 2 Michelin Competition.

Mr. Sopwith himself was out testing a new tractor biplane on Friday, February 7th, 1913, at 7.20 a.m., carrying Harry as a passenger. To ride in the passenger’s seat of an aeroplane of new design is a task simple enough truly, but not too pleasant for an experienced pilot. This flight speaks volumes for the great confidence which Harry always had in his friend and benefactor. This new tractor-type machine was dismantled after the flight and sent to Olympia for the Aero Show, where it was purchased by the Admiralty. After the Show, Harry himself tested the machine at Brooklands, flying for 1¼ hours on March 1st preparatory to handing it over to the responsible naval authority, Lieut. Spencer Gray, who flew it to Hendon with a passenger.

The Sopwith-Wright machine was still in service, and Harry was flying it on the Saturday. On the Sunday, February 9th, he was third in a Quick-starting and Alighting Competition, during which he was lost to view above the clouds.

Harry also scored a “third” in the Speed Handicap at Brooklands on Easter Monday. Inasmuch as the spectators were left uninformed as to the result of the race, the event was a farce. Harry, on the Sopwith-Wright, was very severely handicapped, and had it not been that Barnwell passed the finishing-post on the wrong side, he would not have been “placed.”

The weather being particularly favourable, some very fine flying was seen at Brooklands on Sunday afternoon, March 29th; over a dozen machines being out. There were no races, but numerous exhibition and passenger flights were indulged in. Harry interested the spectators by practising “aerial leap-frog” on the Sopwith-Wright, a performance which caused much astonishment. With the propellers completely stopped, he made a well-judged landing from a considerable height.

During March, 1913, the first tests of the Sopwith “Bat Boat,” which had made its début at the Olympia Show, were carried out at Cowes. Sopwith, whose motor-boat experience stood him in good stead, first took the machine out, but although a speed of sixty miles per hour was attained, the machine would not leave the water. Harry had a shot at it, but with no better success. Sopwith, making another effort, rose a few feet, but the hull landed heavily and was damaged. Left out all night on the beach, the machine was almost destroyed by a gale, one report circulating to the effect that only the engine and propeller remained intact!

Harry was not hampered by any scruples with regard to trading on the Sabbath, for on Sunday, April 13th, 1913, he set out to play the rôle of aeroplane salesman, and incidentally to make his Hendon début. The specific purpose of his flight on the Sopwith-Wright from Brooklands to Hendon was to offer the machine for sale to the Grahame-White Company, whom he regarded as good potential purchasers, as they had recently sold two of their machines to the War Office and would require others to replace them in order to cope with increasing demands for exhibition and passenger flights at the London aerodrome. On the way there he had a forced landing at Wormwood Scrubbs, but was able to proceed and complete the whole journey in 40 minutes, inclusive of the delay. He terminated the flight by making several circuits of the aerodrome at Hendon, and subsequently made a number of other exhibition and passenger flights which demonstrated the wonderful handiness and airworthiness of the machine. His passengers during the afternoon included Manton and Gates, both well-known pilots of the Grahame-White Company. Passengers were greatly impressed by the stability of the machine and the strangeness of sitting on one side of the engine. Landing, too, was rather a new sensation, as the seats were so low in comparison with those of other types that to one on the point of touching the ground the landing chassis seemed to have fallen off!

On the following Sunday, at Hendon, Harry carried several more passengers, and at times there were as many as eight machines in flight simultaneously.

Harry tested the second Sopwith air-boat at Brooklands on Monday, May 25th. The machine, engined with a 100 h.p. Green, which was a development of the original “Bat Boat” mentioned above, was fitted with a temporary land chassis. One of the struts of this gave way on landing, resulting in damage to the left aileron. The original “Bat Boat” had warping, or flexing, wings.

Tuesday, May 6th, saw Harry testing a new Sopwith Tractor biplane engined with an 80 h.p. Gnome. This machine was a three-seater, and on the Wednesday he had two passengers up for half an hour above 1,000 feet. He flew the machine over to Farnborough on Friday, May 9th, where he carried out an official test, when a speed of 73·6 miles per hour was attained.

THE SOPWITH TABLOID, THE PROTOTYPE OF THE FIGHTING SCOUTS, DESIGNED BY HARRY, IN ITS MODIFIED FORM FOR LOOPING-THE-LOOP, AFTER HIS RETURN FROM AUSTRALIA.

[Facing p. 56.

On May 10th, 1913, the Saturday before Whitsun, with Harry in charge, the new 80 h.p. Gnome Sopwith Tractor biplane fully justified the big things that were expected of it, at Hendon, whither its reputation had travelled in advance. Harry flew over from Brooklands to take part in an Altitude Contest in competition with Verrier on a Maurice Farman, Robert Slack on a 50 h.p. Gnome Blériot, Brock on a 35 h.p. Deperdussin, and Hamel on an 80 h.p. Blériot. The machines left the ground at short intervals and were all soon out of sight, hidden by clouds. In making a single circuit of the aerodrome, the Sopwith machine climbed 2,000 feet. Hamel was first down after about 20 minutes, quickly followed at short intervals by Slack, Verrier, and Brock, in the order named. Harry, however, was nowhere in sight, and did not appear again until about forty minutes after he had started. As there was a time limit in the contest, the judges, having concluded that Harry had made a forced landing elsewhere, announced the following result:

Hamel retired, disqualified by a faulty barograph, although he had ascended to somewhere above 7,000 feet. In the meantime Harry had reached an altitude of 7,450 feet in 15 minutes—a truly remarkable performance. At that height, having lost his bearings, he decided to land, which he did at Ponder’s End, a few miles east of Hendon, still keeping his engine running while he enquired of a passer-by his whereabouts. Having returned to the aerodrome and satisfied the judges that he had landed within the prescribed time limit, he was finally adjudicated winner of the contest. The particular machine was one of a series ordered by the Admiralty.

Immediately after this fine performance Harry competed in the Speed Handicap for the Shell prize of 100 guineas. The race was flown in heats, Harry being scratch man in the second heat and giving 55 seconds to Slack and 1 minute 57 seconds to Lewis Turner, who was flying a Caudron biplane. Turner won the heat by 17⅖th seconds, and Harry came in last, three minutes behind Slack. His failure may be attributed to bad handicapping, which could hardly be avoided in the case of almost the first public appearance of a new machine with a genuine reputation preceded most probably by an exaggerated one. After witnessing the final, won by Turner, Harry left for Brooklands, where, on Whit-Sunday, he carried several passengers and also tested the engine of the Sopwith hydro-aeroplane.

On Whit-Monday, May 12th, 1913, at Brooklands, Harry was one of three starters in the Whitsun Cross-Country Aeroplane Handicap. Rain fell during the race. Alcock was first away on Ducrocq’s Henry Farman, but had to abandon the race almost immediately owing to the strong wind nearly blowing his relatively slow machine backwards. Harry was next away on the Tractor, with a start of 76 seconds from Gordon Bell, who flew the 120 h.p. Martin-Handasyde monoplane. Harry made a quicker start than Gordon Bell, who sacrificed several seconds when the starter’s flag fell. At the first turning-point Bell had picked up 36 seconds over Harry, but lost several through turning on an unnecessarily big radius. At the second turn he gained another 10 seconds, but also lost owing to the same cause. Harry won a fine race by 39 seconds. This triumph of the biplane over the monoplane possessed some significance, and seemed to indicate that the greater wing surface of Harry’s machine enabled it to be “banked” more steeply and consequently brought round on a shorter radius when turning.

Harry made several circuits of the aerodrome at 500 feet, while testing the new Sopwith hydro-aeroplane, on the Saturday after Whitsun, May 17th, 1913, at Brooklands, preparatory to sea tests to be made at Cowes. On the Sunday, Lieut. Spencer Gray tested the Sopwith Tractor biplane, and all present were astonished by its remarkable climbing properties. In a wind of 35 m.p.h., Harry made several solo and passenger flights.

Sopwith and Harry were at Cowes during the following week, ending May 24th, testing the new hydro-aeroplane, which exceeded all expectations. Two more machines were approaching completion at the works, ready to be despatched to Brooklands for test.

It was proposed that on Saturday afternoon, May 31st, Hamel, Gordon Bell, Harry, and other well-known pilots should attempt a British Altitude Record, and also possibly a World’s Record. Hamel would fly an 80 h.p. Borel monoplane, Gordon Bell the 120 h.p. Martin-Handasyde monoplane, and Harry the 80 h.p. Gnome Sopwith Tractor biplane. The Brooklands Automobile Racing Club offered a prize of £50 to anyone breaking the existing record of 10,650 feet, which stood to the credit of G. de Havilland.

The following extract from the official notices to members of the Royal Aero Club, issued under date June 7th, 1913, tells its own story:

“British Height Record.—The report of the flight made by Mr. H. G. Hawker at Brooklands on May 31st, 1913, together with barograph charts, were considered, and it was decided to accept the height accomplished—viz., 11,450 feet—as a British height record. The aircraft used on the occasion was a Sopwith Tractor biplane, fitted with an 80 h.p. Gnome.”

It is interesting to note that de Havilland’s record flight had been made with a passenger, and that it still stood as the record flight for pilot and one passenger.

Earlier in the day, before essaying to break the height record, Harry made the initial tests of another Sopwith Tractor biplane, which proved equal to the prototype. Lieut. Spencer Gray also tested the machine for the Admiralty. When Harry set out on his record-breaking flight the wind had dropped and the sky was clear. Weather conditions were ideal, and the prevailing question was not “Will he break the record?” but “By how much will he break it?” The machine used was the one which had made the memorable ascent of 7,500 feet in 15 minutes, at Hendon, on the Saturday before Whitsun, and was in view of the onlookers throughout the whole flight.

The climb to 11,450 feet, which beat the existing record by 950 feet, occupied 45 minutes, and the gliding descent was accomplished in a fifth of that time. Harry would have been able to go higher had he not experienced difficulty in maintaining a good mixture, a circumstance which culminated in the carburetter freezing and rendered a descent imperative. On landing he was received with hearty acclamation and congratulations. With the winning of the previous altitude contest at Hendon and the Whit-Monday handicap at Brooklands, this flight constituted the third important success of the particular machine used, and Mr. Sopwith was congratulated on having such a first-class pilot as Harry Hawker to demonstrate the wonderful and surprising capabilities of the new Sopwith products.

Harry’s height record of May 31st inspired “The Dreamer” to contribute to Flight the following, published on June 14th:

“Bravo, Hawker!

“I wish I could have been at Brooklands to have seen your smiling face when you came down from your lofty position. Your face always does me good when I gaze upon it. I suppose you sometimes feel a bit glum, like the rest of us, but I have never happened to be there to see it; and this time I am sure it would have acted as a tonic, as I am just a bit run down at the moment.

“That you have got a machine that can climb, and that you know how to handle it, I know. I only wish Brooklands were more get-at-able so that I could see more of you and the others there....”

At the week-end aviation meetings at Brooklands free passenger flights were generally balloted for by the spectators, and Harry frequently carried the successful participants.

Fresh from his triumph, Harry was out carrying passengers as usual on Sunday, June 1st. Once, while he was carrying two passengers, Gordon Bell was also out flying solo on an identically similar Sopwith Tractor, thereby enabling comparisons to be made. The general view was that the machine appeared to climb as well with the passengers as without them. On descending, Harry announced his intention of making attempts on the altitude records for one, two, and three passengers.

In a wind blowing at about 30 miles per hour, Harry was flying the two Sopwith Tractor biplanes at Brooklands on Sunday, June 8th. Among the several passengers whom he carried, up to 2,000 feet or more, was his friend Commander Samson, R.N.

On the Monday, Harry flew to the Isle of Wight and back, with a Mr. Boger as passenger. The outward and return journeys occupied 55 minutes and 50 minutes respectively, and a height of 5,000 feet was maintained.

CHAPTER IV

AMPHIBIANS—AND MORE HEIGHT RECORDS

An Amphibian of 1913—Harry Gets up to 13,000 feet with a Passenger—Several Other Height Records—Three Climbs in One Day—The Progress of the Sopwith Enterprise—Several Types of Aeroplanes—And Seaplanes—Harry Wins the Mortimer Singer Prize—And Has Time to Spare—A Friendly Race with Hamel—A World’s Height Record—A Cross-Country Race—Preliminaries of the Round-Britain Seaplane Flight—Conditions Governing the Daily Mail £5,000 Prize.

CHAPTER IV

The following is extracted from the official notices issued to members of the Royal Aero Club, under date June 7th, 1913:

“Mortimer Singer £500 Prize.

“Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith is now ready to make the flight for this prize, and attempts will be made almost immediately. The course is on the Solent, and the official observers on behalf of the Club are Lieut. Spencer D. Gray, R.N., and Mr. J. N. Spottiswoode. The aircraft is a Sopwith Tractor biplane fitted with 100 h.p. Gnome engine. The pilot is Mr. H. G. Hawker. In this competition, six out and home flights have to be made on a course from a point on the land to a point out at sea, not less than five miles distant in a direct line, but the latter point shall not be less than one mile from any shore. Alightings have to be made on arrival at each point.”

In short, Harry had been detailed to carry out pioneer work with the Amphibian type of aircraft, the initial development of which is popularly, but erroneously, supposed to have been the outcome of the prizes offered by the Air Ministry in 1919 for machines of this type.

Extracts from Royal Aero Club notices to members, under date June 21st, 1913:

“Mortimer Singer £500 Prize.

“Intending competitors are again reminded that this competition is now open.

“Mr. H. G. Hawker on a Sopwith biplane has already made one or two attempts, and will be going again as soon as some minor alterations to the aircraft have been completed. In giving the specification of the aircraft used by Mr. Hawker, an error was made in regard to the motor. The aircraft is fitted with a 100 h.p. Green.”

“Height Records.

“Mr. H. G. Hawker has been keeping the officials of the Club fairly busy of late. On Sunday last, with the Sopwith biplane, he made an attempt on the British Height Record with two passengers. The record of 8,400 feet stands to the credit of Major E. L. Gerrard, R.M.L.I. Mr. Hawker, however, managed to top the 8,000 feet but did not surpass the existing record. The following day, Monday, with another Sopwith biplane, he set out for the record with one passenger. The present official record is 10,560 feet, standing to the credit of Lieut. G. de Havilland. Mr. Hawker, according to the sealed barograph, attained a height of about 12,000 feet. After about half an hour’s rest he decided to make another attempt on the two-passenger record, and on this occasion his barograph recorded about 10,000 ft.

The barographs are now being tested, and the figures will be duly submitted to the Committee of the Club for official recognition.

It is interesting to note that these three flights by Mr. Hawker were all made within 24 hours.”

These altitude flights certainly bore great testimony to Harry’s characteristic untiring energy. On the 16th, although it was a sweltering day, Harry, at 7,000 feet, was shivering, and at 12,000 feet he could scarcely move his limbs, so intense was the cold. With one passenger he reached 13,400 feet, rather more than the figure stated in the above notice, and with two passengers 10,800 feet, also exceeding the figure stated in the official notice. It is a point of interest that his record flight with one passenger beat his own solo record of 11,450 feet, which he had made on May 31st.

When Harry made his attempt on June 15th, it was thought he had broken Major Gerrard’s record for two passengers; and reports to that effect purported to show that a height of 8,580 feet had been attained, approximately 180 feet in excess of Major Gerrard’s performance. Harry’s passengers were Messrs. Dukinfield Jones and Simms, a young pilot who served in the Sopwith Works. The sky was absolutely cloudless and throughout the flight the machine was fully in view of the spectators, who marvelled at its beauty as it turned and returned with the sun glistening on its light wings. Engine trouble was responsible for the termination of the attempt, and, on landing, Harry was received with warm applause. He announced his intention of making an early attempt on the one-passenger height record (which he successfully accomplished on the following day, as recorded above).

A detailed examination of the various official notices and Press reports relating to the Mortimer Singer Competition points to considerable doubt having existed among those not actually on the spot as to the exact type of Sopwith machine employed. While it is true that in one case the inadvertence in announcing that the engine was a Gnome instead of a Green was officially acknowledged, in other cases such expressions as “Sopwith Tractor biplane” were misleading, in that they gave no indication as to the machine being a flying-boat, and not fitted with a tractor air-screw at that. While these points were of no material consequence, they do show the probability of a wide confusion having existed owing to the great variety of successful Sopwith machines; and, although it was before the war, the industry was reaching a state when the various machines could no longer be counted on the finger-tips. Seeing that Mr. Sopwith himself attributed the success of his enterprise in no small measure to Harry’s genius, references to the progress of the Sopwith concern, such as the foregoing, are not out of place here.

Of the divers machines under construction at the Sopwith Works during June may be mentioned a “gun bus” for naval use. This machine, propelled by two 120 h.p. Austro-Daimler engines, had a span of 80 feet. Then there were the 100 h.p. Green-engined twin-float hydro-aeroplane, designed for the Daily Mail Circuit of Great Britain; and the air-boat which won the Mortimer Singer Competition, as described above, also engined with the 100 h.p. Green. When this machine passed its first tests on the sea a wind of 40 miles per hour was blowing, and the sea was correspondingly rough. The machine differed from the original “Bat Boat” exhibited at the Aero Show in the previous February, in that a pair of inclined struts were introduced between the engine and the fore part of the hull. So effective was the hull in hydroplaning over the water, that the front elevator, a feature of the original “Bat Boat,” was abandoned.

Then, during the month, a new Sopwith 100 h.p. Anzani-engined tractor hydro-aeroplane was tested by Harry and handed over to the Admiralty. The tests were passed very satisfactorily, the machine leaving rough water almost as quickly as the corresponding land machine left the ground. A speed of 68 miles per hour was attained, and the machine had particularly good climbing and alighting qualities. The machine was badly damaged immediately after being taken over by the Admiralty, a broken propeller and punctured float being the result of a collision with a mooring-buoy. The use of ailerons was now standard practice throughout the whole range of Sopwith machines, warping wings having been abandoned.

With such a variety of types, one can easily understand confusion arising from the circulation of brief reports stating that “Hawker, on a Sopwith biplane, etc....” As for Harry, he was obtaining an unique experience in the handling and maintenance of several types of aeroplanes and engines.

In June, the Sopwith Aviation Company contemplated acquiring yet another skating-rink—at Surbiton this time—in order to cope with increasing orders. Over one hundred hands were now employed over a floor space of 60,000 square feet. Foreign governments were sending over deputations, to whom Harry had the responsibility of demonstrating the airworthiness and efficiency of the Sopwith machines. The Sopwith Tractor biplanes were particularly in demand. Among the orders executed by the Sopwith Aviation Company during the summer of 1913 may be mentioned one of nine 80 h.p. Gnome-engined tractor biplanes for the Army and two similar machines for the Navy, all of which were tested by Harry at Brooklands.

In a Cross-Country Handicap over a 12-mile course in which Harry competed at Brooklands in June, he was too heavily handicapped to be any but an “also ran.” The weather was ideal, except for a slight haze. Flying pupils, who took part in the race as well as instructors, probably scored advantageously in the handicapping. Harry’s machine, the Sopwith Tractor, with so many records as were to its credit, could hardly be expected to escape with a slight handicap.

Harry captured the Mortimer Singer prize of £500 on Tuesday, July 8th, 1913, making, without any outside assistance, six out and home five-mile passenger flights (including a climb of 1,500 feet), alighting at each turning-point, on land or sea alternately. The flights were carried out at Southampton Water, on the 100 h.p. Green Sopwith flying-boat.

Extract from official notices to members of the Royal Aero Club, issued under date July 12th, 1913.

Mortimer Singer £500 Prize.

“News has just reached the Club of the success of the Sopwith Aviation Company in this competition. The pilot was Mr. H. G. Hawker, on a Sopwith Tractor biplane, fitted with 100 h.p. Green motor. The flights were made at Cowes on Tuesday afternoon, and the official observers of the Royal Aero Club were Mr. J. N. Spottiswoode and Mr. Howard T. Wright.

“The reports of the observers and barograph charts will be considered by the Committee of the Club on Tuesday next, and if everything is in order the prize of £500, kindly presented by Mr. A. Mortimer Singer, will be awarded.”

Extract from official notices issued to members of the Royal Aero Club under date July 19th, 1913.

“Mortimer Singer £500 Prize.

“The £500 prize, kindly put up for competition by Mr. A. Mortimer Singer, has been awarded to Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith, the entrant of the Sopwith biplane, which successfully accomplished the tests laid down in the rules. Mr. H. G. Hawker was the pilot of the aircraft, and the course was from a point on the land off Southampton Water to a point on the Solent, five miles away. Six out and home flights had to be made, alighting on arrival at each point. In each flight an altitude of at least 750 feet had to be attained, and on one occasion during the tests an altitude of 1,500 feet. The time allowed for the carrying out of the tests was 5 hours, but Mr. Hawker completed in 3 hours, 25 minutes.

“The following is the specification relating to the all-British aircraft used by Mr. Hawker:

“Sopwith Biplane. Motor, 100 h.p. Green; Carburetter, Zenith; Magneto, British Bosch; Sparking-plugs, British Bosch; Propeller, Lang.

“In addition to the prize of £500 to Mr. Sopwith, Mr. A. Mortimer Singer is kindly presenting Mr. H. G. Hawker with a souvenir.”

The R.Ae.C. notices of July 12th, 1913, also contained the following:

“Daily Mail £5,000 Prize: Circuit of Great Britain.

“The following entry for the Daily Mail £5,000 Prize, Circuit of Great Britain, has been received:

The Sopwith Aviation Co.

“Intending competitors are reminded that the entries close on July 16th, 1913, at 12 noon.”

On Saturday, July 13th, 1913, Harry fresh from winning the Mortimer Singer prize on Tuesday, was out testing a novel but useless idea in propellers on the Sopwith Tractor at Brooklands. Two penalties of fame which Harry had to pay on not a few occasions during his career were posing for photographers and testing inventions for all and sundry.

After testing a new tractor biplane fitted with ailerons, on Sunday, the 13th, Harry engaged in a friendly race with Hamel, who was flying a two-seater Blériot monoplane. Both machines had 80 h.p. Gnome engines. Although there was some doubt as to who really won the race, that Harry displayed the superior efficiency of the Sopwith biplane over the exactly similarly engined monoplane was beyond dispute.

Harry made a world’s record for height with three passengers on Sunday, July 27th, 1913, on the 80 h.p. Gnome-engined Sopwith Tractor biplane. On this occasion the weather was inclined to be hazy, and in a preliminary test flight Harry lost sight of the aerodrome at 1,500 feet, but from the ground he was plainly discernible, and spectators were amused by watching him circling around trying to find his bearings. Although it was rather windy, he carried one or two passengers early in the afternoon, and it was shortly after 5 o’clock, when the wind had dropped somewhat, that he decided to attempt to break the world’s record for altitude with three passengers. His passengers, Messrs. Bellew, Jones, and King, were all of at least average weight.

A few minutes past six the record-making flight began, and after making two or three circuits of Brooklands, Harry was out of sight, forcing his way upwards through clouds at 3,000 feet, At 8,400 feet, having made a world’s record, and being ignorant of his whereabouts, he decided to come down, although the machine could have climbed another 2,000 feet with comparative ease.

On August Bank Holiday, Harry, on an 80 h.p. Gnome-engined Sopwith Tractor biplane, was one of three competitors who lined up for the start of an Aeroplane Handicap at Brooklands. The other competitors were Alcock on the Parsons biplane (70 h.p. Gnome), who had 3 minutes 30 seconds’ start from Harry, and Merriam on a 50 h.p. Bristol biplane, who has 6 minutes 14 seconds’ start. The start of the race was delayed through Alcock and Champel, the latter on a biplane of his own design, coming into collision while “taxi-ing,” owing to the strong gusty wind which prevailed. The Frenchman’s biplane was damaged beyond repair in time for the race, but Alcock’s machine only required a new propeller, which was fitted in the space of ten minutes or so.

Fate, however, was sadly opposed to Alcock, for during the first circuit he was obliged, through defective aileron controls, to land in a neighbouring field, where, owing to the roughness of the ground, his machine turned a complete somersault. He was unhurt, and having regard to the nature of the crash, the damage, consisting of a broken propeller and a broken chassis strut, was very slight. As I write, I recall a discussion that once took place on the subject of the life of a propeller, and this case of two propellers being annihilated within an interval of a few minutes after one had replaced another on the same machine seems significantly applicable.

After an exciting race, Merriam and Harry completed the course, the latter winning by 45 seconds.

In the intervening days prior to August 16th, Harry was more or less fully occupied in making preparations for the classic Daily Mail Seaplane Circuit of Britain. On August 7th, 1913, with the whole aeronautical fraternity, he shared profound grief at the death of S. F. Cody—the hardest blow that British aviation had ever received. Although Brooklands was fairly busy while Harry was away in the seaplane race, the activities at the Sopwith sheds were to all intents and purposes nil. The attention of everyone connected with the concern was turned to his flight and doing everything possible to make its outcome successful.

Entries for the Daily Mail Seaplane Race were timed to close on Wednesday, July 16th, 1913, and after that date until August 1st late entries were accepted at an increased fee of £150. When the list finally closed the entrants were: T. O. M. Sopwith, S. F. Cody, James Radley, and F. K. McClean. Cruel fate eliminated poor Cody on August 7th. Radley, who, with Gordon England, was experimenting with a large and ingeniously-contrived seaplane propelled by three Gnome engines arranged in tandem, withdrew from the race, presumably because his machine was purely in experimental stages. McClean, who had entered a machine bearing the famous British hall-mark of Short Brothers, was dogged by ill-luck through engine trouble and never made a start, although no effort was spared in trying to get the machine in tune for the long flight. In the end, only Harry and his faithful mechanic and compatriot, Kauper, were left to try and win that £5,000 so generously offered by the Daily Mail, and, what was probably more important, to put up an interesting show and draw widespread public opinion to the importance of Britain acquiring and maintaining an aerial prestige akin to her maritime traditions.

The competition opened on August 16th, 1913, and within 72 consecutive hours competitors had to fly over a circuit of 1,540 miles, starting and finishing on Southampton Water, via Ramsgate, Yarmouth, Scarborough, Aberdeen, Oban, Dublin, and Falmouth, landing in prescribed areas on the sea at each of these points, or “controls,” for the purposes of identification. The competition was conducted for the proprietors of the Daily Mail under the auspices of the Royal Aero Club, whose organisation of the contest was most thorough and effective. The competition was open for a fortnight. In other words, competitors could attempt the flight in any 72 consecutive hours between August 16th (6 a.m.) and August 30th (6 p.m.) inclusive, no flying taking place on Sundays, which would not be included in the time limit. Thus competitors could fly on Saturday, rest on Sunday, and finish on Monday and Tuesday. The entrant and pilot, or pilots, were required to be of British nationality and duly entered on the Competitors’ Register of the Royal Aero Club, pilots having to be holders of an aviator’s certificate issued by the Royal Aero Club or other club affiliated to the Federation Aeronautique Internationale. A passenger had to be carried throughout the flights, and the combined weight of the pilot and passenger must not be less than 264 lbs., any deficiency in this respect being made up by means of ballast, such as bags of sand. Entrants were permitted to change the pilots or passengers during the contest.

The complete aircraft and all its component parts, including the motor, had to be constructed within the confines of the British Empire, although this provision need not apply to raw material or the magneto. Entries nominally closed on July 16th, one month before the date appointed for the start of the competition. The entrance fee was £100. Late entries could be made up to August 1st at an increased fee, as mentioned above. No part of the entrance fees was required by the Daily Mail, all amounts received being applied towards payment of the expenses of the Royal Aero Club in conducting the competition, any balance not so expended being returnable to the entrants after the competition.

Competing machines had to remain for one hour in each of the controls, and during the first half-hour of each such “rest” had to be entirely at the disposal of the Royal Aero Club officials for examination. During the second half-hour replenishments of fuel and repairs could be made. These periods of one hour at each of the control points en route were not counted within the prescribed 72 hours. Any number of starts could be made from the official starting-line at Southampton Water, under the supervision of the responsible officials.

Stoppages between the controls were not against the rules, but all alightings had to be effected on the sea, an inlet of the sea, an estuary, or a harbour. There was, therefore, no special scope for amphibians in this competition, as an alighting on land or inland water was deemed a disqualification. Alightings on the Caledonian Canal and towing anywhere were not prohibited, but the finishing-line had to be crossed in flight. The short time limit of 72 hours did not permit one deliberately to take advantage of this concession by covering the whole course in tow! Individual replacements and repairs to the aeroplane and engine could be made en route, but neither could be changed as a whole. To make such repairs and replacements, the machine could be taken ashore, but all the time so expended, outside the half-hour allowed at the controls, counted as flying time. Five parts of the aeroplane and five parts of the motor were officially sealed, and at least two such seals of each five had to be intact on arrival at each control. The machine had to be delivered completely erected at a place appointed by the Royal Aero Club at Southampton, and handed over for the purpose of being marked and sealed, at least 24 hours before a start was to be made. No marks or seals were to be made after the original marking made preparatory to an attempt. Each competitor was supplied with a time-card, or “pay-bill,” which had to be signed by the responsible official of the Royal Aero Club at each control, and competitors were held solely responsible for the safe custody of this card.

Competitors were required to be equipped with lifebelts or other appliances for keeping afloat. One useful provision made by the Royal Aero Club was free shed accommodation at the starting-point from one week prior to the opening of the competition until the closing date.

CHAPTER V

FIRST ATTEMPT TO FLY ROUND BRITAIN

The Task of the Flight Round Britain—And the Machine for the Job—Public Interest in the Pilot—“Good Luck!”—The Night Before the Start—A Mayor’s Early Call—And the Sequel—The Scene at the Start—To Ramsgate at Sixty Miles per Hour—An Aerial Escort—The Ramsgate Cup—Fog in the Thames Mouth—To Yarmouth in Next to No Time—Harry Collapses—Pickles Relieves Him—And Meets with Misfortune—Starting All Over Again.

CHAPTER V

Before the start of the Seaplane Circuit of Britain considerable doubt was expressed as to whether or not the competitors would be able to complete the course in the 72 hours allowed. That the task would not be easy was gauged from the fact that an air route following a coast-line is by no means a desirable one, seeing that fog is apt to congregate there, and the proximity of cliffs promotes a tiresome, and perhaps treacherous, “bumpiness” in the air. In these respects the essaying of a flight of 1,500 miles round the coast probably involved a more severe trial of pilot and machine than a flight across the Atlantic Ocean.

That recreative contributor, “The Dreamer,” in Flight, July 26th, 1913, wrote:

“As the time for the start of the Round Britain race draws near, I am given to wondering what the result will be: whether any one of the four pilots who have entered will get through within the time. It is possible, of course, that one or even more may do so, but it is to be a great fight and the adventures are likely to be many and varied. Flying has progressed considerably since the last circuit of Britain, and taking into consideration the long-distance flights now made almost weekly, it would hardly be safe to prophesy entire failure. However, to take an aeroplane round the coast of England and Scotland, with a call at Ireland, is no child’s play, and should luck be against our brave pilots and they fail to complete the course in the time allowed, or even do not get round at all, they will yet have done an infinite amount of good to aviation. The mere fact that they have entered at all, and that they have faith in the machines they fly to accomplish such a journey, is most praiseworthy, especially when it is borne in mind that at least three out of the four are flying machines of their own design and construction, and the fourth, although he cannot quite be bracketed in these conditions, has a very high place in the realms of aviation. The more so, that he is an amateur enthusiast first and last. Given suitable weather, I should not be greatly surprised, and should be immensely pleased, to hear that all four had completed the course. Should any one of them manage it in the stipulated time, aviation, including the building of English engines, should receive a fillip the value of which is almost incalculable. Messrs. McClean—Cody—Sopwith—Radley, here’s good luck to you; your pluck is appreciated in the whole world of aviation.”

The machine which Harry piloted in the Round-Britain Seaplane Circuit was of the tractor type. Indeed, its design and construction followed the lines of the standard 80 h.p. Gnome-engined tractor biplane which had been doing so well previously, necessary modifications being introduced to suit the 100 h.p. Green engine and floats provided in place of the land chassis. These modifications gave the fuselage, or body of the machine, a more tapered nose than the land machine and perhaps a prettier appearance. It was the success of his tractor biplanes that prompted Sopwith to enter a machine of this type in preference to one of his Bat Boats. Kauper’s seat was in front of Harry’s, and the control was by a wheel mounted on the “joy-stick,” rotation of the wheel operating the ailerons, or lateral balancers, and a fore-and-aft movement of the lever working the elevator. The rudder was operated by the orthodox foot-bar. The petrol-and oil-tanks, each holding 45 and 10 gallons respectively, were installed under the passenger’s seat about the centre of gravity, so that as the fuel and oil was consumed Harry felt no extra strain on the controls, which would have been the case had the machine not been so balanced. By kind permission of the proprietors of Flight I am able to reproduce the following from a description of the machine, which appeared in their journal on August 16th, 1913.

“Having already achieved such remarkable success with his tractor-type land machine, Mr. Sopwith decided to enter a biplane of this type, fitted, of course, with floats instead of wheels, for the Daily Mail Race Round Britain, in preference to one of the Bat Boat type, and, in consideration of the large open stretches of sea which have to be negotiated, we are inclined to think that he has chosen wisely.

“In its general outlines, this machine possesses the same smart, business-looking appearance which characterises the land machines, further enhanced, perhaps, by the tapering nose of the fuselage, allowed of by the installation of a 100 h.p. six-cylinder vertical type British Green engine, instead of the 80 h.p. Gnome motor with which the land machines are usually fitted. The fuselage, which is of rectangular section, is built up in the usual way of four longerons of ash, connected by struts and cross-members. In the rear part of the body these are made of spruce, while in front, where the weight of the pilot, passenger, and engine is concentrated, and where, therefore, greater strength is required, these members are made of ash. The main planes, which are very strongly built over main spars of solid spruce of I section, are slightly staggered, and are also set at a dihedral angle in order to give the machine a certain amount of lateral stability. From a point just behind the pilot’s seat back to the rudder-post the fuselage is covered in with fabric, whilst the front portion is covered with aluminium, forming on top of the nose of the fuselage a very neat and cleanly designed cover over the motor....

“The main floats, which have been built by the Sopwith Aviation Company, are of the single-step type and are built up of a framework of ash and spruce covered with a double skin of cedar. Two bulkheads divide the floats into three watertight compartments, so that should a float become damaged, causing one compartment to leak, the other two would still have sufficient buoyancy to prevent the float from sinking very deeply into the water. Two pairs of inverted V struts connect each float with a lower main plane, while another pair of struts running to the front part of the fuselage help to take the weight of the engine. Spruce is the material used for chassis as well as plane-struts, the latter being hollowed out for lightness.

“Inside the comparatively deep fuselage, where ample protection against the wind is afforded to pilot and passenger, are the two seats, arranged tandem fashion, the pilot occupying the rear seat. In front of him are the controls, which consist of a rotatable hand-wheel, mounted on a single central tubular column. Rotation of the wheel operates the ailerons, which are fitted to both top and bottom planes, and which are interconnected. A fore-and-aft movement operates the elevator, while a foot-bar actuates the rudder. It should be noticed that the control cables are only exposed to the effects of the air and salt water for a very short length, the elevator cables entering the body just in front of the fixed tail-plane and the rudder cables a couple of feet from the rudder-post. The engine is supplied with petrol and oil from tanks situated under the passenger’s seat, the capacity of the tanks being 45 gallons and 10 gallons respectively.

“For the purpose of easy egress in case of a smash, the centre portion of the top plane has been left uncovered. In order to minimise end losses due to the air leaking out of the opening thus produced, what might be called baffle-plates have been fitted to the inner ends of the wing. These baffle-plates have been made streamline in section, as it was found that an ordinary thin board would bend owing to the pressure of the air trying to escape past it. With full load of fuel and passengers on board the weight of the machine is 2,400 lbs., and her flying speed is 60 to 65 m.p.h.”

Before the start of the Round-Britain Seaplane Circuit Harry was inundated with messages from unknown correspondents, and, in order to be spared the attentions of the public, he stayed aboard a yacht while not tending his machine.

As a starting and finishing base for the Seaplane Circuit, the Royal Motor Yacht Club very kindly lent to the Royal Aero Club their floating club-house, the Enchantress. Among those on board on the occasion of the start were Sir Thomas Lipton, Colonel Holden, C.B., Commander Cummings, Major Lindsay Lloyd, Major Stephens (secretary of the Royal Motor Yacht Club), Captain Robinson, the Mayor of Southampton, the Sheriff of Southampton, Mr. and Mrs. James Valentine, Mr. W. B. R. Moorhouse, Mr. J. H. Ledeboer, Mr. Thomas Marlowe (Editor of the Daily Mail), Mr. Hamilton Fyfe, and Mr. Harold E. Perrin (secretary of the Royal Aero Club). Prior to the race, Harry’s machine was stationed on the Medina River at Ryde, where on Friday the 15th, the day before the race, the officials proceeded to mark the various components of the aeroplane in due accordance with the rules of the competition.

The intensity of the interest aroused by the Round-Britain Seaplane Race may be gauged by the fact that on the morning before the start of the competition the passengers on one of the Cowes-Portsmouth steamers loudly cheered, and cried “Good luck!” to Mr. Sopwith as they passed him on his yacht Ceto, which was anchored near the Enchantress. In an aside to a friend while acknowledging the cheers, Mr. Sopwith said he only hoped no one would wish Harry good luck. Every time he had done that during the Mortimer-Singer Competition he had failed. The last time he had not done it, and Harry won. In none of the big things which Harry had done had he received a good wish from him.

Harry and Mr. Sopwith had a big talk at the hangar before parting on Friday night, and one read in the newspaper on Saturday morning of “the owner giving his jockey the last instructions.”

Hopes were particularly high in the Sopwith bunks on Friday night when a fresh southerly breeze sprang up, for it was realised that such a wind on the morrow would greatly help Harry after he had passed Dover. But the glass remained high. Fog would be the greatest danger, and if only sufficient wind would rise to blow it away, all would be well.

The race was originally scheduled to begin at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning, August 16th, but late on Friday night the start had to be postponed until after 10 a.m., as it was found that the shed in which the machine was housed made it practically impossible for the machine to be launched until high tide. It was hoped, too, that the delay would enable McClean to bring his Short machine along in time to start with Harry and provide the added excitement of a neck-to-neck race. Those who were privileged to enjoy the hospitality of the Enchantress overnight were delighted with the prospect of a good night’s rest without the necessity of breakfasting at an unearthly hour in time to witness a 6 a.m. start.

Nevertheless, at 5 a.m. one heard voices diligently enquiring for Mr. Perrin, the secretary of the Royal Aero Club, and a general commotion and clamour seemed to be in progress on the gangways and in the corridors outside the cabins. A little bird told that the Mayor of Southampton, who through having retired early had not received notice of the postponement of the start, announced late on Friday night, came on board the Enchantress before 6 a.m. in full regalia, to be greeted by the secretary of the Royal Aero Club clad in plebeian pyjamas. The outcome of all this was that most people got up and had a 6.30 “brekker,” while a Sopwith Bat Boat and a Borel hydro-monoplane, carrying out evolutions in naval hands, relieved to some extent the monotony of the few hours pending the time when Harry would be ready to start. The water was remarkably calm and the day bright and sunny. Any wind that was rising came from the south, and would obviously be an aid to Harry in traversing the East Coast.

At about 11.30 Harry arrived on the scene with his machine, and landed a considerable distance from the Enchantress, about midway between it and the shore. A medley of racing yachts, motor-boats, steamers, and boats put out to meet him, and after about ten minutes these were seen to draw away—a sign that Harry was about to start.

The scene as Harry and Kauper were starting up their engine was inspiriting. The sunlight dancing on the water, the throngs lining the Netley shore, the countless mastheads with their pennants, all combined to make a charming spectacle. From 5 a.m. thousands of people had been lining the shore and sojourning in boats to see the flight begin. Just before the start, Mr. Sopwith, Mr. Perrin, and other officials gave Harry his final instructions from a motor-boat. With a “Right—thanks!” Harry put in his breast-pocket the official landing-cards handed up to him by Mr. Perrin. Somebody in a yacht cried out, “Good-bye, Hawker! Good luck!” which must have moved Mr. Sopwith to tears if he heard it.

At 11.47 a.m. on Saturday, August 16th, 1913, Harry rose from Southampton Water, and after disappearing from sight past Calshot and passing over the Solent, he sped off for the open sea. Before most people had realised that a great attempt to defeat the elements had begun, he was out of sight.

A very true description of the start was given by Mr. H. Hamilton Fyfe of the Daily Mail, in which he said:

“The morning was perfect. The sunshine made the landscape glitter in a warm glory of light. The southerly breeze tickled the surface of the water into sparkling ripples—the ‘smiles without number’ of summer. A wind had come up out of the sea and said, ‘Oh, mist, make room for me!’ The coast-line was clear. The Isle of Wight shimmered well within view. This had been the weather from the early hours, and it was a great pity the intention to leave at six was not carried out—a pity I mean from Mr. Hawker’s point of view. The delay was by everyone else hailed with joy. ‘Oh, it’s nice to be up in the morning, but it’s nicer to stay in your bed,’ sang Sir Thomas Lipton, quoting Mr. Harry Lauder’s song, and everyone sat up later than usual because there was no need to cut short the hours of bed.

“The reason for the delay was twofold. At the last moment the compass in the machine was found to need adjusting, and also it would have been necessary to put the waterplane into the Medina River from its shed between 1 and 2 a.m. ‘I need a good night’s rest before I start,’ Mr. Hawker pleaded, and so it was settled that he should wait for another tide. The telephone was kept busy announcing the postponement, but unfortunately there were many people who could not possibly hear of it.

“As soon as Mr. Hawker dropped into the water between the Enchantress and the shore, Mr. Perrin went out to give him a copy of the final rules and regulations and to take the exact time of his start. The pilot and his passenger, young Kauper, had no elaborate flying-suits on. Their coats and caps were of rough waterproof canvas, but they wore their ordinary trousers and boots. They might have been doing an everyday practice flight. ‘Have you got any grub with you?’ I asked them. ‘No,’ they said. ‘Can’t be bothered. We’ll get it at the stopping places.’

“Nothing in their manner, save a little suppressed excitement, betrayed by a slight huskiness of voice, suggested that they were starting on an attempt to fly 1,600 miles over sea almost straight on end. I suppose the thought, ‘How foolish and unnecessary,’ was in the Oriental minds of a party of lascars in a launch who were being taken up to Southampton from the troopship Rohilla lying close by. They hung over the side to see as much as they could of this latest invention of the ‘white mad folk,’ but I know every English man and woman there heartily admired the two Australian boys for their nerve and skill.

“A Great Day.

“As they made their last preparations I saw as in a moving picture kaleidoscope the scenes of the starts in earlier Daily Mail flying contests. I saw Louis Blériot in the field behind the beach at Baraques, near Calais, setting off at sunrise across the Channel and asking just before he started, ‘Where is Dover?’ I saw Grahame-White pelting off from Wormwood Scrubbs at six o’clock in the evening and vainly chasing Paulhan, who had got away from Hendon an hour before. I saw Brooklands in that hot afternoon when one after another the machines entered for the Circuit of Britain rose and sailed away to the delight and amazement of the huge crowd.

“The actual letting go was unemotional. Ours was the only boat close by. There was a clear path for the start. The crowds were too far away to cheer. Exactly at 11.47 the motor began its rattling din and the machine moved off without difficulty, foamed along over the water, and leapt suddenly into the air. Gradually, as he went down towards the Solent, Mr. Hawker climbed up to a good height. He was watched with intense sympathy until he disappeared into the sky. Then everyone heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction and said, ‘Well, it has been a great day.’”

“The two naval airmen, Lieutenant Travers and Lieutenant Spencer Gray, were to have convoyed him as far as Ramsgate, but to the grim amusement of Mr. Green, inventor of the air motor used by Mr. Hawker, and of Mr. Fred May, managing director of the company, both their foreign engines had broken down. The Gnome in the Borel machine was repaired by the afternoon, but the Austro-Daimler in the ‘Bat Boat’ had something seriously wrong with it, and Lieutenant Spencer Gray had to tow his waterplane to Calshot as evening fell.”

Seen from the Enchantress, Harry’s machine appeared to the special correspondent of the Daily Mirror as a big dragon-fly chased by a crowd of angry little water-beetles. At times it seemed that the “beetles,” sending up clouds of spray, would overtake their quarry, but the “dragon-fly” shot ahead desperately; and suddenly, as though it had just found the use of its wings, leapt out of the water and soared up gloriously into the air. The motor-boats snorted and grunted at this sudden manœuvre, slowed down their engines and abandoned the chase!