Читать книгу H. G. Hawker, airman: his life and work - Muriel Hawker - Страница 5

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.