Frank McClean

by Philip Jarrett

  We dropped anchor but it would not hold. Then Gus tried to restart the engine and nearly broke his wrist. In the end the engine started and we ran ashore. Crowds cheered – half-naked persons of both sexes crowded around until removed by police. Then the Mamour (head local magistrate – a native) came on to the float and we all shook hands. Then another native was carried on to the machine. We ordered him off and he was carried to a boat. We cleared the boat off and found later that the man was a direct descendant of Mahomet and worshipped as such. Finally 10 men pulled us by rope to a sand bank opposite the Government Offices and there the machine is still.

  Ogilvie’s recollections of this turbulent flight add some detail:

  After a day or two we made a very early and easy start down stream. In an hour and a quarter we reached Kosha (105 miles from Haifa) where we had a petrol depot. We restarted within an hour and climbed to 2,000ft. After 20 minutes I could see that the river, which had been glassy smooth, began to show ripples from a surface breeze which we began to feel at our height a quarter of an hour later. This phenomenon we noticed on several occasions. Early a glassy calm; after an hour or so, a surface breeze starting, and 15 minutes later reaching the machine at 2,000ft. At Delgo [sic] 180 miles from Aswan, we stopped for more petrol and it is a pity we did not wait till next morning.

  For the next hour the map records very tough going, such as “Tremendous bumps. ASI [air speed indicator] jumping from 55 to 69; aneroid from 1,500 to 1,750ft in half a minute, down draughts of 300ft per minute.” At Argo Frank decided that it was too bad to continue and after a very rough descent we got caught in a minor whirlwind and landed heavily, doing some damage to the left wing tip which struck the water and broke off.

  The relatively enormous span of the wings, the aileron flaps only to be controlled downwards [i.e. single-acting] and the heavy floats below, constituted a calm weather aeroplane but not one to be comfortable in a dust devil.

  This run of 245 miles was the most we ever did in one day.

  McClean unhesitatingly shouldered the blame for the incident that caused the mishap, writing in 1938:

  The troubles… were caused, of course, by an error of judgement on the part of the pilot. The machine was being flown near its ceiling of 2,000 feet when it met a dust devil reaching far above it. Not even a modern aeroplane will take on the air currents in one of these, and our engine being what it was, a quick landing was indicated and made. But there was no need to make such a crooked one.

  In a second account written another twelve years later McClean expanded on this, but cited a different altitude:

  The second, third and fourth Cataracts are situated in this bend of the river and a stretch of country known by the native word for ‘Belly of Stone’. As the machine’s ceiling was only some 3,000 feet, every atmospheric disturbance from every rocky hill found its mark. Finally, approaching Argo, a dust-devil towering high above the machine took up the pursuit and in the hurry of the moment a poor alighting was made. One float and one wing-tip reached the water first. The wingtip was torn off and the lower main spar broken. But nothing else suffered.

  They had arrived at Argo at 1.20pm, and the Egyptian Gazette had optimistically stated ‘… there seems to be no reason to doubt that he will be at Khartoum in a very few days’, but it was not to be. McClean explained the problems in a letter to Lockyer:

  Having got the machine ashore, we examined the trouble and Ogilvie said he could repair it. I was doubtful as Argo had no facilities. The local carpenter arrived with an adze and some pieces of packing case and wanted to start off on his own. We stopped him as we wished to have a say in the matter. In the end he found a saw and a plane and some fairly decent planks. Then a river steamer arrived from Dongola with an English engineer on board. Having asked if there were any beer or whiskey on board and been told no, we got him to cut some pieces of iron out of his galley floor. These were made into boxes to go round the break in the main spar. Hoop iron and biscuit box lid made strappings. Thus the repair was made and the tip covered with calico – all being finished on Sunday night at 7pm. During this time we had consumed gallons of water. The Mamour… had some whiskey which we investigated at dinner but during the day it was OH2 until an English Inspector Willis arrived on Monday morning.

  Alec Ogilvie poses by the damaged wingtip at Argo on 20–22 February 1914. (ROYAL AERO CLUB)

  The Aeroplane reported in its 5 March issue that ‘The engine has been consuming too much petrol and overheating badly’. The 20th to 24th were spent repairing the aircraft at Argo. With his customary disarming modesty, McClean later wrote that the success of the trip ‘was due in great part,’ to Alec Ogilvie’s improvisation, saying, ‘Whatever the pilot did to the machine, he [Ogilvie] put it together again’. Ogilvie recalled: ‘There were no white people at Argo, but the Sudanese Mamur or Inspector gave us all the help he could and entertained us in his house most hospitably. After two or three days of rather comic repair work to the wing, we got going again…’ McClean was rather more complimentary regarding Ogilvie’s handiwork. In 1950 he wrote:

  Luckily Argo is the terminus for river steamers from Merowe and one arrived the next day. Pieces of iron chiselled from the galley floor were made into boxes for the broken main spar. Hoop iron from biscuit boxes made strappings. Sugar boxes were converted into three-ply inter-spar ribs, and two layers of calico, usually employed for native clothing, with a liberal coating of Assyrian glue made the covering. This latter was replaced at Merowe as it billowed up in the bumps and gave birth to a lack of confidence. The other repairs were without reproach, thanks to the ingenuity of Alec Ogilvie.

  In 1938 McClean wrote that, apart from the fabric repair, Ogilvie’s work ‘… would have supported the Pyramid of Cheops.…’

  They were ready to resume their journey on the Monday morning, but a dust storm arose and they hurriedly pegged down the aircraft The storm was so bad that the trio expected it to break free and sat alongside to get a photograph when it happened, but it stayed put They then lunched with Willis ‘and were re-introduced to beer which we had not seen for days’. They had intended to fly the 25 miles to Dongola by that night if the wind dropped so that they would have a clear start for Debba in the morning, but the wind persisted.

  Despite ‘a bit of a wind’ they set off for Debba a little before 7am on Tuesday 24 February, stopping at Dongola for fuel and oil after covering the 25 miles in 18 minutes. The leg to Debba was flown in a wind that had ‘got a bit rough’ and they could see only three or four miles because of sand. That evening McClean wrote to Lockyer:

  It was quite uninteresting after the cataract stretch but felt a trifle more safe.

  Mostly it was flat yellow desert with just a line of trees on either bank and a few cultivated islands. We kept at about 800–1,000ft and had very few bumps. Landing was uncomfortable as we misjudged the direction of the wind and bounced quite a lot. We ran ashore and decided not to go on.

  Before leaving Argo we borrowed a bottle of whiskey off Willis so we are not entirely dependant on the Nile supply. The Mamour gave us tea and biscuits and jam on arrival. He is also giving us lunch and dinner. What they will be like I don’t know but let’s hope Tomorrow for Merowi [sic] where we recover the wing tip with proper material and examine valves before the bad rapids.

  The wingtip after Alec Ogilvie’s resourceful and ingenious repair work. (ROYAL AERO CLUB)

  The Nile seaplane beached at Debba on 24 February. (ROYAL AERO CLUB)

  In accordance with their plans they took off at about 7.45am on the 25th and Merowe was reached at 8.40, McClean observing that they were in the air for 1 hour 59 minutes, ‘including a turn at the start and a circle at the finish’. ‘It is only 76 miles,’ he added, ‘but the Nile runs from north-east to south-west and the wind is always north. It gives us a puzzle from here, where the rapids start, as we can only last out 2¼ hours. It was quite smooth and we varied from 1,500ft to 50ft.’

  Merowe was on the railway, and Spottis-
woode was there with the spares and superintended their arrival along with Colonel Jackson. McClean circled round ‘as a show off’ and they alighted amid cheering spectators and bands playing. ‘The head man of the village presented me with a large silver plaque,’ wrote McClean, ‘a little girl brought roses and altogether it was a disgraceful show.’

  McClean, mechanic and Ogilvie with the S.80 at Merowe on 25 February. (AUTHOR)

  On Thursday 26 February and the Friday morning the makeshift wingtip covering was replaced, and rents in the tailplane and rear elevators were repaired. They also adjusted the elevator and aileron control wires and replenished the petrol and oil tanks. In addition McClean wanted the engine to be seen to, as the rapids now before them beat anything they had hitherto encountered. As a precaution against headwinds on the next leg, petrol and four gallons of oil were sent to a place called Kulgeili, 25 miles distant, so that they could land there and reduce the next leg to 70 miles or less. Beer was also sent. Meanwhile, the crew had a rather enjoyable respite from their traumas. They shaved and brushed their teeth for the first time since Haifa, and McClean simply wrote that ‘Two nights were spent in luxury at Merowe’, but Ogilvie stated:

  Frank’s reference to our stay ‘in luxury’ there is an understatement.

  The Governor of [Dongola] Province, Col. Jackson, was a fabulous figure and had a fabulous mansion if not a palace. My recollection is of a dinner for four, a magnificently uniformed servant behind each chair and on the table in front of each, a bottle of champagne, instantly replaced when the first one had been lowered. This was just what we needed to cheer us up. Jackson was apparently oblivious of our necessarily grimy and dishevelled appearance and entertained us with lively stories of Lord Kitchener.

  We two and Spottiswoode were housed very comfortably in the Governor’s river steamer. On our arrival at Merowe, we were introduced to a very holy man, the direct descendant of the Mahdi, but I don’t think he was much interested. The natives throughout the trip were not much interested in the aeroplane as such, but were so in us. There was never any excited rush as there would have been if the situation had been reversed and a Sudanese had made a landing for the first time on the beach at Brighton. They walked straight out into any depth of water to give us a hand or a tow and on one occasion carried us and the machine bodily on shore.

  On 27 February the aircraft set off for the fourth cataract. Writing to Lockyer from Abu Hamed on 1 March, McClean wrote:

  Friday morning (Feb 27th) we made up our minds to start in the afternoon for Kulgeili; but allowing enough time to get to El Keb if the wind was not bad against us. Early in the afternoon Col Jackson… let off a gun to give everyone a chance of seeing the Tyara (kite) start. That did it – we had to go whether we liked it or not. I did not go near the machine till 4 o’clock & then I forgot the bottle of whiskey which was our passenger.

  At about 4.20 we started – hot was not the word for it, but there was little head wind and strange to say no bad dunts only side gusts that did not throw us about. Ogilvie was damned busy. He had to settle by the maps whether or no we could go on or whether stop at Kulgeili for the night. The air over the river was one big down current. First we stuck at 600ft although the nose of the machine well up – then we got to 1,100 after 10 miles and then the cataracts started & we should have been at 2,000ft. When we reached Kulgeili we were 1,600ft up and only averaging 44 miles an hour. That meant in 2¼ hours which was our petrol limit & also daylight that we should do 99 miles. El Keb was 95 miles.

  But we settled to go on.

  We never got above 2,600ft. Every few hundred feet climb ended in a down drop – not violent but irresistible. Below were endless rocks & islands but made more palatable owing to the fact that every five miles or so the river joined up into a single stream & a possible landing place existed. There was no danger but if we had had to come down it would have taken days for anyone to get near us & the machine would have had to be dismantled.

  This (known as the 4th cataract) extended from mile 10 to mile 78. In the middle the engine started missing but not badly. It was some relief to get beyond it although the river above was nothing much to swear by. When we landed the sun had set some time & before we ran ashore on the mud it was practically dark. We landed [at El Keb] at 6.5.

  The ignominious Gnome

  While Ogilvie & Gus fixed up the machine, I trekked across loose sand to the railway station a mile away. It was a desert station – no houses – nothing but a station & large water tank. Nobody spoke English. I got out the petrol & oil – & then luckily a train came in which should have gone hours before & on it was an Irrigation Officer who spoke Arabic. He explained everything to the station master. After the train had gone they carried our stuff down – we filled up & returned to the station. A tin of meat was cooked & we made tea in one of the petrol cans – enough for the night & for the morning cold. Then we all three slept in the booking office.

  Up before dawn next morning we made a start at 6.50. There was good open water & we got off easily – but the engine was missing badly.

  So we came down at the next open stretch of water, ran on to a mud bank & tried the engine stationary. We got it a bit better & went on. After 35 miles & when only 15 miles from here, an inlet valve began to fire back. Ahead was very bad broken water – in fact more rocks than water. We daren’t go on – so we turned back & after 5 miles found a stretch of a mile long where we could expect to get off again. We were about 1,300ft up. The landing was not good as the water was too smooth & we fell the last 5 or 10ft. From 8.25 to 4pm we were fooling around with the engine – running it at intervals.

  The S.80 near Mehaiza on 28 February 1914. (AUTHOR)

  The place was a mass of small flies which drew blood at every bite. It was here that we discovered that the whiskey bottle had been left behind. We made tea in the castor oil jug by means of a petrol blow lamp.

  At 4 o’clock we again started. Before we were 150ft up we were over rocks – but the machine climbed well and we reached Abu Hamed at 1,700ft. Practically the whole 20 miles was unlandable. Certainly the last 14 as everywhere were rocks & the water between looked a few inches deep.

  Matters were rectified at Abu Hamed, where the two mechanics, Gus and Ogilvie’s mechanic, Graves, worked on the engine. They also had to mend a broken wire, repair a cracked float cross-strut and ‘doctor up the starting magneto’. McClean planned to start for Atbara early in the morning on 2 March, then ‘DV [Deo Volente – God willing] next day for Khartoum’. Anna McClean was awaiting them at Atbara, and it was thought that she would occupy the fourth seat in the S.80 from there to Khartoum.

  The journey was resumed on 2 March, but not for long. As McClean recounted to Lockyer in a letter of the same date from Shereik Station:

  More trouble. Yesterday the heat was of the next world; today is the devil’s delight – best Powell Duffryn brand [an allusion to the colliery company of which McClean was a board member]. Yesterday we ransacked the Greek shop at Abu Hamed & laid in sardines, tea & sugar – then we boarded the express & secured biscuits & incidentally made the acquaintance of some beer. Gus & Graves got the engine running well & all was serene except that the sun shone. This morning we were out of bed at 5.30 & the stores were on board by 6.0. Allah be praised we did not forget the whiskey bottle this time. At 6.15 we were pushed off & ran out onto the river at 15 miles an hour not a bit more – we gave it up & returned. More play with the d-d engine & pumping out some water from the float. Next time all was well & we got away in great style. But a south wind had got up. Now – a south wind does not blow at this time of year it is unknown – but there it was.

  The first 10 miles were good water – then it got a little worse & later became rocks with water between. At 1,000ft our speed decreased to 37mph so we had to go lower whether we liked it or not & we didn’t like it. At 45 miles after an hour and 10 minutes I got a thump on the back from Gus who shouted that the oil pump had broken. It had to be done & we landed – a real
bad pancake from 10ft but no harm. The machine was run ashore. We were 8 or 9 miles from here where we have petrol & which is a fairly important station without a town. We found that there were a few miles of fair water ahead. So oil was poured into the engine & after some persuasion we got a Rice (local boatman) to come on board. He went to his village to get some clothes on & came back with 2 rags & a spear & sat on the float.

  Off we went again taxying on the water. Rocks to the right & rocks to the left & between them we zigzagged for 3 miles. It was hair raising but we daren’t risk flying & we didn’t appreciate 9 miles walk to the telegraph. The old chap signalled the direction & grinned from ear to ear. He shouted at anyone on the bank – probably to swank – and now he is probably the hero of the cataract. When we finally ran ashore because we couldn’t go any further we were still 6 miles from here.