When the machine was well on the mud – we quaffed some whiskey & Nile water & Ogilvie & I took off what we could, filled our pockets with boxes of sardines & not forgetting the whiskey flask – set off on our flat feet. My gawd – it was awful. Over soft mud, through sand drifts & finally over a red-hot plain we marched along. But now we blessed the south wind which kept us from frizzling. At intervals I poured pints of Nile water over my head & let it run down inside my clothes. Ogilvie only did so once & survived better than I did. I found a very old man on a donkey & tried to turn him off – but found he was too infirm to walk – so had to let him be.
In the end we arrived [at Shereik Station]. Then we let ourselves go on water till the station master brought us tea & over the third or fourth cup we felt that we could eat. A tin of sardines & a dozen biscuits between the two of us made us better & after a few more cups of boiling tea we went back to water. You may not believe it but tea is far better than whiskey. Tell them in town that at 11 o’clock I shall demand it & again at 12.45 and during the afternoon. Will write more some later day as I must return to the Kite as they call it here. By trolley – not by foot.
In a 1938 account of this incident McClean waxes more lyrical about their native guide:
The fifth of these cataracts lies above Abu Hamed. Here the engine again faded, and we landed among the scattered rocks. By signs we induced comprehension into a gigantic native who, after donning his most elaborate ceremonial dress and with an 8-foot spear in his hand, (we thought our last day on earth had come when we saw him armed to the teeth), stood on one of the floats and for three miles guided us between the rocks by pointing with his spear. This was not too easy since at frequent intervals he saluted his friends on the bank and forgot us.
Ogilvie recalled:
The night was spent on ‘angarebs’ in straw mat shelters, which the local natives put up in a very short time, to shield us from the cold wind from the North.
The angareb is a bed constructed of very crooked bits of timber with a web of string or thongs; airy and very comfortable.
In the shore party was Frank’s dragoman, a high class Arab, named Abdul, who used to turn up in the strangest places and take over our welfare.
Before Abdul arrived at Shereik, we kept going on the few supplies we had on the aeroplane. As a measure of our situation, I might recount that a sardine dripping with oil was dropped on the sand, picked up, brushed off and consumed.
Continuing his 2 March letter on 6 March, now on headed paper from the Grand-Hotel at Khartoum, McClean described what happened next.
We got our repair done by the following morning. Graves… was brought by motor trolley also Abdul and the spare pump. They arrived just at dark and as our only light was a candle belonging to a native inspector who also turned up there could not be much work. We got some beds & slept out by the machine after a little tinned dinner. During the night a strong north wind got up and by morning was blowing a gale. This went on all that day & half the next. We were covered with sand & filthily dirty. The nights were cold I put on my spare shirt & used a handkerchief as a nightcap.
On Wednesday 4th we got a shelter put up and immediately the wind dropped. At 4pm we started off – down stream & against a strong wind. As we got off there was a rock under each wing & a mill race current between. We climbed to 300ft & turned. For a bit all was smooth. Then came a vicious bump followed by more. We only had a few bad ones but much worrying. There were two fine cataracts of 3 or 4 miles each. Low down the wind was strong behind us – but we couldn’t stay low. High up it was across us & slowed us down. After about 40 miles we came to a fine rocky stretch & rose from 1,100 to 1,900 without elevating. All looked well when suddenly the oil stopped & we had to come down. Then the engine stopped but over good water.
I judged my landing 30ft too high and we pancaked, smashing one float & breaking 2 struts below the planes. Out came dozens of natives swimming & pulled us ashore – but first insisted on shaking hands. After we had got ashore 2 of the struts to the other float collapsed with a bang. We examined the engine and found that a large section of the timing wheel had broken clean away & that both oil pump spindles had sheared. We left it and crossed from the island we were on [Fitwar Island] to the mainland. A 3-mile walk brought us to a railway station [Gananita] but no English speaking man. After a time we got through on a telephone to an inspector who came by trolley & next day one of the head railway men came out by motor trolley from Atbara 50 miles away [where the main stores were kept]. I went in to Atbara with him & sent our trucks back to Gananita along with much wood & food & a cook, a carpenter and a mechanic. Ogilvie & the 2 mechanics are there now. I came on here [to Khartoum] by train & have done much shopping. Tomorrow night I go back to Atbara – & later to the machine. There are a week’s repairs at least. Luck is out again.
The beached S.80 on Fitwar Island, 4–14 March, with collapsed float struts. (AUTHOR)
In 1955 Ogilvie provided his own impression of the dramatic departure from Shereik on the 4th:
The start from this riverside camp was sensational. According to my map notes: ‘Charging between two rocks 20 yards apart (our wing span) against a 10mph wind and with a 5 mile current, we were in the air in about 10 yards.’ In a letter to me last year, Frank referred to this incident as follows:-
“You only once I think showed a well deserved distrust of me, when we were getting away from Shereik, with rocks to the right of us and rocks to the left of us. I had put my foot whole-heartedly on the gas, you shouted in my ear, ‘Don’t change your mind.’”
I don’t remember this at all and the map note as quoted above and written at the time indicates a critical situation handled with much determination and skill. I don’t remember any distrust. I always felt Frank would always get away with it if it could be done.
What McClean failed to mention in his letter was that, in the process of departing from the aeroplane, a large section of the timing gear had damaged two of the four tailbooms supporting the rudders and rear elevator. ‘This,’ said McClean, ‘may or may not have been an adequate excuse for the bad landing.’ He omitted to say that it could easily have resulted in a disastrous in-flight structural failure. In addition, both oil-pump spindles had sheared.
In his 1938 account McClean mistakenly and confusingly combines this incident with the later one at Kabushia on 15/16 March, writing:
… The timing gear and its ball race, probably irritated by a surfeit of sand, resolved itself into its component parts, and in doing so crippled two of the tail booms, thereby giving to the elevators and rudders an element of freedom which was inconvenient but luckily nothing more.
Having no tackle for lifting out the engine, we pushed it off its bearings on to a mound of sand, and placed it on a native bed. It was then carried to the railway and so to Atbara, where repairs were made in the workshops by the courtesy of the Engineering Staff.
However, from his letters written at the time, his 1950 account and Ogilvie’s version of 1955 it is evident that the timing-gear failure and the engine removal after a connecting-rod failure were two separate events. In his 1950 account McClean states that the S.80 had a 140hp Gnome, whereas all descriptions and reports contemporary with the event clearly say it had a 160hp Gnome. Both versions of the engine had fourteen cylinders and were created by joining two seven-cylinder engines together.
Of this episode, Ogilvie recalled:
This was near Gananita and we were carried ashore to an island in mid-stream by natives who appeared in large numbers from nowhere. All insisted on shaking our hands before taking any practical steps towards salvage.
The situation seemed to require a look into the structure to check up for possible further damage and with the consent of the old Omda or chief, who was the owner of the island, we decided to set up a regular camp, getting tents and supplies from Atbara, not very far away and make ourselves really comfortable. This was soon arranged and we were there for 10 days having been joined by Spottiswoode
and my mechanic Graves.
I enjoyed this camp more than Frank, who was getting very fed up with our snail-like progress. But there was never a word of anger against anyone, merely a grim determination to get to Khartoum somehow or other.
The engine was lifted out with a pair of shear legs and stored in a small shelter on the extreme north tip of our island to avoid as much flying sand as possible. Wings were taken off and examined but I am ashamed to say that a complete fracture of the main top back spar in the centre section was not discovered till the machine was back in Short Works at Eastchurch undergoing a thorough overhaul before being converted (doubtless at Frank’s expense) into a torpedo carrier for the Royal Naval Air Service.
It was as well we did not know this as it would have been very alarming to think of during the rest of our journey.
‘In 10 days,’ wrote McClean, ‘with very great help from the Sudan Railway, the machine was in the air again.’ During the interlude he wrote to ‘Bill’ from Atbara on 9 March, saying: ‘We left Abu Hamed a week ago & the machine is now only 100 miles on’. Describing the aircraft as ‘a comparative wreck’, he commented: ‘I am supposed to be on holiday but should have gone back today only there is no way except camel & it is 50 miles distant.’ ‘We still hope to get to Khartoum,’ he added, ‘but when God only knows.’ Anna was staying in Atbara, hoping to see the S.80 soon, but McClean said: ‘Her chance of another flight is small as it would not do for her to be lying about on sand banks as we are. There are a few crocodiles about in these parts – saw one at Gananita.’
McClean got back to Gananita late at night on Tuesday 10 March, where his train was met by Ogilvie, Spottiswoode and Abdul. Inexplicably, his telephone message to say that he wanted a felucca (boat) had been altered into a statement that he wanted to see them on his way to Cairo. They were wondering what the hell was the matter,’ McClean wrote in a letter to Lockyer from Kabushia Station dated 16 March, ‘& were quite annoyed when they found that they had been kept up for nothing.’
Two views (below and overleaf) of the dismantled and engineless seaplane at Gananita, during the hiatus there. (AUTHOR)
More breakdowns
In the same letter McClean described what next ensued.
Graves had come to Atbara to see the final touches to the oil pump wheels & spindles [in the Sudan Railway workshops] & returned with me. We stopped the train 4 miles north of Gananita & walked & boated across to Fitwar Island. A fine camp had been put up & all the structural repairs were finished. Ogilvie, Gus & Graves with the help of 2 Greeks – one a mechanic & the other a carpenter – had made a fine job of it. Ogilvie is wonderful when repairs of any sort are doing.
Next day we had another shock. Late in the afternoon when the two magnetos were being taken to pieces for cleaning it was found that the spindles of both were broken. It looked like another Atbara repair – but next day Graves propounded a scheme & he and Gus repaired one with parts out of the two.
By Friday the 13th the machine was assembled and the following day [was] spent in truing up & fixing controls. At 12.30 the engine was run & by 1.30 all was ready for a start. During the afternoon we packed up etc & at 5pm the machine was lifted back into the water. At about 5.20 we started. Ogilvie wanted me to do a straight & land, being a bit nervous after my three previous bad landings – consecutive. However I assured him and we cut it out. Before we got high enough for a turn we were over rapids but we are getting used to that. We climbed gradually to 1,500. A few small rapids occurred south of Gananita & then some fairly bad ones between Berber & Atbara – especially just up to Atbara. The sun set clearly in this part of the flight & looked quite below one. It was over endless flat desert. We reached Atbara [after a 40-minute flight] at 1,500ft & circled over the railway shops, down over the railway bridge & touched opposite the houses where all the population was assembled. My sister had been waiting a fortnight. The last time she waited was at Haifa when a month elapsed. The same night after dinner we filled with petrol & got up before 5 next morning to put the oil in. We got to bed about midnight.
Our intention was to start at 5.45 when it would be quite light but it was after 6 when we pushed off. A run up stream, turn on the water & sprint back & we got into the air opposite the start. Again we had to turn over rocks but the engine was pulling like the devil. All went well for 13 minutes then an inlet valve broke. Bang after bang & we came down & anchored in midstream. It took the better part of an hour to locate & change the valve & again we went away like the devil.
The air was roughish but not bad and our speed a bit over 70mph. Then opposite here [Kabushia Station] the machine started vibrating & corkscrewing. I had had the symptoms twice before in England & it was necessary to cut the engine out at once. It was a broken connecting rod. We anchored & tried to work out a method to drift to the east bank – on which side was the railway. But it was no use – the wind took us eventually to the west shore. We were at once surrounded by a semi-naked crowd & got them to pull us along till opposite a good spot on the east bank. Then we made them swim & pull. Six on the end of a rope & 6 others holding to the floats & striking out with both legs. But the wind beat them. After many hours a boat was brought & the machine pulled across. I came to the station & telephoned. Graves who had started for Khartoum – had got off at Shendi when he found that we had not arrived there & came back – bringing a dozen beer, a dozen soda & a bottle of whiskey & some tins of food. We drank his health unanimously.
We then got a shelter of sticks & mats – borrowed some beds & after a good meal turned in. One thing about this country is that you can always get beds & a blanket. It was not comfortable. The bed was hard, the blanket rough & our legs badly burnt by the sun when paddling along with the machine.
This morning [16 March] the engine was lifted out by hand. A high mound of earth was built below the propeller on which 6 men stood. Two more stood below the forward end of the shaft & by the help of two on the nacelle with a rope it was got out. Then it was laid on one of the beds and two batches of eight men carried it 3 miles to the station. It was a comic sight. We had not previously thought of moving the engine without block & tackle. Necessity is the mother of invention. The four of us came on donkeys & our supplies on a camel. The supplies included 4 bottles of cold tea. Not half bad either when you must. We allowed two hours to carry the engine but they did it in 45 minutes.
Thank heaven there is a daily tram each way here. At Gananita it was twice weekly & if we wanted to travel otherwise than by 4th class we had to stop the mail train.
We all go to Atbara now & probably Ogilvie & I shall go to Khartoum tomorrow for a couple of days.
Ogilvie recalled the difficulties that had to be overcome to remove the engine:
Landing presented no difficulty to Frank but we had to run ashore at a place where, owing to the unusual lowness of the river, the bank was 20ft high and very steep.
The first problem was to remove the engine with no lifting tackle and not even a stick more than 6ft long and crooked at that. This problem was solved by getting the large gang of natives who appeared almost immediately to build a solid ramp of earth high enough and wide enough for a strong-arm gang to draw the engine bodily out of its cradle and put it on an ‘angareb’ with its crank-shaft sticking down through the webbing to keep it in place.
The next job was to get this up on top of the bank and was done by turning our gang on to making a cutting at a slope up which the angareb could be carried. On top, donkeys appeared; carrying teams were selected and we set off in style for the railway station a few miles away. I remember that Frank had difficulty in keeping his long legs off the ground.
Once the engine had been carried to the railway it was transported back to Atbara, where the railway workshop took it in hand. Of their stay there, Ogilvie recalled:
Poor Miss McClean, I remember on one occasion Frank and I were summoned by her from our work bench in the railway works at Atbara, where we were working on the engine, to come to the station
to meet the Governor-General, Sir Reginald Wingate. When we reached the platform, in the far distance we could see a glittering body of white uniformed and bemedalled officials with Miss McClean hovering around. We were bedecked with patches of pure castor oil, considered necessary for those air-cooled Gnome engines, and the patches had collected dust and sand. I do not know if we had shaved but our appearance did no credit to Frank’s sister. I remember that the platform seemed to be a very long one.
The repaired engine was then taken back to the aeroplane. McClean wrote:
The reinstallation with a borrowed derrick was simple, but had to be carried out in the lee of smoking fires lit to create an atmosphere in which sand flies could not breathe, while a native boy carried the spanners and other tools to and from the river to keep them cool.
The river was not cold, but no refrigerator was ever such a welcome neighbour, and when we discovered a Greek shop only thirty miles away and a camel load of beer found its way to our temporary home, the temperature of the consignment was reduced from blood heat to mere tepidity before being returned to the temperature of the body.
Khartoum at last
On 22 March, seven days after the forced descent, the aircraft was ready to embark on the final leg of its arduous journey. Ogilvie wrote:
After a few days in the Atbara workshops we were back and made another early start on 22nd March with 138 miles to go to Khartoum. Our average speed was 80 and at times the tailwind was 30mph, but the going was fairly good.
The Shabluka Gorge, about which we had heard some alarming stories, was about half way and presented a very fine sight. Thousands of duck could be seen getting up from the sandbanks 1,600ft below.
Frank McClean Page 19
