A W Martins flash steam hydroplane

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Regattas & Competition

From a spectator point of view, the regattas offered entertainment and not a little excitement. Acrobatics were commonplace, as were soaked spectators. For alongside the bank was the favourite place for a boat to disappear.

Each boat made its own music, that of some of the two-strokes being quite beautiful. However, when it was the turn of a ‘water otter’ – as flash steam boats (and their owners) were known, this was the time for everyone to crowd to the edge. For while the petrol driven boats usually settled down to a steady speed, either fast or slow, this was seldom the case with the steamers. They ‘wound up’ –going faster and faster, to then either blow up, dive under, or simply run out of steam, as they say. Add to this, the rising crescendo, and you will see that from the crowd’s point of view, it was a case of ‘anything can happen in the next few seconds’ – which it usually did! So that, in my time, I entertained a lot of people a lot of times. In this respect, Tornado IV was a most spectacular boat. Both to watch and listen to. Nor were the crowd at all slow at showing their appreciation, so that I know the stimulating effect of the roar of the crowd. For the mere fact that one has been able to give pleasure to so many people, also pleases you.

The photo (heading the article on page 1) is about as rare as a British Guiana stamp, for it shows me with a smile - well grin - on my face. The reason? I have managed to pull off the 'Big One'. It might be thought that once one had a boat that usually outshone others by several mph, all one had to do was run it, and then just wait for the prize. This was never so: for whilst I can look back now, and know that they - the others - never managed to beat me, I always had a healthy respect for them, and feared they might. For by 1939, they were very close behind in speed terms. Tornado IV had bags of power, which I dared not use. For the hull was so slow to rise that if the average for the race was between 34 and 35, then the last lap was always done at not less than 40. Also, on a circular course, any boat turned into the wind and out of it every 5 seconds at 40. As the kids might say, one just to wobble, and two to be over. So that, at 'ordinary' regattas, one did not 'turn the wicks up' as it was called, but played as safe as thought desirable: enough - hopefully - to win, but no more. One never knew whether the opposition over the previous winter, month or even week had found a new 'ginger' recipe, plus a stability, that would leave them on top, whilst yours went over.

Now Victoria Park, East London, was about the diceyist water of the lot, and of course, the locals designed their boats to defeat its 'foibles'. Only about a month before, on this same water, so close was my 'guesstimating' that the boat was in the air, on its way over, as it passed the finishing line. I couldn't believe it had stopped the clock, but it had. It was as close a thing as that. This was the big day, and the weather was good. What to do? Play safe on the first run, chum, and give it the works on the second. This was another luck day for me. For the first run went better than expected, and put the race in my pocket. Now for 'the works'. Off she went, faster than before, when 'bang! - I had no propeller. But I had WON the 'big one' (the Miniature Speed Championship) - and smiled!

Just a look back at Victoria Park which was the Circus Maximus of the model boat world. It was the home of a very celebrated club and the venue of every major event. Many a boating 'duel to the death' was fought on its turbid water, often with the loser sent to a - quite temporary - watery grave. My Boats knew both the surface of the water and the bottom of it. Taken a little under 50 years ago (1936/7) the photo is not what it seems. The boat owners have been asked to pose for the press, nothing more.

Now I liked all my dogs to BARK: and bark they did, in no uncertain fashion. To quote from ME ‘and the roar from its tiny single cylinder was exhilarating.’ It did do this, both to me and all the spectators. Other boats screamed or even howled, mine roared. The roar itself was a crescendo as the boats accelerated right up to the end of the race. If one couldn’t hear my boat ¾ of a mile away, then it wasn’t performing. I deliberately designed them to do just this, much as musical instruments are. It was bought at a price - of say a few miles an hour. For it was my kind of music, an orchestration that I had written myself: by such means would my boats put life into any regatta, for my music was theirs also. Speed itself is very much an impression, and sometimes ears create more impression than eyes. For a wasp without its zang is without its menace: and a dog without a bark indicates a tame dog: for such reasons did my boats make not only noise – but lots of it.

From the preceding, it might be thought that Tornado IV was an immediate success. However, this was not the case, for it took about six months for it to settle down. Also, my spare time was by now very sparse. I was working at the British Power Boat Co at this time (not to get ideas, only the money) and they were so far behind with their orders that one was often required to work all through the night, and the following day! Such conditions would slow anything down, but never brought it to a standstill.

The old Model Engineer Silver medals, which were the accolade of the model world, had a charm of their own. It is quite likely that the original die was made about 90 years ago, and its very design - an allegory of the marvels of engineering as seen through Victorian eyes, is quite a fine example of medallion art. Now, in the Derby, it is the horse and not the owner, that wins the race: and so these medals do not so much belong to me, as to Tornados II, III, IV. For they never, ever, let me down.

‘Four Horsemen’ all lined up ‘on parade’ in the back garden of 149 Commercial Road Southampton. Two of them just hulls now and ‘out to grass’. It is 1937, and other members of the family are carrying on from where they left off. It was the fate of the latter three to be famous in their time. Not so the boat that was just called Tornado and not Tornado one. But it has my medal hanging round its bows. For in its time it was my flash steam test bed, it threw up everything that was wrong with what I was doing. For I was finding, I was feeling my way. However, it had one claim to fame. For it was the very first boat to go 'round the pole' in Southampton. It was also fast enough to have won a Model Engineer medal itself, it was me who never gave it a chance: for I was in too much of a hurry to get on, to make progress.

In three years time, we as a family, would be sheltering below the very ground on which the boats are resting whilst everything around was either blown to bits or burnt to the ground. Such things are liable to happen in wars.

Now one of the problems was the hull. It was very tardy at getting up on its toes, as ‘free planing’ was called. Up to about 30mph it was almost glued on the water, and if I had had more time I would have got busy on a ‘better’ hull straight away.

With little time for testing, it took quite a time to find out what was the right amount of water to pump. Such a thing was very critical, for at speed the pump was making 50 strokes a second, and the quantity had to be just right, for steam that was too wet or dry (hot) gave inadequate power. Last but not least was the starting problem: for when ‘opened up’ the boat would pull 18lbs on a spring balance – 2 ½ times its own weight. If released the boat would immediately somersault, for the back would get away much faster than the front. So a ‘getting away’ technique had to be worked out, a sort of circus trick, combined with some detuning. However, when all these problems were settled, Tornado IV settled down to give an almost trouble-free performance, time after time, as one can see from contemporary reports. So 1939 was quite a memorable year for me, in many ways.

Now the small engine that had powered the three previous Tornados was by now just about worn out. And so in between times, a new poppet valve engine had been made. There are snags in very fast poppet valve action, so that although others thought this an excellent engine, I could only think of the problems involved: but it won many races.

Both Tornado III and IV proved that they could still show a clean pair of heels, in the early post war years, and at the 1947 International they both ‘pulled it off’ in their respective classes.

At the following year’s International, yet another boat – Zephyr seems to be keeping up the ‘first’ tradition. This was the only post war boat. Now it might be thought from this that the stage was all set to keep up the good work. Actually, my ‘boating’ career was very near its end, for several reasons. One of these was that, up till now, all races had been run with the boat tethered by a single attachment at the side. One result of this was that an any speed that was well into the forties, was literally an invitation to go over and under. This was even more so in the case of the smaller boats. Indeed, the problem was not so much to get the boat out of the water, as keep it on top. The USA fraternity had solved this by using s bridle, a fore and aft tethering. This in turn allowed them to use what was known as surface propulsion, with the prop having one blade in (the water) and one blade out. This in itself reduced the resistance by a huge amount and speeds in the 50s – 60s or more, quite out of the question before, were now possible. Only flipping, up and over, remained as a hazard.

Now, the ‘old brigade’ resisted such an alteration to existing rules, but it was inevitable. However, totally new and different hulls were now required. Yet another change was instituted at the same time. For so many complaints had been made about noise, that silencers were now compulsory. The very prospect of de-barking my dogs quite horrified me. Nor, at that time, was I able to find the time to make a fresh start. All in all, it would be better for me to gracefully leave the scene, and leave it to my very capable successors to take full advantage of the new possibilities: which they did in no uncertain fashion, with new and clever ideas.

Only once or twice, in order to support my old club at local ‘open’ regattas, did I ever run my boats again. Even then my patron saint smiled, for Zephyr managed to keep up the family tradition, and come in first. It was a good way to close what, to me, had seemed to be a continuance of the most fantastic luck. Fortune had smiled on me.

I would imagine that this photo was taken on Southampton Common on my very last appearance at a regatta. I must have won, for I am holding a cup I became very familiar with - the Scott-Paine Trophy.

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