Toward the end of July 1910, the Imperial might of the British Home, Atlantic and Mediterranean Fleets anchored in the shelter of Mount’s Bay, Penzance, in readiness for a review by His Majesty King George V. Nearly two hundred warships were present; 700,000 tons and 50,000 men, a vigorous demonstration of England’s position as a leading world power. Such a force was surely unassailable.

Certainly, attack from the air was not considered a threat, either by the British Admiralty or the Government of the day. At that time, the few aeroplanes in existence were frail, unreliable novelties. Yet only the previous year, Louis Bleriot had made his historic flight from Calais to Dover.

Among the foremost British pioneer airmen of the day was Claude Grahame-White. Born in August 1879 to a well-to-do Hampshire family, he developed a consuming interest in mechanical engineering, and while visiting France during 1909 he witnessed a flight by an aircraft designed by the Wright Brothers. He immediately became addicted to the infant science of aviation. In January 1910 Grahame-White gained his pilot's licence on a Farman biplane at Pau, in the shadows of the French Pyrenees. He acquired his own Farman, and during the following spring, established the first British flying-school, in London.

Grahame-White rapidly became famous throughout Britain. The small community of Edwardian pioneer airmen were regarded as real heroes. Their achievements were followed avidly by the newspapers of the day, not least the Daily Mail, whose proprietor Lord Northcliffe was a staunch supporter of aeronautical development. Crowds of thousands would gather to watch the early aviators perform exhibition flights on their primitive aircraft, and race against other pilots; they were the real Magnificent Men.

In July 1910 Grahame-White entered the International Air Show at Bournemouth, in which competitions were organised for speed and endurance. He came third, winning £700, a huge sum for the time. A natural entrepreneur and showman, during the event he carried several passengers, charging £10 per head; only the seriously affluent were taken up! Later that month, he gave exhibition flights at the Crystal Palace, watched by over 5,000 people and rising to some 600 ft. Two days later he left for an exhibition at Penzance.

Almost alone at that time, Grahame-White had come to believe that in the future, aeroplanes could prove formidable weapons. However, the Government displayed an unimaginative attitude regarding such potential. Grahame-White's visit to Cornwall was made partly in order to carry out an audacious coup, which he hoped would encourage a rethink of Government policy. The Fleets at Penzance would unwittingly help in this, while Grahame-White knew he would be guaranteed a large crowd because people were travelling from miles around to see the ships. He engaged the Daily Mirror journalist and photographer Vaughan T Paul to organise the event. It sparked tremendous excitement; Cornwall had never previously been visited by an aeroplane.

Grahame-White’s flimsy Farman biplane travelled to Penzance by rail on Thursday 21 July, dismantled and in a special carriage of its own, accompanied by his mechanics. Later that day the pilot also arrived, and retired for the night to the Queen’s Hotel on The Promenade. The Cornishman newspaper, its editor Herbert Thomas prompted by Vaughan Paul, speculated that the great airman might attempt to drop imitation bombs on the Fleets.

During Friday, the carriage containing the Farman was shunted to Ponsandane sidings, just to the east of the town itself, opposite which was a flat field named Poniou Meadow belonging to nearby Poniou Farm. The fragile aircraft components were removed from the carriage and taken to the field. The lee of a haystack was used by the mechanics and their charge to provide shelter from the stiff wind, and once erected the Farman was put under a tarpaulin for the night.

Grahame-White’s aeroplane was typical of its day. The pilot sat between the biplane wings. Behind him was the pusher engine, an unsilenced 50 hp Gnôme rotary, and ahead a distinctive elevator arrangement. The fuselage consisted merely of a system of

struts, while the tail was of classical box kite configuration. Undercarriage arrangements consisted of four spoked wheels, and a skid beneath the tail. The aircraft was susceptible to the slightest wind, but in ideal conditions could manage a maximum speed of over 40 mph!

Unfortunately the following day, Saturday 23 July, experienced strong gusts and Grahame-White was obliged to kick his heels in Penzance. The weather did not deter the crowds of excited people who assembled at the field. The more well-heeled each paid the princely sum of half-a-crown (12½p) to enter; the Truro Boy’s Brigade, camping at Marazion, were admitted at no charge. The working folk gathered around the perimeter of the site to avoid payment – a trait noticeable at air shows ever since.

Many made an outing of the event, bringing picnics, which was as well because the Farman remained under its tarpaulin for the entire morning and afternoon. However, around 6.00 pm the wind finally began to drop. The aircraft was pushed out from under its tarpaulin and the mechanics began making it ready for flight. Grahame-White arrived from the town by motor car, dressed in a blue suit and sporting a boater. Various checks were carried out to the aircraft and finally, at about 8.00 pm, as the cloud cleared and the sun emerged, the weather was judged suitable.

The Farman was turned south west into the mild prevailing wind and its engine started by the mechanics before being tested by Grahame-White, who had swapped his boater for a leather flying helmet and goggles. As the pilot opened the throttle his aircraft bumped across the field, gathering pace in a short take-off run before gently lifting into the air. Picked out in the evening light, the Farman headed in the direction of Mount’s Bay, a suitably romantic setting for Cornwall’s first aeroplane flight.

However, Grahame-White quickly returned to the field; his first ascent lasted only around three minutes, at a height of around 200 ft. Despite this, on landing he was greeted with huge cheers from the spectators, entirely mollified despite their long wait for the performance. He explained his return had been due to high winds over the Bay, but undertook to make another flight later in the evening if possible.

To the crowd's delight, just before 9.00 pm, as dusk was approaching, a second ascent was duly made. That time, dressed in overalls and a white scarf, Grahame-White flew west over Chyandour, across the centre of Penzance, over the promenade and then in the direction of Newlyn before turning east to pass over Mount’s Bay. All over the town, people stopped what they were doing and looked upwards, attracted by the unfamiliar noise of the Farman's raucous engine.

Flying at around 700 feet the aircraft circled the proudly-illuminated Fleet, and the ships blew their whistles in salute. Grahame-White identified Admiral May’s flagship, Dreadnought, and the Admiralty yacht Enchantress, subjecting both vessels to low-level passes and banking turns. His flight lasted some fifteen minutes and covered around nine miles. On his return to Poniou Meadow the aircraft was put away under the tarpaulin for the night. The admiring crowds made their way home, after an occasion no-one would never forget.

To reinforce the point he had travelled to make, and in line with the earlier comment in The Cornishman, following his latter flight Grahame-White mentioned to the pressmen assembled at the field that he might ask Admiral May for permission to conduct an experiment, to see whether he could drop an object from the air onto the Dreadnought. Understandably, this was widely reported in the newspapers. It was pointed out – correctly – that not a single gun in the entire flotilla could have been brought to bear on the spindly aircraft. Nothing could have prevented Grahame-White dropping his ‘object’. The potential offensive capability of the aeroplane was there for all to see.

The following day, Sunday, Grahame-White met Lord and Lady St Levan at St Michael’s Mount, and visited the Land’s End with them. Meanwhile, it emerged that His Majesty would be unable to review the Fleets in Mount’s Bay, as the Royal Yacht Victoria and Albert had been delayed by bad weather in leaving Cowes for Cornwall. Instead, the review would take place at Torbay. On the Sunday evening the Fleets sailed east.

Further Cornish exhibition flights had been planned for Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, but none were made. A combination of poor weather and the unexpected departure of the Fleets caused Grahame-White to leave Penzance in the very early morning of Tuesday 26 July. He hoped to catch the Fleets at Torbay and repeat his Mount's Bay exploit. Taking off from Poniou Meadow, he passed over the town before picking up the railway line eastward. Unfortunately though, after around fifteen minutes the Gnôme failed over Camborne during a strong headwind. Passing low over Camborne railway station, Grahame-White landed in a field on the western side of Pendarves Road. Again, crowds quickly formed, keen to help the famous airman.

The Farman was dismantled under the supervision of Grahame-White’s mechanics, who had arrived on a train pulling the aeroplane's special carriage. Local people helped carry the aircraft parts through the streets of Camborne – a unique procession. Fortunately the Camborne folk were much better behaved than a few years previously, when a balloonist had attempted to give an exhibition at Trevenson Park there - he had been unable to fly because of high winds, and the spectators had exacted revenge for wasted admission fees by tearing the balloon to pieces, which they took home as mementos!

At Camborne station, passengers were astonished to witness the parade of people and parts, and the Farman being manhandled into its accommodation. Grahame-White

changed out of his flying suit and signed autographs for his admirers before taking lunch at Tyacks Hotel. Pilot and aircraft duly left Cornwall, completing their journey to Torbay overland.

Eventually, the Government’s rethink regarding the military use of aeroplanes, so keenly sought by Grahame-White, took place - though not within the timescale he would have preferred. After a long and active life involving many other aviation pursuits, Claude Grahame-White died peacefully at the age of 79.

Today, Poniou Farm is still with us while Poniou Meadow, to the immediate south west of the farm house, is now split by the A30T dual carriageway linking the Long Rock and Eastern Green roundabouts. Just to the west of this historic site, maintaining an aerial association, is the present British International Helicopter terminal from where Sea King aircraft, so familiar today in Penwith's skies, connect the mainland with the Isles of Scilly.

Cornwall and the Titanic