ONLY two human forms could be seen standing against the murky backdrop of Coniston Water, where a thunderous downpour gave the grey waves of the lake a furious pelting.

The town clock had just struck one and streams of mourners had gathered for the funeral at St Andrew's Church, just a quarter-of-a-mile from the lake.

But the two men, Coniston born and bred, preferred to pay silent homage to their hero, by the rain-lashed waters.

A curtain of mist fell close to the lake, but their unwavering heads stared westward, to the point where Campbell's speedboat Bluebird crashed.

The last time Dave Shepherd and his colleague stood in the same awe was as young boys, when Campbell sped across the still water convinced he had triumphed at breaking his world speed record.

"The water was so still that day, it was like a mirror. We've called it Campbell Lake when it's been that still ever since in the town," said Mr Shepherd.

Just a short distance away, hundreds stood huddled together under a tide of umbrellas outside the church.

Silent spectators absorbed the service on loud speakers and 200 mourners sat nestled inside.

"So, today, we finally lay to rest the skipper, by the lake and close to some of his friends," Anthony Robinson, a close friend of Campbell and his time keeper, told the packed congregation.

"I believe that he will have found that other Bluebird. That blue bird of eternal happiness that inspired two generations of racing legends.

"No man deserves it more."

But there was a touch of levity as Campbell's blue coffin, covered by the Union Flag, was carried back to the horse-drawn carriage.

Campbell's daughter, Gina, 51, and his widow, Tonia Bern-Campbell, came out hand in hand, singing along to the final song, Unforgettable, and smiling wistfully at the throng.

Crowds of men and women spoke of their love of the man with the indomitable spirit who they had travelled for miles to send off, as they walked.

Some had seen him in person, while others had left homes as far afield as Buckinghamshire, Preston and Stockport to give their hero a send-off.

The huddle followed Campbell's family down to the graveyard, and faces of neighbours crammed against windows like woeful tableaux in this most public of funerals.

But, however high-profile it may have been, there was an intimate buzz that the two men by the lake felt travel through the Cumbrian town.

They felt it the day Campbell thought he had broken the record and they felt it return, if only briefly, yesterday