B Company had no quarters _de luxe_. We were crowded into small space--Section K--far down on D deck, with sleeping hammocks slung over our mess tables. And our mess, served by the British, was a sorry series of meals. We were compelled to wear during the day, and to sleep with during the night, ungainly life preservers. But discomforts were subordinated to the interest in our new surroundings. The mysteries of the big ship, its spotless engine-room, the intricacies of navigation, the precautions against possible attack,--all held us. [Illustration: _Among Those Present--A Group of NCO'S at Camp_] On leaving New York we pursued a northerly course, and at nine o'clock that night anchor was dropped in lower Bedford Bay, at Halifax. Early next morning we steamed up into the inner harbor and before us lay the sadly devastated city of Halifax. Immense areas of the city had been totally destroyed by the explosion resulting from the collision between a Belgian relief ship and one bearing a cargo of explosives. That day and the next, while waiting for our convoy to assemble, was spent in practicing with lowered boats. Late on the afternoon of April 9th our convoy of ten passenger and cargo ships passed out of the harbor, sped by the cheers of the crews of two American battleships. We were escorted by _U. S. S. St. Louis_ and _H. M. S. Victoria_. Boat drill, a well-ordered scramble for life boats, took place twice daily. Each morning we indulged in strenuous setting-up exercises in order that we might remain in trim. Practice with depth bombs and smoke screens helped to relieve the tedium of the long trip. As we neared our unknown destination, our escort was increased by ten British torpedo boat destroyers. Veritable sea dogs they were, darting every which-way, breasting wave after wave, ever watchful for the tricky Hun. And then, on Friday. April 19th, land! Just a ridge above the horizon--the blue hills of Wales--but already we could feel in our imaginations the solidity which our unsailorly legs had missed. As the day waned we sighted the lighthouse at the mouth of the River Mersey. With cheers of relief we were permitted to doff our bulky life belts. Just before dusk we entered the Mersey, passing closely by the beautiful seaside resort of New Brighton. Forging up the river we reached Liverpool and, at nine o'clock that evening, after almost fourteen days afloat, our transport was moored. The city, as we saw it from the decks of the _Justicia_, lay quietly, with lights beginning to twinkle in the increasing gloom. One by one the companies formed and debarked, and at 11:15 P.M. B Company marched down the gang plank, thru half-lighted sheds, into those curious side-door railway cars so peculiar to Europe. Exactly at midnight our train pulled out of Liverpool. At 3:00 A.M. a short stop for hot coffee was made at Rugby. We passed thru the outskirts of London at 6:00 A.M. and at nine-twenty the train rolled into the terminal at Dover.