At 2.00 A. M. the next day, December 16th, lights of western-bound ships were sighted off the port bow. The sky was completely overcast, with a rough northwest sea, accompanied with fresh strong breezes. Our speed averaged 20 knots this day, all 46 boilers in the fireroom being in commission. The clocks were advanced 47 minutes. The next day a moderate gale was blowing and we passed through heavy rain squalls. Due to the heavy sea our speed was reduced. The sky remained overcast with the barometer dropping steadily giving little hope of the weather moderating. The customary drills of abandon ship and fire alarm were gone through. The water-tight doors, so essential in case of submarine attacks, were tested and found O. K. The sea moderated sufficiently the next day to allow us to increase speed once more, this time to 21½ knots, although the ship rolled and pitched considerably as the heavy swells struck her, many of the troops on board showing the effects of the inevitable _mal-de-mer_. We passed through a thick fog when off the Grand Banks. On the 19th, while holding abandon ship drill, twelve rounds of ammunition were fired from the various guns, in order to keep them in tip-top shape and to give their crews the necessary training in loading and firing. At night the sky cleared considerably, the first sign of good weather we had since leaving Hoboken. The barometer rose steadily, a smooth sea running with a moderate breeze. From day to day we continued setting our clocks ahead. Up to this time the entire crew was in ignorance of the ship’s destination, but when the course was changed to northeast, it was quite apparent to us that we were headed for “Blighty.” We were passing through the Gulf Stream and the weather remained clear and fairly warm. A private in Co. H, 163rd Regt., was placed in the brig for safekeeping, at the request of the brigade commander, demonstrating that the soldiers on board were subject to the same discipline as were the crew. Not long after this a member of the crew was disciplined for failing to wear his life-jacket. The good weather did not remain with us very long, for on the 22nd the wind picked up to 65 miles an hour. We were rapidly approaching the war-zone and the men were continually cautioned not to neglect wearing their life-preservers at all times, day and night, not to undress upon turning in, and never to strike a match on the open deck at night. In fact, it was contrary to ship regulations for an enlisted man to carry any matches at all about his person. It is a fact that the glare of a lighted match or cigarette is visible for half a mile on the open sea at night and guards vigilantly patrolled the outer decks in order to prevent any neglect along this line.