Before daylight, next morning, we swung out into the river and down into the broadening harbor, to the sea. We were all allowed on deck. As I stood viewing the scene on every side, of brilliantly lighted cities and towns, Jot came up, touched me on the shoulder and, with a sweep of his hand, said, “Don’t it put you in mind of that verse in the Bible,--‘Gazar and her towns and villages, unto the river of Egypt and the great sea and the border thereof?’” Then, as we waved an adieu to the Statue of Liberty he added, “We are the vanguard of the army to make good the meaning of that Statue that France has prophetically placed there. We go to deliver France and the world.” The land began to fade as daylight brightened. The broad sea spread out before us and with it a possible broader vista of life’s great drama and of the freedom of men as yet unborn, whose destinies we were perhaps carrying across the sea. The naval officers were in supreme command of all on board and we soldiers were put to ship routine at once. “It looks to me,” said Sergeant Nickerson, “like a huge job to feed all of us in this one dining room.” “But it isn’t our business,” I replied, “so long as we get the grub.” “But it may be everybody’s business if they don’t get it; and that’s what I am thinking about.” The difficulty was solved in this way. The men were marched to the room, and ate standing in line or at long tables. As fast as one batch was fed, another took its place. By the time breakfast was over, lunch began. It was a sort of endless chain made up of men, moving on schedule time. Men began to growl--growling is a soldier’s safety valve, and his privilege ever since soldiering first began. “Sure,” said Pat Quinn, “it’s ating tactics we are being drilled in. Ye’s open ye’s mouths so many toimes and then swallow--one toime and three motions!” “What are you growling about?” said Private Shaw. “There’ll likely be another motion on this ship soon, so that you can’t swallow at all!” So with rough jokes and gibes we ate our first breakfast on board ship. Then ship drill began. Each man was assigned to a boat or raft, and we learned the ship calls. When the bugle sounded “Assembly” every man was to go on deck and take his place at his boat or raft. At “Abandon Ship,” the boats and rafts were supposed to be got into the water. “Quarters” meant every man below, to his bunk. We go through the motions--only--of getting the boats and rafts over the side of the ship. When our instructor said that a raft was safer than a boat, but that we were never to climb onto one, but hang on with both hands, we were skeptical about it. “He wants to keep a boat for himself,” said Sam. “That is what he is preaching it for.” We knew, however, that the safety of all on board might depend upon our efficiency at this drill.