For two glorious October weeks we had bedecked the Atlantic. His Majesty’s fleet night and day had guarded us with an ever-increasing care. I can still look over the starboard rail and see the black smoke of the _Gloria_ prowling along in the south, and, afar off in the north, the _Queen Mary_ watching our hazardous course. The jaunty little _Charybdis_ minced perkily ahead. There were other battleships, too, which picked us up from time to time; and the _Monmouth_, on the last voyage she was destined to make, steamed through our lines one day. The brave fellows, who were so soon to meet a watery grave, lined up upon her deck, giving us three resounding cheers as she passed by, and we echoed them with a will. Captain Reggy, our dapper mess secretary, was pacing the hurricane deck one day. From time to time his gaze turned wistfully across the waves to the other two lines of ships steaming peacefully along side by side. Something weighty was on his mind. Occasionally he glanced up to the military signalling officer on the bridge, and with inexplicable interest watched his movements with the flags. "I say," Reggy called up to him, "can you get a message across to the _Franconia_?" "She’s third ship in the third line—a little difficult, I should say," the signaller replied. "But it _can_ be done, can’t it?" Reggy coaxed. "Yes, if it’s very important." "It’s most important, I want to send a message to one of the nurses." The signalling lieutenant leaned both elbows upon the rail and looked down in grinning amazement upon his intrepid interlocutor. "What the d——l! I say, you’re the sort of man we need at the front—one with plenty of nerve!" "Be a sport and send it over!" Reggy coaxed. "All right—I’ll take a chance." "Ask for Nursing Sister Marlow. Give her Captain Reggy’s compliments and best wishes, and will she join him on board for dinner this evening, seven o’clock!" There was a flutter of flags for several seconds, while the ridiculous message passed across from ship to ship. Reggy waited anxiously for a reply. In less than ten minutes from across the deep came this very lucid answer: "Nursing Sister Marlow’s compliments to Captain Reggy. Regrets must decline kind invitation to dinner. _Mal de mer_ has rendered her _hors de combat_. Many thanks." On the last day of our journey the speedy torpedo boat destroyers rushed out to meet us and whirled round and round us hour by hour as we entered the English Channel. Soon the welcome shores of England loomed through the haze, and the sight sent a thrill through all our hearts.