A few days later our ship was dragged slowly into dock by two small but powerful tug-boats. The boys who had been caged on board for a full week in sight of but unable to reach the land shouted and danced for joy. The noise of the donkey engine pulling our equipment out of the hold was to us the sweetest sound on land or sea. We were almost the last ship to dock, and a thousand boys were impatiently awaiting their turn to step on English soil. Machine guns, boxes of rifles and ammunition, great cases of food and wagons came hurtling through the hatchway, vomited from the depths below. With great speed and regularity they were deposited on the quay, while heavy motor lorries, piled high with freight, creaked from dock to train. From across the quay, and in awesome proximity, the great guns of the battle cruisers _Tiger_ and _Benbow_ yawned at us. As far as one might look heavily armoured men-of-war, ready to sail or in process of construction, met the eye, and the deafening crash of the trip-hammer stormed the ear. Britain may well be proud of her navy. Its size and might are far beyond our ken. Patiently, in peaceful harbour, or on sea, she lies in wait and longs for Germany’s inevitable hour. The hospitality of the citizens of Devonport and Plymouth will long remain a pleasant recollection. First impressions linger and our first impressions there still stir up delightful memories. "Now, then, look sharp there! Stow them adoos an’ get aboard!" It was the raucous voice of Sergeant Honk which thus assailed his unwilling flock. The boys were bidding a lengthy farewell to the local beauties, who had patriotically followed them to the train. The sergeant was hot and dusty, and beaded drops of sweat dripped from his unwashed chin. His hat was cocked over one eye, in very unmilitary style. The Tommies, under the stimulating influence of two or more draughts of "bitter" purchased at a nearby bar, were inclined to be jocose. "’Ave _another_ drink, ’Onk!" cried one, thrusting a grimy head from the train window and mimicking Honk’s cockney accent. This subtle allusion to previous libations aroused the sergeant’s ire. "Oo said that?" he shouted wrathfully, as he turned quickly about. "Blimey if yer ain’t got no more disc’pline than a ’erd uv Alberta steers! If I ’ears any more sauce like that some one ’ull be up for ’office’ in th’ mornin’!" The culprit had withdrawn his head in time, and peace prevailed for moment. "What’s that baggage fatigue doin’?" he cried a moment later. "D’ye think y’er at a picnic—eatin’ oranges? Load them tents!" The orange-eating "fatigue," looking very hot and fatigued indeed, fell reluctantly to work.