At length the transport _Conway_ was reported to be ready to receive the head-quarters of the Connaught Rangers, and we went on board. Very different from what they are now were the vessels employed for the conveyance of troops; the comfort and luxury of floating palaces like the _Crocodile_ and the _Jumna_ were then unknown, and a ship that was considered almost unsafe to convey merchandise was regarded as quite good enough to carry one of Her Majesty’s regiments. A curious scene the deck of our old East India-man presented when we got on board. Confusion seemed the order of the day; geese, ducks, and fowls filling the air with their peculiar cries. It was difficult to get along the decks, so crowded were they with friends of the soldiers, consisting of weeping women and disconsolate children. Somehow or other every stranger was cleared out in the course of time, and we put to sea. We had a very rough time of it in the Bay of Biscay, for it blew a fierce gale from the S.W., and not only could we make no way against the storm, but we were driven quite out of our course. These discomforts were not much thought of by my young brothers-in-arms, but must have been trying to the older officers on board. One veteran attached to our regiment passed a fearful time. He had never been to sea before, having served always in a cavalry corps, and the extent of his voyages had been from England to Ireland and back again; he was an old man now, and he and his wife had a very miserable appearance. Whenever he came into the cabin he looked the picture of woe, but I fear he got no sympathy from us youngsters. Once when the storm was at its worst, and the waves broke clean over the ship, the green water washing in at the cuddy door, ‘Oh!’ exclaimed the poor old man, ‘why do we not go into a harbour? Can we not get a steamer to tow us in?’ This proved an unfortunate remark to make in the presence of a lot of careless young jokers. ‘A first-rate idea,’ said one of them. ‘Let us get up a subscription for a steamer to pull us out of this tre-men-duous sea.’ No sooner said than done. We got a sheet of paper and wrote the following heading: ‘It is proposed to get a steamer to tow us out of the Bay of Biscay. Officers wishing to subscribe towards a fund to pay the expense of the said steamer are requested to sign their names.’ We all wrote down the amount we were willing to give, some putting down five pounds, others two pounds; but the poor old man, who was considered by us to be rather fond of his money, surprised us all by putting down his name for twenty pounds. The paper was stuck up in the cabin, but the old captain of the transport baffled our project, and let the cat out of the bag by asking the ancient warrior, ‘How the dickens are ye to get at the steamer?’ I do not think we were ever forgiven for our rather cruel joke.