First to the south and then to the east we sailed over seas of glass, with never a storm or gale, but tremendous speed. They were cheerful days, although they were ever-watchful ones, with life-belts close at hand. No lights showed on deck at night nor on the whole horizon. Yes, just once! By the big blazing cross at the foremast, we saw the form of a hospital ship, bringing its toll of human wreckage to the waiting hands and hearts of its native heath.
For all the trip there was no anxious face or word that revealed the danger that so constantly lurked near us. Even the frequent summons for life-boat drills were answered with mirthful banter. An unfailing, kindly courtesy, and, in many cases, real comradeship marked the fellow-workers with whom we crossed. Perhaps it was due to the quiet but wonderful personality of the leader of this group, Mr. William J. Sloane, Chairman of the War Council of the Young Men’s Christian Association. The four hundred Polish recruits entertained us with song, verse and dance; while usually we had music and movies in the salon. Our Sunday afternoon at sea, we sat in the dining salon with the sun’s rays stealing through the closed portholes and falling upon us in long, flickering, gold lines. Dr. Henry Coffin talked to us in his forceful way of heroes of old. Some one sang “Speed Away,” and then there was a triumphal outburst of “Eternal Father Strong to Save!” The morning of the ninth day we entered the Gironde River and steamed slowly between vine-clad heights, overtopped by stately chateaux; between flowering meadows, with picturesque villas, up to Bordeaux. It was thus we “Answered the Call.”
That for which millions prayed and sighed,
That for which ten thousands fought,
For which so many freely died,
God cannot let it come to naught.
James Weldon Johnson.