I went forward quickly: “Captain,” I said, “didn’t the doctor tell you not to leave your stateroom till we docked?”
He didn’t say anything for a second or two, and I noticed a mist had come into his eyes. Then he pointed far across the grey waste of waters. “Ah, Father,” he said, “but there’s Ireland!”
Chapter XII
By Ireland
All day long we sailed by Ireland and she seemed strangely peaceful and quiet. Perhaps it was the great contrast with the sea, the wide tumbling waste of waters that, night and day, was always restless; or perhaps it was a benediction resting over the whole country. Anyhow it seemed that way to me as often as my eyes rested on the hills and fields of holy Ireland. Since that morning I have seen many different countries. I have come back to my own land over the same great distance of waters, and it was in the early morning that I saw it first, yet that strange spiritual peace that seemed to rest over Ireland was decidedly lacking. That early morning scene still comes back to me; and all through the day, whenever my eyes rested on the hills of Ireland, I felt that I was making a meditation and that I was being lifted in spirit far above the little things that bother one here below.
Down below us on the water, with the swiftness almost of swallows, darted here and there the long grey anti-submarine boats. Seven or eight of them had come to meet us. Later on in the day appeared the mine sweepers, low short steam boats painted for the most part red, and carrying one yard sails. The sails were of dark brownish-red color. They worked in pairs.
Chapter XIII
England
That evening we moved slowly up the Mersey and at nine o’clock anchored out in the stream in full view of the city of Liverpool. We could not see it very well, for throughout the city the lights were dimmed and windows were darkened.
All along the Irish coast the impression was one of peace and quiet, a spiritual something. But England seemed to give one the idea of a great machine, working slowly, steadily, untiringly. One was spiritual; the other material. That was my first impression of England as a nation, and that impression remained with me during my stay in the country. Every time I returned on leave from France I found it always the same. England, as a nation, seemed to be wonderfully organized, and that whole organization seemed to run smoothly, powerfully, and heavily. Each individual had his special work to do in that colossal workshop called England. He knew how to do that, and he did it, quietly, methodically, and well. But, taken away from his own work, he seemed to lack resource—the resource and initiative of the men from the New World.
We entrained early in the morning. For most of us it was our first experience with the compartment cars of the Old World—little compartments running the width of the car, a door opening from each side of the car, with two seats running from one side to the other, each holding from three to five people, who sat facing each other.
We passed through many quaint towns and many large cities, and it was evening when we came into the quiet little station of Liphook. We were due there at two o’clock, but there had been many delays along the way. Sometimes the lads had pulled the rope and had stopped the train; and each time a stolid brakeman had opened the door of compartment after compartment, asking solemnly: “’oo pulled the reope?” Of course no one gave him the information he asked; whereupon he closed each door and went patiently on to the next compartment.