The nurses arrive in a flurry of excitement, having had the time of their lives. They were given the freedom of the theaters at Liverpool and were cheered as they entered, and a lunch at the Savoy where they all agreed they were wonderfully fêted. Interesting stories of our ocean voyage were told them by Major Keating after we left.
It seems that the destroyer No. 38 sunk a sub two hours before meeting us. They also confirmed the report that the "Coyote" was sunk sixteen miles ahead of us at one thirty a.m. It also seems that Pershing's force was attacked by what is said to be a veritable sub flotilla, and why none was sunk was just devilish good luck.
Steam about four miles down the harbor to the "Grand Tulley Castle." She is officially E-812, as all the boats are numbered now; the former names having been painted over. She was formerly in the African trade. Quarters are somewhat cramped, but she is as clean and comfortable as one could wish. There is an operating theater on the forward main deck, and between-decks are converted into wards. She is in command of Major W. V. Robinson, R.A.M.C. The officers are all very agreeable men and are doing everything to make us comfortable. No one can begin to realize what England is doing who has not seen the activity of Southampton. Just after we got on board two big transports passed us loaded with troops, it was said, for Mesopotamia.
July 14th. All day at anchor. No one allowed to leave the steamer. The papers came on board in the morning. Towards sundown two more transports leave again filled with troops.
We all jumped overboard for a swim in the afternoon. Concert in the evening by the men of the ship with ours. Every one seemed to have a good time.
The sunset was wonderful and the twilight lasted for nearly two hours.
July 15th. Still at anchor with no news of our departure. Major Robinson tried to get permission for the officers to visit Nutley Hospital, but only succeeded in getting it for six, so the high ones went—and said it was very interesting.
At four p. m. weigh anchor, put out the mine-sweeper and are off, escorted by two torpedo-boats which put out from Portsmouth. We pass through the nets and around the Western part of the Isle of Wight. Through the glasses Cowes looks absolutely deserted; the bath houses are pulled back on the beach and, although it is a Sunday in midsummer, one cannot see a child playing on the sands. This is equally true of the beaches around Southampton, of which there are five or six.
It is blowing a hard gale from the south. Orders are—sleep in clothes and wear life-preservers. The run is considered dangerous. There are many mine-sweepers at work around us.