68 Boxes First Fittings.
Of this trip to England, one of the petty officers wrote in his little notebook:
Caught my first glimpse of John Bull’s country early this morning when we arrived at Plymouth, a very beautiful spot. A British army camp is on the hill and we are soon to have a base here. It sounds good to hear the English language again. Rated liberty and had a splendid time. I guess we will make some knots on our way back to Brest, as we have enough TNT on board to blow up the whole fleet. If a submarine hits us this time—good-night! I hope the luck of the Navy will take care of the old ship this cruise.
September 15th. Got back to Brest at 11 A.M. Our radio picked up two German submarines near us which were talking with Zeebrugge. They were probably looking for us and our cargo of mines, but we gave them the slip. When we hauled out of Plymouth the British jackies on their warships gave us cheer after cheer—yells of “Hello, Hello, Yanks,” “Hurrah for the Corsair,” and “Three cheers for Uncle Sam.” They handed us more cheers when we sailed and we gave them as good as they sent. Plenty of excitement last night. I noticed a rowboat with two men in it hovering around the ship. I hailed them, but got no answer. They left, but the same boat approached the gangway an hour later. I threatened to shoot them and they turned around and vamoosed. I can’t imagine who or what they were, but it was peculiar that they should pick this night to hang about, when we had all those mines aboard.
September 16th. I had a long talk with a couple of British sailors off the Goshawk. One of them had been in the Jutland battle. He tells me the Germans have invented an artificial fog to hide behind, something like our smoke screen, but better. The English are experimenting with it. They got the fog all right, but it nearly asphyxiated every man in the ship.... I don’t know what has happened to all our officers. They are so blamed disagreeable that there is no pleasing them. They canned Copeland off the bridge and put me back on signal watches. I wanted to know why I had been rated a quartermaster. They said it was so I could draw the extra pay. I darn near threw it in their faces. If I can’t hold the job I don’t want the rate.
The Corsair was again assigned to the convoys and the same chronicler has this to say of the remaining days of September:
21st. Saw a very wonderful sight. Two submarines were reported off Belle Isle, so we had an extra escort of four seaplanes, four little fighting aeroplanes, one seventy-five-foot chaser, and a big French dirigible. They went out to help us carry some empties beyond the war zone, the same ships we had taken in, Montanan, Dakotan, Luckenbach, and El Occidente. The air craft flew over us fifty miles offshore. The dirigible made the signal, “Submarine below” but he was so far off that he had submerged when we got there. Another dirigible came out from Brest and looked us over, but soon went back. This evening we passed the body of a dead sailor, but did not pick it up; also an empty dory. Aphrodite and Alcedo are with us.
The American Army had begun to move overseas in a swelling tide of khaki and the transports came faster and faster. No sooner had the Corsair seen the last of one group than another was waiting. On September 28th she left port to seek contact with the store-ships City of Atlanta, Willehad, Artemus, and Florence Luckenbach, and a British destroyer which was the senior vessel of the escort. Having found them, the subsequent proceedings were such as sprinkled gray hairs on the heads of the commander and the officers of the Corsair. The War Diary records it in this summary fashion:
September 29th. Noma signalled by blinker tube that City of Atlanta, the last ship of the convoy, was having engine trouble and could not keep position. Signalled to Noma to stand by her. Noma and City of Atlanta dropped astern and disappeared in the darkness.
