Give every man his rightful due!
And bring them all, Oh, God! safe through.”
A submarine was reported on the surface of the water in the early afternoon, about seven miles off the starboard beam, but upon her flashing out the recognition call we immediately knew her to belong to one of the Allies, very probably British. Soon after this a British dirigible was sighted dead ahead. She was painted aluminum color, rendering her almost invisible in the distance and apparently she was doing scouting duty in these waters.
At 5 P. M., the 23rd, South Stack Lighthouse was passed on our beam, and we headed our course up St. George’s Channel. After sundown the destroyer that had our pilot on board took up a position directly ahead of us and acted as guide for the entire convoy.
Later in the evening, 8.36 P. M., our engines were slowed down to allow the pilot to board from the destroyer and at 9.42 that night both engines stopped completely and our anchor was dropped just outside of Liverpool, England, while the destroyers circled around us during the night, protecting us from any possible attack. We passed the night in this anchorage. At 6 A. M. the next day, December 24th, we up-anchored and headed for the River Mersey, passing close to Bar Light Vessel. One of the men stationed aboard this vessel gave us a “Merry Christmas” through a large megaphone. Many of us had almost forgotten that this was the day before Christmas; in fact, as later events proved, Christmas had very little cheer for us.
Formby light was passed at 8.45, and Crosby Light 27 minutes later. We were now in the Mersey, our speed was reduced and because of the shallowness of the water in the river, men were placed in the chains to sound continually the depths of the water. We steamed up the river without mishap and ran alongside the Princess Landing Stage, which because of the heavy draft of the tide in this river, is a floating stage. Our lines were thrown to the dock and made fast. No sooner had this been accomplished than the gangway was thrown over and the soldiers commenced disembarking. This continued throughout the day.
Shortly after arriving news came to us of the sinking of a British pilot boat, with the loss of all hands. This same pilot boat had been mined in almost the same position that we were lying in the night before, in fact many of us remembered the boat as it was cruising around us, warning all outgoing ships of the latest submarine activities. It was purely a matter of luck that we had escaped a similar fate.
The celebrated docking of the biggest ship in the world at Liverpool, without plans, by Naval Constructor Alfred W. Minuse, N. R., is the subject of a special article.
