alized that there might never be a home-coming
in this world, could understand our feelings as our relatives and
friends--bless them--came aboard.

Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and other fellows' sisters crowded
up the gangway to greet us.

And all were welcome.

The second day after we anchored, the port watch was given shore leave
of twenty-four hours. So we donned our clean blues, and for the first
time since May 9th, set foot on solid ground.

As the port watch came over the side the following day, after its
liberty ashore, they were met with the order "Shift into working clothes
at once and get those shells below." The red ammunition flag was flying
at the foremast head, and all thoughts must be given up of the good
times ashore.

The starboard watch then went on liberty ashore and the port watch
tackled the ammunition.

From noon till after ten, we were kept busy storing thirteen-inch
shells for the biggest guns in the navy. They weigh 1,100 pounds apiece
and are dangerous things to handle, not only on account of their weight,
but because of the charge of powder each carries. We also loaded eight,
six, and five-inch shells into the after hold. We turned in at eleven
o'clock, and were roused at 3:30 next morning to begin the same heavy
work. When the starboard watch returned the following noon, we were
still at it, and they, too, had to pitch in and help as soon as they
could get into working clothes.

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were spent in the same way--stowing food
for Uncle Sam's mighty guns.

The thirteen-inch shells were crated in heavy planks, bound with iron;
slings of rope were placed around them and they were lowered slowly into
the hold. The eight, six, and five-inch shells had a lashing of tarred
rope and a loop by which they might be lifted and handled.

Charges of smokeless powder for thirteen, eight, and six-inch guns, in
copper canisters, were also taken aboard.

When all was stowed, we carried enough explosives to blow the water out
of the bay. At half-past two on July 12th, the anchor was raised, the
cat falls manned, and we bade New York good-by once more. A brisk
northeast breeze was blowing, kicking up an uncomfortable sea, and when
Sandy Hook was passed it became necessary to close all ports and batten
down hatches.

The rolling and pitching of the ship soon began to make things
interesting on the gun deck. Immense green seas, shipped at intervals on
the upper deck, s