friendly advice to those aboard the transport, and two miles down the
channel could be discerned the smoke from the stacks of the armed
convoys that were to give the _Everett_ safe passage to her destination.

Among those at the water's edge the boys could discern the big form of
Sergeant Martin, and even as distance welded them in an
indistinguishable mass, they could still see him, towering above the
others, his hat describing wide circles through the air.

"So long, fellows; we'll meet you over there," shouted the men of the
last vessel they passed.

As though by prearrangement the fifteen hundred men on the _Everett_
began singing, "I'm Going Over," sang it to the end of the first verse,
then stopped, and from a point well down the river could hear those they
had passed taking up the second stanza.

Hours later, out upon the ocean, the dim lights ashore fading one by
one, the fighters for Uncle Sam gave one last, long, lingering look at
their native land. And Jerry, voicing the spirit of all, cried out:

"Farewell, United States."

CHAPTER V

THE FIGHT IN THE WIRELESS ROOM

"Oh my; oh, my!" wailed Slim weakly, his head hanging over the side of
his bunk. "I never felt worse in all my life. I never felt half so
sick."

"Never mind," urged Joe, soothingly, "you'll soon be feeling better
now."

"Yes, _he_ will," moaned Jerry, miserably, from the opposite bunk; "_he_
will, but I won't."

The wind howled, the big ship gave a forward and downward lurch, and
Jerry would have slid from his bunk but for the quick action of Joe.

"I think I'm going to die. I wish I would," gasped the red-headed boy
when he was again laid out at full length. "I had the measles and the
mumps at the same time once, but I never felt like this. Why don't they
steer this old boat through the waves, instead of trying to jump her
over them?"

"There's a heavy sea running," explained Joe; "that's what makes the
_Everett_ ride so roughly."

"Wish I was back at Brighton," Slim groaned dismally.

Two hardy youths strolling along the deck, who hadn't been touched by
the epidemic of seasickness, stopped to peer in at the porthole. They
had mischief in their eyes, and as they caught sight of Slim's
humorously pathetic countenance, one of them muttered in a low but
distinct voice: "How'd you like to have some fried sausage, and some
plum pudding, and some----"

"Shut up!" bawled out Jerry with what strength he had left.

With a