Transport ships were lying in Suakim harbour ready for the journey
across the sea, but this could not be accomplished with dispatch. A
garrison had to be left to watch the seaboard. The detachment of which
I was a part was returned to the town of Suakim, and the officers were
quartered in an unfinished building by the seaside at the edge of the
water. The officers' servants lived in tents pitched on the roof. We
were permitted to bathe as often as we wished. The harbour was full of
sharks and rather dangerous for bathing, but the Soudanese seemed to
be not over-careful as they skimmed over the water in their
"dug-outs."

The journey home on a transport was a continuation of the misery of
the desert. What the desert had left undone to weakened men, the
rough voyage accomplished. The ship was overcrowded and almost every
day dead bodies lashed to planks were pitched over the side. The sight
(below decks) of scores of men crawling around in a dying condition,
struck terror to the hearts of the strong. The smells were nauseating
and the food was vile. No man knew when his turn would come. The few
doctors were utterly unable to cope with this physical collapse of so
many men.

The condition of the ship and of the men furnished me with the best
opportunity I had had up to that time for evangelistic work. I spent
twenty hours of each twenty-four preaching the gospel to the men. The
absence of a chaplain on board made the work comparatively easy. My
work was done so quietly and unobtrusively, that it was practically
unknown save to the sick and the dying until an incident happened that
brought me somewhat into the light.

We were in the Bay of Biscay, and those who were well were fighting