ABSTRACT
the boat train i boarded at euston station one February morning in 1940 went directly to Liverpool Harbor, stopping on the quay alongside an old-time Cunarder, R.M.S. Scythia. As I stood on the railing while the Scythia pulled away from the dock and moved down the River Mersey toward the Irish Sea, feelings of utter happiness welled up in me. I was finally making my getaway from that rotten old Europe, which held no future for me. At last, I was shipping out to the New World on an ocean-going boat, which I had so ardently longed for on my daily visits to Antwerp harbor.
