January 27, 1934

. . . except to get some money changed. The gardens and homes were grand, modern houses and tropical gardens.

Today has been a perfect spring day here on the ocean, but on land it would have been hot. We had church the same as last Sunday except the crew was not there because they had to get the ship ready to land cargo tomorrow.

I have talked a lot about the tropical nights, the moon, the stars, and gleaming water. It leaves me rather breathless. Each night seems more wonderful than the last, and tonight is no exception.

The missionary, Miss Robertson, is a peach. We have more fun with her. I am sure the place would be dead without her.

Tomorrow we arrive in a French port, Dakar. It is the last town of any importance that we will be in. After that - it is just what we make it.

The harmattan is still with us but it is not quite so severe. It is bad though because while it is blowing you cannot see the horizon, and if you cannot see the horizon a sextant is no good so you really don't know exactly where you are.