Jan. 18, 1934 Today we are in a gale off beam. The wind whistles through our gear and around the corners and lashes the water into foam and spray, every now and again waves break across our bow. Every once in a while Northerly Squalls hit us with their stinging rain, clapping thunder, and sharp lightning. IT was comical to watch us try to eat soup this noon, we had to hold the dish off the table and of course we had no water or coffee except served right into our hand. Miss Robertson, one of the missionaries, is a peach who keeps the table laughing. She is out on a Southern Baptist Mission - a Texas girl so of course she has the southern tongue and mannerisms. For two days now she has been wanting to mail some letters but we are in mid-Atlantic right now so someone suggested a radiogram but they thought perhaps it would be too expensive, but she pipped up without thinking, "I only want to send three words". That brought the house down and she blushed for ten minutes.