It's been a long, mostly calm, sometimes boring voyage. My cold has hung on so that part of the time I've stayed in my bed reading practically all day--but I've met a lot of young men from the Board of Economic Warfare and the O.W.I. and the State Dept., and they all seem surprisingly bright and well-equipped. Somebody is doing some good picking in Washington. My hands are still cold from standing in the wind to watch the Azores, but it's not really cold here. In fact, we've been pretty far south during the whole voyage. I'm pretty well sun burned. Also I've quit taking quinidine! There must have been some allergen in what I was eating. For the last four days I haven't needed it. Maybe I'll find out what was the trouble.
Now, looking from the other side of the ship, I find there's a high, peaked, snow-capped mountain, rising seven thousand feet or so from the sea. Most beautiful--with cloud draperies. We've stopped now-- waiting for a pilot, perhaps--just pausing here between the islands.
We've had lunch. It's now a quarter of two and we're all waiting for a chance to go to Horta. 1 During lunch a boy came round bearing a placard. It read
PEASANT NOTICE (meaning pleasant)
Passagers will be allowed to go ashore on the
They must return until seven.
They must not leave Horta.
Gabby 2 and I were among the first in line to get in the launch, but the waves were so high that the little boat went away without passengers. Now we're all hoping that it will come back--or that the ship will edge up to the pier.
I'm not at all sure whether to mail this here or not. If there were a clipper coming through soon it might go right away. But it might hang around in the Azores a long while. At least I'll be able to send a cable from here.
I miss you darling. I wish you could have come along. If I can possibly arrange passage for you from London I will.
I love you, darling