S.S. Equator. Monday night Dearest Mother. One must I suppose sometime have the worst of voyages and I've had one this time that would be hard to beat. It has been cold and stormy all the way, rain and hail and an angry sea. Last night was about as bad as the Mediterranean can be. Happy to say I wasn't ill but as I lay and was tossed backwards and forwards in my berth I wondered how Father was faring and whether he was having similar storms on the Atlantic. The only alleviation was the morning we passed through the Straits of Messina [Messina, Stretto di], for we went through them after all. It was lovely weather and as we drew near Sicily [Sicilia], Etna was at his best and smoking half across heaven. Thanks to the glasses I ravished from Father I was able to see all the effects of the earthquake finely. First there was the great lighthouse all twisted and rent; then Pezo, on the Italian side, a heap of ruins; then Messina itself - till you came near it looked as if nothing had happened to it but presently it became clear that of the long line of houses along the quay nothing remained but the façades and where here and there the façade had fallen, behind was an indistinguishable heap of runs, like nothing but a colossal dust heap. Two or three great churches I saw of which nothing remained but half the apse, a half circle of shattered wall embracing heaps of ruin. At Reggio part of the coast has fallen away and with it a railway siding and a long train of trucks standing some of them on end in the sea. The sea front of the town was standing, an empty shell borne up by great beams that had been placed hastily against it. Behind the town were groups of tents and wooden sheds for the survivors. The most curious part of it all was the way the earthquake had run zigzagging through the towns. A whole street would have tumbled down and next to it the houses looked as if they had scarcely been shaken. I expect they are most of them wrecked however, and the real difficulty in rebuilding will be the preliminary demolishing. Then quite suddenly we passed out of the earthquake track - and into a violent hail storm.
The first class passengers consist of 10 commis voyageurs (I guess) of different nationalities, and an old French bourgeoise of 70 who goes to Jerusalem [El Quds esh Sherif, Yerushalayim)] every year for 2 months "pour me distraire" and me. So I haven't missed much enjoyment through their having been seasick in their cabins most of the time. The boring thing is that we were much delayed by last night's storm and I don't expect we shall get to Alexandria till late in the afternoon tomorrow - we're due at dawn. I think I shall go straight up to Cairo and stay there till Friday when I must rejoin this boat at Port Said.

Tues. [26 January 1909] A beautiful day at last. We're due at Alexandria at 2. Your affectionate daughter Gertrude