Letter 3

July 7th, 17—.

July 7, 17...

My dear Sister,

My dear sister,

I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold and apparently firm of purpose, nor do the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.

I’m writing a few lines in haste to say that I’m safe and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England aboard a merchant ship now sailing home from Archangel. The ship is more fortunate than I am, since I may not see my native land for many years. Still, I’m in good spirits. My men are brave and seem determined. The sheets of ice that constantly float past us reveal the dangers of the region ahead. Yet they do not seem to frighten the men. We have already reached a very high latitude, but it is the height of summer. Although it is not as warm here as in England, winds from the south bring an unexpected, refreshing warmth. They are carrying us swiftly towards the shores I so long to reach.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a letter. One or two stiff gales and the springing of a leak are accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record, and I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.

Nothing has happened to us so far that is worth mentioning in a letter. Experienced sailors hardly bother to record a strong gale or two, or a leak. I will be quite content if nothing worse happens to us during our voyage.

Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured that for my own sake, as well as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and prudent.

Goodbye, my dear Margaret. I promise that I will not recklessly face danger, for my sake as well as yours. I will stay calm, persistent, and careful.

But success shall crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why not still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?

But success will crown my efforts. Why not? So far, I have found a safe way across the trackless seas. The stars themselves bear witness to my triumph. Why not continue across the sea, wild yet obedient? What can stop a determined heart and a resolved human will?

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!

My overflowing heart pours itself out without my intending it. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!

R.W.

R.W.