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I write to you, encompassed by peril and ignorant whether I am

ever doomed to see again dear England and the dearer friends that

inhabit it. I am surrounded by mountains of ice which admit of no

escape and threaten every moment to crush my vessel. The brave

fellows whom I have persuaded to be my companions look towards me

for aid, but I have none to bestow. There is something terribly

appalling in our situation, yet my courage and hopes do not

desert me. Yet it is terrible to reflect that the lives of all

these men are endangered through me. If we are lost, my mad

schemes are the cause.