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I. Walton’s Letters: The Stranger on the Ice
My dear Margaret,
I am writing to you from a ship far in the north, among the ice. You were worried when I left England, but I am well, and I am still full of hope. In the spring I found a good ship at Archangel, a port in the north of Russia, and I hired a brave crew. Now we are sailing towards the North Pole, where no one has ever been. I want to find a way through the ice and learn why a compass always points north. If I succeed, people will remember my name for ever.
But I have no friend here. My men are good and brave, but there is nobody to share my dreams with, and sometimes I feel very lonely.
Now something very strange has happened, and I must tell you about it.