To Mrs. Saville, England, July 7th, 17—.
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 merchant ship 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, and the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, do not seem to dismay them.
We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not as 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 renewing warmth which I had not expected.
No incidents have so far befallen us that would 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 happens to us during our voyage.
Farewell, 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.
But success shall crown my endeavours. Why not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas, the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimony to my triumph. Why not still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?
My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!
R.W.
Mary Shelley