Letter 4

To Mrs. Saville, England. August fifth, seventeen - . Something seriously wild happened to us, and I had to write it down, even though you might see me before these papers even reach you.

Last Monday (July thirty-first), we were practically trapped by ice - it closed in on the ship from every direction, barely leaving us any room to float. Things were pretty dicey, especially because we were totally surrounded by this thick fog.

We just stopped and waited, hoping the weather would change. Around two o’clock, the fog lifted, and we saw these huge, uneven ice plains stretching out as far as we could see - they looked endless.

Some of my crew were freaked out, and I started feeling really anxious too, when suddenly we spotted something crazy that totally distracted us from our own situation. We saw this low sled, pulled by dogs, heading north, about half a mile away. This giant dude was sitting in it, guiding the dogs.

We watched him zoom off until he disappeared into the ice. We were totally blown away by what we saw. We thought we were hundreds of miles from any land, but this showed us it wasn't as far as we thought. But, trapped in the ice, we couldn't follow him - we’d been watching him closely.

About two hours later, we heard the open sea, and before nightfall, the ice broke and freed our ship. We stayed put until morning, nervous about running into these big chunks of ice floating around after everything broke up. I grabbed a few hours of sleep.

In the morning, as soon as it was light, I headed up to the deck and saw all the sailors hustling around one side of the ship, like they were talking to someone in the water. It was that sled we’d seen before, which had drifted toward us during the night on a huge chunk of ice.

Just one dog was still alive, but there was a human being inside, and the sailors were trying to convince him to come aboard. He wasn’t like the other traveler - a wild guy from some secret island - he was European.

When I showed up, the captain said, "Here’s our captain, and he won’t let you die out here in the open sea. The stranger looked at me and spoke in English, though with a bit of an accent. "Before I come on board your ship," he said, "can you tell me where you’re headed?"

I was totally shocked to hear that question from a guy practically drowning and who, I figured, would jump at the chance to get on our ship - it was like a lifeline. But I told him we were on a voyage to find the North Pole. Hearing that seemed to make him happy, and he agreed to come aboard.

Seriously, Margaret, if you’d seen the guy who just surrendered for his safety, you’d have lost it. His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body was super skinny from being exhausted and suffering. I’d never seen anyone in such rough shape.

We tried to carry him into the cabin, but as soon as he got away from the fresh air, he passed out. So, we brought him back to the deck and got him breathing again by rubbing him with brandy and getting him to drink a little.

Once he started showing signs of life, we wrapped him in blankets and put him near the kitchen stove's chimney. Slowly, he started to get better and even ate a bit of soup, which really helped him.

It took two days before he could even talk, and I was seriously worried his suffering had messed with his head. Once he was a bit better, I moved him to my cabin and helped him out as much as I could.

I’d never seen anyone so fascinating - his eyes usually looked wild, almost crazy, but then there were moments when, if you did something nice for him, even something small, his whole face would light up. Like, a genuine beam of kindness and sweetness I’d never seen anywhere else.

But most of the time he was just sad and hopeless, and sometimes he’d grind his teeth, like he was struggling under a ton of bad luck. Once my guest was feeling a little better, I had a hard time keeping the guys away. They wanted to pepper him with questions.

But I wasn't letting them bug him with their random curiosity, especially when he needed rest to recover. The lieutenant did ask why he’d come so far out on the ice in that weird thing. His face just dropped, and he said, "To find someone who ran away from me."

"Did the guy you were chasing travel the same way?" "Yeah." "Then I think we might’ve seen him. The day before we found you, we saw some dogs pulling a sled with a man in it across the ice."

"That got the stranger’s attention, and he started asking a ton of questions about where this "dæmon," as he called him, had been. Later, when he was alone with me, he said, "I probably got you all curious, like these good people. But you're too cool to start grilling me. "Totally.

"It would be seriously rude and messed up to bug you with my questions."

"And yet you saved me from a seriously weird and dangerous situation; you basically brought me back to life." Not long after that, he asked if I thought the ice breaking up had destroyed the other sled.

I told him I really couldn't say for sure, because the ice didn’t break until pretty late, and the traveler might have already reached somewhere safe by then. But I just couldn't know. From that point on, a new energy filled the stranger's fading body.

He was super eager to be on deck, watching for the sled he’s seen before. But I convinced him to stay in the cabin, 'cause he’s way too weak for the cold air. I promised someone would keep an eye out and let him know immediately if anything new showed up.

That’s my journal so far about this whole crazy thing. The stranger has been getting healthier, but he's really quiet and seems stressed when anyone but me goes into his cabin.

Still, he’s got such a chill and friendly vibe that the sailors are all into him, even though they haven't really talked to him much. Honestly, I’m starting to love him like a brother, and his constant sadness makes me feel so bad for him.

He must have been an amazing person when things were good, even now, wrecked as he is, he’s still pretty awesome.

I wrote to you, my dear Margaret, that I wouldn't find a friend out here on the ocean, but I've found a guy who, before his life got crushed by sadness, I would have been stoked to have as a brother. I’ll keep writing in my journal about the stranger whenever something new happens.

August thirteenth, seventeen -

I’ve got a serious thing for my guest, and it's growing every day. He totally gets me going - like, admiration and pity, all at once, and it’s wild. How can I watch someone so amazing get wrecked by sadness without feeling totally heartbroken?

He’s so chill, yet super smart; his mind is totally on point, and when he talks, even though his words are carefully chosen, they just flow out of him, like, unbelievably well.

He’s way better now that he’s recovered from being sick and spends all his time on the deck, probably looking for the sled that came before his. Even though he's bummed, he's not so lost in his own stuff that he doesn't care about what other people are doing.

He’s talked to me a bunch about my projects, and I’ve been totally open with him. He really got into all my reasons for thinking I'd succeed and every little thing I’d done to make it happen. It was easy to open up to him, you know?

To spill my heart, to let out the fire in my soul, and to say, with all the passion I felt, how much I’d give up - my money, my life, every single hope - to make my project happen. One person's life or death?

That's nothing compared to the knowledge I’d get, the power I'd have, and how I’d pass it on to future generations. As I was saying this, a dark shadow fell over his face.

"At first, I thought he was trying to hold it in; he covered his eyes, and my voice shook as I saw tears slipping out from between his fingers. A groan escaped his chest. I stopped; then he spoke, his voice cracking: "Dude, are you crazy too? Did you drink that same potion?

"Listen to me; let me tell you my story, and you’ll drop the cup!"

Those words, you can imagine, totally piqued my interest. But the stranger was hit hard by grief, and it had taken over. He needed hours of rest and chill conversations to get it together. Once he's calmed down, he seemed to hate himself for letting feelings control him.

He shook off that dark despair and started talking about me again. He asked about my earlier years. It was a quick story, but it got me thinking. I talked about wanting a friend, craving a real connection with someone who got me, and how little happiness someone could have without that.

"Totally agree," the stranger said. "We're like unfinished projects until someone wiser, better, and closer than ourselves helps us out. A friend should do that. I had a friend once - the best person ever - so I know a little about friendship."

"You’ve got hope, the whole world ahead of you, and no reason to be down. But me? I’ve lost everything and can’t even start over. As he said that, his face showed a calm sadness that really hit me. But he went quiet and then headed back to his cabin.

Even though he’s still hurting, no one appreciates nature more than he does. The stars, the ocean, everything around here seems to lift his soul. It’s like he has two lives.

He can be dealing with tough stuff and feel totally crushed, but when he retreats into himself, he’s like a celestial spirit, glowing with a peacefulness that keeps sadness and foolishness away.

Are you gonna be stoked about how much I'm buzzing about this incredible dude? You wouldn't be if you saw him, though. You're, like, super polished - books and chilling away from everything have made you that way. That just makes you the perfect person to see how amazing he really is.

Sometimes I try to figure out what makes him so much better than anyone else I’ve ever met. I think it's his gut feeling - a seriously sharp, never-wrong way of judging things. He gets to the root of everything with crazy clarity and accuracy. Plus, he’s a smooth talker, and his voice?

Forget about it - it's like the most captivating music you’ve ever heard. August nineteenth, seventeen - .

"You can probably tell, Captain Walton," the stranger said, "that I’ve been through some seriously rough stuff. I was gonna bury all that pain with me, but you convinced me to change my mind. You're chasing knowledge and wisdom, just like I used to."

I really hope you get what you’re after, but please donn't let it bite you like it did me.

I’m not sure sharing my story will even help you, but seeing as you’re on the same path, risking the same dangers that made me who I am, I hope you’ll get something out of it - maybe a lesson to guide you if you succeed, or comfort if you don’t. Get ready to hear some wild stuff.

"If we were somewhere normal, I might worry you wouldn't believe me, or worse, laugh at me. But out here, anything feels possible, and I'm confident you'll see that my story is true. I was stoked he wanted to talk, but I didn't want him to relive all that pain.

I was dying to hear his story - partly 'cause I was curious, and partly 'cause I wanted to help if I could. "I totally get it," I said.

"I appreciate it," he said, "but it’s pointless. My fate is basically sealed. I’m just waiting for one thing, then I can finally rest. He went on, noticing I wanted to chime in, "But you’ve got it wrong, my friend - if you’ll let me call you that. Nothing can change what’s gonna happen."

Just listen to my story, and you’ll see how totally set in stone it is." He said he’d start telling me about it tomorrow, when I had some free time. That made me super grateful."

Every night, when I’m not swamped with work, I’m gonna write down everything he told me during the day, as close to his words as I can. If I’m busy, I’ll at least jot down some notes.

This manuscript is gonna be a real treat for you guys, but for me - knowing him and hearing it straight from him - it’s gonna be something else entirely.

Even now, as I start writing this, I can still hear his voice, so clear; his eyes are looking right at me, all sad and sweet; I can picture his hand raised, animated, and his face glowing with what's inside him.

His story’s gotta be wild and heartbreaking - a total disaster for that brave ship as it was sailing along - like this!