Friday 14th April 1723: 8:50am
Cold, shivering and struggling, we walk through the thick snow. We've been walking for 10 minutes now. But I know we are close. How? Well I can smell the sweet scent of the salty water. I can hear the squeaky squeals of the seagulls that fly around the waters. We just have a little further.
Steadily, walking through the deep, fluffy, cold snow, we kept our heads forward looking for our ship. We are cold but we have to keep going forward. We need to get back home and give the news to our friends, family and the others who expect to hear from us. I don't know how to tell the families of those who died on the journey, all I know is that it's going to be a hard conversation. There's probably going to be a lot of tears.
Nearly giving up on hope we finally saw one of the sails that hung up from the wooden pole. Finally we are here. We went from being exhausted from jumping for joy. We are finally safe, we can finally let our hearts and mind rest. All we need to worry about is setting sail and not let the ship lose to the battle of the waves. We all ran towards the ship, I never thought I'd be this exited to see the ship.
Soon we got to the ship, all hope has been restored. Excitedly we ran onto it and called the cook out from his cabin where he must've stayed during the whole journey. He ran to greet us while we came into the ship and asked, "how was the journey?" I looked down and answered, "it wasn't what what we had expected. Half of the crew died, we chose a wrong spot for camp and it seemed as if it was not ready." I looked down and took a deep breath and continued "I feel as if I've failed them, if somehow this is my fault." The chef (he was called Donald by the way) placed his hand on my shoulder and calmly tells me "none of us excepted this. Don't worry none of this was your fault, and I bet the crew members that died wouldn't want you to blame yourself."
I looked at everyone who was already on the ship and walked up to the wheel and set sail.