June 16th, 1913:
The expedition starts tomorrow. I must say, the journey in search of the lost continent will be testing my nerves to the full, considering the unfavourable conditions we are facing. I hardly believe the Karluk is suitable for the adventure ahead, and only few of my men have experience out in the ocean. The highly intelligent scientists know hardly anything about the trials and tribulations we may encounter as well, which further adds to my worries and doubts.
December 25th, 1913:
The arrival of Christmas morning was celebrated with starvation and loss. The crew and I have been starving for a few weeks now. Food and water is are scarce, and the temperature of the frozen sea is beyond description. Some of my men have died from the cold, and some from hunger. We had no choice but to throw them into the sea. It was agonizing torture to watch this happen with my own eyes.
Stefansson is a selfish man who cares naught for the crew. He only takes care of himself and what he believes is important to him. I have tried to convince him to give up on this fruitless mission, but he keeps turning a deaf ear to anything I say. This is a lost search, but Stefansson refuses to face the truth. The crew is beginning to fear that our ship may suffer the same consequences as the Jeanette, but there is no way back.
January 10th, 1914:
This is it. “A good captain sinks with his ship” they say, but I am a coward who is scared of death. The situation is critical, the ice has broken through the ship’s hull. I had anticipated this earlier, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. Now I see that I was a fool and what my instincts told me was true. My arrogance has condemned us all.
Stefansson has cracked and fled in the night with several others. I should have known better when I saw his true colours a few months back. I have already given the orders to abandon the ship. It is our only hope of survival.
How can I go on? I have no more strength to write!...