My Dear Lady Misericordia,

I hope this letter finds you well. If it finds you at all. I have no doubt that you will see me long before your ever see this letter, but I feel I ought to continue writing, to record our adventures.

I wonder what you are doing today? I know the Christmas Ball will be approaching, but I cannot believe that you would waste time with a thing like that with your Father, Baronet Oxshott and your tutor (whatever you think of him) lost somewhere out in the Arctic Circle on a mission of mystery and danger.

Your thoughts, I know, will be with us, and that cheers me considerably.

We, on the other hand, have now truly travelled beyond civilisation and beyond, even, wilderness. Jim, our guide, tells me that no one has ever been in this country before and I can believe him. We have reached, finally, the Unknown.

On the Professor's maps, this place is just a blank white space, partly because no one has ever been here to map it and partly, I suspect, because this is simply a blank white place. Snow covers everything. Even the trees are half invisible, only the bottom of the branches showing a dark green under their layer of snow. Above us even the mountains show only their steepest parts in dark stone, where the snow has slid off in great avalanches.

The Professor, however, becomes happier and happier the further we go. He is positively enjoying the cloak of secrecy he has drawn about this adventure. He refuses even to let me draw the simplest map to plot our journey, so keen is he that no one else should know of our whereabouts. 

His only regret is, apparently, that he could not bring his daughter with him. Harry asked him why he didn't bring her and he looked astonished.

"First priniciples, my boy, think it through logically," he has a tendency to lecture, "She is my daughter, ergo, she is a woman - there, you see? Science tells us a female could not take the strain of a mission such as this - the mental strain alone would be too much for their nervous systems, let alone the physical challenge. Its simply obvious."

"But, Professor," protested Harry, "Women are no strangers to mental strain - do you not think that sitting at home, wondering how, where her father is, is not placing immense mental strain on your daughter?"

But the Professor would hear none of it. I must say, althought I lean towards the Professor's opinion, I rather admire Harry for his independence of thought, liberty of spirit and willingness to argue for what he believes.

All the more so, given the Professor's actions this morning, which have made me wonder, a little, at what kind of errand he has led us on.

We have arrived in the foothills of a great mountain range that sweeps around us in a wide, jagged curve. We must cross this mountain range, says the Professor, to reach our goal.

To this end, he had Jim lead us into a narrow valley running down from the peaks above, at the bottom of which was a small river. It was at the river bank that he unveiled his great surprise. For, packed away in our supplies were two collapsible boats. With these, the Professor declared, we could easily travel along the river, over the mountains.

We stood and stared at the Professor, beaming at his boats, and I felt I had to point out one or two minor flaws in his plan.

"But Professor," I said, "This river flows down from the mountains - that means we would have to travel up river, against the stream, up, probably, steep, white water rapids and even waterfalls. Also, and more importantly from a water travel point of view, the river is frozen quite solid."

The poor Professor looked so disconsolate at this that I almost regretted having said anything. Harry, in particular, looked daggers at me. But there was nothing for it, the river was nothing more than a curving sweep of thick white ice, and the boats were useless.

"Could your steam sleds climb it?" asked Lord Daunt.

"Some of it, perhaps," I ventured, "But much of it would be too steep, I fear, and they would be awfully heavy to carry."

"Well, this is a bally fine mess you've gotten us into, Professor," growled Oxshott.

"It's no good just standing around and complaining, you great oaf," snapped Harry, "I don't see you having having any bright ideas to get us out."

Oxshott stiffened at this. but before he could do anything rash, I spotted something else among the Professor's supplies.

"The Baronet might not have any bright ideas, but I think I might," I said, "Professor, those crates labelled 'Atmospheric Conditions Measuring Balloons' - what's in them?"

What was in them was, unsurprisingly, Atmospheric Conditions Measuring Balloons: enormous silvery balloons made of some resilient, rubbery material of the Professor's own devising, extremely strong but extremely light, along with cannisters of a powerful lifting gas, again of the Professor's concoction.

The balloons were designed to lift scientific devices high into the atmosphere to measure weather conditions - and if they could carry all that equipment, could they also carry us?

Harry and I soon discovered that all the balloons together would be able to lift one of the boats, just big enough for all of us to ride in, and with room only for enough supplies to see us over the mountains - enough to reach our goal, if the Professor is to be believed.

There was no time to debate, however, since the weather was still fine and clear and, knowing from the episode with the Sami how quickly a storm can blow up in these Arctic wastes, we knew we ought to take advantage of it while we could.

And so we tethered the balloons to the boat, raising the small sail to take advantage of what wind there was, and clambered aboard. Then we loosed the ropes and the boat began to rise slowly into the air, drifting forward on the breeze, up towards the mountains.

We waved goodbye to the frankly astonished Jim, who would return to civilisation on one of the steam sleds. And as he disappeared behind into a single dark dot on the snowy wastes, and then we were in among the mountains themselves.

But I must go, now, as the wind is rocking the boat and we must all look to its balance

Yours

Floating over the top of the world

Timothy Hope, Esq, Tutor