Our pinnace will not cease leaking, else I think we had been half way to Virginia. Our voyage hither has been as full of crosses as ourselves have been of crookedness. We put in here to trim her, and I think if we had stayed at sea but three or four hours more she would have sunk. And though she was twice trimmed at Southampton she is still as open and leaky as a sieve. We lay at Southampton seven days, in fair weather, waiting for her; and now we lie here waiting for her in as fair a wind as can blow, and so have done these four days, and are likely to lie four more, and by that time the wind may have turned as it did at Southampton. Our victuals will be half eaten up, I think, before we leave the coast of England, and if our voyage last long we shall not have a month’s victuals when we arrive. Nearly £700 has been spent in Southampton, upon what I know not. Mr. Martin says he neither can nor will give any account of it; and if he is called upon for accounts he cries out that we are ungrateful for his pains and care, and that we are suspicious of him. Also he insults our poor people, and treats them with scorn and contempt, as if they were not good enough to wipe his shoes. It would break your heart to hear the mourning of our poor people. They complain to me, and alas! I can do nothing for them. If I speak to him he flies in my face as mutinous, and says no complaints shall be heard or received but by himself, and they are forward, waspish, and discontented people. There are others who would gladly lose all they have put in, or make satisfaction for what they have had, if they might only depart; but he will not listen to them or allow them to go ashore lest they should run away. The sailors, too, are so annoyed at his ignorant boldness, in meddling with things he knows nothing of, that some threaten to do him mischief. He makes himself a laughing stock.