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CAPE CATASTROPHE. From Flinders' Voyages. |
In April 1802 a strange encounter took place, when suddenly there appeared a "heavy-looking ship without any top-gallant masts up," showing a French ensign. Flinders cleared his decks for action in case of attack, but the strangers turned out to be the French ship Le Géographe, which, in company with Le Naturaliste, had left France, 1800, for exploration of the Australian coasts.
Now it was well known that Napoleon had cast longing eyes upon the Terra Australis—indeed, it is said that he took with him to Egypt a copy of Cook's Voyages. Flinders, too, knew of this French expedition, but he was not specially pleased to find French explorers engaged on the same work as himself. The commanders met as friends, and Baudin, the French explorer, told how he had landed also near Cape Leuwin in May 1801, how he had given the names of his two ships to Cape Naturaliste and Géographe Bay, and was now making his way round the coast. Flinders little guessed at this time that the French were going to claim the south of New South Wales as French territory under the name of Terra Napoleon, though it was common knowledge that this discovery was made by Englishmen.
"Ah, captain," said one of the French crew to Flinders, "if we had not been kept so long picking up shells and catching butterflies at Van Diemen's Land you would not have discovered this coast before us."
When Baudin put in at Port Jackson a couple of months later, he inquired of the Governor the extent of British claims in the Pacific.
"The whole of Tasmania and Australia are British territory," was the firm answer.
After this encounter Flinders discovered and named Port Phillip, at the head of which stands the famous city of Melbourne to-day, and then made his way on to Port Jackson. He had managed his crews so well that the inhabitants of Port Jackson declared they were reminded of England by the fresh colour of the men amongst the Investigator ship's company. The Frenchmen had not fared so well. One hundred and fifty out of one hundred and seventy were down with scurvy and had to be taken to the hospital at Sydney.
Before the end of July, Flinders was off again, sailing northwards along the eastern coast of New South Wales. October found him passing the Great Barrier reefs, and on the 21st he had reached the northernmost point, Cape York. Three days of anxious steering took the Investigator through Torres Strait, and Flinders was soon sailing into the great Gulf of Carpentaria. Still hugging the coast, he discovered a group of islands to the south of the gulf, which he named the Wellesley Islands, after General Wellesley, afterwards Duke of Wellington. Here he found a wealth of vegetation; cabbage palm was abundant, nutmegs plentiful, and a sort of sandal-wood was growing freely. He spent one hundred and five days exploring the gulf; then he continued his voyage round the west coast and back to Port Jackson by the south. He returned after a year's absence with a sickly crew and a rotten ship. Indeed, the Investigator was incapable of further service, and Flinders decided to go back to England for another ship. As passenger on board the Porpoise, early in August 1802, he sailed from Sydney for the Torres Strait accompanied by two returning transports. All went well for the first four days, and they had reached a spot on the coast of Queensland, when a cry of "Breakers ahead!" fell on the evening air. In another moment the ship was carried amongst the breakers and struck upon a coral reef. So sudden was the disaster that there was no time to warn the other ships closely following. As the Porpoise rolled over on her beam ends, huge seas swept over her and the white foam leapt high. Then the mast snapped, water rushed in, and soon the Porpoise was a hopeless wreck. A few minutes later, one of the transports struck the coral reef: she fell on her side, her deck facing the sweeping rollers, and was completely wrecked. The other transport escaped, sailed right away from the scene of disaster, and was never seen again by the crew of the Porpoise. The dawn of day showed the shipwrecked crew a sandbank, to which some ninety-four men made their way and soon set sailcloth tents on the barren shore. They had saved enough food for three months. Flinders as usual was the moving spirit. A fortnight later in one of the ship's boats, with twelve rowers and food for three weeks, he left Wreck Reef amid ringing cheers to get help from Sydney for the eighty men left on the sandbank.
"The reader," says the hero of this adventure, "has perhaps never gone two hundred and fifty leagues at sea in an open boat or along a strange coast inhabited by savages; but, if he recollect the eighty officers and men upon Wreck Reef, and how important was our arrival to their safety and to the saving of the charts, journals, and papers of the Investigator's voyage, he may have some idea of the pleasure we felt, particularly myself, at entering our destined port."
Half-starved, unshaven, deplorable indeed were the men when they staggered into Sydney, and "an involuntary tear started from the eye of friendship and compassion" when the Governor learnt how nearly Flinders and his friends had lost their lives.
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THE HUTS OF THE CREW OF THE PORPOISE ON THE SANDBANK,
WRECK REEF. From Flinders' Voyages. |
A few days later Flinders left Sydney for the last time, in a little home-built ship of twenty-nine tons, the Cumberland. It was the first ship ever built in the colony, and the colonists were glad it should be of use to the man who had done so much for their country. With all his papers and his beloved journals, Flinders put to sea accompanied by a ship to rescue the men left on Wreck Reef. Three months later, owing to the leaky condition of the ship, he landed at Mauritius. Here he was taken prisoner and all his papers and journals were seized by the French. During his imprisonment a French Voyage of Discovery was issued, Napoleon himself paying a sum of money to hasten publication. All the places discovered by Flinders, or "Monsieur Flinedore" as the French called him, were called by French names. Fortunately before reaching Mauritius, Flinders had sent duplicate copies of his charts home, and the whole fraud was exposed. Flinders did not reach home till 1810. A last tragedy awaited him. For he died in 1814, on the very day that his great book, The Voyage to Terra Australis, was published. Flinders was a true explorer, and as he lay dying he cried, "I know that in future days of exploration my spirit will rise from the dead and follow the exploring ship!"
CHAPTER LIX
STURT'S DISCOVERIES IN AUSTRALIA
Since the days of Flinders, much discovery had been done in the great new island-continent of Australia. The Blue Mountains had been crossed, and the river Macquarie discovered and named after the governor of that name. But Sturt's famous discovery of the river Darling and his descent of the Murray River rank among the most noteworthy of a bewildering number of lesser expeditions.
Captain Sturt landed with his regiment, the 39th, at Sydney in the year 1827, "to guard the convicts." His first impressions of Sydney are interesting. "Cornfield and orchard," he says, "have supplanted wild grass and brush; on the ruins of the forest stands a flourishing town; and the stillness of that once desert shore is now broken by the bugle and by the busy hum of commerce. It is not unusual to see from thirty to forty vessels from every quarter of the globe riding at anchor at one time."
Sir Ralph Darling, Governor of New South Wales, soon formed a high opinion of Sturt's ability, and when an expedition was proposed into the interior for further exploration, he appointed him leader.
There was a universal opinion in the colony that in the middle of the unknown continent lay a large inland sea. Oxley had made his way to a shallow ocean of reeds where the river Macquarie disappeared; natives spoke of "large waters" containing "great fish." To open up the country and to ascertain the truth of these rumours were the objects of this new expedition which left Sydney in November 1828. It consisted of Hamilton Hume, the first Australian-born explorer, two soldiers, eight convicts, fifteen horses, ten bullocks, and a small boat on a wheeled carriage. Across the roadless Blue Mountains they started, followed the traces of Oxley, who had died just a week before they started, and about Christmas time they passed his last camp and began to break new ground. Through thickets of reeds and marshy swamps they pushed on; the river Macquarie had entirely disappeared, but on 2nd February they suddenly found a large river some eighty yards broad enclosing an unbroken sheet of deep water. "Our surprise and delight," says Sturt, "are better imagined than described. Our difficulties seemed at an end. The banks were too steep to allow of watering the cattle, but the men eagerly descended to quench a thirst increased by the powerful sun. Never shall I forget their cry of amazement, nor the terror and disappointment with which they called out that the water was too salt to drink!" Leaving his party, Sturt pushed on, but no fresh water was to be found, so he named the river the Darling, after the Governor, and returned, but not till he had discovered brine springs in the bed of the river, which accounted for its saltness. Sturt had found no inland sea, but in the Darling he had discovered a main channel of the western watershed.
He now proposed to follow the line of the Murrumbidgee, "a river of considerable size and impetuous current," and to trace it if possible into the interior. Several of his old party again joined him, and once more he rode out of Sydney on this new quest.
The journey to the banks of the Murrumbidgee lay through wild and romantic country, but as they journeyed farther, broad reed belts appeared by the river, which was soon lost in a vast expanse of reeds. For a moment or two Sturt was as one stunned; he could neither sleep nor rest till he had regained the river again. When at last he did so he found the water was deep, the current rapid, and the banks high. But he turned on all hands to build the whale-boat which he had designed at Sydney for the purpose. Early in January he writes home: "I was checked in my advance by high reeds spreading as far as the eye can reach. The Murrumbidgee is a magnificent stream. I do not yet know its fate, but I have taken to the boats. Where I shall wander to God only knows. I have little doubt, however, that I shall ultimately make the coast."
By 6th January the boat was ready and Sturt started on his memorable voyage. After passing the junction of the Lachlan, the channel gradually narrowed; great trees had been swept down by the floods and navigation rendered very dangerous. Still narrower grew the stream, stronger the current. "On a sudden, the river took a general southern direction. We were carried at a fearful rate down its gloomy banks, and at such a moment of excitement had little time to pay attention to the country through which we were passing. At last we found we were approaching a junction, and within less than a minute we were hurried into a broad and noble river. It is impossible to describe the effect upon us of so instantaneous a change. We gazed in silent wonder on the large channel we had entered."
The Murrumbidgee had joined the great Murray River as Sturt now called it, after Sir George Murray of the Colonial Department.
To add to the unknown dangers of the way, numbers of natives now appeared in force on the banks of the river, threatening the white men with "dreadful yells and with the beating of spears and shields."
Firearms alone saved the little crew, and the rage of the natives was turned to admiration as they watched the white men paddling on their great river while some seventy black men swam off to the boat like "a parcel of seals."
The explorers now found a new and beautiful stream flowing into the Murray from the north, up which the boat was now turned, natives anxiously following along the grassy banks, till suddenly a net stretched across the stream checked their course. Sturt instinctively felt he was on the river Darling again. "I directed that the Union Jack should be hoisted, and we all stood up in the boat and gave three distinct cheers. The eye of every native was fixed upon that beautiful flag as it waved over us in the heart of a desert."
While they were still watching, Sturt turned the head of the boat and pursued his way down the great Murray River. Stormy weather at the end of January set in; though they were yet one hundred and fifteen miles from the coast, the river increased in breadth, cliffs towered above them, and the water dashed like sea-waves at their base.
On the 5th of February they were cheered by the appearance of sea-gulls and a heavy swell up the river, which they knew must be nearing the sea. On the twenty-third day of their voyage they entered a great lake. Crossing to the southern shore, they found to their bitter grief that shoals and sandbanks made it impossible for them to reach the sea. They found that the Murray flowed into Encounter Bay, but thither they could not pass. The thunder of the surf upon the shore brought no hope to the tired explorers. They had no alternative but to turn back and retrace their way. Terrible was the task that lay before them. On half-rations and with hostile natives to encounter they must fight their way against wind and stream. And they did it. They reached the camp on the Murrumbidgee just seventy-seven days after leaving it; but to their dismay it was deserted. The river, too, had risen in flood and "poured its turbid waters with great violence."
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CAPTAIN STURT AT THE JUNCTION OF THE RIVERS DARLING
AND MURRAY. From the Narrative of Sturt's Expedition. |
"For seventeen days," says Sturt, "we pulled against stream with determined perseverance, but in our short daily journeys we made but trifling way against it." The effects of severe toil were painfully evident. The men lost the muscular jerk with the oars. Their arms were nerveless, their faces haggard, their persons emaciated, their spirits wholly spent. From sheer weariness they fell asleep at the oar. No murmur, however, escaped them.
"I must tell the captain to-morrow," said one, thinking that Sturt was asleep, "that I can pull no more." But when the morrow came he said no word, but pulled on with his remaining strength. One man went mad. The last ounce of flour was consumed when relief arrived, and the weary explorers at last reached Sydney with their great news.
The result of this discovery was soon seen. In 1836 a shipload of English emigrants arrived off Kangaroo Island, and soon a flourishing colony was established at the mouth of the Murray River, the site of the new capital being called Adelaide, after the wife of William IV.
After this Sturt tried to cross Australia from south to north; but though he opened up a good deal of new country, he failed to reach the coast. He was rewarded by the President of the Royal Geographical Society, who described him as "one of the most distinguished explorers and geographers of our age."
The feat of crossing Australia from south to north, from shore to shore, was reserved for an Irishman called Burke in the year 1861. The story of his expedition, though it was successful, is one of the saddest in the history of discovery. The party left Melbourne in the highest spirits. No expense had been spared to give them a good outfit; camels had been imported from India, with native drivers, and food was provided for a year. The men of Melbourne turned out in their hundreds to see the start of Burke with his four companions, his camels, and his horses. Starting in August 1860, the expedition arrived at Cooper's Creek in November with half their journey done. But it was not till December that the party divided, and Burke with his companions, Wills, King, and Gray, six camels, and two horses, with food for three months, started off for the coast, leaving the rest at Cooper's Creek to await their return in about three months. After hard going they reached a channel with tidal waters flowing into the Gulf of Carpentaria on 28th March, but they could not get a view of the open ocean because of boggy ground.
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THE BURKE AND WILLS EXPEDITION LEAVING MELBOURNE, 1860. From a drawing by Wm. Strutt, an acquaintance of Burke. |
They accomplished their task, but the return journey was disastrous. Short rations soon began to tell, for they had taken longer than they had calculated, and no food was to be found by the way. Gray was the first to fail and to die. Heavy rains made the ground impossibly heavy, and the camels sank to the ground exhausted. Finally they had to be killed and eaten. Then the horses went. At long last the three weary men and two utterly worn-out camels dragged themselves to Cooper's Creek, hoping to find their companions and the food they had left there four months ago. It was 21st April. Not a soul was to be seen!
"King," cried Wills, in utter despair, "they are gone!"
As the awful truth flashed on them Burke—their leader—threw himself on to the ground, realising their terrible situation. They looked round. On a tree they saw the word "Dig." In a bottle they found a letter: "We leave the camp to-day, 21st April 1861. We have left you some food. We take camels and horses."
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BURKE AND WILLS AT COOPER'S CREEK. From a woodcut in a contemporary Australian account of the expedition. |
Only a few hours ago the party had left Cooper's Creek! And the explorers were too weak and tired to follow! They ate a welcome supper of oatmeal porridge and then, after resting a couple of days; they struggled on their way, three exhausted men and two tired camels. Their food was soon finished, and they had to subsist on a black seed like the natives called "nardoo." But they grew weaker and weaker, and the way was long. The camels died first. Then Wills grew too ill to walk, and there was nothing for it but to leave him and push on for help. The natives were kind to him, but he was too far gone, and he died before help could arrive. Burke and King sadly pushed on without him, but a few days later Burke died, and in the heart of Australia the one white man, King, was left alone. It was not till the following September that he was found "sitting in a hut that the blacks had made for him. He presented a melancholy appearance, wasted to a shadow and hardly to be distinguished as a civilised being except by the remnants of clothes on him."
So out of that gay party of explorers who left Melbourne in the summer of 1860 only one man returned to tell the story of success and the sadder story of suffering and disaster.
CHAPTER LX
ROSS MAKES DISCOVERIES IN THE ANTARCTIC SEAS
Now, while explorers were busy opening up Australian inland, Ross was leaving the Australian waters for his voyage to the south. Four years after the return of the Ross polar expedition, Sir John Franklin had been made Governor of Van Diemen's Land, where he was visited by the ships sent out from England on the first Antarctic expedition under the command of Sir James Ross, who had returned to find himself famous for his discovery of the North Magnetic Pole.
An expedition had been fitted out, consisting of the Erebus and the Terror—ships which later on made history, for did they not carry Sir John Franklin to his doom in the Arctic regions some years later? The ships sailed in the autumn of 1839 by way of the Cape of Good Hope, and excited great interest at Hobart Town, where the commanders, Ross and Crozier, were warmly received by the Governor. In a bay, afterwards called Ross Cove, the ships were repaired after the long voyage, while an observatory was built by the convicts under the personal supervision of Sir John Franklin. Interesting news awaited the explorers, too, at Hobart Town. Exploration had taken place in the southern regions by a French expedition under D'Urville and an American, Lieutenant Wilkes—both of which had made considerable discoveries. Ross was somewhat surprised at this, for, as he said, "England had ever led the way of discovery in the southern as well as in the northern regions," but he decided to take a more easterly course, and, if possible, to reach the South Magnetic Pole.
On 5th November 1840 the ships were off again, shaping their course for Auckland Island, nine hundred miles from Hobart Town. The island had been discovered in 1806 by Captain Bristow. He had left some pigs, whose rapid increase filled the explorers with surprise. Christmas Day found them still sailing south, with strong gales, snow, and rain. The first iceberg was seen a few days later, and land on 11th January.
"It was a beautifully clear evening," says Ross, "and we had a most enchanting view of the two magnificent ranges of mountains whose lofty peaks, perfectly covered with eternal snow, rose to elevations of ten thousand feet above the level of the ocean." These icy shores were inhospitable enough, and the heavy surf breaking along its edge forbade any landing. Indeed, a strong tide carried the ships rapidly and dangerously along the coast among huge masses of ice. "The ceremony of taking possession of these newly discovered lands in the name of our Most Gracious Sovereign Queen Victoria was proceeded with, and on planting the flag of our country amid the hearty cheers of our party, we drank to the health, long life, and happiness of Her Majesty and His Royal Highness Prince Albert."
The end of the month found them farther south than any explorer had sailed before. Everything was new, and they were suddenly startled to find two volcanoes, one of which was active; steam and smoke rising to a height of two thousand feet above the crater and descending as mist and snow. Mount Erebus and Mount Terror, Ross called them, in memory of his two ships. They sailed on, but soon were stopped by a huge barrier of solid ice like a great white wall, one thousand feet thick and one hundred and eighty feet above sea-level. They knew now they could get no farther this season—they had reached a point one hundred and sixty miles from the Pole. Could they but have wintered here "in sight of the brilliant burning mountain and at so short a distance from the Magnetic Pole," they might easily have reached it the following spring,—so they thought,—but reluctantly Ross had to turn. "Few can understand the deep feelings of regret with which I felt myself compelled to abandon the perhaps too ambitious hope I had so long cherished of being permitted to plant the flag of my country on both Magnetic Poles of our globe."
The whole of the great southern land they had discovered received the name of Queen Victoria, which name it keeps to-day. They had been south of the Antarctic Circle for sixty-three days, when they recrossed it on 4th March. A few days later they narrowly escaped shipwreck. An easterly wind drove them among some hundreds of icebergs. "For eight hours," says Ross, "we had been gradually drifting towards what to human eyes appeared inevitable destruction; the high waves and deep rolling of our ships rendered towing with boats impossible, and our situation was the more painful from our inability to make any effort to avoid the dreadful calamity that seemed to await us. The roar of the surf, which extended each way as far as we could see, and the dashing of the ice fell upon the ear with painful distinctness as we contemplated the awful destruction that threatened in one short hour to close the world and all its hopes and joys and sorrows upon us for ever. In this deep distress we called upon the Lord ... and our cry came before Him. A gentler air of wind filled our sails; hope again revived, and before dark we found ourselves far removed from every danger."
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PART OF THE GREAT SOUTHERN ICE BARRIER, 450 MILES LONG,
180 FEET ABOVE SEA-LEVEL, AND 1000 FEET THICK. From Ross's Voyage in Antarctic Regions. |
April found them back again in Van Diemen's land, and though Ross sailed again the following autumn into southern latitudes, he only reached a point some few miles farther than before—being again stopped by a great wall barrier of thick ice. After this he took his ship home by way of Cape Horn, and "the shores of Old England came into view on the 2nd of September 1843." After an absence of four years Ross was welcomed home, and honours were showered on him, including the award of the Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society of Paris.
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"Till then they had deemed that the Austral earth, With a long, unbroken shore, Ran on to the Pole Antarctic, For such was the old sea lore." |
CHAPTER LXI
FRANKLIN DISCOVERS THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE
The whole coast-line of North America had now been charted, but the famous North-West Passage, for which so many lives had been laid down, had yet to be found. Sir John Barrow, "the father of modern Arctic discovery," Secretary to the Admiralty, now decided to dispatch another expedition to forge this last link and to connect, if possible, the chain of all former discoveries.
Many were the volunteers who came forward to serve in the new Arctic expedition. But Sir John Franklin claimed the command as his special right.
"No service," he declared, "is nearer to my heart."
He was reminded that rumour put his age at sixty, and that after a long life of hard work he had earned some rest.
"No, no!" cried the explorer; "I am only fifty-nine!"
This decided the point, and Franklin was appointed to the Erebus and Terror, recently returned from the Antarctic expedition of Sir James Ross. The ships were provisioned for three years, and with a crew of one hundred and twenty-nine men and several officers, Sir John Franklin left England for the last time on 19th May 1845. He was never seen again!
All were in the highest spirits, determined to solve the mystery of the North-West Passage once and for all! So certain were they of success that one of the officers wrote to a friend: "Write to Panama and the Sandwich Islands every six months."
On 4th July the ships anchored near the island of Disco on the west coast of Greenland. After which all is silence. The rest of the story, "one of the saddest ever told in connection with Arctic exploration," is dovetailed together from the various scraps of information that have been collected by those who sailed in search of the lost expedition year by year.
In 1848, Sir James Ross had sailed off in search of his missing friend, and had reached a spot within three hundred miles of the Erebus and Terror four months after they had been abandoned, but he returned with no news of Franklin.
Then Sir John Richardson started off, but found no trace! Others followed. The Government offered £20,000, to which Lady Franklin added £3000, to any one who should bring news of Franklin. By the autumn of 1850 there were fifteen ships engaged in the search. A few traces were found. It was discovered that Sir John Franklin had spent his first winter (1845-46) at Beechey Island. Captain McClure sailed along the north coast of America and made his way from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean—thus showing the existence of a north-west passage, for which he and his men were highly rewarded, for at this time no one knew that Franklin had already found a passage though he had not lived to tell the story of triumph and success. But it was not till after years of silence that the story of the missing expedition was cleared up. Lady Franklin purchased and fitted out a little steam yacht, the Fox, of one hundred and seventy-seven tons. The command was given to Captain McClintock, known to be an able and enthusiastic Arctic navigator. He was to rescue any "possible survivor of the Erebus and Terror, and to try and recover any records of the lost expedition."
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ESKIMOS AT CAPE YORK WATCHING THE APPROACH OF THE FOX. From McClintock's Voyage in Search of Franklin. |
The 12th August found the little Fox in Melville Bay made fast to an iceberg, and a few days later she was frozen firmly into an ice-pack. For two hundred and forty-two days she was beset, drifting all through the long, bitter winter with the ice, till on 25th April 1858, after having been carried over a thousand miles, she was released. McClintock, undaunted by danger, turned northwards, and by May he had reached Melville Bay. Thence up Lancaster Sound, he reached Beechey Island in August and found there three lonely graves of three sailors from the Erebus and Terror. Here the English commander erected a tablet sent out by Lady Franklin.
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THE THREE GRAVES ON BEECHEY ISLAND. From McClintock's Voyage in Search of Franklin. |
On the morning of 16th August, McClintock sailed from Beechey Island, but the short summer was passing quickly and they had no fresh news of the Franklin expedition. Half-way through Bellot Strait the Fox was again icebound, and another long winter had to be faced. By the middle of February 1859 there was light enough to start some sledging along the west coast of Boothia Felix. Days passed and McClintock struggled on to the south, but no Eskimos appeared and no traces of the lost explorers were to be found. Suddenly they discovered four men walking after them.
A naval button on one of the Eskimos attracted their attention.
"It came," said the Eskimo, "from some white people who were starved upon an island where there are salmon, but none of them had seen the white men."
Here was news at last—McClintock travelled on some ten miles to Cape Victoria, where the Eskimos built him a "commodious snow-hut in half an hour." Next morning the entire village of Eskimos arrived—some forty-five people—bringing relics of the white men. There were silver spoons, part of a gold chain, buttons, knives made of the iron and wood of the wrecked ships. But none of these people had seen the white men—one man said he had seen their bones upon the island where they died, but some were buried. They said a ship "having three masts had been crushed by the ice out in the sea to the west of King William's Island." One old man made a rough sketch of the coast-line with his spear upon the snow; he said it was eight journeys to where the ship sank.
McClintock hastened back to the ship with his news—he had by his sleigh-journey added one hundred and twenty miles to the old charts and "completed the discovery of the coast-line of Continental America."
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EXPLORING PARTIES STARTING FROM THE FOX. From McClintock's Voyage of the "Fox" in Search of Franklin. |
On 2nd April more sledge-parties started out to reach King William's Island—the cold was still intense, the glare of the sun painful to their eyes. The faces and lips of the men were blistered and cracked; their fingers were constantly frostbitten. After nearly three weeks' travelling they found snow-huts and Eskimos at Cape Victoria. Here they found more traces of Franklin's party—preserved meat tins, brass knives, a mahogany board. In answer to their inquiries, they heard that two ships had been seen by the natives of King William's Island; one had been seen to sink in deep water, the other was forced on shore and broken up. "It was in the fall of the year (August or September)," they said, when the ships were destroyed, that all the white people went away to the large river, taking a boat with them, and that in the following winter their bones were found there.
McClintock now made his way to the opposite coast of King William's Island. Here he found Eskimos with pieces of silver-plate bearing the crest and initials of Sir John Franklin and some of his officers. They said it was five days' journey to the wreck, of which little now remained. There had been many books, said the Eskimos, but they had been destroyed by the weather. One woman volunteered a statement. "Many of the white men," she said, "dropped by the way as they went to the Great River. Some were buried and some were not. Their bodies were discovered during the winter following." Moving onwards, McClintock reached the Great Fish River on the morning of 12th May. A furious gale was raging and the air was heavy with snow, but they encamped there to search for relics. With pickaxes and shovels they searched in vain. No Eskimos were to be found, and at last in despair the little party of explorers faced homewards. McClintock was slowly walking near the beach, when he suddenly came upon a human skeleton, lying face downwards, half buried in the snow. It wore a blue jacket with slashed sleeves and braided edging and a greatcoat of pilot-cloth.
The old woman was right. "They fell down and died as they walked along." And now the reward of the explorers was at hand. On the north-west coast of King William's Island was found a cairn and a blue ship's paper, weatherworn and ragged, relating in simple language, written by one of the ship's officers, the fate of the Franklin expedition. The first entry was cheerful enough. In 1846 all was well. His Majesty's ships, Erebus and Terror, wintered in the ice—at Beechey Island, after having ascended Wellington Channel and returned to the west side of Cornwallis Island. Sir John Franklin was commanding the expedition. The results of their first year's labour was encouraging. In 1846 they had been within twelve miles of King William's Island, when winter stopped them. But a later entry, written in April 1848, states that the ships were deserted on 22nd April, having been beset in ice since September 1846—that Sir John Franklin had died on 11th June 1847, and that Captain Crozier was in command.
Then came the last words, "And start to-morrow twenty-sixth for Back's Fish River." That was all.
After a diligent search in the neighbourhood for journals or relics, McClintock led his party along the coast, till on 30th May they found another relic in the shape of a large boat, with a quantity of tattered clothing lying in her. She had been evidently equipped for the ascent of the Great Fish River. She had been built at Woolwich Dockyard; near her lay two human skeletons, a pair of worker slippers, some watches, guns, a Vicar of Wakefield, a small Bible, New Testament, and Prayer Book, seven or eight pairs of boots, some silk handkerchiefs, towels, soap, sponge, combs, twine, nails, shot, and cartridges, needle and thread cases, some tea and chocolate, and a little tobacco.
Everything was carefully collected and brought back to the ship, which was reached on 19th June. Two months later the little Fox was free from ice and McClintock reached London towards the end of September, to make known his great discovery.
The rest of the story is well known. Most of us know the interesting collection of Franklin relics in the United Service Institution in London, and the monument in Waterloo Place to "the great navigator and his brave companions who sacrificed their lives in completing the discovery of the North-West Passage."
It was acknowledged "that to Sir John Franklin is due the priority of discovery of the North-West Passage—that last link to forge which he sacrificed his life."
And on the marble monument in Westminster Abbey, Tennyson, a nephew of Sir John Franklin, wrote his well-known lines—
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"Not here, the white north hath thy bones, and thou, Heroic Sailor Soul, Art passing on thy happier voyage now Towards no earthly pole." |
CHAPTER LXII
DAVID LIVINGSTONE
"I shall open up a path to the interior or perish."
Such were the words of one of the greatest explorers of Africa in the nineteenth century. Determination was the keynote of his character even as a young boy. At the age of ten he was at work in a cotton factory in Scotland: with his first week's wages he bought a Latin grammar. Fourteen hours of daily work left little time for reading, but he educated himself, till at nineteen he was resolved to be a medical missionary.
"In the glow of love which Christianity inspires, I resolved to devote my life to the alleviation of human misery." He was accepted for service by the London Missionary Society, and in the year 1840 he sailed for South Africa. After a voyage of three months he arrived at Cape Town and made his way in a slow ox-waggon seven hundred miles to Kuruman, a small mission station in the heart of Bechuanaland where Dr. Moffat had laboured for twenty years. He did well, and two years later he was sent north to form another mission station at Mabotsa (Transvaal). Having married Moffat's daughter Mary, he worked in these parts till June 1849, when, with his wife and three children, he started with oxen and waggon for a journey northwards. Across the great Kalahari Desert moved the exploring family, till they came to the river called Zouga, which, said the natives, led to a large lake named Lake Ngami. In native canoes, Livingstone and his little family ascended this beautifully wooded river, "resembling the river Clyde above Glasgow," till on 1st August 1849, Lake Ngami appeared, "and for the first time," says Livingstone, "this fine sheet of water was beheld by Europeans." The lake was two thousand eight hundred feet above the sea, but the climate was terribly unhealthy. The children grew feverish, and mosquitoes made life a misery to them, while the tsetse fly made further exploration for the moment impossible. So the family journeyed back to headquarters for a time. But Livingstone was unsatisfied, and once more in 1851 we find him starting again with wife and children to seek the great river Zambesi, known to exist in central Africa, though the Portuguese maps represented it as rising far to the east of Livingstone's discovery.
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LIVINGSTONE, WITH HIS WIFE AND FAMILY, AT THE DISCOVERY OF LAKE NGAMI. From Livingstone's Missionary Travels. |
"It was the end of June 1851," he tells us, "that we were rewarded by the discovery of the Zambesi in the centre of the continent. This was an important point, for that river was not previously known to exist there at all. As we were the very first white men the inhabitants had ever seen, we were visited by prodigious numbers of Makololo in garments of blue, green, and red baize." Livingstone wanted to know more of this unknown river, but he now decided that exploring with a wife and family was not only perilous, but difficult, so he returned to the coast, put them on a homeward-bound ship for England, and returned to central Africa to continue his work of exploration alone.
It was 11th November 1853 when Livingstone left the town of Linyanti in the very heart of central Africa for his great journey to the west coast to trace the course of the Zambesi.