Back’s effort to reach Repulse Bay—Nine Months in the Ice—The Terror Nipped and Crushed—A General Disruption—Extreme Peril—Increase of Pressure—Providential Delivery—Another Nip—Bow of the Ship split—Preparations for Emergencies—The Crew—An early break-up—Frozen again—A Tremendous Rush of Ice—The Day of Release.
Captain Back was in 1836 appointed to the command of an expedition to the Arctic, partly formed for purposes of survey. He was instructed to proceed to Repulse or Wager Bay, as the case might be; thence he was to take a party across the intervening land to the eastern shore of Prince Regent’s Islet. Among other explorations [pg 197]he was to examine the coast line as far as the Point Turnagain of Franklin. It is unnecessary to go into further details, as the expedition, geographically considered, was a failure. But the voyage is, nevertheless, one of the most interesting on record, and gives us a vivid picture, or series of pictures, of the dangers incurred in the Arctic seas. The now historical Terror was the vessel employed, and the expedition left England on June 14th, 1836, crossing Davis’ Straits six weeks later, where an enormous iceberg, “the perpendicular face of which was not less than 300 feet high,” was sighted. The vessel soon became entangled in the ice-floes, and this was only the forerunner of their subsequent experiences. For nine months they were wedged up with massive ice, and four months of this time were, as Back expresses it, on “an icy cradle,” lifted out of the water. On September 5th there was a calm, and the whole of the officers and men were despatched to the only open water at all near, where with axes, ice-chisels, hand-spikes, and long poles, they began the laborious process of cutting away the “sludge” that bound the broken ice together, and removing them into the clear space. In this service they were frequently obliged to fasten lines to the heavier masses and haul them out, but though slipping and tumbling about, “the light-hearted fellows pulled in unison to a cheerful song, and laughed and joked with the unreflecting merriment of schoolboys. Every now and then some luckless wight [pg 198]broke through the thin ice and plunged up to his neck; another endeavouring to remove a piece of ice by pushing against a larger mass, would set himself adrift with it, and every such adventure was followed by shouts of laughter and vociferous mirth.” These efforts at releasing the ship were only partially successful, and she was soon again surrounded by the ice. On the morning of September 20th a fresh breeze stirred up the masses. “Shortly after 9 a.m. a floe piece split in two, and the extreme violence of the pressure curled and crumbled up the windward ice in an awful manner, forcing it against the beam fully eighteen feet high. The ship creaked as it were in agony, and strong as she was must have been stove and crushed had not some of the smaller masses been forced under her bottom, and so diminished the strain by actually lifting her bow nearly two feet out of the water. In this perilous crisis steps were taken to have everything in readiness for hoisting out the barge, and, without creating unnecessary alarm, the officers and men were called on the quarter-deck, and desired, in case of emergency, to be active in the performance of their duties at the respective stations then notified to them. It was a serious moment for all, as the pressure still continued, nor could we expect much, if any, abatement until the wind changed.
“At noon the weather and our prospects remained the same. The barometer was falling, and the temperature was 26°-, with unceasing snow. Much ice had been sunk under her bottom, and a doubt existed whether it was not finding its way beneath the lee floe also; for the uplifted ruins, within fifty paces of the weather beam, were advancing slowly towards us like an immense wave fraught with destruction. Resistance would not, could not, have been effectual beyond a few seconds; for what of human construction could withstand the impact of an icy continent driven onward by a furious storm? In the meantime symptoms too unequivocal to be misunderstood demonstrated the intensity of the pressure. The butt-ends began to start, and the copper in which the galley apparatus was fixed became creased, sliding-doors refused to shut, and leaks found access through the bolt-heads and bull’s-eyes. On sounding the well, too, an increase of water was reported, not sufficient to excite apprehension in itself, but such as to render hourly pumping necessary. Moved by these indications, and to guard against the worst, I ordered the provisions and preserved meats, with various other necessaries, to be got up from below and stowed on deck, so as to be ready at a moment to be thrown upon the large floe alongside. To add to our anxiety night closed prematurely, when suddenly, from some unknown cause, in which, if we may so deem without presumption, the finger of Providence was manifest, the floe which threatened instant destruction turned so as in a degree to protect us against an increase of pressure, though for several hours after the same creaking and grinding sounds continued to annoy our ears. The barometer and the other instruments fell with a regularity unprecedented, yet the gale was broken, and by midnight it had abated considerably.
“Sept. 21st. There was a lateral motion in some pieces of the surrounding ice, and, after several astounding thumps under water against the bottom, the ship, which had been lifted high beyond the line of flotation, and thrown somewhat over to port, suddenly started up and almost righted. Still, however, she inclined more than [pg 199]was agreeable to port, nor was it until one mass of ponderous dimensions burst from its imprisonment below that she altogether regained her upright position. On beholding the walls of ice on either side between which she had been nipped, I was astonished at the tremendous force she had sustained.” Her mould was stamped as perfectly as in a die. Astonishment, however, soon yielded to a more grateful feeling, an admiration of the genius and mechanical skill by which the Terror had been so ably prepared for this service. There were many old Greenland seamen on board, and they were unanimously of opinion that no ship they had ever seen could have resisted such a pressure. On sounding the well she was found not to leak, though the carpenters had employment enough in caulking the seams on deck.
They had now been a month beset, and were about to attempt the cutting of a dock in the ice round the ship, when there was a general commotion, and the entire body by which they were hampered separated into single pieces, tossing into heaps, and grinding to powder whatever interrupted its course. The ship bore well up against this hurly-burly, but the situation was not improved. For several days the Terror was in a helpless condition, her stern raised seven and a half feet above its proper position, and her bows correspondingly depressed, by the pressure of huge ice-masses. Her deck was in consequence a slippery and dangerous inclined plane.
On October 1st the vessel gradually righted, and the men were kept employed in building snow-walls round the ship, and in the erection of an observatory on the floe. “Meantime,” says Back, “we were not unobservant of the habits and dispositions of the crew, hastily gathered together, and for the most part composed of people who had never before been out of a collier. Some half a dozen, indeed, had served in Greenland vessels, but the laxity which is there permitted rendered them little better than the former. A few men-of-wars-men who were also on board were worth the whole put together. The want of discipline and of attention to personal comfort was most conspicuous; and though the wholesome regulations practised in His Majesty’s service were most rigidly attended to in the Terror, yet such was the unsociability, though without any ill-will, that it was only by a steady and undeviating system pursued by the first lieutenant that they were brought at all together with the feeling of messmates. At first, though nominally in the same mess, and eating at the same table, many of them would secrete their allowance, with other unmanly and unsailor-like practices. This was another proof added to the many I had already witnessed, how greatly discipline improves the mind and manners, and how much the regular service men are to be preferred for all hazardous or difficult enterprises. Reciprocity of kindnesses, a generous and self-denying disposition, a spirit of frankness, a hearty and above-board manner—these are the true characteristics of the British seaman, and the want of these is seldom compensated by other qualities. In our case—and I mention this merely to show the difference of olden and modern times—there were only three or four in the ship who could not write. All read, some recited whole pages of poetry, others sang French songs. Yet, with all this, had they been left to themselves I verily believe a more unsociable, suspicious, and uncomfortable set of people could not have been found. Oh, if the two are incompatible, give me the old Jack Tar, who would stand out for his [pg 200]ship, and give his life for his messmates.” Back, in common with so many Arctic commanders before and since, saw the necessity of occupying and amusing his men; and on the 22nd October a general masquerade was held on board, which gave rise to much hilarity and fun. Later, theatrical entertainments were organised.
Some observations by Back on the gradual growth of ice, by layers forced together above or underneath, will explain the apparent discrepancies in Arctic works, where one reads of ice of so many different thicknesses formed in the same winter. It is probable that the very thick ice found in many parts of floes is formed by an accumulation of such layers, cemented together in bights or bays, sheltered by projecting capes or headlands, and less liable to disturbance from currents and tides; for they had ocular demonstration, that with a very low temperature and calm weather, in the severest portion of the winter, no addition of bulk takes place from the surface downwards when protected, as their floe was, by a hard coating of snow and drift. The doubling and packing of ice during gales of wind and when exposed to severe pressure, as well as the growth and the extensive fields, are phenomena which the attentive observations of modern voyagers have rendered familiar; and by an extension of the above remark, another explanation besides the action of the waves (for the mere heat of the sun has little influence) is afforded as to how the destruction of the immense fields of ice is effected, not, indeed, by pointing out the agents of the destruction, but by showing how little may in many instances be added in successive winters to the bulk to be destroyed. The fact that no new deposition takes place underneath seems also at once to account for the decayed and wasting appearance, which every one accustomed to polar navigation must have noticed in what is called the old ice, of which sailors will sometimes say—“Aye, sir, that piece is older than I am, but it cannot last above another summer.” The writer well remembers the idea of age, in another form, being associated with snow: “That there snow,” said one of the sailors to him, “is three hundred year old, if it’s a day. Why, don’t you see the wrinkles all over the face of it?” Every one has noticed the wrinkles and ridges in snow, but the idea of associating great age with them was original.
The winter passed slowly, with many false and some true alarms of the ice being in motion. On February 20th they were in imminent peril. For three hours after midnight the ice opened and shut, threatening to crack the vessel like a nutshell. At 4 a.m. the whole of the ice was in motion, great fissures opening on every side. Back writes:—“After 8 a.m. we had some quiet; and at divisions I thought it necessary to address the crew, reminding them, as Christians and British seamen, they were called upon to conduct themselves with coolness and fortitude, and that independently of the obligations imposed by the Articles of War, every one ought to be influenced by the still higher motive of a conscientious desire to perform his duty. I gave them to understand that I expected from one and all, in the event of any disaster, an implicit obedience to and energetic execution of every order that they might receive from the officers, as well as kind and compassionate help to the sick. On their observance of these injunctions, I warned them, our ultimate safety might depend. Some fresh articles of warm clothing were then dealt out to them; and as the moment of destruction was [pg 201]uncertain, I desired that the small bags in which those things were contained should be placed on deck with the provisions, so as to be ready at an instant. The forenoon was spent in getting up bales of blankets, bear-skins, provisions, pyroligneous acid for fuel, and, in short, whatever might be necessary if the ship should be suddenly broken up; and spars were rigged over, the quarters to hoist them out. Meanwhile the ice moved but little, though the hour of full moon was passed; but at noon it began to drift slowly to the northward. We were now from five to eight miles of the nearest land.
“Though I had seen vast bodies of ice from Spitzbergen to 150° west longitude under various aspects, some beautiful, and all more or less awe-inspiring, I had never witnessed, nor even imagined, anything so fearfully magnificent as the moving towers and ramparts that now frowned on every side. Had the still extensive pieces of which the floe was formed split and divided like those further off, the effect would have been far less injurious to the ship; but though cracked and rent, the parts, from some inexplicable cause, closed again for a time, and drove with accelerated and almost irresistible force against the defenceless vessel. In the forenoon the other boats were hoisted higher up, to save them from damage in the event of the ship being thrown much over on her broadside. For three hours we remained unmolested, though the ice outside of the floe was moving in various directions, some pieces almost whirling round, and of course, in the effort, disturbing others. At [pg 202]5 p.m., however, the piece near the ship having previously opened enough to allow of her resuming a nearly upright position, collapsed again with a force that made every plank complain; and further pressure being added at 6 o’clock, an ominous cracking was heard, that only ceased on her being lifted bodily up eighteen inches. The same unwelcome visitation was repeated an hour afterwards in consequence of the closing of a narrow lane directly astern. The night was very fine, but the vapour which arose from the many cracks as well as from the small open space alongside, quickly becoming converted into small spiculæ of snow, rendered the cold intolerably keen to those who faced the wind. Up to midnight we were not much annoyed, and for four hours afterwards, on February 21st, all was quiet. Every man had gone to rest with his clothes on, and was agreeably surprised on being so long undisturbed by the usual admonitory grinding. However, at 4 a.m. a commotion was heard, which appeared to be confined to the angle contained between west and north-west. On looking round at daybreak it was found that the ship had been released by the retreating of the ice, and had nearly righted; but at 5 a.m. she rose eighteen inches as before; she was then at intervals jerked up from the pressure underneath, with a groan each time from the woodwork.” And so it went on from day to day, Back and his men being kept incessantly at their duties, and constantly at work examining, and, where it was possible, strengthening the ship. Up to the middle of March they were, however, still safe, but on the 15th they were destined to witness trials of a more awful nature.
“While we were gliding quickly along the land,” says Back—“which I may here remark, had become more broken and rocky, though without obtaining an altitude of more than perhaps one or two hundred feet—at 1.45 p.m., without the least warning, a heavy rush came upon the ship, and, with a tremendous pressure on the larboard quarter, bore her over upon the heavy mass upon her starboard quarter. The strain was severe in every part, though from the forecastle she appeared to be moving in the easiest manner towards the land ice. Suddenly, however, a loud crack was heard below the mainmast, as if the keel were broken or carried away; and simultaneously the outer stern-post from the ten-feet mark was split down to an unknown extent, and projected to the larboard side upwards of three feet. The ship was thrown up by the stern to the seven-and-a-half feet mark; and that damage had been done was soon placed beyond doubt by the increase of leakage, which now amounted to three feet per hour. Extra pumps were worked, and while some of the carpenters were fixing diagonal shores forward, others were examining the orlops and other parts. It was reported to me by the first lieutenant, master, and carpenter, that nothing could be detected inside, though apprehensions were entertained by the two former that some serious injury had been inflicted. In spite of the commotion the different pieces of our floe still remained firm; but being unable to foresee what might take place in the night, I ordered the cutters and two whale-boats to be lowered down, and hauled with their stores to places considered more secure; this was accordingly done, though not under two hours and a half, even with the advantage of daylight. The ship was still setting fast along shore, and much too close to the fixed ice; but it was not till past 8 p.m. that any suspicious movement was noticed near us; then, however, a continually increasing rush was heard, which at 10.45 p.m. came on with a heavy roar towards the larboard quarter, upturning in its progress and rolling onward with it an immense wall of ice. This advanced [pg 203]so fast that though all hands were immediately called they had barely time, with the greatest exertion, to extricate three of the boats, one of them, in fact, being hoisted up when only a few feet from the crest of the solid wave, which held a steady course directly for the quarter, almost overtopping it, and continuing to elevate itself until about twenty-five feet high. A piece had just reached the rudder slung athwart the stern, and at the moment when, to all appearances, both that and a portion at least of the framework were expected to be staved in and buried beneath the ruins, the motion ceased; at the same time the crest of the nearest part of the wave toppled over, leaving a deep wall extending from thence beyond the quarter. The effect of the whole was a leak in the extreme run, oozing, as far as could be ascertained, from somewhere about the sternpost. It ran in along the lining like a rill for about half an hour, when it stopped, probably closed by a counter pressure. The other leaks could be kept under by the incessant use of one pump.
“Our intervals of repose were now very short, for at 12.50 a.m., March 16th, another rush drove irresistibly on the larboard quarter and stern, and, forcing the ship ahead, raised her upon the ice. A chaotic ruin followed; our poor and cherished courtyard, its walls and arched doors, gallery, and well-trodden paths, were rent, and in some parts ploughed up like dust. The ship was careened fully four streaks, and sprang a leak as before. Scarcely were ten minutes left us for the expression of our astonishment that anything of human build could outlive such assaults, when, at 1 a.m., another equally violent rush succeeded; and, in its way towards the starboard quarter, threw up a rolling wave thirty feet high, crowned by a blue square mass of many tons, resembling the entire side of a house, which, after hanging for some time in doubtful poise on the ridge, at length fell with a crash into the hollow, in which, as in a cavern, the after-part of the ship seemed imbedded. It was indeed an awful crisis, rendered more frightful from the mistiness of the night and dimness of the moon. The poor ship cracked and trembled violently; and no one could say that the next minute would not be her last, and, indeed, his own too, for with her our means of safety would probably perish. The leak continued, and again (most likely as before, from counter pressure) the principal one closed up. When all this was over, and there seemed to be a chance of a respite, I ordered a double allowance of preserved meat, &c., to be issued to the crew, whose long exposure to the cold rendered some extra stimulant necessary. Until 4 a.m. the rushes still kept coming from different directions, but fortunately with diminished force. From that hour to 8 a.m. everything was still, and the ice quite stationary, somewhat to the westward of the singular point, terminating as it were in a knob, which was the farthest eastern extreme yesterday. We certainly were not more than three miles from the barren and irregular land abeam, which received the name of Point Terror. To this was attached a rugged shelf of what for the time might be called shore ice, having at its seaward face a mural ridge of unequal, though in many parts imposing, height, certainly not less than from fifty to sixty feet.”
At last the long-delayed day of release drew nigh. The ship had now been three-fourths of a year enclosed in the ice, with which it had drifted several hundred miles, when, on July 11th, “the crew had resumed their customary labour, and, as they [pg 204]drew nearer to the stern-post, various noises and crackings beneath them plainly hinted that something more than usual was in progress. After breakfast I visited them and the other parties as previously stated. Scarcely had I taken a few turns on deck and descended to my cabin when a loud rumbling notified that the ship had broken her icy bonds, and was sliding gently down into her own element. I ran instantly on deck, and joined in the cheers of the officers and men, who, dispersed on different pieces of ice, took this significant method of expressing their feelings. It was a sight not to be forgotten. Standing on the taffrail, I saw the dark bubbling water below, and enormous masses of ice gently vibrating and springing to the surface; the first lieutenant was just climbing over the stern, while other groups were standing apart, separated by this new gulf; and the spars, together with working implements, were resting half in the water, half on the ice, whilst the saw, the instrument whereby this sudden effect had been produced, was bent double, and in that position forcibly detained by the body it had severed.” Having cut to within four feet of the stern-post, the crew had ceased work for a few moments, when the disruption took place, barely giving them time to clamber up as they could for safety. Shortly afterwards a very curious incident occurred. The Terror was almost capsized by a small submerged berg which had been released by the breaking up of the floe. On July 14th the ship righted; and from that time to their arrival in England, after they had managed to patch up, caulk, and render her seaworthy, little of special interest occurred. It is questionable whether any vessel has ever gone through more of the special perils which beset ice navigation than did the Terror; but although terribly shattered, we shall meet her again staunchly braving the dangers of the Arctic.
Sir John Franklin and his Career—His Last Expedition—Takes the Command as his Birthright—The last seen of his Ships—Alarm at their long absence—The Search—A few faint traces discovered by Parry—A Fleet beset in the Ice—Efforts made to communicate with Franklin—Rockets and Balloons—M’Clure’s Expedition—Discovery of the North-West Passage—Strange Arrival of Lieutenant Pim over the Ice—The Investigator abandoned—Crew Saved—Reward of £10,000 to M’Clure and his Ship’s Company.
The name of Sir John Franklin, whose sad destiny it was to perish at the moment of triumph, stands pre-eminent as one of the brightest ornaments in our long list of naval heroes. Peculiarly adapted by the bent of his mind to the profession he had adopted, he brought to his aid the love of adventure, a perfect knowledge of seamanship, and a zeal for geographical discovery, combined with an integrity of purpose and a hardy intrepidity, that, even in the service he so highly adorned, have never been surpassed. Tried alike in peace and war, and illustrious in both, this noble knight-errant of the northern seas, irresistible as one of those icebergs that tried to bar his way, was always ready [pg 205]to do his duty for his native land. Whether on the quarter-deck, in the midst of the enemy’s hottest fire, or daring the dangers of the frozen ocean, among ice and snow, blinded by dense fogs and endless nights, without guides or sea room, he always showed the same fearless spirit, unwearied perseverance, and love for the welfare of his country which caused him to succeed in the end, although that success was so dearly bought.
The purest heroism of England has been found in that land of desolation which a wealth of valour has consecrated, and the hearts of the tars who fought under Nelson were not more brave than those who sailed to meet their fate under “good Sir John.” Setting little value on his own personal comfort, but never neglecting the well-being of his crew, he made himself beloved and respected by all, and when he passed away to “the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns,” he left behind him the memory of his brave deeds as an example to the youth of his fatherland. The most triumphant death is that of a martyr; the most glorious martyr is he who dies for his fellow-men. Successful in death, Franklin and his brave followers reached the goal, and perished. Well may the inscription on their monument say, “They forged the last link with their lives.”35
[pg 206]Sir John Franklin, a native of Spilsby, in Lincolnshire, was destined for the Church by his father, who purchased an advowson for him. While at the Louth Grammar School, during a holiday walk, he first saw the sea. This was the turning-point of his life, and he determined henceforth to be a sailor. In the hope of disgusting him his father sent him on a trial voyage in a merchantman to Lisbon, but this trip only confirmed his decision, and he joined the Polyphemus, in the year 1800, the vessel which, under Captain Lawford, led the line in the glorious battle of Copenhagen. Two months after this engagement he was transferred to the Investigator, commanded by his relative, Captain Flinders, and set out on his first voyage of discovery to Australia, where he obtained a correctness in astronomical observations and a skill in surveying that became of the greatest service to him in his future career. Returning home in the Porpoise, he was wrecked on a coral reef, and, with ninety-four persons, remained on a narrow bank of sand only four feet above the level of the water for fifty days, until Captain Flinders, who made the voyage of 250 leagues to Port Jackson in an open boat, returned to their rescue. On reaching England Franklin joined the Bellerophon, and performed the duties of signal-midshipman with the greatest coolness, in the memorable battle of Trafalgar, where all his companions on the poop were, with exception of four or five, killed or wounded. In his next ship, the Bedford, he attained the rank of lieutenant, served in the blockade of Flushing, and was wounded in the disastrous attack on New Orleans. Shortly afterwards he entered on that career in the Arctic regions with which his name is so intimately identified, and which has been recorded. We now come to the last sad closing scene of that grand life.
In 1845 a new expedition was organised by the Admiralty to make one more attempt at the North-west Passage. For more than a year previously many of the leading scientific men and old Arctic explorers had been urging it upon the attention of the Government, and many were the volunteers who desired to join it. The late Admiral Sherard Osborn, Franklin’s biographer, tells us that it was at one time intended that Fitzjames, whose genius and energy marked him for no common officer, should have the command; but just about this time Sir John Franklin was heard to say that he considered it his birthright, as the senior Arctic explorer in England. He had then only recently returned from Tasmania, where he had been acting as Lieutenant-Governor, and where he had held an unthankful post, owing to some unmerited and disagreeable treatment from the then Secretary for the Colonies. “Directly it was known,” says Osborn, “that he would go if asked, the Admiralty were, of course, only too glad to avail themselves of the experience of such a man; but Lord Haddington, with that kindness which ever distinguished him, suggested that Franklin might well rest at home on his laurels. ‘I might find a good excuse for not letting you go, Sir John,’ said the peer, ‘in the telling record which informs me that you are sixty years of age.’ ‘No, no, my lord,’ was Franklin’s rejoinder, ‘I am only fifty-nine.’ Before such earnestness all [pg 207]scruples ceased. The offer was officially made, and accepted. To Sir John Franklin was confided the Arctic expedition, consisting of H.M.S. Erebus, in which he hoisted his pennant, and H.M.S. Terror, commanded by Captain Crozier, who had recently accompanied Sir James Ross in his wonderful voyage to the antarctic seas.”
The two vessels were completely overhauled and much strengthened, auxiliary screws, engines, and fuel provided, and they were provisioned for three years. The vessels left Greenhithe on May 19th, and by the third week of July reached a point near Disco, Greenland, where a transport which had accompanied them took on board the last letters of officers and crews for home. They were seen on July 26th by a whaler, and were at that date moored to an iceberg, waiting for a favourable opportunity to enter the ice of Baffin’s Bay. From that day to the present no one of that gallant band has ever been seen alive except by the wandering Esquimaux, and not till 1854 was anything certain gleaned concerning their fate. Even the meagre outlines then obtained were not filled in till 1859, when M’Clintock made his memorable discoveries, and brought to light one of the saddest of modern tragedies.
Subsequent researches enable us to state that their first winter was passed near Beechey Island, where they lost three men. They had reached it by sailing through a channel discovered between Cornwallis and Bathurst Islands, and thence by Barrow’s Straits. For a year and a half after the expedition had left no anxiety about it was felt; but after a council of naval officers had been called by the Admiralty, it was decided that should no news arrive that summer, preparations should be made for its relief. This was done. Light boats and supplies were forwarded to Hudson’s Bay, and in 1848, when the public alarm became general, several expeditions were sent out. Later, as we all know, the Government fitted out a whole series of vessels; the Hudson’s Bay Company sent forth several land parties; Lady Franklin spent the larger part of her private fortune, and America came bravely to the rescue. No less than thirty-two vessels were sent out on the search by England up to 1859, and three by the United States, while there were five land expeditions provided in large part by the Hudson’s Bay Company. We must necessarily only speak of the more interesting of these gallant attempts. Strangely enough, as we shall see, almost the only information of value concerning the fate of Franklin and his brave band was obtained by private enterprise, in spite of the gallant efforts of so many in the royal navy.
One of the very first attempts made to communicate with the missing party was sent in 1848, viâ Behring Straits. Captain Kellett, of H.M.S. Herald, and Captain Moore, H.M.S. Plover, added much to our knowledge of the northern coasts of Siberia and north-western America; and Lieutenant Pullen, of the Herald, made an adventurous boat journey from Behring Straits to the mouth of the Mackenzie. But not the merest spark of information was obtained concerning Franklin.
Some few traces were discovered by Captain Penny in 1850, at a period when the fears of all were at their culminating point. In this and the following year several vessels were sent out by Government, among them H.M.S. Resolute, Captain Austin; H.M.S. Assistance, Captain Ommaney; Lady Franklin, W. Penny, master; Sophia, A. Stewart, master; H.M.S. Pioneer, Lieut. Osborn; also, at the expense of the Hudson’s Bay Company, the yacht [pg 208]Felix, Rear-Admiral Sir John Ross. The whole of these entered the Arctic regions from the Atlantic side, and either met at various times or were in company. Osborn has recorded many facts and incidents concerning them, from which we shall only cull a few of the more interesting.
Describing the feat of cutting docks in the ice, to partially avoid the pressure of the floes when they come crashing together, he says:—“Smart things are done in the navy, but I do not think anything could excel the alacrity with which the floe was suddenly peopled by about 300 men (crews of whalers chiefly), triangles rigged, and the long saws, called ice-saws, manned.
“A hundred songs from hoarse throats resounded through the gale, the sharp chipping of the saws told that the work was flying, and the laugh and broad witticisms of the crews mingled with the words of command and encouragement to exertion given by the officers.
“The pencil of a Wilkie could hardly convey the characteristics of such a scene, and it is far beyond my humble pen to tell of the stirring animation exhibited by twenty ships’ companies, who knew that on their own exertions depended the safety of their vessels and the success of their voyage. The ice was of an average thickness of three feet, and to cut this, saws of ten feet long were used, the length of stroke being about as far as the men [pg 210]directing the saw could reach up and down. A little powder was used to break up the pieces that were cut, so as to get them easily out of the mouth of the dock—an operation which the officers of our vessels performed while the men cut away with the saws. In a very short time all the vessels were in safety, the pressure of the pack expending itself on a chain of bergs some ten miles north of our present position. The unequal contest between floe and iceberg exhibited itself there in a fearful manner; for the former, pressing onward against the huge grounded masses, were torn into shreds, and thrown back piecemeal, layer on layer of many feet in elevation, as if mere shreds of some flimsy material, instead of solid, hard ice, every cubic yard of which weighed nearly a ton.”
They were not always so fortunate. A little later they were again beset, and escape seemed hopeless. The commander, called from his berth to deck, found the vessel thrown considerably over by the pressure of the ice on one side, while every timber was straining, cracking, and groaning. “On reaching the deck,” says Osborn, “I saw, indeed, that the poor Pioneer was in sad peril: the deck was arching with the pressure on her sides, the scupper pieces were turned up out of the mortices, and a quiver of agony wrung my craft’s frame from stem to taffrail, whilst the floe, as if impatient to overwhelm its victim, had piled up as high as the bulwark in many places. The men who, whaler fashion, had without orders brought their clothes on deck, ready to save their little property, stood in knots waiting for directions from their officers, who, with anxious eyes, watched the floe-edge as it ground past the side to see whether the strain was easing. Suddenly it did so, and we were safe. But a deep dent in the Pioneer’s side, extending for some forty feet, and the fact, as we afterwards learned, of twenty-one timbers being broken on one side, proved that the trial had been a severe one.”
After overtaking Captain Penny, Osborn learned of the former’s discoveries on Beechey Island, the first wintering place of Sir John Franklin, and on August 29th paid a visit to the spot. “It needed not,” says he, “a dark wintry sky or a gloomy day to throw a sombre shade around my feelings as I landed on Beechey Island and looked down upon the bay on whose bosom had ridden Her Majesty’s ships Erebus and Terror. There was a sickening anxiety of the heart as one involuntarily clutched at every relic which they of Franklin’s squadron had left behind, in the vain hope that some clue as to the route they had taken hence might be found.” The hope was vain: no document of any kind was discovered, although a carefully constructed cairn, formed of meat-tins filled with gravel, was found and carefully searched. There was the embankment of a house, with a carpenter’s and armourer’s workshops, coal-bags, tubs, pieces of old clothing, rope, cinders, chips, &c.; the remnants of a garden, probably made in joke, but with neat borders of moss and lichens, and even poppies and anemones transplanted from some more genial part of the island. The graves of three of the crews of the Erebus and Terror, bearing the dates of 1845 and 1846, proved conclusively that the expedition had wintered there.
Osborn’s description of an Arctic dinner is interesting. “ ‘The pemmican is all ready, sir,’ reports our Soyer. In troth, appetite need wait on one, for the greasy compound would pall on moderate taste or hunger. Tradition said that it was composed of the best rump-steaks and suet, and cost 1s. 6d. per pound. To our then untutored tastes it seemed composed of broken-down horses and Russian tallow. If not sweet in savour, it was strong [pg 211]in nourishment, and after six table-spoonfuls we cried, ‘Hold! enough!’ But there came a day when we sat hungry and lean, longing for this coarse mess, and eating a pound of it with avidity, and declaring it to be delicious!” Frozen cold pork was found delicious with biscuit and a steaming cup of tea.
During the long winter, fancying it possible they were in the neighbourhood of Franklin’s party, rockets were fired and small balloons sent off. The latter carried slow matches five feet long, which, as they burned, let loose pieces of coloured paper, on which were printed their position and other information. A carrier pigeon, despatched on one occasion by Sir John Ross from his quarters in the Arctic in 1850, reached its old home in Ayr, Scotland, in five days, having flown 3,000 miles! Numerous sledging parties were despatched from the various ships above-named, but without obtaining any further information regarding Franklin.
M’Clure’s expedition has been generally regarded only in connection with the discovery of the North-west Passage, but he also engaged in the search for Franklin. With him was associated Captain Collinson, and both were ordered to proceed viâ Behring Straits to the Arctic. The Enterprise, commanded by the latter, proceeded a little in advance of the Investigator, commanded by M’Clure, which left Plymouth on January 20th, 1850. Late in July the Arctic Circle was crossed, and shortly afterwards, at different dates, the Plover and Herald were met. Captain Kellett, of the latter, reported the discovery of the new land north of Behring Straits since always associated with his name. It was covered with lofty and broken peaks, and Kellett thought it to be the same as described by Wrangell, the Russian explorer, on the authority of natives. Some doubt has at times been thrown on this discovery, but it has been since sighted by an American whaler.
On August 21st the Investigator reached the Pelly Islands, and crossed the mouth of the great Mackenzie River. Little did M’Clure think that the day after, Lieutenant Pullen, H.M.S. Herald, with a boat’s crew, was returning from a visit to Cape Bathurst, and must have passed at a distance of a few miles, a convincing proof of the easiness of missing one another in the Arctic seas. Shortly afterwards they met a number of natives, and held some communication with them. Osborn says that “when asked why they did not trade with the white men up the big river (i.e., the Mackenzie), the reply was they had given the Indians a water which had killed a great many of them, and had made others foolish, and they did not want any of it!” This statement is rather doubtful, as the Hudson’s Bay Company does not, as the writer well knows, trade in spirits, at least in those remote districts; and further, if they did, it would be a very unusual circumstance for natives to decline it, as the whalers and traders on the coast know full well.
“On September 17th the Investigator had reached her farthest eastward position in long. 117° 10′; and a couple of days afterwards, it was decided, instead of returning to seek a harbour, to winter in the pack ice. It was a dangerous, though a daring experiment, but the fact that it might facilitate expeditions for the relief of Franklin seems to have been uppermost in the commander’s mind. The ice was not yet strong enough to remain tranquil, and M’Clure had provisions and fuel on deck, and boats [pg 212]ready, in case of the vessel being crushed. On September 27th a change of wind set the ice in motion, and drove the vessel towards some abrupt and dangerous cliffs, 400 feet high, where there was no beach, and not a ledge where a goat could get a foothold. Should the vessel strike their only hope was in the boats. Happily the ice current changed, and swept them past the rocks. At this period the crashing of the ice and creaking and straining of the vessel’s timbers were deafening, and the officer of the watch when speaking had to put his mouth close to his commander’s ear, and shout out. The neighbouring land was searched for game, the unpleasant discovery having been made that nearly 500 pounds of their preserved meat had become putrid.”
The 26th of October, 1850, was an important day in the history of Arctic adventure. Five days before, M’Clure, with six men and a sledge, had left the ship, and had since travelled through Barrow’s Straits. On the clear and cloudless morning of the 26th they ascended a hill before dawn. “As the sun rose the panorama slowly unveiled itself. First, the land called after H.R.H. Prince Albert showed out on an easterly bearing, and from a point, since called after the late Sir Robert Peel, it evidently turned away to the east, and formed the northern entrance to the channel upon that side. The coast of Bank’s Land, on which the party stood, terminated at a low point about twelve miles further on.... Away to the north, and across the entrance of Prince of Wales Straits, lay the frozen waters of Barrow, or, as it is now called, Melville Straits, and raised as our explorers were, at an altitude of 600 feet above its level, the eyesight embraced a distance which precluded the possibility of any land lying in that direction between them and Melville Island. A north-west passage was discovered. All doubt as to the existence of a water communication between the two great oceans was removed.” On the return journey M’Clure, hastening forward to order a warm meal for his men at the ship, lost his way in a snow-storm and had to wander about all night. In the morning he found that he had passed the Investigator by four miles.
The winter passed away, and, as the spring advanced, preparations were made for continuing the voyage. On May 21st a curious event occurred. “About 10.30 a large bear was passing the ship, when Captain M’Clure killed it with a rifle shot. On examining the stomach, great was the astonishment of all present at the medley it contained. There were raisins that had not been long swallowed, a few small pieces of tobacco leaf, bits of pork fat cut into cubes, which the ship’s cook declared must have been used for making mock turtle soup, an article often found on board a ship in a preserved form; and, lastly, fragments of sticking-plaster, which, from the forms into which they had been cut, must evidently have passed through the hands of a surgeon.” Better evidences of the proximity of some other vessel or exploring party could not be afforded. But from which of them had this miscellaneous collection been derived?
On July 17th the vessel got out of the ice, and soon passed round the south end of Bank’s Land; but, after many perils, did not succeed in making a further eastward progress, and had again to go into winter quarters towards the end of September. This was a severe winter for them. The scurvy made its appearance, and the provisions were running short. M’Clure had now decided to keep only thirty men in the vessel, and send the remainder in two divisions, one up Mackenzie River, the other [pg 213]to Beechey Island, where Captain Pullen, of H.M.S. North Star was stationed for purposes of relief. At the beginning of April all the preparations for these sledge parties had been made, when an unexpected event occurred, which M’Clure’s own words will best describe:—
While walking near the ship with the first lieutenant “we perceived a figure walking rapidly towards us from the rough ice at the entrance of the bay. From his pace and gestures we both naturally supposed at first that he was some one of our party pursued by a bear; but, as we approached him, doubts arose as to who it could be. He was certainly unlike any of our men; but, recollecting that it was possible some one might be trying on a new travelling dress preparatory to the departure of our sledges, and certain that no one else was near, we continued to advance. When within about two hundred yards of us, this strange figure threw up his arms, and made gesticulations resembling those used by Esquimaux, besides shouting, at the top of his voice, words which, from the wind and intense excitement of the moment, sounded like a wild screech, and this brought us fairly to a standstill. The stranger came quietly on, and we saw that his face was as black as ebony; and really at the moment we might be pardoned for wondering whether he was a denizen of this or the other world; and had he but given us a glimpse of a tail or a cloven hoof, we should assuredly have taken [pg 214]to our legs. As it was, we gallantly stood our ground; and, had the skies fallen upon us we could hardly have been more astonished than when the dark stranger called out—
“ ‘I’m Lieutenant Pim, late of the Herald, and now in the Resolute. Captain Kellett is in her at Dealy Island!’
“To rush at and seize him by the hand was the first impulse, for the heart was too full for the tongue to speak. The announcement of relief being close at hand, when none was supposed to be within the Arctic Circle, was too sudden, unexpected, and joyous, for our minds to comprehend it at once. The news flew with lightning rapidity. The ship was all in commotion; the sick, forgetful of their maladies, leaped from their hammocks; the artificers dropped their tools, and the lower deck was cleared of men; for they all rushed for the hatchway, to be assured that a stranger was actually amongst them, and that his tale was true. Despondency fled from the ship, and Lieutenant Pim received a welcome which he will never forget.”
Of course M’Clure immediately started to visit Captain Kellett. At first there were some hopes of saving the Investigator; but the reports of both ships’ surgeons on the state of the crew were so unfavourable, that the men were at once transferred to the Resolute and Intrepid, and the former abandoned. These also had in their turn to be abandoned; but the united crews in the end reached England in safety. A court-martial was held on M’Clure, and he was, of course, honourably acquitted. In the following session a reward of £10,000 was awarded to the officers and crew of the Investigator, and every one of its brave company received a medal from the Queen, which, doubtless, they have treasured as a memento of the three dreary yet eventful winters passed by them on the ice.36
Among the earlier vessels employed in the search for Franklin were the Advance and Rescue, sent out from America in 1850, at the expense of H. Grinnell, Esq., a noble-hearted New York merchant. Lieutenant De Haven had charge of the expedition, while the afterwards celebrated Dr. Kane accompanied him as surgeon. De Haven fell in with Ross and Penny, and examined the first winter quarters of Franklin’s party, discovered by the latter, and of which mention has been already made. He was very much hampered by the ice, and at the end of the season returned to the United States from a somewhat fruitless expedition. In addition to the several expeditions already briefly mentioned here, many attempts, both by land and sea, to rescue Franklin’s band were made between 1851 and 1855. Captains Inglefield, Frederick, Sir Edward Belcher, Kellett, M’Clintock (first voyage), Pullen, Maguire, Dr. Kane, and others, sought in vain for traces of the lost expedition. As we shall see in our succeeding chapter, Dr. John Rae, an indefatigable and experienced traveller, was more successful; whilst the crowning discoveries, which for ever settled the fate of Franklin, were reserved for the gallant M’Clintock of the ever memorable Fox expedition.
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