It will be remembered that Captain Kellett of Sir Edward Belcher’s squadron had sailed the previous August to Melville Island with relief supplies for the Investigator and Enterprise, in case these vessels or members of their crews should have succeeded in making their way from Behring Strait to that place. Upon reaching Winter Harbour, they at once discovered a notice deposited there the beginning of the year by Captain M’Clure, conveying the assurance of the safety of the Investigator and its crew in Mercy Bay. It may be imagined with what enthusiasm such news was received by Captain Kellett and his crew, and immediately preparations were made for an expedition to let them know that aid was at hand.

The unique meeting of Captain M’Clure from the west, and Lieutenant Pim from the east, with a party from the Resolute, is graphically described in a private letter from Captain Kellett.

“This is really a red-letter day in our voyage, and shall be kept as a holiday by our heirs and successors forever. At nine o’clock of this day, our lookout man made the signal for a party coming in from the westward; all went out to meet them, and assist them in. A second party was then seen. Dr. Domville was the first person I met. I cannot describe my feelings when he told me that Captain M’Clure was among the next party. I was not long in reaching him, and giving him many hearty shakes—no purer were ever given by two men in this world. M’Clure looks well, but is very hungry. His description of Pim’s making the Harbour of Mercy would have been a fine subject for the pen of Captain Marryat, were he alive.

“M’Clure and his first lieutenant were walking on the floe. Seeing a person coming very fast towards them, they supposed he was chased by a bear, or had seen a bear. Walking towards him, on getting onwards a hundred yards, they could see from his proportions that he was not one of them. Pim began to screech and throw up his hands (his face as black as my hat); this brought the captain and lieutenant to a stand, as they could not hear sufficiently to make out his language.

“At length Pim reached the party, quite beside himself, and stammered out, on M’Clure asking him,—

“‘Who are you, and where are you come from?’

“‘Lieutenant Pim, Herald, Captain Kellett.’

“This was the more inexplicable to M’Clure, as I was the last person he shook hands with in Behring’s Strait. He at length found that this solitary stranger was a true Englishman—an angel of light. He says: ‘He soon was seen from the ship; they had only one hatchway open, and the crew were fairly jammed there, in their endeavor to get up. The sick jumped out of their hammocks, and the crew forgot their despondency; in fact, all was changed on board the Investigator.’

“M’Clure had thirty men and three officers fully prepared to leave for the depot at Point Spencer. What a disappointment it would have been to go there and find the miserable Mary yacht, with four or five casks of provisions, instead of a fine large depot!

“Another party of seven men were to have gone by the Mackenzie, with a request to the Admiralty to send out a ship to meet them at Point Leopold, in 1854. The thirty men are on their way over to me now. I shall, if possible, send them on to Beechey Island, and about ten men of my own crew, to be taken home the first opportunity.”

Captain Kellett was at first inclined to favour M’Clure’s efforts to save the Investigator, but, on the 2d of May, Lieutenant Cresswell reported to Captain Kellett that two more deaths had occurred. It was then deemed advisable that Dr. Domville should go back with Captain M’Clure and inspect the crew. Those unfitted to pass another winter in the Arctic were to be ordered home, and the healthy should be given their option of going or remaining. Only four of the crew were willing to remain, although all of the officers volunteered to stand by the vessel.

Preparations were therefore made to abandon the ship. A depot of provisions and stores was landed for the use of Collinson, Franklin, or any other person that might find them, and on June 3, 1853, the colours were hoisted to the masthead, and officers and crew bade farewell to the Investigator. Upon arriving at Dealy Island, they were accommodated on board the Resolute and Intrepid.

In connection with the glorious report of the discovery of the Northwest Passage and the safety of M’Clure, Captain Inglefield brought home news of a sad and tragic character; the death of that gallant Frenchman, Lieutenant Bellot. He had returned to the north in the Phœnix drawn by the fatal lure of the Arctic which to his adventurous soul was irresistible. In August, 1853, he had volunteered to lead a party to Sir Edward Belcher’s squadron near Cape Beecher in Wellington Channel. They started on a Friday, the 12th, from Beechey Island,—Harvey, Johnson, Madden, and Hook, with Lieutenant Bellot in the lead,—carrying despatches from Captain Pullen of the North Star.

The rottenness of the ice at this season makes travel particularly dangerous, and Bellot was cautioned to keep close to the eastern shore of Wellington Channel. They were provided with a light India-rubber boat, which was easily dragged upon the sledge. The evening of the 12th, they encamped about three miles from Cape Innes. The following day they made considerable progress, and that night encamped upon the broken ice, over which they had been plodding all day, near Cape Bowden. On Sunday they noticed a crack about four feet wide running across the channel. No special concern was felt at this discovery, and Lieutenant Bellot cheered and encouraged the men to make for a cape in the distance which he called Grinnell Cape. Upon reaching this cape, a broad belt of water was found between the ice and the shore. An unfortunate wind raised a rough sea, but Lieutenant Bellot made an attempt to reach the shore alone in the boat, intending to convey a line by which the remainder of the party and provisions might be brought across. The violence of the gale drove him back, and Harvey and Madden were ordered into the boat, and successfully made the crossing. After this the boat was passed and repassed by means of lines, and three loads from the sledge were landed in safety. The party on shore were hauling off for a fourth when Madden, who had hold of the shore-line and stood up to his middle in water, called out that the ice was on the move, and driving offshore.

Bellot saw that if Madden held on to the line much longer he would be dragged into deep water, so he called to him to let go, which he did. Lieutenant Bellot and his two men then hauled the boat on to the sledge and ran it up to the windward side of the ice, intending to launch it at once and make for the shore. Before this could be accomplished, the ice had rapidly increased its motion and drifted so far from the shore as to make it impossible for them to reach it. Madden and Harvey, with indescribable feelings of alarm, hastened to an eminence, and for two long hours watched their comrades drifting out to sea in the teeth of a bitter breeze—amid the turbulent icebergs. As the mists and driving snow finally closed upon their view, the two men were seen standing by the sledge, Lieutenant Bellot on the top of a hummock.

Madden and Harvey descended to the shore and at once began their return journey to the ship. With very little provisions, they walked round Criffen Bay and hence to Cape Bowden, where they remained to rest. While there, great was their joy to recognize Johnson and Hook hastening toward them. The party now made for the ship, which they reached with considerable difficulty and privation. The fate of poor Lieutenant Bellot is described by William Johnson, who was with him on the ice at the time of his death.

“We got the provisions on shore on Wednesday, the 17th. After we had done that, there remained on the ice David Hook, Lieutenant Bellot, and myself, having with us the sledge, mackintosh awning, and little boat. Commenced trying to draw the boat and sledge to the southward, but found the ice driving so fast, that we left the sledge and took the boat only; but the wind was so strong at the time that it blew the boat over and over. We then took the boat with us, under shelter of a piece of ice, and Mr. Bellot and ourselves commenced cutting an ice-house with our knives for shelter. Mr. Bellot sat for half an hour in conversation with us, talking on the danger of our position. I told him I was not afraid and that the American Expedition was driven up and down this channel by the ice. He replied, ‘I know they were; and when the Lord protects us, not a hair of our heads shall be touched.’ I then asked Mr. Bellot what time it was. He said, ‘About a quarter past 8 A.M.’ (Thursday, the 18th), and then lashed his hooks, and said he would go and see how the ice was driving. He had only been gone about four minutes, when I went round the same hummock, under which we were sheltered to look for him, but could not see him; and on returning to our shelter, saw his stick on the opposite side of a crack, about five fathoms wide, and the ice all breaking up. I then called out, ‘Mr. Bellot,’ but no answer (at this time blowing very heavy). After this I again searched round, but could see nothing of him. I believe when he got from the shelter, the wind blew him into the crack, and his south-wester being tied down, he could not rise. Finding there was no hope of again seeing Lieutenant Bellot, I said to Hook, ‘I’m not afraid: I know the Lord will always sustain us.’ We commenced travelling, to try to get to Cape de Haven, or Port Phillips; and, when we got within two miles of Cape de Haven, could not get on shore, and returned for this side, endeavoring to get to the southward, as the ice was driving to the northward. We were that night and the following day in coming across, and came into the land on the eastern shore, a long way to the northward of the place where we were driven off. We got into the land at what Lieutenant Bellot told us was Point Hogarth.

“In drifting up the Straits towards the Polar Sea we saw an iceberg lying close to the shore, and found it on the ground. We succeeded in getting on it and remained for six hours. I said to David Hook, ‘Don’t be afraid, we must make a boat of a piece of ice.’ Accordingly, we got on to a piece passing, and I had a paddle belonging to the India-rubber boat. By this piece of drift ice we managed to reach the shore, and then proceeded to where the accident happened. Reached it on Friday. Could not find our shipmates, or any provisions. Went on for Cape Bowden, and reached it on Friday night.”

Poor Bellot—too brave—too young to die—beloved by comrades, mourned by the simple Eskimos he had befriended—cherished in tender memory by the nation that gave him birth and by Great Britain for whom he gave his life,—his honoured name is linked in immortality with those brave heroes of the Arctic, whose sepulchre is the frozen deep, whose monuments are the eternal snows of the Great White North.