Sledging parties of Sir Edward Belcher’s squadron.—Desertion of
the ships.—Return to England.—Story of the _Resolute_.—Traces
of Sir John Franklin discovered by Dr. Rae.—Anderson’s
journey.—The voyage of the _Fox_ under Commander
M’Clintock.—Sledge journeys.—Record and relics of Franklin’s
expedition.—_Fox_ returns to England.
[Sidenote: _CAPTAIN COLLINSON_]
The sledge parties sent out by Sir Edward Belcher’s squadron, though
numerous and extended, had succeeded in finding no trace of Franklin
or his crews; thus the winter of 1853-1854 passed. The following
April, Lieutenant Mecham found in Prince of Wales Strait and, later
on, Ramsay Island, records bearing the date of August 27, 1852, giving
full intelligence of Captain Collinson, since his separation from the
_Investigator_. All that Collinson knew of the position of M’Clure after
parting with him in 1850 in the Pacific Ocean, was a report from the
_Plover_ that the _Investigator_ had been seen, steering northward, off
Wainwright Inlet.
To verify certain rumours connected with this report, Captain Collinson
ordered a young officer, Lieutenant Barnard, and certain members of the
crew to land at a Russian settlement in northwest America. The result
was a sad tragedy; Barnard was brutally murdered by Indians in February,
1851, at a post called Darabin, near Norton Sound.
By the last of July, 1851, Collinson had rounded Point Barrow, and
had steered up Prince of Wales Strait. On Princess Royal Island,
he discovered a depot deposited by M’Clure and a cairn containing
information of the _Investigator’s_ movements up until June 15, 1851.
Collinson proceeded in exactly the course taken by the _Investigator_,
and to his surprise found at Cape Kellett, on September 3, another
record of M’Clure placed there on August 18.
Collinson now found it necessary to seek winter quarters. These he
secured toward the eastern side of the entrance to Prince of Wales Strait.
As conditions would allow, he pursued his explorations in the vicinity of
Banks Land, Albert Land, Wollaston Land, and Victoria Land, gaining much
valuable geographical information, but no trace of Franklin, except for
the finding in the possession of the Eskimos a piece of an iron doorway
or hatch frame which might have belonged to the _Erebus_ or _Terror_.
This was found at Cambridge Bay, in Wollaston Land, where Collinson
wintered in 1852-1853.
Collinson’s sledge parties explored the west side of Victoria Strait,
but, owing to lack of coal, Captain Collinson decided not to try to force
a passage through the channel, but to return the way he had come. He did
not get round Barrow Point, however, without passing a third winter in
the northern coast of America.
The best part of the summer of 1853 was passed by the _Resolute_ and
_Intrepid_ with their crews and that of the _Investigator_ shut up in the
ice at Dealy Island. Every preparation was made to advance at a moment’s
notice should the ice favour the opportunity, and at last, on the 18th
of August, they got under way, a strong gale from offshore having
disruptured the ice.
Hardly were officers and men congratulating themselves that at last they
were homeward bound, when they were arrested by the pack off Byam Martin
Channel, where they lay, unable to make Bathurst Island and thence to
Beechey Island. Winter was advancing; the situation was disheartening;
day after day passed without the prospect of escape. The men occupied
themselves with securing game, against the possible detention of
the ships for another gloomy winter. Ten thousand pounds of meat,
principally musk-ox, was obtained and frozen. By the 9th of September,
newly formed ice surrounded them in such quantities that they were fairly
beset and drifted at the mercy of the pack until the 12th of November,
when, to the joy of all, the ships were at rest at a point due east
of Winter Harbor, Melville Island, in longitude 101° W. Here the long
winter months passed slowly by, with no greater casualty than the death
of one officer, and the spring of 1854 found Captain Kellett planning to
continue the search, while M’Clure and his crew departed April 14, with
sledges, for Beechey Island.
While engaged in preparations for his proposed sledge journeys, Captain
Kellett received a communication from Sir Edward Belcher, admiral of the
squadron, suggesting that rather than run the risk of passing another
winter in the Arctic, he should abandon his ships and meet Sir Edward at
Beechey on or before August 26. To this Captain Kellett remonstrated,
stating that his ships were in a favourable situation for escape, that
the health of the crew was excellent, and they had provisions in plenty,
and that those concerned in deserting ships under such circumstances
“would deserve to have the jackets taken off their backs.” To this strong
appeal came positive orders for the abandonment of the ships.
Acting under these orders, Captain Kellett reluctantly prepared to desert
the _Resolute_ and _Intrepid_. Both ships were stored with provisions,
the engines of the _Intrepid_ put in such good order that she could be
got under steam in two hours, the hatches calked down, and notices placed
at proper points for the guidance of two sledging parties that were away
from the ships at this time. On the 15th of May, 1854, the captain and
crew said farewell to their trusty crafts and started, with sledges, for
Beechey Island, where M’Clure and his men were greatly surprised by their
arrival.
[Sidenote: _CAPTAIN BELCHER_]
Since Sir Edward Belcher had parted with Captain Kellett August 14, 1852,
parties from the _Assistance_ and _Pioneer_ had been diligently exploring
Wellington Channel. Having anchored near Cape Beecher, in latitude 76°
52´ and longitude 37° W., boat and sledge expeditions were sent northward
as early as the 23d of August. On the 25th remains of several well-built
Eskimo houses were discovered, of which, says Captain Belcher:—
“They were not simply circles of small stones, but two lines of well-laid
wall in excavated grounds, filled in between by about two feet of fine
gravel, well paved, and, withal, presenting the appearance of great
care—more, indeed, than I am willing to attribute to the rude inhabitants
of migratory Eskimos. Bones of deer, wolves, seals, etc., were numerous,
and coal was found.”
New lands discovered were given the names of North Cornwall, Victoria
Archipelago, and to an island of this group forming a channel to the
Polar Sea was given the name of North Kent.
Other sledging parties intended for the search of the northeast
section left the ship May 2, 1853, and soon reached the limit of their
discoveries the previous year.
Belcher reached Cape Disraeli, an elevation of six hundred and eighty
feet above the sea, and later made his way to the entrance of Jones
Channel, where he had an extended view of successive beetling headlands
on either side of the channel. The roughness of the frozen pack compelled
the party to take to the land, but progress was again impeded by an
abrupt glacier. Other attempts to continue the land journey proved
futile, and by the 20th of May the party could advance no farther.
Of the return journey Belcher writes:—
“Our progress was tantalizing and attended with deep interest and
excitement. In the first place, I discovered, on the brow of a mountain
about eight hundred feet above the sea, what appeared to be a recent and
a very workmanlike structure. This was a dome,—or rather, a double cone,
or ice-house,—built of very heavy and tubular slabs, which no single
person could carry. It consisted of about forty courses, eight feet in
diameter, and eight feet in depth, when cleared, but only five in height
from the base of the upper cone as we opened it.
“Most carefully was every stone removed, every atom of moss or earth
scrutinized; the stones at the bottom also taken up; but without finding
a trace of any record, or of the structure having been used by any human
being. It was filled by drift snow, but did not in any respect bear the
appearance of having been built more than a season. This was named ‘Mount
Discovery.’”
A little later he writes:—
“Leaving our crew, pretty well fatigued, to pitch the tent and prepare
the customary pemmican meal, I ascended the mountain above us, and
discovered that we really were not far from our old position of last
year, on Cape Hogarth, and had Cape Majendie and Hamilton Island to the
west, about twenty miles.
“My surprise, however, was checked suddenly by two structures rather in
European form, and apparently graves; each was similarly constructed;
and, like the dome, of large selected slabs, having at each end three
separate stones, laid as we should place head and foot stones. So
thoroughly satisfied was I that there was no delusion, I desisted
from disturbing a stone until it should be formally done by the party
assembled.
“The evening following—for where the sun is so oppressive to the eyes by
day we travel by night—we ascended the hill, and removed the stones. Not
a trace of human beings!”
[Sidenote: _DESERTION OF THE SHIPS_]
After a second winter (1853-1854) spent at the southern horn of Baring
Bay, Sir Edward Belcher turned his entire exertions to getting his crews
safely back to England. The _Assistance_ and _Pioneer_ were released
from their winter quarters August 6, 1854, and proceeded slowly down
the channel. The ice had broken up in Barrow Strait, and by August 22
the floe in Wellington Channel was open for fifteen miles north of the
strait. There was only a belt some twenty miles in extent, and this much
cracked, remaining between the ships and the water communicating with
the Atlantic Ocean. In spite of these favourable conditions, Sir Edward
Belcher and his crews deserted the _Assistance_ and _Pioneer_ on August
26, 1854, and made their way to the place of rendezvous at Beechey Island.
The _North Star_ accordingly set sail with all the officers and men of
the _Assistance_, _Pioneer_, _Resolute_, _Intrepid_, and _Investigator_,
but meeting the _Phœnix_ and _Talbot_, under Captain Inglefield (who had
again returned to the search), a distribution of the crews was made among
the three vessels, and on the 28th of September, 1854, all were safely
landed in England.
The report of five ships deserted in the Arctic regions, and no tidings
of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_, gave rise to the court-martial of Sir
Edward Belcher and his officers, all of whom, with the exception of Sir
Edward, were honourably acquitted, as a matter of course, in consequence
of their having acted under orders, and their swords were returned
to them with very flattering expressions of approbation. Sir Edward
Belcher was also acquitted, but was reproved for not having consulted
sufficiently with his officers, and his sword was returned to him in
significant silence.
The British government now decided to abandon the search for Sir John
Franklin, and his name was erased from the books of the Admiralty,—a sad
token that all hope of his return was gone forever.
A strange and romantic chapter in the history of Sir Edward Belcher’s
squadron was added in the month of September, 1855. The whaler, _George
Henry_, Captain Buddington, hailing from New London, Connecticut, was
beset by ice in Baffin Bay. On looking through his glass one morning,
Captain Buddington saw a large ship fifteen or twenty miles away, working
her way slowly toward him. For several days he watched her gradually
approach, and on the seventh day, the mate, Mr. Quail, and three men were
sent out to find out what she was.
[Sidenote: _STORY OF THE RESOLUTE_]
“After a hard day’s journey over the ice,—jumping from piece to piece,
and pushing themselves along on isolated cakes, they were near enough
to see that she was lying on her larboard side, firmly imbedded in the
ice. They shouted lustily as soon as they got within hailing distance;
but there was no answer. Not a soul was to be seen. For one moment, as
they came alongside, the men faltered, with a superstitious feeling,
and hesitated to go on board. A moment after, they had climbed over the
broken ice, and stood on deck. Everything was stowed away in order—spars
hauled up and lashed to one side, boats piled together, hatches calked
down. Over the helm, in letters of brass, was inscribed the motto,
‘England expects every man to do his duty.’ But there was no man to heed
the warning.”
[Illustration: NIPPED IN THE ICE]
The whalemen broke open the companionway, and descended into the cabin.
All was silence and darkness. Groping their way to the table, they
found matches and candles, and struck a light. There were decanters and
glasses on the table, chairs and lounges standing around, books scattered
about—everything just as it had been last used. Looking curiously from
one thing to another, wondering what this deserted ship might be, at
last they came upon the log-book. It was indorsed, “_Bark Resolute_, 1st
September, 1853, to April, 1854.” One entry was as follows: “H. M. S.
_Resolute_, 17th January, 1854, nine A.M. Mustered by divisions. People
taking exercise on deck. Five P.M. Mercury frozen.”
At last the _Resolute_ had broken her icy bonds and was free. While the
Yankee whalemen were examining her, a gale started up and night came on;
for two days these four men remained aboard her. By the 19th of September
they had returned to their own ship and told their story.
For ten days these two ships had gradually neared one another, and on
the 19th Captain Buddington was able to board the _Resolute_ himself and
carefully note her condition. Her hold was pretty well filled with ice,
and her tanks had burst from the extreme cold, filling her full of water
almost to the lower deck.
“Everything that could move from its place had moved. Everything between
decks was wet; everything that would mould was mouldy. ‘A sort of
perspiration’ had settled on the beams and ceilings. The whalemen made
a fire in Kellett’s stove, and soon started a sort of shower from the
vapor with which it filled the air. The _Resolute_ had, however, four
force pumps. For three days the Captain and six men worked fourteen hours
a day on one of these, and had the pleasure of finding that they freed
her of water,—that she was tight still. They cut away upon the masses
of ice; and on the 23d of September, in the evening, she freed herself
from her encumbrances, and took an even keel. This was off the west shore
of Baffin’s Bay, in latitude 67°. On the shortest tack, she was twelve
hundred miles from where Kellett left her.
“There was work enough still to be done. The rudder was to be shipped,
and rigging to be made taut, sail to be set.”
In another week she was ready to make sail—and though both the whaler and
_Resolute_ still drifted in the ice-pack, Captain Buddington resolved
to bring her home; however, by October 21, after a gale, the _Resolute_
was free. Ten men were selected from the _George Henry_, and with rough
tracings of the American coast, his lever watch and quadrant for his
instruments, Captain Buddington undertook a perilous and remarkable
journey. The ship’s ballast was gone, she was top-heavy and undermanned.
Heavy gales and head winds drove them as far as the Bermudas. The water
left in the ship’s tanks was brackish—and the men suffered from thirst.
“For sixty hours at a time,” says Captain Buddington, “I frequently had
no sleep.”
In the meantime, he had communicated with an English whaling bark, and by
her sent to Captain Kellett his epaulets and word to his owners that he
was coming.
On Sunday morning, December 24, with the British ensign flying from her
shorn masts, the _Resolute_ anchored opposite New London. It will be
remembered that Great Britain generously released all claims in favour
of the sailors, and that Congress resolved to purchase the vessel and
restore it as a gift to England. The _Resolute_ was taken to a dry dock
in Brooklyn, and there put in complete repair. Everything on board,
even the smallest article, was placed in its original position, and at
last when this work was completed, she was manned and officered by the
United States Navy, and with sails all set and streamers all flying
started for England. On December 12, 1856, after a tempestuous voyage,
she anchored at Spithead, flying the British and United States ensigns.
After an enthusiastic welcome, the _Resolute_, with an escort of two
other steamers, was taken to Cowes, near Queen Victoria’s private palace.
December 16, the Queen, accompanied by Prince Albert, the Prince of
Wales, and a distinguished suite, paid an official visit to the American
officers on board ship.
The next morning she was towed up to the harbour of Portsmouth, escorted
by the steam frigate _Retribution_, and, on arriving at her anchorage,
was received with a royal salute, and such an outburst of popular
applause as was never known before.
On the 30th of December, 1856, the American flag was hauled down on board
the _Resolute_, amid a salute from the _Victory_ of twenty-one guns. The
Union Jack was hoisted up, and the formal transfer of the _Resolute_ to
the British authorities was completed. The following day the American
officers and crew left England for the United States.
[Sidenote: _TRACES OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN_]
Though the fate of Sir John Franklin was still a mystery, news of a
melancholy character had reached England through the _Montreal Herald_
of October 21, 1854, in which a letter was published written by Dr.
Rae of York Factory, August 4 of the same year, and addressed to the
governor of the Hudson Bay Company. August 15, 1853, Rae had reached
his old quarters at Repulse Bay, where he wintered; the end of the
following March he undertook his spring journey. At Pelly Bay he fell in
with Eskimos from whom he secured several articles that he recognized
as belonging to various members of Sir John Franklin’s expedition. “On
the morning of the 20th” (April), he writes in his journal, “we were met
by a very intelligent Eskimo driving a dog-sledge laden with musk-ox
beef. This man at once consented to accompany us two days’ journey, and
in a few minutes had deposited his load on the snow, and was ready to
join us. Having explained to him my object, he said that the road by
which he had come was the best for us; and, having lightened the men’s
sledges, we travelled with more facility. We were now joined by another
of the natives, who had been absent seal-hunting yesterday; but, being
anxious to see us, had visited our snow-house early this morning, and
then followed up our track. This man was very communicative and, on
putting to him the usual questions as to his having seen ‘white man’
before, or any ships or boats, he replied in the negative; but said that
a party of ‘Kabloomans’ had died of starvation a long distance to the
west of where we then were, and beyond a large river. He stated that he
did not know the exact place, that he never had been there, and that he
could not accompany us so far. The substance of the information then and
subsequently obtained from various sources was to the following effect:—
“In the spring, four winters past (1850), while some Eskimo families
were killing seals near the north shore of a large island, named in
Arrowsmith’s charts King William’s Land, about forty white men were
seen travelling in company southward over the ice, and dragging a boat
and sledges with them. They were passing along the west shore of the
above-named island. None of the party could speak the Eskimo language so
well as to be understood, but by signs the natives were led to believe
that the ship or ships had been crushed by ice, and they were now going
to where they expected to find deer to shoot. From the appearance of the
men—all of whom, with the exception of an officer, were hauling on the
drag-ropes of the sledge, and looked thin—they were then supposed to be
getting short of provisions; and they purchased a small seal, or piece of
seal, from the natives. The officer was described as being a tall, stout,
middle-aged man. When their day’s journey terminated, they pitched tents
to rest in.
“At a later date, the same season, but previous to the disruption of the
ice, the corpses of some thirty persons and some graves were discovered
on the continent, and five dead bodies on an island near it, about a
long day’s journey to the northwest of the mouth of a large stream,
which can be no other than Back’s Great Fish River (named by the Eskimos
Oot-doo-hi-ca-lik), as its description and that of the low shore in the
neighborhood of Point Ogle and Montreal Island agree exactly with that
of Sir George Back. Some of the bodies were in a tent, or tents; others
were under the boat, which had been turned over to form a shelter; and
some lay scattered about in different directions. Of those seen on the
island, it was supposed that one was that of an officer (chief), as he
had a telescope strapped over his shoulders, and a double-barrelled gun
lay underneath him.
“From the mutilated state of many of the bodies and the contents of the
kettles, it is evident that our wretched countrymen had been driven to
the dread alternative of cannibalism as a means of sustaining life. A
few of the unfortunate men must have survived until the arrival of the
wild-fowl (say until the end of May), as shots were heard, and fresh
bones and feathers of geese were noticed near the scene of the sad event.
“There appears to have been an abundant store of ammunition, as the
gunpowder was emptied by the natives in a heap on the ground out of the
kegs or cases containing it, and a quantity of shot and ball was found
below high-water mark, having probably been left on the ice close to
the beach before the spring commenced. There must have been a number of
telescopes, guns (several of them double-barrelled), watches, compasses,
etc., all of which seem to have been broken up, as I saw pieces of these
different articles with the natives, and I purchased as many as possible,
together with some silver spoons and forks, an Order of Merit in the form
of a star, and a small silver plate engraved ‘Sir John Franklin, K.C.B.’”
Following closely upon the return of Dr. Rae to England, a land journey
was undertaken by Mr. James Anderson of the Hudson Bay Company to follow
up the trail. He descended the Great Fish River in June, 1855, and at
the rapids below Lake Franklin, three Eskimo huts were seen and various
articles were found which the Eskimos claimed were obtained from a boat
owned by white men who had died of starvation. These articles consisted
of tent-poles, paddles, copper and sheet-iron boilers, tin soup tureens,
and tools of various kinds.
Anderson pushed on to Point Beaufort, and finally reached Montreal
Island. There other articles were found, such as chain, hooks, tools,
rope, bunting; the name “Mr. Stanley” (surgeon of the _Erebus_) was
rudely carved on a stick, and a piece of board had on it _Terror_. No
signs of human remains were found, however. After a search at Point Ogle,
where similar articles were found, Anderson’s party returned home.
Though the British government no longer desired to pursue the search,
Lady Franklin, whose remarkable tenacity of purpose and loyal devotion
had awakened so much admiration and respect, decided to expend the last
remnant of her fortune to outfit the small screw steamer _Fox_ under the
able direction of the gallant M’Clintock, aided by Lieutenant Hobson,
and send it to solve the mystery that still clung about the fate of her
beloved husband.
At first it seemed as if all the elements had conspired to make this
expedition a failure, for in the summer of 1857 the _Fox_ found herself
drifting at the mercy of the ice off Melville Bay, and after a dreary
winter the pack had carried her nearly twelve hundred geographical miles
in the Atlantic. Not until April 25, 1858, did the _Fox_ get free, and
then, securing such stores and provisions as could be procured at the
small Danish settlement of Holstenburg, she sailed into Barrow Strait.
Early the following spring parties under M’Clintock and Lieutenant Hobson
undertook two sledge journeys. At Cape Victoria on the southwest coast
of Boothia, they fell in with Eskimos, who informed them that some years
back a large ship had been crushed in the ice out in the sea west of King
William Land.
On April 20, they again met these same Eskimos, who informed them with
great reluctance that a second ship had been forced on shore, where they
supposed she still remained, but much broken. They added that it was in
the fall of the year, that is, August or September, when the ships were
destroyed; that all the white people landed safely and went away to the
Great Fish River, taking a boat or boats with them. The following year
their bones were found upon the trail. M’Clintock and Hobson separated
upon reaching Cape Victoria, and the former took up the search of the
east coast in a southerly direction, while Hobson made a diligent
examination of the western coast.
[Sidenote: _THE FOX’S VOYAGE UNDER M’CLINTOCK_]
On May 7, 1859, M’Clintock writes:—
“To avoid snow-blindness, we commenced night marching. Crossing over from
Malty Island towards the King William Land shore, we continued our march
southward until midnight, when we had the good fortune to arrive at an
inhabited snow-village. We found here ten or twelve huts and thirty or
forty natives of King William Island; I do not think any of them had ever
seen white people alive before, but they evidently knew us to be friends.
We halted at a little distance, and pitched our tent, the better to
secure small articles from being stolen whilst we bartered with them.
“I purchased from them six pieces of silver plate, bearing the crests or
initials of Franklin, Crozier, Fairholme, and McDonald; they also sold us
bows and arrows of English woods, uniform and other buttons, and offered
us a heavy sledge made of two short stout pieces of curved wood, which no
mere boat could have furnished them with, but this, of course, we could
not take away; the silver spoons and forks were readily sold for four
needles each.
“Having obtained all the relics they possessed,” continues M’Clintock, “I
purchased some seal’s flesh, blubber, frozen venison, dried and frozen
salmon, and sold some of my puppies. They told us it was five days’
journey to the wreck, one day up the inlet still in sight, and four days
overland; this would carry them to the western coast of King William
Land; they added that but little now remained of the wreck which was
accessible, their countrymen having carried almost everything away. In
answer to an inquiry, they said she was without masts; the question gave
rise to some laughter amongst them, and they spoke to each other about
fire, from which Peterson thought they had burnt the masts through close
to the deck in order to get them down.
“There had been _many books_, they said, but all have long ago been
destroyed by the weather; the ship was forced on shore in the fall of
the year by the ice. She had not been visited during the past winter,
and an old woman and a boy were shown to us who were the last to visit
the wreck; they said they had been at it during the winter of 1857-1858.
Peterson questioned the woman closely, and she seemed anxious to give all
the information in her power. She said many of the white men dropped by
the way as they went to the Great River; that some were buried and some
were not; they did not themselves witness this; but discovered their
bodies during the winter following.
“We could not arrive at any approximation of the numbers of the white
men nor of the years elapsed since they were lost. This was all the
information we could obtain.”
Visiting the shore along which the retreating crews must have marched, he
came shortly after midnight May 24, when slowly walking along a gravel
ridge near the beach which the winds kept partially bare of snow, upon
a human skeleton, partly exposed, with here and there a few fragments
of clothing appearing through the snow. “The skeleton—now perfectly
bleached—was lying upon its face, the limbs and smaller bones either
dissevered or gnawed away by small animals.”
“A most careful examination of the spot,” writes M’Clintock, “was, of
course, made, the snow removed, and every scrap of clothing gathered
up. A pocket-book afforded strong grounds of hope that some information
might be subsequently obtained respecting the unfortunate owner and the
calamitous march of the lost crews, but at the time it was frozen hard.
The substance of that which we gleaned upon the spot may thus be summed
up:—
“This victim was a young man slightly built, and perhaps above the common
height; the dress appeared to be that of a steward or officer’s servant,
the loose bow-knot in which his neck-handkerchief was tied not being
used by seamen or officers. In every particular the dress confirmed our
conjectures as to his rank or office in the late expedition,—the blue
jacket with slashed sleeves and braided edging, and the pilot-cloth
great-coat with plain covered buttons. We found, also, a clothes-brush
near, and a horn pocket-comb. This poor man seems to have selected the
bare ridge top, as affording the least tiresome walking, and to have
fallen upon his face in the position in which we found him. It was a
melancholy truth that the old woman spoke when she said ‘they fell down
and died as they walked along.’”
At Cape Herschel a cairn was found all but demolished by the natives, and
greatly to the disappointment of M’Clintock no record of any kind was
discovered.
“I noticed with great care,” he writes, “the appearance of the stones,
and came to the conclusion that the cairn itself was of old date, and
had been erected many years ago, and that it was reduced to the state
in which we found it by people having broken down one side of it; the
displaced stones, from being turned over, looking far more fresh than
those in that portion of the cairn which had been left standing. It
was with a feeling of deep regret and much disappointment that I left
this spot without finding some certain record of those martyrs to their
country’s fame. Perhaps in all the wide world there will be few spots
more hallowed in the recollection of English seamen than this cairn on
Cape Herschel.
“A few miles beyond Cape Herschel the land becomes very low; many
islets and shingle-ridges lie far off the coast; and as we advanced we
met with hummocks of unusually heavy ice, showing plainly that we were
now travelling upon a far more exposed part of the coast-line. We were
approaching a spot where a revelation of intense interest was awaiting me.
“About twelve miles from Cape Herschel I found a small cairn built by
Hobson’s party, containing a note for me. He had reached this his extreme
point, six days previously, without having seen anything of the wreck,
or of natives, but he had found a record—the record so ardently sought
for—of the Franklin expedition—at Point Victory, on the northwest coast
of King William Land. That record is indeed a sad and touching relic
of our lost friends, and, to simplify its contents, I will point out
separately the double story it so briefly tells.
“In the first place, the record paper was one of the printed forms
usually supplied to discovery ships for the purpose of being enclosed in
bottles and thrown overboard at sea, in order to ascertain the set of the
currents, blanks being left for the date and position; any person finding
one of these records is requested to forward it to the Secretary of the
Admiralty, with a note of time and place; and this request is printed
upon it in six different languages. Upon it was written, apparently by
Lieutenant Gore, as follows:—
“‘28 of May, 1847
“‘H. M. ships _Erebus_ and _Terror_ wintered in the ice in lat.
70° 05´ N.; long. 98° 23´ W.
“‘Having wintered in 1846-7, at Beechey Island, in lat. 74°
43´ 28´´ N., long. 91° 39´ 15´´ W., after having ascended
Wellington Channel to lat. 77° and returned by the west side of
Cornwallis Island.
“‘Sir John Franklin commanding the expedition.
“‘All well.
“‘Party consisting of 2 officers and 6 men left the ships on
Monday, 24th May, 1847.
“‘Gm. Gore, Lieut.
”‘Chas. F. Des Vœux, Mate.’
“There is an error in the above document, namely, that the _Erebus_ and
_Terror_ wintered at Beechey Island in 1846-7, the correct dates should
have been 1845-6; a glance at the date at the top and bottom of the
record proves this, but in all other respects the tale is told in as few
words as possible, of their wonderful success up to that date, May, 1847.
“We find that after the last intelligence of Sir John Franklin was
received by us (bearing date of July, 1845), from the whalers in Melville
Bay, that his expedition passed on to Lancaster Sound, and entered
Wellington Channel, of which the southern entrance had been discovered
by Sir Edward Parry in 1819. The _Erebus_ and _Terror_ sailed up that
strait for one hundred and fifty miles, and reached in the autumn of
1845 the same latitude as was attained eight years subsequently by H. M.
S. _Assistance_ and _Pioneer_. Whether Franklin intended to pursue this
northern course, and was only stopped by ice in that latitude of 77°
north, or purposely relinquished a route which seemed to lead away from
the known seas off the coast of America, must be a matter of opinion;
but this document assures us that Sir John Franklin’s expedition,
having accomplished this examination, returned southward from latitude
77° north, which is at the head of Wellington Channel, and re-entered
Barrow’s Strait by a new channel between Bathhurst and Cornwallis Islands.
“Seldom has such success been accorded to an Arctic navigator in a single
season, and when the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were secured at Beechey Island
for the coming winter of 1845-6, the results of their first year’s labor
must have been most cheering. These results were the exploration of
Wellington and Queen’s Channel, and the addition to our charts of the
extensive lands on either hand. In 1846, they proceeded to the southwest,
and eventually reached within twelve miles of the north extreme of King
William Land, when their progress was arrested by the approaching winter
of 1846-7. That winter appears to have passed without any serious loss
of life, and when in the spring, Lieutenant Gore leaves with a party
for some especial purpose, and very probably to connect the unknown
coast-line of King William Land between Point Victory and Cape Herschel,
those on board the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were ‘all well,’ and the gallant
Franklin still commanded.
[Illustration: SIR JOHN FRANKLIN’S RECORD]
[Sidenote: _RECORD OF FRANKLIN’S EXPEDITION_]
“But, alas! round the margin of the paper upon which Lieutenant Gore in
1847 wrote those words of hope and promise, another hand had subsequently
written the following words:—
“‘April 25, 1848.—H. M. ships _Terror_ and _Erebus_ were
deserted on the 22d April, 5 leagues N.N.W. of this, having
been beset since 12th September, 1846. The officers and crews,
consisting of 105 souls, under the command of Captain F. R.
M. Crozier, landed here in lat. 69° 37´ 42´´ N., long. 98°
41´ W. Sir John Franklin died on the 11th June, 1847; and the
total loss by deaths in the expedition has been to this date 9
officers and 15 men.
“‘(Signed)
“‘F. R. M. Crozier, Captain and Senior Officer,
“‘James Fitzjames, Captain H. M. S. Erebus,
“‘and start (on) tomorrow, 26th for Back’s Fish River.’
“This marginal information was evidently written by Captain Fitzjames,
excepting only the note stating when and where they were going, which was
added by Captain Crozier.
“There is some additional marginal information relative to the transfer
of the document to its present position (viz. the site of Sir James
Ross’s pillar) from a spot four miles to the northward near Point
Victory, where it had been originally deposited by the _late_ Commander
Gore. This little word _late_ shows that he, too, within the twelvemonth
had passed away.
“In the short space of twelve months, how mournful had become the history
of Franklin’s expedition; how changed from the cheerful ‘All well’ of
Graham Gore! The spring of 1847 found them within 90 miles of the known
sea off the coast of America; and to men who had already in two seasons
sailed over 500 miles of previously unexplored waters, how confident
must they have felt that that forthcoming navigable season of 1847
would see their ships pass over so short an intervening space! It was
ruled otherwise. Within a month after Lieutenant Gore placed the record
on Point Victory, the much-loved leader of the expedition, Sir John
Franklin, was dead; and the following spring found Captain Crozier, upon
whom the command had devolved at King William Land, endeavoring to save
his starving men, 105 souls in all, from a terrible death by retreating
to Hudson Bay territories up the Back or Great Fish River.
“A sadder tale was never told in fewer words. There is something deeply
touching in their extreme simplicity, and they show in the strongest
manner that both the leaders in this retreating party were actuated by
the loftiest sense of duty and met with calmness and decision the fearful
alternative of a last bold struggle for life, rather than perish without
effort on board their ships; for we well know that the _Erebus_ and
_Terror_ were only provisioned up to July, 1848.”
M’Clintock’s party were now running short of provisions, but the finding
of such important relics determined the leader to pursue the search to
the uttermost limits of his powers.
On May 30 he writes: “We encamped alongside a large boat—another
melancholy relic which Hobson had found and examined a few days before,
as his note left here informed me; but he had failed to discover record,
journal, pocket-book, or memorandum of any description. A vast quantity
of tattered clothing was lying in her, and this we first examined. Not a
single article bore the name of its former owner. The boat was cleared
out and carefully swept that nothing might escape us. The snow was then
removed from about her, but nothing whatever was found.”
[Sidenote: _SLEDGE JOURNEYS_]
After a detailed description of this boat, its weight, construction, and
marks, etc., M’Clintock continues:—
“But all these were after observations; there was that in the boat which
transfixed us with awe. It was portions of two human skeletons. One was
that of a slight young person; the other of a large, strongly made,
middle-aged man. The former was found in the bow of the boat, but in too
much disturbed a state to enable Hobson to judge whether the sufferer had
died there; large and powerful animals, probably wolves, had destroyed
much of this skeleton, which may have been that of an officer. Near it
we found the fragments of a pair of worked slippers, of which I give the
pattern, as they may possibly be identified. The lines were white, with a
black margin; the spaces white, red, and yellow. They had originally been
11 inches long, lined with calf-skin with the hair left on, and the edges
bound with red silk ribbon. Besides these slippers there were a pair of
small strong shooting half-boots.
“The other skeleton was in somewhat more perfect state, and was
enveloped with clothes and furs; it lay across the boat, under the
after-thwart. Close beside it were found five watches; and there were
two double-barrelled guns—one barrel in each loaded and cocked—standing
muzzle upwards against the boat’s side. It may be imagined with what
deep interest these sad relics were scrutinized, and how anxiously
every fragment of clothing was turned over in search of pockets and
pocket-books, journals, or even names. Five or six small books were
found, all of them scriptural or devotional works, except the ‘Vicar of
Wakefield.’ One little book, ‘Christian Melodies,’ bore an inscription
upon the title page from the donor to G. G. (Graham Gore?). A small Bible
contained numerous marginal notes, and whole passages underlined. Besides
these books, the covers of a New Testament and Prayerbook were found.
“Quantities of clothing and other articles were of one description
and another truly astonishing in variety and such as, for the most
part, modern sledge-travellers in these regions would consider a mere
accumulation of dead weight.”
The only provisions that were discovered were a little tea and nearly
forty pounds of chocolate; a small portion of tobacco was also found.
The position of the abandoned boat was about fifty miles as a sledge
would travel from Point Victory, and therefore sixty-five miles from
the position of the ships, also seventy miles from the skeleton of the
steward, and one hundred and fifty miles from Montreal Island. “A little
reflection,” writes M’Clintock, “led me to satisfy my own mind at least,
that the boat was returning to the ships; and in no other way can I
account for two men having been left in her, than by supposing the party
were unable to drag the boat further, and that these two men, not being
able to keep pace with their shipmates, were therefore left by them
supplied with such provisions as could be spared to last until the return
of the others from the ship with a fresh stock.
“Whether it was the intention of the retroceding party to await the
result of another season in the ships, or to follow the track of the
main body to the Great Fish River, is now a matter of conjecture. It
seems highly probable that they had purposed revisiting the boat, not
only on account of the two men left in charge of it, but also to obtain
the chocolate, the five watches, and many other articles which would
otherwise scarcely have been left in her.
“The same reasons which may be assigned for the return of this detachment
from the main body, will also serve to account for their not having
come back to their boat. In both instances they appear to have greatly
overrated their strength, and the distance they could travel in a given
time.
“Taking this view of the case, we can understand why their provisions
would not last them for anything like the distance they required to
travel, and why they would be obliged to send back to the ships for more,
first taking from the detached party all provisions they could possibly
spare. Whether all or any of the remainder of this detached party ever
reached their ships is uncertain; all we know is, that they did not
revisit the boat, which accounts for the absence of more skeletons in its
neighborhood; and the Esquimos report that there was no one alive in the
ship when she drifted on shore, and that but one human body was found by
them on board of her.
“After leaving the boat we followed an irregular coast-line to the N.
and N.W., up to a very prominent cape, which is probably the extreme of
land seen from Point Victory by Sir James Ross, and named by him Point
Franklin, which name, as a cape, it still retains.”
“I need hardly say,” concludes M’Clintock, “that throughout the whole of
my journey along the shores of King William Land I caused a most vigilant
lookout to be kept to seaward for any appearance of the stranded ship
spoken of by the natives; our search was, however, fruitless in that
respect.”
Of Lieutenant Hobson’s most careful and thorough search, M’Clintock
writes: “He exercised his discretionary power with sound judgment, and
completed his search so well, that in coming over the same ground after
him, I could not discover any trace that had escaped him.”
On the 19th of June, M’Clintock once more reached the _Fox_, where he
found Hobson, who had preceded him by five days, sick and unable to walk,
having been dragged upon the sledge for the best part of his return
journey.
A third sledging party under Captain Young, which had left the 7th of
April, was still in the field, and M’Clintock began to feel so great
anxiety for their safety that by the 25th of June he set out with four
men to search for them. “On the 27th,” he writes, “I sent three of the
men back to the ship, and with Thompson and the dogs went on to Pemmican
Rock, where, to our great joy, we happily met Young and his party, who
had but just returned there, after a long and successful journey.”
It may be briefly stated that Young was in the field seventy-eight days
under most trying circumstances. Crossing Franklin Strait to Prince of
Wales Land, he traced its shores to its southern termination at Cape
Swinburne. He failed in an attempt to cross M’Clintock Channel, owing to
the rough ice, but he completed the explorations of this coast beyond
Osborn’s farthest to nearly 73° N., also exploring both shores of
Franklin Strait between the _Fox_ and Ross’s farthest in 1849 and Brown’s
in 1851.
The return of the _Fox_ to England was not accomplished without
difficulty, owing to the death of the engineer, which obliged M’Clintock
to stand by the engine no less than twenty-four consecutive hours, on one
occasion. However, they reached Portsmouth, September 24, 1859.
“The relics we have brought home,” writes Captain M’Clintock, in
conclusion, “have been deposited by the Admiralty in the United Service
Institution, and now form a national memento—the most simple and most
touching—of those heroic men who perished in the path of duty, but not
until they had achieved the grand object of their voyage,—the Discovery
of the North-West Passage.”