FRANKLIN’S LAST VOYAGE
The failure of Back’s expedition in the _Terror_ to accomplish
anything of importance proved so discouraging to the Government that,
for a while, they desisted from any further attempts to discover
the North-West Passage, and turned their attention to the Antarctic
instead. The brilliant success of Dease and Simpson’s journey along
the shores of the Polar Sea, however, had the effect of giving a
fresh impetus to the public interest in Arctic exploration; so,
when the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ returned from their voyage to the
Antarctic, the authorities listened favourably to the representations
of the Royal Geographical Society and of a number of men of science
who were interested in the work, and decided to fit them out again
for an expedition to the Polar seas.
For the last seven years Franklin had been acting as Governor of
Tasmania, but he returned at about the time when the new expedition
was under discussion, and it was naturally felt that, as senior
Arctic explorer, he ought to be given the command. Lord Haddington,
then first Lord of the Admiralty, was at first rather chary of
offering it to him, thinking that, after his long and brilliant
career, he might well wish to spend the rest of his days in peace at
home. “I might find a good excuse for not letting you go, Sir John,”
he said, “in the rumour that tells me you are sixty years of age.”
“No, no, my lord,” exclaimed Franklin, “I am only fifty-nine!” So to
everyone’s delight the appointment was duly made.
The _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were fitted out for the service with all
the most modern appliances. Provided as they were with engines of
twenty horse-power and auxiliary screws, they were the first Arctic
vessels to put the discovery of steam to practical use, for the
engines of the _Victory_, as we have seen, were so crude that they
had to be discarded. Naturally enough the authorities were flooded
with applications for appointments to the ships, and they were able,
in consequence, to select some of the most able officers in the navy
for the service, among them being Commander Fitzjames, who had been
through the China War; Crozier and Graham Gore, who had served under
Parry and Ross; Fairholme, Hodgson, and Des Vœux.
Franklin’s official instructions were to pass through Lancaster Sound
with all possible despatch, wasting no time in examining openings to
the northward, and, after reaching Cape Walker, to turn southward and
eastward with a view to finding his way to Behring Strait. Should
neither of these two routes prove practicable, he was to go northward
up Wellington Channel in the second summer.
The two ships sailed from the Thames on May 19, 1845, and were soon
well on their way up Baffin Bay. Most of what we know of the early
part of the voyage we owe to Commander Fitzjames, a delightful
correspondent, who, in a series of letters to Mrs Coningham, gave
some character sketches of his companions which are well worth
preserving. Here is a passage which refers to Franklin. “I like a man
who is in earnest. Sir John Franklin read the church service to-day,
and a sermon, so very beautifully that I defy any man not to feel the
force of what he would convey. The first Sunday he read was a day or
two before we sailed, when Lady Franklin, his daughter, and niece
attended. Everyone was struck with his extreme earnestness of manner,
evidently proceeding from real conviction.... We are very fond of
Sir John Franklin, who improves very much as we come to know more of
him. He is anything but nervous or fidgety; in fact, I should say
remarkable for energetic decision in sudden emergencies, but I should
think he might be easily persuaded where he has not already formed a
strong opinion.”
Here is a note on the purser. “I have just had a game of chess with
the purser, Osmer, who is delightful.... I was at first inclined
to think that he was a stupid old man, because he had a chin and
took snuff; but he is as merry-hearted as any young man, full of
quaint, dry sayings, always good-humoured, always laughing, never a
bore, takes his pinch after dinner, plays a rubber, and beats me at
chess—and he is a gentleman.”
The subject of the next sketch to be quoted is Harry Goodsir, the
assistant-surgeon of the _Erebus_, who, though still young, was
already well known as a naturalist of more than ordinary ability.
Before taking up his appointment to the expedition he had been
curator of the Edinburgh museum. “I can’t make out,” says Fitzjames,
“why Scotchmen just caught always speak in a low, hesitating,
monotonous tone of voice, which is not at all times to be understood;
this is, I believe, called ‘cannyness.’ Mr Goodsir is ‘canny.’ He
is long and straight, and walks upright on his toes, with his hands
tucked up in each jacket pocket. He is perfectly good-humoured, very
well informed on general points, in natural history learned, was
curator of the Edinburgh museum, appears to be about twenty-eight
years of age, laughs delightfully, cannot be in a passion, is
enthusiastic about all ’ologies, draws the insides of microscopic
animals with an imaginary pointed pencil, catches phenomena in a
bucket, looks at the thermometer and every other meter, is a pleasant
companion and an acquisition to the mess.”
Crouch, the mate, “is a little black-haired, smooth-faced fellow,
good-humoured in his own way; writes, reads, works, draws, all
quietly; is never in the way of anybody, and always ready when
wanted; but I can find no remarkable point in his character, except,
perhaps, that he is, I should think, obstinate. Stanley, the surgeon,
... is rather inclined to be good-looking, but fat, with jet-black
hair, very white hands, which are always abominably clean, and
the shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he
would not mind cutting off one’s leg immediately—if not sooner.”
Graham Gore, the first lieutenant, is “a man of great stability of
character, a very good officer and the sweetest of tempers. He plays
the flute dreadfully well, draws sometimes very well and sometimes
very badly, but is altogether a capital fellow.”
The expedition was probably the happiest and the most united that
ever set out from England, and some of Sir John’s kindly spirit seems
to have been infused into all the members of the party. As an example
of the good feeling which pervaded the whole crew, a little story
concerning Osmer, the purser, may be quoted from Fitzjames’s diary.
It occurred when the ships were off the Danish settlement of Disco, a
spot where the scenery is grand but unutterably bleak and desolate.
Fitzjames happened to go on deck at midnight, and there he found
Osmer indulging in a little _pas-seul_. “What a happy fellow you
are!” exclaimed Fitzjames, “always in a good humour.” “Well, sir,”
said the purser, “if I am not happy here, I don’t know where else I
could be.”
The first few days of July were spent off Disco, taking in supplies
and generally making the last preparations for the Arctic journey.
At this time the prospects of success seemed to be unusually bright.
The season at Disco was the mildest and earliest ever known, and, in
their last letters home, the officers asked their relations, in jest,
to address their future correspondence to Petropaulovski, a seaport
beyond the Behring Strait, on the coast of Asiatic Russia.
There is a passage in one of these letters, written by Lieutenant
Fairholme, which we cannot refrain from quoting, as it forms the last
tribute to Franklin that was penned during his life. “On board,” it
runs, “we are as comfortable as it is possible to be. I need hardly
tell you how much we are all delighted with our captain. He has, I
am sure, won not only the respect, but the love of every person on
board by his amiable manner and kindness to all, and his influence
is always employed for some good purpose, both among the officers
and men. He has been most successful in his selection of officers,
and a more agreeable set could hardly be found. Sir John is in much
better health than when we left England, and really looks ten years
younger. He takes an active part in everything that goes on, and his
long experience in such services as this makes him a most valuable
adviser.”
On July 12 Franklin wrote his last official letter to the Admiralty.
“The ships,” he says, “are now complete with supplies of every
kind for three years; they are, therefore, very deep; but happily
we have no reason to expect much sea as we proceed farther.... It
is unnecessary to assure their lordships of the energy and zeal of
Captain Crozier, Commander Fitzjames, and the officers and men with
whom I have the happiness of being employed on this service.”
On the same day the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ sailed away north-west
up the Waigat Strait. On the 26th they were sighted by the whaler
_The Prince of Wales_, moored to an iceberg near the south entrance
to Melville Bay, waiting for a favourable opportunity to round the
middle ice and enter Lancaster Sound. The master of the whaler,
Captain Dannett, was invited to dine with Sir John on the following
day, but a favourable breeze sprang up, and the ships parted company.
Captain Dannett was the last white man to set eyes on the ill-fated
_Erebus_ and _Terror_.