FRANKLIN’S LAST VOYAGE.
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 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.
[Illustration: SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.]
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)
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 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.”
[Illustration: THE _EREBUS_ AND THE _TERROR_ AMONG ICEBERGS.]
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 _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.
[Illustration: CUTTING ICE DOCKS.]
“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 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.”
[Illustration: ICE MOUNTAINS.]
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 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
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 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:—
[Illustration: CAPTAIN ROBERT LE MESURIER M’CLURE.]
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 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.”
[Illustration: THE SLEDGE PARTY OF THE _RESOLUTE_, UNDER LIEUT. BEDFORD
PIM, FINDING THE _INVESTIGATOR_.]
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.