BEECHEY ISLAND.
June 25th the _Forward_ sighted Cape Dundas, at the northwest
extremity of Prince of Wales Land. There they found more serious
difficulties amid thicker ice. The channel here grows narrower, and
the line of Crozier, Young, Day, and Lowther Islands ranged in a line,
like forts in a harbor, drive the ice-streams nearer together. What
would otherwise have taken the brig a day now detained her from June
25th to the end of the month; she was continually obliged to stop, to
retreat, and to wait for a favorable chance to reach Beechey Island.
Meanwhile a great deal of coal was consumed; though during the
frequent halts only small fires were kept burning, sufficient to keep
steam up day and night.
Hatteras knew as well as Shandon the reduced state of their supply;
but feeling sure that he would find fuel at Beechey Island, he did not
wish to lose a minute for the sake of economy; he had been very much
delayed by running south; and, although he had taken the precaution of
leaving England in April, he now found himself no farther advanced
than previous expeditions had been at that time of year.
The 30th they passed Cape Walker at the northeast extremity of Prince
of Wales Land; this is the farthest point seen by Kennedy and Bellot,
May 3d, 1852, after an expedition across North Somerset. In 1851,
Captain Ommaney of the Austin expedition had been fortunate enough to
get fresh supplies there for his detachment.
[Illustration]
This cape, which is very lofty, is remarkable for its reddish-brown
color; in clear weather one can see as far as the entrance of
Wellington Channel. Towards evening they saw Cape Bellot, separated
from Cape Walker by MacLeon's Bay. Cape Bellot was so named in
presence of that young French officer to whom the English expedition
gave three cheers. At this place the coast consists of a yellowish
limestone, very rough in appearance; it is protected by huge masses of
ice which the north-wind collects there in the most imposing way. It
was soon no longer to be seen from the _Forward's_ deck, as she was
making her way amid the loose ice towards Beechey Island through
Barrow Strait.
Hatteras, having resolved to go on in a straight line, in order not to
be carried past the island, hardly left the deck during the subsequent
days; he would go aloft to the cross-trees in order to pick out the
most favorable path for the brig. All that skill, coolness, boldness,
and even maritime genius could do, was done by him while sailing
through the strait. It is true that fortune did not favor him, for at
that season he ought to have found the sea nearly open. But by dint of
sparing neither steam, his men, nor himself, he succeeded in his aim.
July 3d, at eleven o'clock in the morning, the ice-master saw land to
the north; Hatteras soon made it out as Beechey Island, the general
rendezvous for arctic explorers. Almost all the ships which sail in
these latitudes touch here. Here Franklin passed his first winter
before advancing into Wellington Channel. Here Creswell, MacClure's
lieutenant, after a march of four hundred and sixty miles on the ice,
rejoined the _Phoenix_ and returned to England. The last ship which
anchored at Beechey Island before the _Forward_ was the _Fox_;
MacClintock took in supplies there, August 11, 1855, and repaired the
dwellings and storehouses; that was but a short time previous.
Hatteras knew all these details.
The boatswain's heart beat strongly at the sight of this island; when
he had last seen it he had been quartermaster on the _Phoenix_;
Hatteras asked him about the coast, the place for anchoring, the
possible change of the bottom. The weather was perfect; the
thermometer marked 57 degrees.
"Well, Johnson," said the captain, "do you recognize this place?"
"Yes, Captain, it's Beechey Island! Only we ought to bear a little
farther north; the coast is more easily approached there."
"But the buildings, the stores?" said Hatteras.
"O, you can't see them till you get ashore; they are hidden behind
those hillocks you see there!"
"And did you carry large supplies there?"
"Yes, they were large. The Admiralty sent us here in 1853, under the
command of Captain Inglefield, with the steamer _Phoenix_ and a
transport, the _Breadalbane_, loaded with supplies; we carried enough
to revictual a whole expedition."
"But did not the commander of the _Fox_ take a great deal away in
1855?" said Hatteras.
"O, don't be anxious, Captain!" answered Johnson; "there will be
enough left for you; the cold keeps everything wonderfully, and we
shall find everything as fresh and in as good condition as on the
first day."
"I'm not so anxious about the provisions," answered Hatteras; "I have
enough for several years; what I stand in need of is coal."
"Well, Captain, we left more than a thousand tons there; so you can
feel easy about that."
"Let us stand nearer," resumed Hatteras, who, glass in hand, kept
examining the shore.
"You see that point," said Johnson; "when we've doubled it, we shall
be near our anchorage. Yes, it's from there we started for England
with Lieutenant Creswell and twelve sick men of the _Investigator_.
But if we were fortunate enough to be of service to Captain MacClure's
lieutenant, Bellot, the officer who accompanied us on the _Phoenix_,
never saw his home again! Ah, that's a sad memory! But, Captain, I
think it's here we ought to anchor."
"Very well," answered Hatteras.
And he gave the proper orders. The _Forward_ lay in a little harbor
sheltered from the north, east, and south winds, about a cable-length
from the shore.
"Mr. Wall," said Hatteras, "you will lower the launch and send six men
to bring coal aboard."
"Yes, sir," answered Wall.
"I am going ashore in the gig with the doctor and the boatswain; Mr.
Shandon, will you go with us?"
"At your orders," answered Shandon.
A few minutes later the doctor, with gun and baskets for any specimens
he might find, took his place in the gig with his companions; ten
minutes later they stepped out on a low, rocky shore.
"Lead the way, Johnson," said Hatteras; "do you remember it?"
"Perfectly, Captain; only here is a monument which I did not expect to
find here."
"That," shouted the doctor, "I know what it is; let's go look at it;
it will tell us of itself why it was put here."
The four men went up to it, and the doctor, baring his head, said,--
"This, my friends, is a monument raised to the memory of Franklin and
his companions."
[Illustration]
In fact, Lady Franklin having, in 1855, sent a tablet of black marble
to Dr. Kane, gave another in 1858 to MacClintock to be placed on
Beechey Island. MacClintock discharged his duty, and placed this
tablet near a funeral pile raised to the memory of Bellot by Sir John
Barrow.
This tablet bore the following inscription:--
TO THE MEMORY OF
FRANKLIN, CROZIER, FITZ-JAMES,
AND ALL THEIR GALLANT BROTHER OFFICERS AND FAITHFUL COMPANIONS
Who have suffered and perished
in the cause of science and the service of their country.
THIS TABLET
Is erected near the spot where they passed their first arctic
Winter,
and whence they issued forth to conquer difficulties or
TO DIE.
It commemorates the grief of their Admiring Countrymen and Friends,
and the anguish, subdued by Faith,
of her who has lost, in the heroic Leader of the Expedition, the
Most Devoted
and Affectionate of Husbands.
"_And so he bringeth them unto the Haven where they would be._"
1855.
This stone, on a lonely shore of these remote regions, touched every
one's heart; the doctor felt the tears rising in his eyes. On the very
spot whence Franklin and his men sailed, full of hope and strength,
there was now merely a slab of marble to commemorate them; and in
spite of this solemn warning of fate, the _Forward_ was about to
follow the path of the _Erebus_ and _Terror_.
Hatteras was the first to rouse himself; he ascended quickly a rather
high hillock, which was almost entirely bare of snow.
"Captain," said Johnson, following him, "from there we ought to see
the stores."
Shandon and the doctor joined them just as they reached the top of the
hill.
But their eyes saw nothing but large plains with no trace of a
building.
"This is very strange," said the boatswain.
"Well, these stores?" said Hatteras, quickly.
"I don't know,--I don't see--" stammered Johnson.
"You must have mistaken the path," said the doctor.
"Still it seems to me," resumed Johnson after a moment's reflection,
"that at this very spot--"
"Well," said Hatteras, impatiently, "where shall we go?"
"Let's go down again," said the boatswain, "for it's possible I've
lost my way! In seven years I may have forgotten the place."
"Especially," said the doctor, "when the country is so monotonous."
"And yet--" muttered Johnson.
Shandon said not a word. After walking a few minutes, Johnson stopped.
"No," he said, "I'm not mistaken."
"Well," said Hatteras, looking around.
"What makes you say so, Johnson?" asked the doctor.
"Do you see this little rise in the earth?" asked the boatswain,
pointing downwards to a mound in which three elevations could be
clearly seen.
"What does that mean?" asked the doctor.
"There," answered Johnson, "are the three tombs of Franklin's sailors.
I'm sure of it! I'm not mistaken, and the stores must be within a
hundred paces of us, and if they're not there,--it's because--"
He durst not finish his sentence; Hatteras ran forward, and terrible
despair seized him. There ought to stand those much-needed
storehouses, with supplies of all sorts on which he had been counting;
but ruin, pillage, and destruction had passed over that place where
civilized hands had accumulated resources for battered sailors. Who
had committed these depredations? Wild animals, wolves, foxes, bears?
No, for they would have destroyed only the provisions; and there was
left no shred of a tent, not a piece of wood, not a scrap of iron, no
bit of any metal, nor--what was more serious for the men of the
_Forward_--a single lump of coal.
Evidently the Esquimaux, who have often had much to do with European
ships, had finally learned the value of these objects; since the visit
of the _Fox_ they had come frequently to this great storehouse, and
had pillaged incessantly, with the intention of leaving no trace of
what had been there; and now a long drift of half-melted snow covered
the ground.
Hatteras was baffled. The doctor gazed and shook his head. Shandon
said nothing, but an attentive observer would have noticed a wicked
smile about his lips.
At this moment the men sent by Wall arrived. They took it all in at a
glance. Shandon went up to the captain and said,--
"Mr. Hatteras, we need not despair; fortunately we are near the
entrance to Barrow Strait, which will carry us back to Baffin's Bay."
"Mr. Shandon," answered Hatteras, "we are fortunately near the
entrance of Wellington Channel, and it will lead us to the north."
"And how shall we go, Captain?"
"Under sail, sir. We have two months' fuel left, and that is more than
we shall need for next winter."
"Permit me to say," began Shandon.
"I permit you to follow me to the ship, sir," was Hatteras's answer.
And turning his back on his first officer, he returned to the brig and
locked himself in his cabin.
For two days the wind was unfavorable; the captain did not come on
deck. The doctor profited by this forced delay to examine Beechey
Island; he collected a few plants which a comparatively high
temperature let grow here and there on some rocks which projected from
the snow, such as heather, a few lichens, a sort of yellow ranunculus,
a plant like sorrel with leaves a trifle larger, and some sturdy
saxifrages.
[Illustration]
The fauna of this country was much richer; the doctor saw large flocks
of geese and cranes flying northward; partridges, eider-ducks,
northern divers, numerous ptarmigans, which are delicious eating,
noisy flocks of kittiwakes, and great white-bellied loons represented
the winged tribe. The doctor was lucky enough to kill some gray hares,
which had not yet put on their white winter coat of fur, and a blue
fox, which Duke skilfully caught. A few bears, evidently accustomed to
fear men, could not be approached, and the seals were very timid,
probably for the same reason. The harbor was full of a very good
tasting shellfish. The genus _articulata_, order _diptera_, family
_culicides_, division _nemocera_, was represented by a simple
mosquito, a single one, which the doctor, though much bitten, had the
pleasure of catching. As a conchologist, he was less fortunate, and he
was obliged to content himself with a sort of mussel and some
bivalves.
[Illustration]