CHAPTER XXII.

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.

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.”

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.

“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.”

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:—

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.”

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.