The Inuk ate with his fingers, occasionally using his own knife – made of steel, clearly of European origin – to carve a chunk of meat from the calf’s head. He seemed to be oblivious to the half a dozen officers who stood around the table, waiting for him to tell them where he had seen Franklin, like Hindu disciples waiting for words of wisdom to fall from the lips of a guru. The last people known to have seen Franklin and his men alive were the crews of two whalers that had met the Erebus and Terror in Baffin’s Bay in the summer of 1845; Terregannoeuck was claiming to have seen them a year later, after the deaths of the three men buried on Beechey Island.
‘You speak English very well,’ said Killigrew.
Terregannoeuck nodded. ‘I was harpooner on kabloona ship Cora Benchley for two summers.’
Yelverton pulled a large chart of the known Arctic and spread it on the table beyond Terregannoeuck’s plate. Showing the Inuk the chart had been Killigrew’s idea: from what he had read in Ross’s journals, the Inuit had a marvellous facility for understanding the kabloonas’ maps.
‘This… is… a… map,’ the master told Terregannoeuck. ‘You savvy “map”?’
The Inuk nodded, impatient with being patronised, and wiped grease from his chops with the back of his sleeve. ‘Cap’n Franklin show Terregannoeuck many maps. He seek way to west, to great ocean there.’
‘Did you show him?’
Terregannoeuck nodded. ‘Many ways to west, over land, sea and ice. Terregannoeuck show him ways by sea, on map.’
‘Can you show us?’ Pettifer asked eagerly.
Killigrew cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps Mr Terregannoeuck should start by showing us where he met the Erebus and Terror.’
Pettifer nodded. Terregannoeuck studied the map, and then jabbed at Beechey Island with a finger. ‘We here?’
‘That is correct,’ said Killigrew.
‘Terregannoeuck meet Cap’n Franklin here.’ The Inuk indicated one of the blank patches on the map, south of where Prince of Wales Land and North Somerset Land flanked the unexplored southern end of Peel Sound.
Yelverton shook his head. ‘You must be mistaken. Franklin’s orders were to sail north, up Wellington Channel. Here.’ The master indicated the channel on the map.
The Inuk nodded, impatient to finish chewing the piece of meat he had bitten off the calf’s head and swallow it so he could reply. ‘He tell Terregannoeuck he sail up this channel, all the way around north of this island here. Then he turn south and enter this channel, here. This is where Terregannoeuck meet him. Terregannoeuck stay on board for a day, tell him there is way to the west, but for kayak, not for kabloona ship: too much ice. Him not listen. Terregannoeuck leave Erebus, fearing danger. Him sail on.’
‘What danger?’ asked Killigrew.
The Inuk hunched his head over his meal. ‘Many dangers, in Arctic.’
Pettifer jerked his head towards one corner of the day-room and huddled there with his officers, leaving Terregannoeuck to finish his meal in peace. ‘You think this fellow is telling the truth?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘Difficult to see why he should lie,’ said Killigrew.
‘Peel Sound has never been explored.’
‘It’s always been choked with ice,’ explained Yelverton.
‘Perhaps it wasn’t choked with ice in 1846,’ said Pettifer. ‘Perhaps Franklin found it open and sailed down it, hoping it would link with Dease Strait. That would complete the North-West Passage.’
‘It’s possible, sir,’ agreed Killigrew. ‘We can put it to Sir Edward when he arrives. A piece of intelligence like this is just what we need to divert his anger towards us for getting separated.’
‘Sir Edward, yes…’ mused Pettifer.
‘From what I’ve heard of Sir Edward, he’s more likely to be angry with us for finding this vital clue instead of him,’ said Yelverton.
‘If we hadn’t been here ahead of the rest of the squadron, the chances are we’d never have met Terregannoeuck to find this out,’ Killigrew pointed out.
‘You think Sir Edward will see it that way?’ asked Yelverton. Killigrew had to admit, the master had a good point.
‘Sir Edward!’ Pettifer snorted impatiently. ‘And what do you think he’ll do when he gets here? If he gets here? Order us to remain here with the North Star, while he explores Peel Sound and gets all the glory of being the one to find the North-West Passage, I shouldn’t wonder!’ He shook his head. ‘Do you think it is mere coincidence that we were the only ones to get through Melville Bay; that we were here at Beechey Island when our Esquimau friend happened by? No, gentlemen. There is a higher purpose at work here. Fate, one might almost dare say.’
‘What are you suggesting, sir?’ asked Killigrew. ‘That we explore Peel Sound without waiting for the rest of the squadron?’
‘Why not?’ asked Pettifer. ‘Gentlemen, we’ve been sent a God-given opportunity. For all we know, the rest of the squadron might not get even this far. It’s over three weeks since we arrived here. Even if we did somehow get ahead of the rest of the squadron, they’ve had more than enough time to catch up with us by now. But still there is no sign of them.’
‘Anything could have happened to them on the way through Melville Bay, sir,’ said Yelverton. ‘We were lucky to get through so quickly. They may still be trying to get through. They may be past the Middle Pack and sailing to meet us even as we speak.’
‘They may also have been nipped in the ice, or have given up and sailed back to England,’ snorted Pettifer. ‘Are we to spend the entire winter waiting for ships that may never arrive, when we have this opportunity to achieve the object of our expedition? Nothing less than the discovery of the North-West Passage!’
‘With all due respect, sir, I thought our purpose was to find Franklin’s expedition?’ said Yelverton.
‘Don’t you see?’ Pettifer replied tetchily. ‘If what our Esquimau friend tells us is correct, then it’s all one and the same thing!’
‘Then if Erebus and Terror sailed down Peel Sound to find it, sir, how come they never emerged on the other side?’
‘We’ll never know if we don’t try to follow them,’ Pettifer pointed out reasonably. ‘What do you say, Mr Killigrew?’
‘I can see no harm in sailing as far as Peel Sound. It can’t be more than a hundred miles from here. We could check to see if it’s open, or choked with ice, and then sail back here to see if the rest of the squadron’s arrived yet. It wouldn’t take us more than a week at the most.’
‘Terregannoeuck come with you,’ the Inuk announced from the far side of the room. ‘You need krauyimatauyok – guide. Terregannoeuck show you the way.’
‘We don’t need a guide to show us as far as Peel Sound,’ muttered Yelverton. ‘The charts do that clearly enough.’
‘Assuming the charts are correct,’ said Pettifer. ‘The men who charted them two years ago could have made all kinds of mistakes, thanks to the fata morgana. If Sir John Ross marked mountains where there are no mountains across Lancaster Sound, perhaps the men who charted Peel Sound charted a continuation of a sound where there were only mountains. Besides, suppose we find Peel Sound open? If we come back here to see if the rest of the squadron has arrived, and Sir Edward decides he wishes to send a ship or two to examine the sound, they’ll need a guide. We can’t ask this fellow Terre-whatsisname to wait here until we get back from Peel Sound.’
‘Many tonrar lie that way,’ said the Inuk. ‘You need Terregannoeuck, to protect you.’
‘Tonrar?’ asked Pettifer.
Sørensen shrugged. ‘Evil spirits, sir.’
‘Superstitious nonsense,’ snorted Strachan.
‘What do you think, Killigrew?’ asked Pettifer.
The lieutenant smiled. ‘About superstitions, sir?’
‘About taking Terregannoeuck along as a guide.’
‘The Esquimaux have lived and survived in the Arctic for hundreds if not thousands of years,’ said Killigrew. ‘I’m not afraid of evil spirits, but there will be
other dangers. It wouldn’t hurt to have an Esquimau around to advise us.’ He turned to Terregannoeuck. ‘If you help us, what will you want in return?’
The Inuk picked up one of the forks on the table. ‘Savirajak.’
‘A fork?’ Pettifer asked in bewilderment.
‘Steel,’ said Sørensen. ‘Saws and knife-blades. To the Inuit, it’s more precious than gold.’
‘I think we can spare him all the saws and knifes he wants,’ said Latimer. They had brought a plentiful supply of such things, specifically for the purpose of bartering with the Inuit.
‘Then it’s decided,’ said Pettifer. ‘Welcome to the crew of the Venturer, Mr Terrewhatsyemame. Mr Yelverton! Be so good as to chart a course for Peel Sound.’
* * *
Peel Sound was open.
The Venturer sailed ninety miles into the sound, as far as Cape Coulman: the point reached by Sir James Ross with the Enterprise and Investigator in 1848, the first year of the Franklin search, before ice had blocked his way. Two other expeditions had tried Peel Sound since then: the Prince Albert, a schooner hired by Lady Franklin, in 1850, and some of Captain Austin’s men in a sledging expedition only the previous year; but neither had got even this far.
Now the sound was wide open; as it had been six years ago when Franklin had sailed down it, if Terregannoeuck’s story was to be believed.
The channel between Prince of Wales Land to the west and North Somerset Land to the east was some twenty-five miles wide. The shore ice that clung to the coast to port stretched out for more than a mile, while a red sandstone headland at the other side of the channel, a thousand feet high, was just visible in the distance.
Pettifer ordered the Venturer hove-to while the officers gathered on deck to gaze at something none of them had ever seen before: uncharted waters, stretching invitingly away before them. Perhaps as far as King William Land, and the channel linked to the Beaufort Sea by Dease Strait: the North-West Passage.
‘Wide open.’ Killigrew spoke in tones of hushed reverence, conscious that he was looking at something no man – no white man, at least – had looked upon since Franklin had sailed down this channel six years earlier.
‘A heaven-sent opportunity,’ said Pettifer. He hesitated, as if aware he was on the threshold of something remarkable. This was not a decision to be taken lightly. ‘Gentlemen, it behoves us to take full advantage of it. Make all plain sail, Mr Killigrew: course due south.’ Without another word, he descended the after hatch.
Killigrew exchanged glances with Yelverton, Cavan and Strachan.
‘Is he crazy?’ The master kept his voice low so the hands working nearby would not overhear. ‘I thought we were going back to Beechey Island as soon as we’d established that this sound was open.’
‘This sound was open in 1846 when Franklin sailed down it, if Terregannoeuck is to be believed,’ said Cavan. ‘And I for one believe him, sir. Every expedition that has come this way since Franklin and his ships disappeared has found this way blocked; we’re the first to find it open. The Old Man’s right, sir. We can’t miss this opportunity.’
Yelverton shook his head. ‘The sound may be open now, but supposing the ice closes in after we’ve entered it? We might be trapped in there for months; years, possibly.’
‘Not afraid, are you? We knew the risks when we signed on for this expedition.’
Yelverton bridled; he did not care to be accused of cowardice by a young mate, no matter how far Cavan had his tongue pushed into his cheek. ‘We knew the risks, aye. But with all due respect, Mr Cavan, you’re forgetting one thing: we have civilians on board. They never signed on to spend two or three years in the Arctic.’ He turned to Killigrew. ‘Damn it, sir! We may never get out of here alive. I’m not afraid to take that chance, but I’m damned if I’ll risk the lives of civilians—’ Yelverton broke off, coughing doubled up with a handkerchief over his mouth until the fit had passed.
‘Are you all right?’ Killigrew asked him, concerned.
The master straightened, wiping tears from his eyes with his sleeve. He smiled wanly and thrust his handkerchief into the pocket of his greatcoat. ‘Bit of a cold, that’s all. It’s hardly surprising. In this weather, it’s a wonder we’re not all sniffling and sneezing.’
‘That sounds nasty to me,’ said Strachan. ‘Come to the sick-berth at the end of the watch and I’ll give you some syrup of squills.’
‘Mr Yelverton’s quite right, of course,’ Killigrew told Cavan. ‘I’ll ask the Old Man what his intentions are towards the whalers.’
He descended the after hatch and made his way to the captain’s quarters. Private Phillips was on duty outside the door; he slammed the stock of his side-arm – one of the new Minié rifled muskets – against the deck. ‘Lieutenant Killigrew to see you, sah!’
‘Send him in, Phillips.’
‘Very good, sah!’ The marine opened the door and ushered Killigrew through.
The lieutenant found Pettifer crouched over Horatia’s basket in his day-room, feeding the dachshund titbits. ‘Yes, Mr Killigrew, what is it?’ he asked without looking up.
Killigrew closed the door behind him. ‘I was under the impression that it was our intention to return to Beechey Island as soon as we had established that the sound was open.’
‘I’ve changed my mind, Mr Killigrew.’ Pettifer chuckled jovially. ‘Captain’s prerogative.’
‘Sir, the Venturer’s just a steam tender. I’m sure I need hardly remind you we were never intended to spend so long away from the North Star. We’re not equipped to pass a winter in the Arctic alone. And we didn’t leave a message for Sir Edward at Beechey Island. If anything goes wrong, no one’s going to come looking for us.’
‘Not equipped, Mr Killigrew? We have provisions enough to see us through three winters in the Arctic, if necessary.’ Pettifer shook his head. ‘We came here to find Franklin, as Mr Yelverton was so quick to remind me the day before yesterday. We knew the risks when we volunteered for this expedition. Do you expect us to balk now, when we are so close to the end of our quest?’
‘We didn’t have civilians on board then, sir,’ said Killigrew. ‘Including a woman. Perhaps it would be better to sail back to Beechey Island and see if the rest of the squadron has turned up yet. If it has, we can leave Frau Weiss on board the North Star and—’
‘You know as well as I do that if we go back to Beechey and find the rest of the squadron there, we’ll have to report to Sir Edward. Do you really think he’s going to let us drop off our passengers and come back to explore this sound? He’ll order us to stay at the island with the North Star, while he explores this sound for himself.’
Outside, Private Phillips crashed the stock of his musket against the deck. ‘Mr Ziegler to see you, sah!’
‘Send him in, Phillips.’
‘Very good, sah!’
The door opened and Ziegler stormed in, looking very red in the face. ‘Forgive the intrusion, Herr Kapitän, but there is a rumour on board that it is not your intention to turn back to Beechey Island, but to press on deeper into the Arctic. I just wanted your assurance that—’
‘No rumour, Herr Ziegler,’ said Pettifer. ‘We are standing on the threshold of history. The Good Lord has vouchsafed to us an opportunity to learn the fate of the Franklin expedition and to be the ones to discover the North-West Passage. It is not my intention to pass up that opportunity.’
‘And what of us, Herr Kapitän? We were to be put on board the first whaler you encountered…’
‘But we have encountered no whalers since the Carl Gustaf sank, as you are well aware.’
‘Then take us back to Beechey Island, damn you!’
‘And waste precious time which we could be using to explore this sound? And supposing we get back to Beechey Island and find that Sir Edward and the rest of the squadron have not yet arrived? Perhaps they will never arrive. Am I to spend the whole winter waiting here, achieving nothing? No, Herr Ziegler. We must press on. It is our duty. I am sorry for the
inconvenience, but I cannot allow the work of one of Her Majesty’s exploring ships to be held up – indeed, prevented altogether – by the accidental presence of civilians on board.’
‘Inconvenience?’ exploded Ziegler. ‘Inconvenience? You could be gone for three years! What of our loved ones in Hamburg? They were expecting us back before the end of the autumn. What are they to think, if no one is to bring them word of the tragedy that befell the Carl Gustaf? And what if you never come back, like Franklin and his men? Are we to be frozen in the ice for eternity along with you? This is kidnapping, damn you! If by some miracle we ever do make it back to Germany, you may be sure that my Government shall protest to your Admiralty concerning your actions in the strongest terms imaginable!’
‘Kidnapping!’ Pettifer retorted icily. ‘You ungrateful swine! Might I remind you, Herr Ziegler, that had it not been for the Venturer coming by when she did, then you and your companions would all still be stranded on the ice?’
Ziegler shook his head. ‘I regret that I ever set eyes on this verdammt vessel! For if I had not, the chances are that we would have been picked up by another whaler on its way to the North Water: a whaler due to return to Europe in the autumn. You’re verrückt, Herr Kapitän – insane!’
Pettifer turned puce. ‘How dare you? One more word out of you, Herr Ziegler, and I shall have you clapped in irons, do you hear me?’
Ziegler marched back to the door, opened it, and then turned to face Pettifer once more. ‘May God have mercy on your soul, you maniac! You’re going to get us all killed!’
‘Oh, don’t be so damned melodramatic…’ protested Pettifer. But Ziegler had already slammed the door behind him.
Pettifer turned to Killigrew. ‘Did you hear that? That damned fellow had the impertinence to insult me! And after all we’ve done for them. Who would have thought that anyone could be so ungrateful?’
‘With all due respect, sir, he does have a point. Not about your sanity,’ Killigrew added hurriedly, ‘but it really isn’t fair on them to drag them into the Arctic with us.’
‘What choice do we have?’
Killigrew and the North-West Passage Page 12