Chasing Ghosts

by Nicola Pierce

  Sir John merely smiled for an answer. The truth was that any excitement he felt was tainted by the knowledge that several of his peers thought he should not be doing this: leading a great expedition to the top of the world in search of the last trade route, through the freezing Arctic seas to the Pacific Ocean by way of the infamous Northwest Passage. A successful expedition would bring its British commander instant fame while enabling his country to take the lead on the world’s stage, in scientific and polar discovery. This would be his greatest moment yet but try as he might, Sir John could not stifle the murmurs that had reached his ears about him being ‘too old’, ‘too fat’ and ‘too clueless’ for the task ahead. Well, nobody could fault his stubbornness. He had persevered, hadn’t he, in spite of the naysayers?

  So, here he now stood, in the centre of the small group that included his second wife, Lady Jane Franklin, their niece, Sophie, and Eleanor, his daughter from his first marriage. Standing there, he had never felt more at home, surrounded by all his loves that he was about to leave for goodness knew how long. The family busied themselves watching the goings-on in front of them. Over a hundred men were making their farewells, kissing children, wives and sweethearts, whilst bellowing wild hellos to fellow sailors who were glad to be distracted from the sadness of saying goodbye.

  To their left, a marching band were tuning up their instruments in preparation for the big send-off. The short, sharp bursts of various trumpets and horns punctured the air every now and then. Newspapermen jotted down their descriptions, keeping a beady eye out for some fresh detail to satisfy their bosses and enable their readers to imagine the scene.

  Surrounding them on three sides was a vast crowd of onlookers and well-wishers, growing bigger by the second. And then, in the background, behind the clamour of human activity were the two ships, Her Majesty’s Steamships (HMS) Erebus and Terror, sitting serenely in the water, aside their rippled reflections. Hardy gangs of seagulls darted about their masts, squalling madly, as if demanding everyone’s attention.

  ‘Do you think they will try to follow you?’ asked Eleanor.

  Her father knew she meant the gulls. ‘If they do, they’ll be disappointed to discover that we are not going fishing.’

  Lady Franklin smiled fiercely. How she longed to have Sir John to herself, but he insisted on Eleanor being here, and so she, in turn, brought Sophie. Lady Jane was only stepmother to Eleanor, her real mother having died years earlier. She did her best to love the girl but was thwarted by her own possessiveness of her husband.

  She longed to take Sir John’s hand but that would not do. After all, he was Lord Franklin, captain and commander of this fantastic expedition. Oh, he had done well to take command of what might be the most famous sea journey yet. She was so proud of him. So, these last few moments together had to be savoured and, yes, shared with his daughter. In fact, this had been her gift to him, although she could not remember which one of them had mentioned it first: the proposed expedition to the Arctic, to find the Northwest Passage. Well, it hardly mattered who spoke of it first, just that her immediate response was, ‘You should do this!’

  He pretended to be shocked at her suggestion. ‘What, me, at my age? They would never let me, what with so many younger men who are better qualified.’

  She, in turn, pretended to believe that he needed convincing.

  ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘you have faithfully served your country since you were a boy and, in that time, you have captained many ships and have led expeditions to the very same Arctic. Tell me, who is more qualified than you are?’

  He again pretended to consider her question, but all he could think was how right she was. Who else indeed?

  Reading his mind, she continued, ‘You are a perfect fit for this. You know it, I know it and I’ll wager the Navy knows it too. Goodness, if they allowed me, I should like to go and see this Arctic for myself!’

  Her husband had described to her the seascapes of ice, with mountains that sparkled like crystal glass and the purest, whitest snow as far as the eye could see. It sounded too thrilling for words.

  For a moment, Sir John had fretted that she meant him to pressure the Navy into allowing her to accompany him. Now, he loved her dearly and thoroughly disliked the thought of leaving her behind but – no, no, no – that simply would not do. His naval superiors did not agree with women having opinions and a passion for learning. His Jane had both and never tried to deceive people otherwise. Mind you, she was probably better educated and more travelled than most men he knew.

  As it was, he suspected that she was the reason he had lost his post as Lieutenant-Governor in Van Diemen’s Land. She had refused to play nice and befriend the other wives, and meekly mind her place in mixed company. Instead, she tackled his colleagues over politics, religion and society’s ills. In place of hosting lunches and making social calls, she bought books and maps. And rather than hiding these items in her husband’s study, she sat out in the open, poring over them, and then inflicted her newly acquired knowledge on Australian politicians who learned to dread the sound of her voice. Lastly, instead of ignoring the brooding presence of the natives like everyone else, she had temporarily adopted a young Aboriginal girl and introduced her to the neighbours, just to watch their faces twitch in dismay.

  Lady Jane was fearless and he had allowed her to infect him too, so that he put his name in the pot to lead a hundred and twenty-eight men to the Arctic. It had taken hundreds of years and the courage of many explorers to reach this point. Sir John allowed himself to consider that history might judge his contribution to be the best of all, charting the last few miles through new territory, finally opening up the elusive sea route to allow northwest access to the trading nations of Asia. He would, in effect, be placing a full stop on any further exploration of the Northwest Passage. Yes, his success would mean his name inscribed in history books, the thought of which made him smile once more.

  Seeing his smile, his wife sighed, ‘I just wish I knew for certain when to expect you home again. It would be so much easier to say goodbye if I knew how long it was for.’

  Regarding her tenderly, he said, ‘Well, now, I would be a clever man if I could tell you anything more than I already have. Everything depends on the ice; it is the master of our fate.’

  ‘What do you mean, Papa?’ Eleanor peered at her father in wonder.

  Sir John gave his daughter a guilty look. Had he not already explained this to her? ‘Why, my dear, when the water freezes in the Arctic, it turns into ice which traps a ship until it melts back into water once more.’

  ‘Traps?’ echoed Eleanor, looking decidedly worried.

  Sir John glanced at his wife who took over. ‘Oh, come now, Eleanor, I am quite sure that you know this already. Your father will make his explorations during the summer months but, during the winter, the ships will be stuck fast. No ship is strong enough to break through blocks of ice.’

  Eleanor shook her head in protest. ‘But, Papa, you told me that the ships have steam engines, from the railway trains. And their fronts are stronger than any other ship.’

  Her father hastened to correct her on one point. ‘Bows, my dear. That’s what we call the front of a ship.’

  Lady Franklin stifled an impulse to roll her eyes. The child was impossible. She flashed her niece a look that meant: see, this is exactly why I wanted to leave her at home. Typically, Sophie understood as much and nodded her sympathy – my poor aunt, I completely agree with you.

  Sir John was starting to feel somewhat harassed. The sun was high in the sky and his overly-tight starched collar was making itself felt. He had tried to lose weight over the last few weeks but it proved impossible when he and Jane had been invited to so many farewell dinners. As a result, he had rather a difficult time getting dressed; there were so many buttons on his uniform and some had to be forcibly dragged through the holes. At one point he thought he heard the material groan in protest.

  Furthermore, he had a dratted cold that he could not shak
e. And now Eleanor was pouting while his wife’s watery smile barely hid her urge to say, ‘I told you so! We should not have brought her.’

  A fine farewell this was turning out to be!

  ‘How long will you be gone, Papa?’

  He considered offering his daughter a vague ‘I don’t know’, but that did not seem fair. So, he was honest. ‘We are taking three years of supplies with us, just to be safe.’

  Before Eleanor could respond to this, her stepmother sighed, ‘Three years! I cannot lie, it is a long time.’

  Eleanor gazed at the blue sky above them, doing her best to imagine slabs of ice big and strong enough to stop a ship from sailing.

  Captain Franklin declared to his audience, ‘Be assured that I am planning on returning home long before that, with food to spare.’

  Pleased to hear him sounding confident, Lady Franklin declared, ‘You will find that passage, I know you will.’

  He agreed with her. ‘If it is God’s will, we certainly shall.’

  Erebus and Terror seemed impatient to be released from their moorings; their hulks swayed together as if they were listening to music, the waves bearing out the ocean’s rhythm.

  ‘They are fine ships,’ said Jane, ‘so strong and sturdy, just like their captain.’

  ‘Well,’ sighed her husband, ‘like me, they are of a certain age, have fought in battles and have been to the Arctic before. I just hope they are not too weary for the journey ahead.’

  She knew what he was hinting at and assured him, ‘There is no substitute for years of experience and I am quite sure that your officers and sailors would agree with me.’

  ‘Good morning to you all!’

  They had been joined by Captain Franklin’s second-in-command, Captain Francis Crozier. Tall in stature with dark hair, he was quite the opposite in every way of his commander. A shy man, he had forced himself to approach the family group because pure manners decreed it. However, it was the second last thing he wanted to do.

  His glance lingered longer than it should have on Sophie who plucked at a loose thread on her sleeve. Twice he had asked her to marry him and twice she had said no. Oh, it took guts to stand there in front of her and pretend that all was well. He doffed his hat to Jane who greeted him warmly, ‘Good morning, Captain. Are you anxious to be off?’

  ‘Dear me, Lady Franklin, my apologies if I should look so impatient?’

  ‘Why, Captain Crozier,’ said Jane, ‘you look as impatient as your commander feels though he will deny it.’

  Captain Crozier was quite certain that he did not look the least bit impatient to be gone, not at all. And this was because the very, very last thing that Captain Crozier wished to do was undertake this journey to the Arctic. Sir John might well be pitying himself for having to fight a bad cold but Captain Francis Crozier was having a tougher time as he was fighting serious apprehension about what lay ahead.

  The only person who was privy to his sentiments was his great friend and fellow explorer Sir James Clark Ross. Two years earlier, the two had spent four years exploring the Antarctic together and owed their powers of endurance to their mutual respect and admiration for one another. Unfortunately, Captain Crozier felt neither for John Franklin, although, as he told his friend, ‘I like him and Lady Franklin well enough and always enjoy their company but …’

  ‘But?’ said James with a smile.

  ‘I am tired, James!’ declared Crozier. ‘Plain old tired.’

  And he was. He had believed that his polar exploration days were behind him. To be fair, four years is a long time out of one’s life, 1,460 days or thereabouts. Therefore, it is little wonder that Captain Crozier felt he had paid his due to Heaven and to the Navy and now wanted to enjoy ordinary things, like getting married and becoming a father. He wondered at the situation he found himself in: how can it be easier to travel to the other side of the world than find myself a wife?

  Recently, as best man, Captain Crozier had watched James marry the lovely Ann Coulman. The marriage only went ahead after James promised his betrothed that he would travel no more. In between making speeches and dancing with James’s elderly aunts, Captain Crozier found himself heartily wishing that it was his wedding day instead, with Sophie for his bride.

  Sophie had said no, but he was not ready to give up just yet. What if he took himself away for a while? Might there be the merest chance that she would miss him? He knew little about love and romance but he was familiar with the quotation ‘Absence makes the heart fonder’. Well, then, what had he got to lose?

  Sir John rudely interrupted his thoughts with a roar, ‘Ah-tish-shoo!’

  Everyone jumped as Sir John fumbled with his handkerchief. He blew his nose, far noisier than any trumpet player, before asking, ‘Well, then, how goes it?’

  Captain Crozier nodded. ‘I should think we are just about ready, sir.’

  Without the Franklins realising it, the sailors had drifted away from their relatives to board their particular ship in single file. Right now, over a hundred men were claiming their hammocks while others, like their officers, cooks and surgeons, were surveying their tiny kingdoms that they expected to lord over for the next year or so, or two at most. Hopefully no longer than that. As Lady Jane said, three years was a long time really.

  All that was left was for the two captains to board their ships, Captain Crozier to Terror and Captain Franklin to Erebus, only neither of them seemed eager to make the first move. Finally, Lady Jane took control, her usual approach. Offering her hand in farewell to Captain Crozier, she said, ‘I wish you a safe and bountiful journey and I hope it will not be too long until we meet again.’

  ‘Thank you, Lady Franklin. I hope so too.’

  Captain Crozier smiled hopefully at Sophie, who duly followed her aunt’s lead, presenting to him her own hand with good wishes. ‘Take care, Captain Crozier. We shall keep you and Sir John in our prayers.’

  Not to be outdone, Eleanor graciously held out hers too. ‘Goodbye, Captain. Will you promise to take care of Papa?’

  Captain Crozier smiled at the girl, feeling Sophie’s eyes upon him. This was his moment to prove himself as a steady and trustworthy gentleman. Flattering Eleanor, he addressed her thus, ‘My dear Miss Franklin, we are most grateful to you and Lady Jane for releasing your father to us, for this grand mission. And I give you my solemn word that I will return him to his family as soon as I can. Will that do?’

  A beaming Eleanor nodded her acceptance.

  3

  May 1849

  Weesy is come back

  Four days after the funeral, Papa had to go away on one of his business trips. It was the first normal thing to happen in a long time. In truth, he went away a lot. His shipyard kept him busy, but now his new passion was to salvage or re-float sunken ships and his services were in great demand. It was fascinating, I thought, that he could drag drowned ships from the ocean floor and sit them on top of the water again, bringing them back to life.

  If only he could do the same for Weesy.

  He would be gone for three months and I heard Aunt Harriet quietly promising him that not for an instant would she leave Mama’s side. He thanked her and muttered something about feeling guilty, though I could not hear exactly what he said.

  The next morning, he was gone before we got up, which was typical because he disliked goodbyes. I hoped he would remember to bring us back presents.

  At the breakfast table, Aunt Harriet told me that I did not have to return to school until after the summer holidays. That suited me fine and then I remembered. ‘I saw Mrs Lee at Weesy’s funeral.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Aunt Harriet. ‘She lost her daughter too, just last year, I think!’

  That explained why my teacher never smiled and was always dressed in black.

  ***

  Papa’s absence made the days seem even longer. We missed having our early evenings punctuated by his arrival from work, asking us about our day as he shed his coat and papers, rubbing his hands together in a
nticipation of a tasty dinner. How long could this go on, this dreariness of one day blending into the next? I yearned to escape the sagging atmosphere of the house or, failing that, for something extraordinary to happen.

  And then it did.

  ***

  It was Sarah who saw Weesy first, although she showed no surprise since she hardly understood what was real anyway. Laura, our maid, was polishing the staircase the morning after Papa left when she was interrupted by Sarah clapping her hands and exclaiming, ‘Weesy! Weesy!’ It was one of the few words she could correctly pronounce. The others were ‘me’ and ‘no’. Used to being trailed by Sarah, as she tended to her morning duties, Laura took her time to discover that Sarah was beaming at the wall as if it had made a joke. Feeling obliged to be clear, Laura waved her cloth at the ceiling as she explained, ‘No, my pet. Weesy has gone to Heaven.’ When she saw that she was wasting her time, because Sarah was too absorbed in her mysterious game, Laura gave up and returned to her polishing.

  A couple of days later, on hearing a thud from the landing and William’s howl, Aunt Harriet and I dashed up the staircase to find him sprawled on the floor, a perfect dot of blood winking at us from his grazed forehead. Aunt Harriet flung herself upon him. ‘Oh my goodness. What happened to you? Did you fall?’

  Instead of answering our aunt’s questions, William appeared to be looking for something. Aunt Harriet cupped his face in her hands and spoke slowly. ‘William, are you alright? Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?’

  It took a moment before he finally focused on her, and then he certainly amazed me with his answer, ‘I saw Weesy. She was standing just there, by the wall. I ran to hug her but …’

  The bell went for dinner. Aunt Harriet pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve, wiped the blood away and told us to go wash our hands. We watched her straighten her skirt and head downstairs.

  Waiting until Aunt Harriet had reached the lowest step, William asked me, ‘Do you believe me? I really saw her. Honest!’