by John Keay
We really were under way at last; and it was our business to forget that we had been in the same circumstances, the year before, in the same place; to feel that the time for exertion was now come, and those exertions to be at length rewarded; to exchange hope for certainty, and to see, in the mind’s eye, the whole strait open before us, and our little fleet sailing with a fair wind through that bay which was now, in our views, England and home.
We soon rounded the north cape of Batty bay, and, finding lane of water, crossed Elwin’s bay at midnight; reaching, on the sixteenth, that spot to the north of it where we had pitched our tents on the twenty-eighth of August in the preceding year. I know not if all were here quite free of recollections to damp our new hopes. The difference in time was but twelve days; and should those days pass as they had done in the former, it might still be our fate to return to our last winter’s home and there to end our toils as it was but too easy to anticipate; the first whose fortune it should be, in a frozen grave, and the last in the maws of bears and foxes.
We found here no passage to the eastward, but the lane of water still extended towards the north; so that our stay was of no longer duration than was indispensable for rest. As we proceeded, the open water increased in breadth; and, at eight in the evening, we reached our former position at the north-eastern cape of America. A view from the hill here, showed that the ice to the northward and northeastward was in such a state as to admit of sailing through it; but as it blew too hard to venture among it in the night, we pitched our tents for rest.
At three in the morning we embarked once more, leaving an additional note of our proceedings, in the same place where the former was concealed. It was calm, and we held on to the eastward by rowing, until, at noon, we reached the edge of the packed ice, through many streams of floating pieces; when we found that its extremity was but a mile to the northward. A southerly breeze then springing up, enabled us to round it: when, finding the water open, we stood on through it, and reached the eastern shore of the strait at three in the afternoon. In a few hours we had at length effected that for which we had formerly waited in vain so many days, and which, it is likely, could not have been effected in any of the years that we had been imprisoned in this country.
Accustomed as we were to the ice, to its caprices, and to its sudden and unexpected alterations, it was a change like that of magic, to find that solid mass of ocean which was but too fresh in our memories, which we had looked at for so many years as if it was fixed for ever in a repose which nothing could hereafter disturb, suddenly converted into water; navigable, and navigable to us, who had almost forgotten what it was to float at freedom on the seas. It was at times scarcely to be believed: and he who dozed to awake again, had for a moment to renew the conviction that he was at length a seaman on his own element, that his boat once more rose on the waves beneath him, and that when the winds blew, it obeyed his will and his hand.
Thus we ran quickly along the shore as the breeze increased; and, passing Eardly point, were at length compelled, by the rising of this breeze to a gale accompanied by hard squalls, to take shelter on a beach twelve miles west of Cape York; having made, on this day, a run of seventy-two miles.
The wind moderating, and it at length becoming calm, we were obliged, in the morning, to take to the oars; and finding no ice to obstruct us, rowed along to the eastward, and by midnight rested for a short time at the cape to the east of Admiralty inlet. On the next day, the weather being the same, we were halfway between this place and that termed Navy-board inlet, by eight in the morning; when, the men being exhausted with nearly twenty hours rowing, we stopped on the beach and pitched our tents. The weather had not yet become warm, clear as the water might be; since the night temperature had never exceeded 35°, nor that of the day 40°.
We were soon driven from this exposed place by the coming on of an easterly wind; and thus, taking once more to the oars, we rowed along among icebergs, till we arrived at an excellent harbour, receiving a considerable stream, where we were protected by these heavy masses, while we could, if necessary, haul the boats into a pool at the mouth of the river. We had thus gained five miles more; and being six or seven to the west of Navy-board inlet, were within eighty of Possession bay.
It began to blow hard last night with a north-east wind, and a heavy sea, which continued this day; blocking us up completely, but allowing us to haul up the boats for repair. Growing worse at length, we brought them into the inner harbour which the pool formed; when, increasing to a violent gale, all the icebergs which had arranged themselves into an outer one, broke away and disappeared. There was, with this storm, a steady fall of mixed rain and snow, and the thermometer subsided to 34°.
August 22 It had become prudent to reduce ourselves, once more, to a two-thirds allowance; and thus were we imprisoned on the twenty-third and twenty-fourth, by a continuance of the gale, with fog and rain; the thermometer falling to 29°; a degree of cold which was severely felt by the sick people.
The wind at length abated, and the sea came down, so that we launched the boats; and it being by that time calm, we rowed to the eastward across Navy-board inlet, passing through several streams of ice; when, the men being exhausted by twelve hours’ labour, we found a harbour after a progress of ten miles, and pitched our tents at the mouth of another river; there resting, and repairing the boats, which were not in the best condition.
August 26 At four in the morning, when all were asleep, the lookout man, David Wood, thought he discovered a sail in the offing, and immediately informed Commander Ross, who, by means of his glass, soon saw that it was, in reality, a ship. All hands were immediately out of their tents and on the beach, discussing her rig, quality, and course; though there were still some despairers who maintained that it was only an iceberg.
No time was however lost: the boats were launched, and signals made by burning wet powder; when, completing our embarkation, we left our little harbour at six o’clock. Our progress was tedious, owing to alternate calms, and light airs blowing in every direction; yet we made way towards the vessel, and had it remained calm where she was, should soon have been alongside. Unluckily, a breeze just then sprang up, and she made all sail to the south-eastward; by which means the boat that was foremost was soon left astern, while the other two were steering more to the eastward, with the hopes of cutting her off.
About ten o’clock we saw another sail to the northward, which appeared to be lying to for her boats; thinking, at one time, when she hove to, that she had seen us. That, however, proved not to be the case, as she soon bore up under all sail. In no long time it was apparent that she was fast leaving us; and it was the most anxious moment that we had yet experienced, to find that we were near to no less than two ships, either of which would have put an end to all our fears and all our toils, and that we should probably reach neither.
It was necessary, however, to keep up the courage of the men, by assuring them, from time to time, that we were coming up with her; when, most fortunately, it fell calm, and we really gained so fast, that, at eleven o’clock we saw her heave to with all sails aback, and lower down a boat, which rowed immediately towards our own.
She was soon alongside, when the mate in command addressed us, by presuming that we had met with some misfortune and lost our ship. This being answered in the affirmative, I requested to know the name of his vessel, and expressed our wish to be taken on board. I was answered that it was “the Isabella of Hull, once commanded by Captain Ross”; on which I stated that I was the identical man in question, and my people the crew of the Victory. That the mate, who commanded this boat, was as much astonished at this information as he appeared to be, I do not doubt; while, with the usual blunderheadedness of men on such occasions, he assured me that I had been dead two years. I easily convinced him, however, that what ought to have been true, according to his estimate, was a somewhat premature conclusion; as the bear-like form of the whole set of us might have shown him, had he taken time to consider, that we were certa
inly not whaling gentlemen, and that we carried tolerable evidence of our being “true men, and no impostors,” on our backs, and in our starved and unshaven countenances. A hearty congratulation followed of course, in the true seaman style, and, after a few natural inquiries, he added that the Isabella was commanded by Captain Humphreys; when he immediately went off in his boat to communicate his information on board; repeating that we had long been given up as lost, not by them alone, but by all England.
As we approached slowly after him, to the ship, he jumped up the side, and in a minute the rigging was manned; while we were saluted with three cheers as we came within cable’s length, and were not long in getting on board of my old vessel, where we were all received by Captain Humphreys with a hearty seaman’s welcome.
Though we had not been supported by our names and characters, we should not the less have claimed, from charity, the attentions that we received, for never was seen a more miserable-looking set of wretches; while, that we were but a repulsive-looking people, none of us could doubt. If, to be poor, wretchedly poor, as far as all our present property was concerned, was to have a claim on charity, no one could well deserve it more; but if, to look so, be to frighten away the so called charitable, no beggar that wanders in Ireland could have outdone us in exciting the repugnance of those who have not known what poverty can be. Unshaven since I know not when, dirty, dressed in the rags of wild beasts instead of the tatters of civilization, and starved to the very bones, our gaunt and grim looks, when contrasted with those of the well-dressed and well-fed men around us, made us all feel, I believe for the first time, what we really were, as well as what we seemed to others. Poverty is without half its mark, unless it be contrasted with wealth: and what we might have known to be true in the past days, we had forgotten to think of, till we were thus reminded of what we truly were, as well as seemed to be.
But the ludicrous soon took place of all other feelings; in such a crowd and such confusion, all serious thought was impossible, while the new buoyancy of our spirits made us abundantly willing to be amused by the scene which now opened. Every man was hungry and was to be fed, all were ragged and were to be clothed, there was not one to whom washing was not indispensable, nor one whom his beard did not deprive of all English semblance. All, every thing, too, was to be done at once; it was washing, dressing, shaving, eating, all intermingled, it was all the materials of each jumbled together; while, in the midst of all, there were interminable questions to be asked and answered on all sides: the adventures of the Victory, our own escapes, the politics of England, and the news which was now four years old. But all subsided into peace at last. The sick were accommodated, the seamen disposed of, and all was done, for all of us, which care and kindness could perform. Night at length brought quiet and serious thoughts; and I trust there was not one man among us who did not then express, where it was due, his gratitude for that interposition which had raised us all from a despair which none could now forget, and had brought us from the very borders of a not distant grave, to life and friends and civilization.
Long accustomed, however, to a cold bed on the hard snow or the bare rock, few could sleep amid the comfort of our new accommodations. I was myself compelled to leave the bed which had been kindly assigned me, and take my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better with the rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent change, to break through what had become habit, and to inure us once more to the usages of our former days.
LIVING OFF LICHEN AND LEATHER
John Franklin
(1786–1847)
In 1845, looking again for the North West Passage, two well-crewed ships under Franklin’s command sailed into the Canadian Arctic and were never seen again. There began the most prolonged search ever mounted for an explorer. For Franklin had been lost before and yet had survived. In 1821, returning from an overland reconnaissance of the Arctic coast north of Great Slave Lake, he and Dr. John Richardson, with two Lieutenants and about a dozen voyageurs (mostly French), had run out of food and then been overtaken by the Arctic winter. Franklin’s narrative of what is probably the grisliest journey on record omits unpalatable details, like the cannibalism of one of his men, the murder of Lieut. Hood, and Richardson’s summary shooting of the murderer; but it well conveys the debility of men forced to survive on leather and lichen (tripe de roche) plus that sense of demoralization and disintegration that heralds the demise of an expedition.
Those in advance made, as usual, frequent halts, yet being unable from the severity of the weather to remain long still, they were obliged to move on before the rear could come up, and the party, of course, straggled very much.
About noon Samandrè coming up, informed us that Crédit and Vaillant could advance no further. Some willows being discovered in a valley near us, I proposed to halt the party there, whilst Dr. Richardson went back to visit them. I hoped too, that when the sufferers received the information of a fire being kindled at so short a distance they would be cheered, and use their utmost efforts to reach it, but this proved a vain hope. The Doctor found Vaillant about a mile and a half in the rear, much exhausted with cold and fatigue. Having encouraged him to advance to the fire, after repeated solicitations he made the attempt, but fell down amongst the deep snow at every step. Leaving him in this situation, the Doctor went about half a mile farther back, to the spot where Crédit was said to have halted, and the track being nearly obliterated by the snow drift, it became unsafe for him to go further. Returning he passed Vaillant, who having moved only a few yards in his absence, had fallen down, was unable to rise, and could scarcely answer his questions. Being unable to afford him any effectual assistance, he hastened on to inform us of his situation. When J. B. Belanger had heard the melancholy account, he went immediately to aid Vaillant, and bring up his burden. Respecting Crédit, we were informed by Samandre, that he had stopped a short distance behind Vaillant, but that his intention was to return to the encampment of the preceding evening.
Franklin’s passage over the ice at Point Lata. Courtesy of the Mansell Collection.
When Belanger came back with Vaillant’s load, he informed us that he had found him lying on his back, benumbed with cold, and incapable of being roused. The stoutest men of the party were now earnestly entreated to bring him to the fire, but they declared themselves unequal to the task; and, on the contrary, urged me to allow them to throw down their loads, and proceed to Fort Enterprise with the utmost speed. A compliance with their desire would have caused the loss of the whole party, for the men were totally ignorant of the course to be pursued, and none of the officers, who could have directed the march, were sufficiently strong to keep up at the pace they would then walk; besides, even supposing them to have found their way, the strongest men would certainly have deserted the weak. Something, however, was absolutely necessary to be done, to relieve them as much as possible from their burdens, and the officers consulted on the subject. Mr. Hood and Dr. Richardson proposed to remain behind, with a single attendant, at the first place where sufficient wood and tripe de roche should be found for ten days’ consumption; and that I should proceed as expeditiously as possible with the men to the house, and thence send them immediate relief. They strongly urged that this arrangement would contribute to the safety of the rest of the party, by relieving them from the burden of a tent, and several other articles; and that they might afford aid to Crédit, if he should unexpectedly come up. I was distressed beyond description at the thought of leaving them in such a dangerous situation, and for a long time combated their proposal; but they strenuously urged, that this step afforded the only chance of safety for the party, and I reluctantly acceded to it. The ammunition, of which we had a small barrel, was also to be left with them, and it was hoped that this deposit would be a strong inducement for the Indians to venture across the barren grounds to their aid. We communicated this resolution to the men, who were cheered at the slightest prospect of alleviation to their present miseries, and promised wi
th great appearance of earnestness to return to those officers, upon the first supply of food.
The party then moved on; Vaillant’s blanket and other necessaries were left in the track, at the request of the Canadians, without any hope, however, of his being able to reach them. After marching till dusk without seeing a favourable place for encamping, night compelled us to take shelter under the lee of a hill, amongst some willows, with which, after many attempts, we at length made a fire. It was not sufficient, however, to warm the whole party, much less to thaw our shoes; and the weather not permitting the gathering of tripe de roche, we had nothing to cook. The painful retrospection of the melancholy events of the day banished sleep, and we shuddered as we contemplated the dreadful effects of this bitterly cold night on our two companions, if still living. Some faint hopes were entertained of Crédit’s surviving the storm, as he was provided with a good blanket, and had leather to eat.
The weather was mild next morning. We left the encampment at nine, and a little before noon came to a pretty extensive thicket of small willows, near which there appeared a supply of tripe de roche on the face of the rocks. At this place Dr. Richardson and Mr. Hood determined to remain, with John Hepburn, who volunteered to stop with them. The tent was securely pitched, a few willows collected, and the ammunition and all other articles were deposited, except each man’s clothing, one tent, a sufficiency of ammunition for the journey, and the officers’ journals. I had only one blanket, which was carried for me, and two pair of shoes. The offer was now made for any of the men, who felt themselves too weak to proceed, to remain with the officers, but none of them accepted it. Michel alone felt some inclination to do so. After we had united in thanksgiving and prayers to Almighty God, I separated from my companions, deeply afflicted that a train of melancholy circumstances should have demanded of me the severe trial of parting, in such a condition, from friends who had become endeared to me by their constant kindness and co-operation, and a participation of numerous sufferings. This trial I could not have been induced to undergo, but for the reasons they had so strongly urged the day before, to which my own judgment assented, and for the sanguine hope I felt of either finding a supply of provision at Fort Enterprise, or meeting the Indians in the immediate vicinity of that place, according to my arrangements with Mr. Wentzel and Akaitcho. Previously to our starting, Peltier and Benoit repeated their promises, to return to them with provision, if any should be found at the house, or to guide the Indians to them, if any were met.