Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Franklin

This last incident did trouble Sir John a little.No matter what, he didn't want to be "searched and rescued", no matter whether the search and rescue team that hastily formed an army and arrived in the short summer thaw came by land or sea, and it didn't matter whether the commander-in-chief was the whiskey-smelling John Ross Sir, or young Sir James Ross (although he was no longer engaged in polar exploration, Sir John believed that Lady Jane would force him to return), it was all shame and disgrace to him. But Sir John was able to keep his cool, because he knew that Admiralty would not be persuaded so quickly, even by someone as good at leverage as his wife Jane.Sir John Bello and the members of the legendary Arctic Council, not to mention Sir John's officers at the headquarters of the Royal Naval Exploration Corps, were well aware that the Erebus and the Terror carried three years of rations, and if the daily quota was reduced, it would still Can last longer.What's more, the crew has the ability to fish and hunt, as long as they can see the prey.Sir John knew his wife, and his indomitable wife would do all she could to organize a search-and-rescue party in such a situation.But it is almost certain that the fine inertia of the Royal Navy will ensure that the search and rescue party will not be organized until the spring and summer of 1848, or even later.

It was for this reason that Sir John formed five teams of sledges at the end of May, 1847, and set out towards the horizon in several directions to learn about the situation.One of them was ordered to look for unfrozen water along the way it had come.They set out on May 21st, 23rd, and 24th, and Lieutenant Gore's team - the most important team - set out last, heading southeast towards King William Island. In addition to the survey, First Lieutenant Graham Gower had another important task: to deposit on land the first status report written by Sir John since the expedition began. The incident was the closest Franklin came to a disobedience in his naval career.His orders from the Admiralty were to pile up conical steles here and there during the expedition, in which to store status reports.If their ship did not turn up in the Bering Strait as expected, the Royal Navy Search and Rescue would know which direction Franklin was heading and the reason for their possible delay.But Franklin left no message on Beach Island, although he had nine full months to prepare one.

In fact, Sir John was so dissatisfied with their first winter at anchor in such icy places, and was so ashamed that three of the crew died that winter of tuberculosis and acute pneumonia, that he privately decided to leave only the grave there. , as his only message.With luck, the tombs will not be discovered until years after his remarkable achievement of successfully navigating the Northwest Passage was widely reported around the world. But it has been almost two years since he last sent an urgent official document to his superiors, so he dictated a status report for Guo Er to record and put it in a sealed copper tank.In all he had two hundred copper pots.

He personally told Lieutenant Gore and Second Officer Charles DeVos where the information was to be placed.About seventeen years ago, Sir James Ross's expedition to the King William landmass piled up a six-foot-high conical stele at the westernmost point of their journey, into which the copper pot was to be placed .Franklin knew that the Royal Navy would go there first when it sought news of the expedition, because it was the last landmark on every map. That morning, before Gore, DeVos, and six crew members set off, Sir John could not help smiling as he looked at the last landmark scrawled on his map in his private stateroom.Seventeen years ago, Ross, in honor of him—not to mention its ironic effect now—had named the westernmost headland along the coast Cape Victory, and the nearby highlands Jane Franklin Point and Point Franklin.Now Sir John looked at the map, which had been darkened by the erosion of time, and there were only some black lines and a large unmarked area west of the very carefully drawn Victory Point. He felt that he and these people were destined by fate or God brought it here on purpose.

Sir John thought his dictated message - written down by Lieutenant Gower - was succinct and powerful: A certain day in May, 1847.HMS Erebus and Terror ... wintered on the ice at latitude 70°5' north and longitude 98° 23' west.In the winter of 1846 to April 7, first went up the Wellington Strait to 77 degrees north latitude, then returned along the west coast of Cornwallis Island, and finally sailed at 74 degrees 43 minutes 28 seconds north latitude. , 90 degrees thirty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds west longitude, Biqi Island spends the winter.John Franklin commanded the expedition.Everything is in good condition.A scouting party, consisting of two officers and six sailors, left the ship's location on May 24, 1847.Lieutenant Greg Gore.Second Mate Cha DeVos.

Franklin told Goal and DeVos to sign and date the paper before sealing the pot and inserting it into the James Ross stele. What Franklin didn't notice when dictating the message—and Goer didn't correct it—was that he had given the wrong year when they spent the winter on Beach Island.Last year they were trapped in the frozen bay of Beech Island, sheltered by land, in the first winter (1845-46); Six to the winter of 1847. It doesn't matter.Sir John believes he is now leaving a secondary message for posterity, possibly only for some Royal Naval historian, who may be tempted to include it in reports of Sir John's future expeditions (which Sir John has already planned to return To write another book, the publication of which would put his private fortune on par with his wife's) with a little more supporting history, rather than dictating a report that will soon be read by everyone.

On the morning of the departure of Lieutenant Gore's sleigh team, Sir John went to the ice to see him off in heavy clothes. "Have you brought all you need, gentlemen?" asked Sir John. The first lieutenant Guo Er nodded. He ranked fourth among all leading officers, second only to Sir John, Captain Crozier and Lieutenant Colonel Fitzjian. A smile flashed on the face of his subordinate second officer DeVos.The sun was so bright that several of the men had already put on the grid mesh goggles issued by Mr. Osmer, the supply officer of the Nether, to prevent the eyes from being blinded by the glare of the sun.

"Yes, Sir John. Thank you, sir," said Gore. "A lot of wool?" joked Sir John. "Yes, sir," said Gore, "eight layers of close-woven, high-quality Northumberland shearling, Sir John, and nine layers if you count the underpants." Hearing the jokes of the two officers, all five crew members laughed.Sir John knew that these people liked him very much. "Ready to camp out on the ice?" Sir John asked one of them, Charles Best. "Oh, yes, Sir John," said the short but stocky young sailor. "We have a Dutch tent, sir, and eight wolf-skin rugs that can be padded or covered. And the supply officer's good Hudson Twenty-four sleeping bags sewed for us by Bay blankets, Sir John. We'll be warmer on the ice than in the ship, sir."

"Very well, very well," replied Sir John absently.He looked to the southeast at King William Land—or Island (if Francis Crozier's outrageous theories were to be believed).It appears to be just a small, darker region of the sky above the horizon.Sir John prayed to God that he really hoped that Gore and his men would find clear water on the shore, whether it was before or after the message was hidden.Sir John has done everything in his power (or even outside) to force the two ships (even if the Erebus is quite damaged) to cross the softening ice ahead (hope it does soften), into the Coastal waters that give them more protection, and land that gives them hope of rescue.There, they could find a quiet cove or a gravel sandbank, and carpenters and engineers could make the necessary repairs to the Erebus: straightening the drive shaft, replacing it with a new propeller, and propping up the twisted internal reinforcement iron. strips, and perhaps replace some of the chipped iron, to keep them going.

If it cannot be repaired, then Sir John thinks - but he has not mentioned it to any of the officers - that the ghost will be anchored and the crew and the coal that will be exhausted will be dropped, according to the dire plan proposed by Crozier the year before. Move together to the Terror, and the crowded—but high spirits, yes, Sir John was sure, high spirits—ship would sail west along the coast. At the last moment, Goodser, the Nether's assistant ship doctor, begged Sir John to let him join Guoer's team.Although neither Lieutenant Goer nor Second Mate De Vos were too keen on this, because Goodser was not very popular among the officers or crew.But Sir John agreed.The reason why the assistant ship doctor asked to participate was that he needed to collect more information on edible wild animals and plants to fight scurvy, the most feared disease of polar expeditions.He was particularly interested in the habits of the white bear, the only animal they could see in this weird and un-summer arctic summer.

Now, as Sir John watched the men lashing their gear to the heavy sledge, the little doctor leaned over to talk to him quietly. He was a small, pale, weak-looking fellow, with a receding chin, a queer mustache on his cheeks, and a strange softness in his eyes that even Sir John, who was usually very kind, would not have dared to learn. "Thank you again for letting me join Lieutenant Gore's team, Sir John," said the little doctor. Including the mosses that are definitely there on land could be incredibly important." Sir John stuck out his tongue involuntarily.The ship's doctor could not have known that his commanding officer had been subsisting for months on this moss soup. "Thank you very much, Mr. Goodser," he said coldly. Sir John knew that the clumsy young parrot liked being called "Doctor" rather than "Sir."But there is a problem with this title. Although Gu Deser has a good family background, he has only received professional training as an anatomy after all.Logically, his rank was equivalent to that of the Master Chief of two ships, so in Sir John's opinion, this non-military assistant ship doctor could only be called "Mr. Goodser". The commander, who was joking with the crew just now, suddenly became cold, which made the young ship doctor blush in embarrassment.He put his hat on tight and took three awkward steps backwards, back on the ice. "Oh, Mr. Goodser," Franklin added. "Yes, Sir John?" The young upstart blushed and almost tongue-tied in embarrassment. "You will forgive me that the official communiqué, which is encased in the Monument of James Ross on the King William Landmass, mentions only two officers and six crew of Lieutenant Gore's scouting party," said Sir John. "I Dictate that document before you ask to join. If I had known in advance that you would join, I would have said: two officers, an assistant doctor and five crew members." Goodser looked momentarily confused, not sure what Sir John meant, but he bowed, pulled his hat again, and murmured: "Very well, no problem, I understand, thank you, Sir John ’” and backed away again. A few minutes later, Sir John watched as Lieutenant Gore, DeVos, Goodser, Morfin, Ferrell, Best, Hartney, and Private Pikingdon crossed the ice and disappeared into the southeast.He looked cheerful and calm as usual, but he was actually thinking about the possibility of failure. Another winter in the frozen sea of ​​ice, another full year, would be enough to leave them with nothing left.The expedition's food, coal, oil, pyroligne as fuel for oil lamps, and rum will all run out.When the last thing disappeared, it was likely when the crew mutinied. Not only that, but the summer of 1847 could already be expected to be very cold, with no sign of melting ice.If the summer of 1848 had been like this one, an extra winter or year in the ice would have absolutely destroyed one or both of their ships.As in previous failed expeditions, when Sir John and his crew had to abandon ship and flee for their lives, dragging longboats, whalers and hastily assembled sledges across flimsy ice fields, praying to God that they would see the unfrozen waterway.Even if they were lucky enough to find waterways, they cursed them when the sled accidentally crashed through the thin ice and fell into the sea, or when the headwind blew the heavy boat back onto the ice.What's more, finding the waterway also means that the hungry and weak crew will have to paddle day and night.Sir John knew that what followed was an overland escape: eight hundred miles or more of rock and ice that looked the same; experience, a larger boat would not be able to navigate the Canadian rivers); and those hostile Eskimo natives.Even looking friendly can be deceiving, but they have other agendas.