‘Quite sure, Mrs Coppin. I hate to rush off like this but I have another family to attend to this evening,’ said Mrs Powell. She knew that my mother was struggling to compose herself as a good host. Their eyes met and Mrs Powell said, ‘I know that you probably expected something more. It can be unpredictable and I am not in control of the results. We can try it again, if you like. I can come back another time.’
Even I could see that Mama had little interest in doing that. Grandfather, who had taken himself to sit in the rocking chair, now cocked his head and asked, ‘What is that?’
‘What is what?’ asked Aunt Harriet.
He shook his head, wanting her to listen. No one moved and, then, we heard it. Whatever it was it seemed to follow its own pattern or rhythm. Mama looked accusingly at Mrs Powell and whispered, ‘Is it whoever was moving our table? Are you leaving something here in our house?’
I had never heard my mother speak so rudely to someone before but Mrs Powell did not seem to hear her. Looking perplexed, she was studying the air as if waiting for an explanation. In the meantime, Papa had crossed to the other side of the room, saying quietly, ‘It sounds louder over here.’
At exactly the same time as he slid open the folding door, I recognised the sound but pretended ignorance when Papa laughed and beckoned my mother and Aunt Harriet to come see what he was looking at. I followed them to find, as I had guessed, my little brother fast asleep on the carpet, curled around his favourite ship, snoring like a steam engine.
17
Tuesday, 25th April 1848
Captain Crozier’s Journal
Today, we finally reached Victory Point and made camp while Lieutenant Irving fetched Lieutenant Gore’s report from the cairn. It was a sobering experience to read Gore’s words from almost a year ago, when he wrote in blissful ignorance, ‘Sir John Franklin commanding the expedition. All well.’
Officer Fitzjames stood beside me and shook his head. ‘I had not realised that he wrote this two weeks before Sir John’s death.’
‘Yes,’ I sighed as I handed him the paper. ‘What a different expedition we were last May.’
‘What would you have me add?’ asked my second-in-command.
‘Start with today’s date,’ I instructed him, ‘and then take down the following:
H M Ships Terror and Erebus were deserted on 22nd April, 5 leagues NNW of this, having been beset since 12th September 1846. The officers and crews, consisting of 105 souls, under the command of Captain F.R.M. Crozier.
Sir John Franklin died on the 11th June 1847 and the total loss by deaths in the expedition has been to this date 9 officers and 15 men.’
Officer Fitzjames was obliged to squash his sentences onto the outer edges of the report with the result that his writing, I am sure he will agree, was not entirely easy to read. After signing his name, he returned the sheet to me for my signature. I quickly reread what he had transcribed and then, at the last moment, decided to supply some more detail, writing, ‘And start tomorrow 26th for Great Fish River.’
We handed the note back to Lieutenant Irving so that he could bring it back to the cairn which was, he told us, less than two miles away. Fitzjames and I stood watching him for as long as we could, before he faded into the mist. I silently recited a prayer that our note would be found.
Instead of my cosy cabin aboard Terror, I am writing this huddled in my tent. Writing with a gloved hand is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. A simple task, writing, that I normally enjoy is now bound up with frustration as I try to keep this pencil upright. Yet, I refuse to give up. I am relieved I thought to bring the pencils as the ink is frozen solid. This journal has been a constant companion throughout the last few years and I will continue adding to it, no matter what. Giving up my cabin, and Terror herself, is one thing but I am determined not to be thwarted from keeping this book of my recent past, present and future. I underline that word ‘future’. I have a past and this is the present.
I hear a voice outside regaling his mates with a funny story about his children. To my left, Officers Fitzjames is fighting the same battle as me, equally determined to record this day in his notebook. Mr Goodsir is fighting an even tougher battle in his attempt to darn either a pair of socks or a pair of gloves. His head is bent solidly over his work as he draws the needle in and out of the material as carefully as he can. As I watch, his concentration is broken once more when the needle gets stuck in the finger of the glove he is wearing. I silently wish him the best of luck.
Wednesday, 26th April 1848
It has been a rotten day and I dare say that my writing is just as bad, if not worse. I am sitting in my tent, in a state of complete exhaustion. Thomas has just delivered my writing desk. It is after five o’clock and I can just about smell whatever is being served up as dinner this evening, the cooks having positioned their oven on the ground outside.
I had hoped to keep us all together for the long trek south but those hopes were dashed a few hours ago. Neptune and I were leading the way, over a hundred men behind us, working in shifts to help push and drag the sledges and lifeboat. It was my decision to take the longer but easier route since it would have been much too exhausting dragging the sledges, boat and ourselves up and down the jagged landscape with its snowy hills, deep and shallow crevices and ridges of varying lengths. The shorter route, across land, would involve spending most of our time and effort in just climbing. Therefore, it is far better to walk across the iced sea because it is relatively smooth.
As we trudged along, Officer Fitzjames caught up with me, calling out for my attention, ‘Sir, we have a problem and a big one at that.’
I had not looked back in some time. As the commander, I need to set the example of only looking straight ahead as we march. It is of vital importance to keep up the pace and persist in heading south at all costs. Being forced to come to a halt did not sit well with me. Also, to stop moving is to be severely reprimanded by the temperature. To be sure, the walking works up a sweat in the sunshine but standing still allows the sweat to freeze. I tried to mask my irritation as I turned to face the officer, thus allowing me to realise that our crew was falling away into separate groups.
‘What on earth?’ I began.
I could hardly make out the stragglers they were so far back, and the glare of the white snow hurt my eyes even with my blue goggles. At this distance, I would have easily convinced myself that they were penguins, not men. This would not do at all. The crew may find fault with my stern and unyielding manner but to survive the coming months we needed discipline in the ranks, discipline first and discipline last. Even as I began to chastise the young man standing in front of me, I could not fail to notice how miserable he looked.
‘Officer Fitzjames, I expect you and your fellow officers to understand the importance of maintaining ourselves as a tight group. Apart from anything else, it is the proper naval procedure.’
‘Yes, sir,’ he replied.
As he prepared to say more, I rudely interrupted him, ‘Well, why the devil are they all the way back there? It just isn’t good enough. They are too far away to count, never mind recognise as members of our crew. I cannot have a breakdown in communications. Might I also remind you of the ease in which such a slow-moving group can lose sight of the rest of us?’
Officer Fitzjames hung his head, obviously deciding that it was best to let me have my say before he spoke once more. I paused in my rant, thus allowing him the opportunity to explain himself. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘they are the sick, the invalids.’
I stared at the barely moving specks on the horizons and felt my stomach lurch. The officer continued, ‘I have spent the last hour hounding them to stick closer to the rest of us. I threatened them with court martial and anything else I can think of. But …’
‘But?’ I asked, guessing what he was about to say.
‘They are just too weak.’
I briefly pressed my lips together. They felt like they were made of stone. ‘Do they realise that we have no option b
ut to keep moving?’
‘Yes, sir. I told them that and they do not mean to disrespect your orders, but they would prefer to stop here and allow the rest of us to continue. More than a few of them are in pretty bad shape, sir. Mr Goodsir suggested I talk to you.’
‘Talk to me about what?’
‘Both he and Officer Peddie have offered to stay with them. He reckons they could build a shelter of some sort, like a sick bay, though I did hear some of them talking about returning to the ships. In any case, there is plenty of food to split between the two groups.’
I sighed deeply, unwilling to commit to this new situation.
‘Sir, two men have just collapsed. Their flesh is black, just like we have seen with the others. Actually, sir, they look more dead than alive and that’s the truth of it.’
Oh, God help us! As if I didn’t have enough worries.
‘How many men are there?’
Officer Fitzjames shrugged. ‘Somewhere between twenty and thirty. Apologies, Commander. I should have counted them. I’ll have a man do it now.’
He turned to summon one of the men forward, but I told him not to bother. ‘It is alright, though I will need a list of their names. We must keep a record of what exactly is happening and to whom.’
He looked at me, waiting for me to decide what to do. I shook my head in annoyance. We had only left the ships four days ago. I felt that I was being tested for my leadership qualities and considered walking back to inspect the invalids for myself but there was no time to waste. A good leader must trust his officers. If Mr Goodsir and Peddie had already decided to stay behind then I had to accept that they felt it was absolutely necessary. Well, that was my first thought, but I just as swiftly contradicted it. Ordinarily, I believed in discipline and keeping a professional distance from the men. However, there was nothing ordinary about this situation. I needed to see the ill men up close before walking away and leaving them behind. It also occurred to me that maybe some of them would be inspired to keep going if I showed an interest in their plight.
Of course, I had known some of the men were ailing, but I convinced myself that they would somehow cope until we found help, that they would prefer to first get out of the Arctic before daring to allow themselves to succumb to their illness. How naïve I was.
‘Sir?’ said Captain Fitzjames, hinting at me to hurry up with my thoughts.
‘Come with me, Captain, I want to inspect matters for my own sake.’
I wondered if he disagreed with me. Well, if he did, he did not betray any impatience in his manner.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Have the rest of them march on, will you? We will only be a few minutes behind them.’
He passed on my orders to the men nearest us. ‘You there! Take the lead and keep going. The commander and I are just inspecting the lines.’
As we walked back, I studied the men we passed. There was no denying it; we were already a raggedy-looking bunch. Most of their faces were covered by their scarves or whatever they could use to wrap around their heads, leaving only the eyes on show. And they could not hide the fact that they were freezing. They clapped their hands together, stamped their feet and pulled their hats down over their faces. Some of them were doubled over with dreadful fits of coughing. Those pulling the boats on the sledges hardly noticed me, so absorbed were they in their tasks. I could see they were putting their backs into it but, still, they were barely progressing. The dead weight of those necessary contraptions, all filled to the brim with our possessions and food, was fighting them, inch for inch. The biggest challenge I had was not to question if we could keep this up for the next two months. In any case, they were all healthy men compared to the miserable lot that were gathered around Goodsir and Peddie.
Now, they were a sorry sight to behold. Most of them were sitting on the ground, trying to shelter their bowed heads between their rounded shoulders. If they could, I am sure that they would have forced both shoulders to meet, like a sheet of paper folded in two.
‘I’m too hot,’ exclaimed one sailor. It was an incredible statement considering that his very breath was creating puffs of mist. As he started to unravel his scarf and drag his collars this way and that, his friend leapt towards him and a half-hearted tussle began, the sailor trying to shove the scarf off him while his friend tried to re-wrap it about his neck.
‘But I’m burning up, I tell you. Leave me alone!’
‘Hush, man. It’s just your imagination. Why, it is freezing. Can’t you see the ice in my beard?’
A third man whined, ‘Oh, for God’s sake, mind your own business and leave him alone. You’re such a busybody!’
He might have continued except he was suddenly seized by a dreadful cough that only ended when he spat something into the snow. I did not look to see what it was.
The second man, who I did not recognise, decided that the cougher was ready to be challenged. ‘You come over here and say that to my face. Nobody calls me names. Nobody!’
It was at this point that Captain Fitzjames decided to make my presence known by bellowing, ‘Attention for Commander Crozier!’
I appreciated his efforts but most of the group did not seem to care. Some staggered even as they turned to face me. One fellow would have fallen only for his colleagues, on either side of him, grabbing hold of his arms. At least Doctor Goodsir looked up from his patient, who was lying far too still. He patted the man on the arm and stood up. Another fellow was lying on the ground and I assumed the man bending over him was John Peddie. I gestured to Mr Goodsir that he should follow me and Captain Fitzjames as we took a few steps away from the men.
‘Well, Mr Goodsir?’ I asked.
I could barely make out his features as his hat was pulled down low while his scarf was wound tightly around his nose and mouth. To oblige me, he plucked his scarf as far as his chin and said, ‘You see for yourself, sir.’
‘If it were just one or two, we could put them into the boat, or on a sledge,’ I offered.
Neither the doctor nor Fitzjames answered me. We were surrounded by almost a third of our total number.
As we stood there, I saw the doctor flinch and turned to see what caused this reaction. A man was rolling about on the ground, his feet pulled up into his chest, saying over and over again, ‘I’m so cold, so terribly cold. I’m so cold!’
It was a ghastly sign that some, if not all, of these men were utterly unable for a two-month trek out of the Arctic. And I was only a Royal Naval commander, not a magician.
Mr Goodsir spoke in a low voice. ‘You have my word that I will do my best for them, of course, but …’
There was that word again, but. Our entire situation was riddled with them.
I sighed and turned to ask my second-in-command his opinion of our dilemma. ‘Well, Captain Fitzjames, what would you do if you were me?’
His reply was immediate. ‘Let them go, sir. If we force them to keep moving, some of them, at least, will not survive. This way, staying behind, gives them a fighting chance. We can come back for them since we know where they are.’
My teeth chattered against the cold, biting air. ‘Alright, Mr Goodsir, you have my blessing, but I want a list of your patients for my personal records. We will return for your party as soon as we are able. Although, remember, it is you who may rescue us if the summer temperatures release the ships.’
I did not bother to ask how many sailors were staying with the doctor or how far gone they were in their illness. For one thing, it was hard to identify who was who since everyone was wearing as much clothing as they could fit around themselves. And for another, it was more pleasant to believe in the possibility that those sick men might just manage to take either Erebus or Terror and come looking for us in the next month or so.
‘You and Peddie are doing us a great service in looking after the sick. I wish you well.’ I shook his hand. There was little else to say.
‘Please, sir,’ said Mr Goodsir as he ripped off a glove and reached into his coat pocket
, ‘might I trouble you to post a letter for me. It’s for my family and, well, it is something in case …’
I took the letter from him, saying, ‘It would be my pleasure. Though, let us hope, for all our sakes, that in the months to come, we will remember this day from the safety of our drawing rooms and marvel at how we got through it.’
He smiled and shook hands with Captain Fitzjames. I felt that I should address the invalids; they were suffering so much after all we had been through and they had wanted to get home as much as we did. It would have been unfair not to include them in our goodbyes. As Captain Fitzjames jotted down their names, I took my position in front of them and began, ‘Gentlemen, I want to wish you all the very best of luck.’
A chorus of coughing along with the rolling man who would not cease his cries of ‘I’m so cold’ forced me to talk louder. The cold air burnt the back of my throat and even my teeth hurt so I kept my speech short. I felt like I was also addressing miles upon miles of the landscape that surrounded us – the ice that refused to melt, the snow that refused to dwindle and whatever lay beneath it.
‘You are in good hands, thanks to the doctors who have volunteered to stay behind and care for you. Food will be distributed and I hope you will continue to observe naval rules and regulations. They will keep you right.’
‘Will you come back for us, sir?’
I could not see the speaker’s face though his voice sounded young. I nodded and assured him, and his companions, ‘Yes, of course. You have my word on that. It may take a couple of months but we will return. Eight or nine weeks at the most. In the meantime, you must ration your food and keep yourselves physically and mentally busy.’
As a few heads turned away from me, I thought I saw tears. My heart was heavy though I strove to impart some wisdom. ‘As you well know, this is a harsh environment. Respect it. You will need to help one another and work together. This is the key to success, full co-operation. Look out for each other.’
Chasing Ghosts Page 16
