She became Jane’s confidential secretary, constant companion and staunch moral support. Sophy was trusted with the task of writing Jane’s private correspondence and was even permitted to make entries in Jane’s personal journals.
Jane Franklin marvelled at Sophy’s ‘acuteness and memory’. Sophy, in turn, once wrote of the relationship: ‘We are two persons and not one.’ However, this intensely close relationship between the two women caused some friction in the Franklin household. Jane frequently quarrelled with her stepdaughter, Eleanor Franklin, and their bonds were never as strong as those between Jane and Sophy. In time, Jane and Eleanor became totally estranged.
Sophy Cracroft adopted many of Jane Franklin’s characteristics. Jane, who became Lady Franklin within months of her wedding day, was an independent and uncompromising woman who spoke her mind freely and was not afraid to challenge authority. She was also manipulative, calculating and a doggedly determined character.
Sophy Cracroft once wrote an aide-memoire listing Jane’s ‘gifts and graces’ which included, ‘Clearness of perception; tenacity of purpose; delicacy of perception’. According to Sophy, Jane Franklin possessed an ‘intense longing for truth’ and was ‘eminently critical’.3 The observations might easily have served as descriptions of Sophy Cracroft.
The close relationship between Sophy and Jane could do nothing to help Crozier in his attempts to court Sophy. Although he did not know it, the relationship was doomed from the start. Sophy respected and liked Crozier, but she could never come to love him. She admired his professionalism and enviable reputation among naval officers, but shared the same reservations about marrying into the navy as Thomas Coulman, Ross’ future father-in-law.
She probably saw enough in the relationship between John and Jane Franklin to realise the pitfalls of marrying a man like Crozier, who was unreservedly committed to lengthy and hazardous voyages of exploration. On a more prosaic level, Sophy nursed a faint dislike of the sea as she was invariably struck down by awful seasickness when making voyages.
Aside from the polite manners and quiet reserve of Hobart’s Government House, there was another reason why Sophy was not attracted to Crozier. Sophy Cracroft was a snob who regarded the untutored Crozier as ‘a horrid radical and an indifferent speller’.
Regardless of his steadfastness and amiable charm, Crozier was not a big enough catch for Sophy and there were plenty of other men beating a path to the doors of Government House in pursuit of her. An incorrigible flirt, she enjoyed toying with the affections of men like Crozier. Jane Franklin observed ‘several minor flirtations’ that came to nothing during the years at Hobart and coolly pigeonholed the fickle Sophy as a ‘sad flirt’.
Count Paul de Strzelecki, an aristocratic Polish geographer, was among those rebuffed by Sophy, despite a glittering reference from Lady Franklin, who called him the ‘brightest star in your galaxy of worthies’. Captain Ainsworth, another love-struck naval officer, proposed marriage but was flatly rejected amid mutterings that he was an unread bore. ‘He eats, drinks, sleeps and can do anything but read’, Jane Franklin commented.
Sophy Cracroft did not always get her own way. Henry Elliot, Franklin’s personal assistant at Government House and the son of the Admiralty big-wig, Lord Minto, was among the men who resisted her charms.
Sophy’s most ambitious flirtation occurred when she turned her amorous attentions to Ross, who was good-looking, popular and still unmarried. She threw herself at him in a flagrant attempt to break up his engagement to Ann Coulman, an ungracious move that earned a sniffy rebuke from Lady Franklin. Here, though, there may have been an ulterior motive, as Jane Franklin had herself fallen under Ross’ spell and was soon describing him as the ‘most handsome man in the navy’.
Ross politely resisted Sophy’s clumsy advances, which created a tangled state of affairs at Government House. Crozier was sighing for Sophy and Sophy was yearning for Ross, while in the background a strait-laced Lady Franklin kept her mild infatuation with Ross under strict control.
There was plenty of work to keep Crozier’s mind on more serious matters. Building the new magnetic observatory in the grounds of Government House began within days of Erebus and Terror berthing at Hobart. John Franklin offered enthusiastic and tireless support for the project, which provided him with a much-appreciated opportunity to escape the dreary affairs of office. He had assembled the required labour and materials many weeks before Crozier and Ross sailed into Hobart and Sophy Cracroft recorded that all her uncle’s spare time was spent at the site of the new observatory and added: ‘He is so much interested in terrestrial magnetism that nothing could give him greater relaxation.’
A squad of 200 convicts, press-ganged into service, worked flat out felling trees to clear the wooded area, before laying foundations for the observatory. The prisoners laboured from six in the morning until ten at night, though Ross firmly rejected all pleas to allow the men to work on the sabbath.
Officers’ quarters, a coach house and stables were also built alongside the observatory and Crozier and Ross made the site the onshore headquarters of the expedition. Their hammocks were slung alongside one another and Franklin noted the warmth and close friendship of the two men: ‘It is truly interesting seeing them together’, he wrote. ‘The same spirit animates each.’
The observatory was operational within nine days, with magnetic readings being taken hourly under the close supervision of Crozier. However, the solemn scientific duties were thrown into disarray when a young woman visited the observatory wearing a steel-reinforced bustier. The woman’s underwear, the local newspaper reported, inflicted ‘so much unintentional mischief ’ to the sensitive apparatus.
Influence of a different sort was used by Lady Franklin to ensure that the new observatory was named after her favourite – Ross. Initially, it was planned to call the building Gauss Villa after the eminent German mathematician and authority on magnetism, Karl Friedrich Gauss. But Jane Franklin, who freely admitted to being totally baffled by the subject of magnetism, dismissed this ‘skittish title’ and persuaded her husband to name it Rossbank.
To underline her authority, Lady Franklin also asked a local artist, Henry Mundy, to paint a picture of Crozier, Ross and Franklin standing alongside Rossbank. When Mundy declined the commission, Jane turned to Thomas Bock, a reformed ex-convict who dabbled in engraving and painting.
Bock had to make do without the presence of Crozier and Ross for his picture, as he did not begin the task until after Erebus and Terror had sailed. But he did get some unexpected help from Crozier, who asked John Davis, second master of Terror and a talented artist, to sketch the scene before the ships departed for the Antarctic.
Shortly before sailing, Crozier sent the sketch to Lady Franklin, who described it as ‘one of the prettiest thoughts that ever entered into Captain Crozier’s head’. She passed the sketch on to Bock to assist him in his own, more famous, work.
Bock’s painting of the three captains was subsequently given to Edward Sabine, the leading naval authority on magnetism and a veteran of John Ross’ 1818 expedition. The painting was later donated to the Scott Polar Research Institute in England and was returned to Tasmania in 1948.
Crozier and Ross became local celebrities and were the centre of attention as Hobart society milked their presence. Lavish dinners were thrown at Government House and the men were dragged to a succession of theatre parties, grand balls and the occasional inland trek for picnics. In return, Crozier and Ross hosted showy receptions on board Erebus and Terror. Before long, Hobart had adopted Crozier and Ross as the ‘Two Captains’.
Thanks to Franklin, the men even found time in the busy schedule to contribute to a lasting piece of the island’s heritage. On 5 November, shortly before sailing to the Antarctic, Crozier and Ross attended a major public ceremony to lay the foundation stone for the new Government House, which was eventually completed in the late 1850s and stands to this day. A description of proceedings, which acknowledged the presence of Croz
ier and Ross, was buried under the building. In the harbour, the guns of Erebus and Terror fired a thunderous salute to mark the occasion.
Rossbank Observatory: sketch by John Davis of Terror.
Rossbank: Crozier (centre), Ross (right) and Franklin (left), three of the navy’s most experienced explorers, outside the Rossbank Observatory at Hobart, Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) in 1842. The artist was an ex-convict, Thomas Bock.
A somewhat unpleasant incident occurred the following day, after Crozier and Ross had ventured north of Hobart to New Norfolk to attend a ceremony at which they helped place the foundation stone for a new college. Some coins and an inscribed account of the proceedings were buried beneath the stone, but it was lifted by thieves during the night and the articles stolen. The college subsequently failed.
The happy mood was restored when Hobart threw an extravagant party prior to the expedition’s departure, with more than 300 worthies pouring into the Custom House for a grand farewell ball. The guests, said the local newspaper, were ‘an ample store of beauty and chivalry’ and the farewell toast to Crozier and Ross was greeted with a ‘universal burst of applause and cheering’.
Crozier emerged as a highly popular figure during his time at Hobart, particularly with Lady Franklin. The two developed a lasting friendship and Crozier responded by calling her a ‘dear, good woman’. He was always comfortable in Lady Franklin’s presence, despite her spirited nature and acerbic tongue. One commentator noted that Jane Franklin’s relationship with Crozier was ‘less formal and more companionable’ than her association with Ross.4
Hutchins School, Hobart: Crozier’s personal donation helped to found one of Tasmania’s most prestigious schools.
Despite his failure to win over Sophy Cracroft, Crozier had rarely been happier in his life. Jane Franklin wrote: ‘Captains Ross and Crozier call [Hobart] their own home of the Southern Hemisphere.’
On one occasion, Crozier and Lady Franklin pulled Ross’ leg with a hint that Crozier was planning to resign from the expedition and stay behind in Van Diemen’s Land when the ships sailed. Ross, however, sensed Crozier’s contentment and took it seriously.
The episode arose after Lady Franklin had bought Betsey Island, a 400-acre island in Hobart Harbour. Crozier was attracted to the spot and Jane offered to sell it to him for the same price she had paid. Ross heard about Crozier’s interest in the island and Jane Franklin said he became ‘comically serious and meditative’ at the possibility of his good friend deserting the expedition.
The presence of Crozier and Ross at Van Diemen’s Land was fully appreciated by a Franklin household that had often been unsettled during an unhappy period of seven years on the island. The teenage Eleanor Franklin once told Ross: ‘We often look back to the days you and Captain Crozier were with us, considering them the happiest we have spent here.’5
Understandably, there was regret all round when, on 12 November 1840, Erebus and Terror finally slipped into the Derwent River and out of Hobart for the journey to the Antarctic. The ‘Two Captains’ each carried a pot of jam made by Jane Franklin.
John Franklin, clearly longing to be back at sea and part of the expedition, stood alongside Ross on the deck of Erebus as the ships began their lengthy voyage. A little later, he transferred to Terror to say a personal farewell to Crozier. ‘He is a nice fatherly old man’, Sergeant Cunningham reported.
Crozier had mixed emotions. He was keenly aware of his responsibilities and the enormity of the task that lay ahead. But his heart was heavy. As Erebus and Terror sailed away from Hobart, Crozier resolved to ask for Sophy Cracroft’s hand in marriage.
chapter eleven
An Epic Voyage
Crozier and Ross sailed southwards in a mood of simmering rage. While at Hobart, they had learned that Wilkes and Dumont D’Urville had been active in deepest southern waters, which upset the British sense of propriety. Crozier and Ross, in tune with the chauvinistic doctrines of Barrow, naturally assumed that Britain possessed an inalienable right to explore without the ‘interference’ of foreign ships.
D’Urville, using Hobart as his base, had found 150 miles (240 kilometres) of new Antarctic coastline between 136° and 142°east, which he named Adelie Land after his wife. Wilkes had the courtesy to write to Ross about his sightings in the region of 100° and 160° east, but Ross, irritated by the unwelcome intrusion, did not reply.
It was decided to drive Erebus and Terror south along the meridian of 170° east, helped by encouraging recent reports from a British sealing captain, John Balleny. In 1839, only a year before Erebus and Terror first sailed, Balleny had penetrated further south than either Wilkes or D’Urville, reaching 69° south, where he discovered open sea.
Ross and Crozier had no reason to feel threatened. Erebus and Terror were far better equipped than either Wilkes or D’Urville to penetrate the Southern Ocean. Their specially strengthened vessels and their long years of service in the Arctic gave Crozier and Ross a marked advantage over the American and French commanders.
On their departure from Hobart, Erebus and Terror had set course for the bleak volcanic outpost of the Auckland Isles, about 250 miles (400 kilometres) off the southern coast of New Zealand and the site of the world’s largest breeding grounds of wandering albatrosses. It was planned to build an observatory at Rendezvous Harbour, but a major surprise awaited the landing party as they rowed ashore. Two notice boards were discovered with hand-painted records of visits by both Wilkes and D’Urville, who had arrived at Rendezvous Harbour only 24 hours apart. Inside a bottle was a badly soiled note claiming that Wilkes had cruised along an ‘Icy Barrier’.
High winds, much like those encountered at the Kerguelens, made the work of erecting the observatory very difficult. After three weeks of struggle, the expedition was relieved when, on 12 December, it pulled away from the island. Before departing Erebus and Terror left behind an assortment of wildlife – a ram, two ewes, a number of pigs, two goats and some poultry – to provide a source of fresh meat for future visitors to the isolated speck in the vast ocean.
The short, routine trip to nearby Campbell Island almost resulted in disaster when violent winds drove both vessels aground on unseen muddy flats. Erebus managed to get free, but Crozier was forced to pump out water and land stores to lighten Terror. The ship floated off unharmed at high tide. ‘Joy and satisfaction beamed on every face’, Ross remarked as Terror was released.
It was an incident which further raised Crozier’s stature among his crew. Crozier, though a firm disciplinarian, was always regarded with respect by fellow officers who recognised his first-rate seamanship and close attention to detail.
The first iceberg was sighted two days after Christmas and even weathered Arctic hands such as Crozier and Ross were amazed at the enormity of the huge monolithic islands of ice that loomed out of the sea and dwarfed Erebus and Terror.
Icebergs in the Antarctic are much different to those that Crozier and Ross had encountered so many times in the Arctic. While the Arctic bergs are more conical and resemble small floating hills, the giant Antarctic bergs are mostly huge, flat slabs of ice with steep perpendicular cliffs. Some Antarctic bergs have measured 100 miles (160 kilometres) in length, but are more typically between 300–1,000 feet (100–300 metres).
Erebus and Terror pushed further south in wild weather, and crossed the Antarctic Circle on New Year’s Day 1841, a feat marked by the issuing to all hands of more winter clothing and extra grog. Billy, the pet goat, was given lashings of port wine and staggered around the quarterdeck to the amusement of the crews.
The mood on board was optimistic. On 6 January, Crozier transferred to Erebus for a light-hearted party to celebrate Twelfth Night and then invited Ross to finish off the evening with more drinks on board Terror. The revelry came to an abrupt halt, however, when one of Terror’s sailors fell overboard and had to be rescued.
The ice became more dense and tightly packed as the ships pressed further south. Before long, the horizon to the south was f
illed with an unbroken field of ice and Erebus and Terror faced the choice of seeking a way through the pack ice or retreating to warmer waters and abandoning the mission. The ships drove on southwards, looking for gaps in the ice.
The ice belt around the Antarctic continent presents a formidable barrier to ships. No vessels had entered the pack ice in this area before, and sailing ships, who were at the mercy of the region’s ferocious winds, were particularly vulnerable to collision.
The pack encases the Antarctic continent like a girdle, extending in width from 350–1,800 miles (560–2,880 kilometres) and it prevents ships from reaching the mainland for much of the year. Leads of open water, which are sprinkled with large and dangerous blocks of floating ice, open and close under the influence of currents and strong winds. Ships entering a lane of open water can find their entry and exit routes suddenly closed off by the constantly moving ice.
Crozier and Ross sailed south in strong winds, anxiously searching for inviting lanes of open water. The ships frequently sought shelter in the lee of colossal icebergs that towered over their masts. Suddenly the line of retreat was cut off when strong gales blew from behind the ships and the ice closed together.
With little option but to continue south, it was decided to ram the ice with the bows of the blunt-nosed ships. Erebus went first, followed by Crozier in Terror. Sometimes, the ships managed to break through, but often they came to a sudden halt as the ice refused to give way. On the ice, startled penguins scuttled alongside in wonderment.
For several days, the ships dodged and weaved among the leads, with visibility often obliterated by bouts of fog and white-out conditions caused by swirling snowstorms. The ships frequently lost sight of each other. On deck, the men fired muskets or rang bells to make sure they did not get too separated.
The decks and sails were covered in a ghostly shroud of ice and the sea spray froze as it fell on the ships. Steering half-blind and surrounded on all sides by heavy ice, the ships crept southwards, on constant alert for icebergs. Sometimes, they brushed alongside a giant berg and men used poles to prevent a heavy collision.
Captain Francis Crozier Page 10
