Lost Words

August 14—We have discovered a new channel to the south, and named it Lady Jane Sound. It is wide, but much ice clogged except down the east shore where there is open water leading to the tantalising unknown. I estimate that we are little more than 350 miles from the strait discovered by Simpson and Dease and where there should be open sailing along the coast. It is tantalising indeed and Crozier came over for a conference this evening.  “It is opportunity,” he said. “This land offers precious few and we cannot afford the luxury of neglecting even one.” I argued for pushing on to Cape Walker. “The open water is not wide and it may lead us into difficulties, and it is unpleasantly early to be beset for the season. Parry made considerable headway to the west before he wintered at Melville Island and we should follow his route farther before turning south for the coast.” “Aye,” Crozier went on, “Parry did make many miles westward, but it was all along the Melville Island coast. He

August 13—The weather continues fair and the ice light, although it is heavier up against the Somerset coast. We progress west some ten or twelve miles off land, which is much different from the cliffs we have seen recently. To be sure, there are some cliffs but not of the same uniformity. Altogether the land hereabouts is more hilly, in keeping with its namesake, but of course the hills are much higher and there is no grass nor any of the apple orchards for which that delightful county of Somerset is so justly renowned. I would be no where else at this moment; yet to sit with you beneath an old oak and sample some cold roast duck and a glass of cool cider, would be most pleasant!  But we are well looked after; bread and biscuits are baked in ovens whenever the weather permits and the meat is of good quality. Our canned supplies, provided by the contract with Goldner’s Patent Preserved Meats, are not so good and some have been found leaking their contents already. I suspect this is

August 12—The storm continued against us all last night, although the wind abated to sudden short squalls by morning. Around 10 we espied some leads of open water and cut a passage out to them to recommence our tedious passage westward, but as we went, the leads became more numerous and wider until, by mid-afternoon we were sailing with some ease in relatively open water. It seems Reid was right and the ice has all been blown farther down the channel. Since the whole channel appeared open, we set course across to the shore of North Somerset which may be a continuation of Boothia. Our speed is still slow as there is much ice around, but the backbreaking work of cutting and hauling is done, at least for now.

August 11—My apologies, the last few days have been very hard and I have not been of a mind to write. On the 9th, we met ice solidly packed from shore to shore. For a time we imagined that we might be trapped for the season, uncommonly early, dangerously exposed in the open channel and a great disappointment after splendid good luck till now. Reid appeared unconcerned, however, saying, “Just you wait Mister Jems, she’ll no be solid yet, one of they leads’ll come for us afore long.” And sure enough, around 4 p.m. we heard a loud crack not unlike the report of a large artillery piece, but sharper. I was aft with the instruments and rushed forward thinking the worst had happened but not being able to imagine what it might be. I was met by Reid wearing a large crooked grin, saying, “Ah Mister Jems, there she be arl right,” and pointing to a wide lead which had appeared almost magically not twenty feet from the bow. It was little wider than the Erebus’s beam and snaked about in all directi

August 7—Off Prince Regent Inlet. It looks quite open, unlike the waters ahead in Barrow Strait which appear increasingly heavy with ice. The open path down the inlet is an enticement, but to what? No one knows if Boothia is an island or not and whether we may find easy passage around it to join with the seacoast mapped by Simpson and Dease—but our orders to proceed to Cape Walker are clear. Sir John is not a man to set off on some private escapade in the face of unambiguous instruction whatever the seductions might be.  The thickening ice pushes us to the far shore of the sound, that is to say, away from our goal at Cape Walker. But this is not all bad for we shall perhaps be given a chance to examine Wellington Channel into which we shall proceed if our more southerly route is blocked. The prospect pleases Le Vesconte, as it will give him a chance to examine the beginning of what he regards as the best route to the east. I do not hold with an open northern ocean and we have discus

August 6—Some fog this morning which made us proceed with caution, but the breeze increased from the southeast around ten, blew away the mists and helped us proceed with our errands. At this rate, we should tomorrow be at Prince Regent Inlet which has been so well explored by Parry and John Ross. Even if it is open, which seems likely, given the lightness of the ice this year, we must sail on. It is not our orders and we cannot afford the time nor the risk of becoming entrapped in an area so far from our goal.  At dinner this evening on the Terror, Sir John talked about the supplies left by Ross at Fury Beach and speculated on their probable condition. As a midshipman, Crozier helped deposit this cache and well remembers what was laid there. Apparently, John Ross spoke to Franklin of the supplies and suggested them as a possible goal for any party that might have to abandon these vessels on the far side of Boothia. Ross also promised to mount a relief expedition for his old friend i

August 5—The weather continues fair with no wind so we make little headway. It is frustratingly slow. The ice is thickening, but still easy going with Reid at lookout in the nest.  We have a monkey on board named Jacko, oddly the same name as the one which shared Goodsir’s accommodation in Edinburgh, yet this one belongs to one of the seamen, William Mark. It turns out, to everyone’s surprise, that Jacko is a lady. It is not overly cold yet, although Jacko sports a new blanket, frock and trousers which the sailors made for her. She, as appears characteristic of her species, is sometimes a most damnable pest, getting in to everything and helping herself to whatever catches her fancy.  Each of our vessels also has a canine passenger. Ours belongs to Gore and is Neptune by name, a breed known to game keepers as buck-dogs, but more commonly called greyhounds, very thin and long, but fast in the run. It is grey and so fits with the name, but they can come in all colours. Parry, in his

August 4—Weather continues fair but the wind has dropped and we make very slow passage. The ice remains light in mid-channel where we sail, but is piled up somewhat along the north shore.  Do you remember, on the day you bid us farewell at Greenhithe, the dove alighting on the masthead to give us an omen of good luck to carry on our endeavour. I am often put in mind of that as if the memory of it were a talisman which I can carry with me, and perhaps, knowing as I do your love of all things feathered and beaked, you too will be thinking of that same bird and our thoughts will be linked.  I am continually amazed at how the imagination of the people was caught by our expedition before we sailed, even those who had not the slightest wish or desire to set foot in more than six inches of ocean water, and how all took such pride in what we were setting out to do and revelled in the discoveries we would make in almost unimaginable seas so far from their ken. When the steamers Rattler and

August 3—In Lancaster Sound—the gateway to the Northwest Passage. This morning broke fair with a stiff following breeze. Sir John read the church service today and a sermon so very beautifully that I defy any man to hear and not feel the force of that which he conveys. He took for his theme the Lord’s placing of the bounty of the earth here for our use and talked of our obligation to use said bounty to the maximum. Our task, in coming to this unknown place and discovering what bounty there may be, is thus one sanctioned by the highest Authority.  I was in mind of the first Sunday he read, the day before we sailed, when Lady Franklin, his daughter, and niece attended. Everyone was struck with his extreme earnestness of manner, his real conviction. I like a man who is in earnest. About noon we espied Cape Warrender and by 4 p.m. had land on both sides of us. I allowed the whole crew to scramble up on the rigging and perch on the mounds of supplies to better glimpse this land we hav