August 3, Lancaster Sound

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 have come to explore and challenge. The day was clear and the panorama quite delightful. The sky was a pale-blue, separated from the darker, fuller blue of the water by two narrow strips of black mountain on the far horizon. 

We have left the bergs behind and sail now amongst broken pack ice which paints uneven blotches of pure white over the deep blue carpet of the waves. I hardly think there was a man on board either ship who was not deeply touched by the sight. This is where we start, a gateway to another world and the entrance to the Northwest Passage. How long until we sail through the gate at the other side, no-one can say, but sail through it we shall. I find myself quite overcome by the scene, in a way I never felt amidst the exotic poverty of China, or the dusty, ancient tombs along the Euphrates. As you know, I have not the gift of poetic expression, but today I felt something of the power which drives poets to fashion the world around them into verse. Common language is so poor a carriage for our sometimes soaring thoughts. 

In honour of the occasion, I ordered a cask of beer opened and Gore led the men in three hearty cheers for Sir John. At dinner there was much merriment and discussion of our chances. Certainly, luck has been smiling on us so far. Those who have been this way before say they have never seen such little ice in the Sound. In fact, when Sir John Ross first came this way in 1818, it was so ice clogged that he dismissed Lancaster Sound as a mere inlet ending in a mirage of mountains. No-one is flinching from our undertaking and everyone’s cry is, ‘Now at last we are into the Passage.’ I am not of a philosophical turn of mind, but a day such as today, when we first truly enter these lands, cannot help but get one reflecting upon our place in the great scheme of things. The war in China was a fine adventure, but in the service of human affairs. Here there is naught but nature on every side, pure and unsullied. It is difficult not to feel we are doing God’s work, or at least pursuing human goals of which He approves. Do not think I am turning into a Tracterian, but there is not one of us who does not feel deep within himself that we are fulfilling some larger purpose. 

At dinner, we drank to Lady Franklin’s health at the old gentleman’s table. All we ask is what any man hopes, that the fates do not play cruel with us. Granted, if we shall be home before you know it and with answers and stories that will make you hold your breath. God bless us all. Good night.