August 5, A Bit of Gossip

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 journal of the 1823 voyage, mentions one he had that was a black colour. 

Neptune is skinny and has little fat, though he is strongly built and quite powerful in the chest and shoulders. I fear somewhat for how he will manage when the cold of winter sets in. The Terror has a hairy beast of the species named for Newfoundland and oddly called Diogenes though there appears little of the cynic in him. It belongs to Lieutenant Little and it seems to me that it will fare better in the cold than Neptune—but then, Parry’s dog survived in good health and there is even a picture in his Journal of a Second Voyage of the beast frolicking on the ice. The Terror also boasts a cat, a rather large orange beast which should be at least a match for the rats which will soon be plaguing us. I hope we do not regret not having one of that species on board with us. 

Francis Crozier has dined on board whenever the weather permits, often with Hodgson, who was ill on the voyage here, but is quite recovered now. Crozier is a splendid fellow and we all have the utmost respect for him, his knowledge of the Arctic lands (he even speaks some of the strange dialect of the Esquimaux of the region) is immense and second only to Sir John himself. He has an unfortunate tendency to take himself too seriously, but is good enough company for any evening, although I have fancied on occasion that I have detected a tiredness of spirit about him. Certainly, we have all been busy with the preparations and the leaving, but there seems about Crozier something more; perhaps almost a weariness with the world. At first I suspected that it might be a measure of resentment at the fact that I had been charged with selecting the officers for our adventure, but until February, Crozier was in Italy and we could not wait if we were to catch the season in good time. I also suspected it might be disquiet at not being given the magnetic work, which he was charged with when second to James Ross in the Antarctic, but this responsibility was not announced until we were well at sea. In any case, he has been most helpful in teaching me the workings of the Fox instrument, and offering advice on the most efficient way to undertake the readings. All said, I think he is much too generous of spirit to hold a petty grudge for long. 

I tend now to put his weariness down to age; at forty-eight, he is much senior to most of the young bucks who officer our vessels (even your dear brother at thirty-two feels, on occasion, the weight of additional years in comparison to babes such as Couch and Sargent), although he is, of course, still ten years short of Sir John’s age. I combined this fact with exhaustion from the trials of commanding the Terror for four years in the Antarctic. In addition, apparently Crozier’s sugar and tea did not appear as we unloaded the supply vessel, Fortnum and Mason’s having addressed it to ‘Captain Fitzjames Terror’ although I saw nothing of it. By an unlucky twist of fate, they managed to correctly send the bill and poor Crozier ended up paying for goods which ended up God knows where. It is such small things as this which can set the temper of a man in the narrow confines of a ship at sea, and yet I am convinced there is more. 

Sir John feels much the same. There is also a certain tension between Crozier and Sir John, although both do nothing to make it obvious and are very close. On one occasion, when we dined alone in his cabin, Sir John confided in me his concern that Crozier has not had his former flow of spirits since we sailed. 

“However brief the duration of our voyage,” he said, “we shall all be confined closely in each other’s company for some time and, consequently, subject to any disturbance of temperament.” 

I replied that I felt Crozier’s temperament would settle with time and that we could ask for no one better as second.

“Maybe,” Sir John replied thoughtfully, “but did you know, James, that Crozier proposed and was rejected by my niece shortly before we sailed?”

I answered that I did not.

“It is the truth, and it was the second proposal of its kind. As you know, my wife Jane is not one to sit idle while I am engaged in duty. To aid her, she took on a companion, my sister Isabella’s daughter, Sophia Cracroft, prior to me taking up my position as governor in Van Diemen’s Land in 1836. The two became very close and I was glad Jane had Sophia’s company on the occasions when I could not be present—some of these far-flung colonies can be the dullest of places if one is not occupied with work.

“In any case, when the Erebus and Terror wintered in Hobart in 1840, Crozier became most attached to Sophia. Unfortunately, Sophia had eyes for James Ross, who was not at this time married and, when Crozier proposed shortly before he sailed, she turned him down.

“This spring, they were re-acquainted through the preparations for this voyage and Crozier, believing, I fancy, that his chances would be better with Ross now married, proposed once more and was similarly rebuffed. 

“I am convinced that Sophia acted as nothing but the perfect lady and never gave Crozier any false indication, but she is a sprightly thing and her effervescent temperament can be misconstrued on occasion. I was in agreement with her decision on two counts, first that Crozier is considerably her senior and temperamentally a world apart, and second and somewhat selfishly, I did not want Jane deprived of her companion.

“It is not good to carry unrequited love to sea, especially to the lonely places we are bound, and I hope it is not this which preys on his mind.”

“I am sure not,” I replied. “Crozier is certainly not a man to let something such as you describe interfere with his duties.”

I was speaking the truth, but it is not merely the performance of duty which is required of a ship’s Commander. A crew very soon become extremely adept at judging subtleties in their officers’ behaviour that we would never give account to under normal circumstances. The slightest change can lead to all sorts of rumour mongering and, if there is any dissatisfaction to begin with, to some quite serious disturbance. 

The unlikely image of Sophia Cracroft and Crozier together is so odd as to be almost laughable. As you know she is small statured and almost ethereally delicate in appearance. Crozier is a large man, broad as well as tall, and his mane of prematurely white hair and pale complexion put one in mind of an aged lion. She could almost fit in his coat pockets—yet I hear she is strong willed and would not easily take to a life of ‘second-in-command.’ 

But here I am gossiping on like a society hostess, but that is what it can come to in such a closed community as we have here amongst the ice floes. It is far too easy to become retrospective and to dwell too long and too morbidly on past misadventures and woes. It is even difficult enough to think back sometimes on close friends and relatives without becoming sad and in the doldrums. But see!—How easily it can happen even as I write to you, dear sister. I shall endeavour in this long letter to keep a high and light tone. This is not to say that I shall tell you only of the good and not mention any bad that may befall us, but I shall try not to sink into the darkness of despair whatever we may encounter. As I have promised not to read back any of this work, you must take the responsibility upon yourself to please skip past any outpourings from the darker side of my spirit. 

And now I must to bed. It is past one and the old ship is silent but for the creaks and groans of well-seasoned timber carrying us forward. Good night.