The Franklin Conspiracy Page 13

  Now, sailing from England, came the Admiralty’s most impressive flotilla yet — what her commander, Edward Belcher, grandly called, “The Last of the Arctic Voyages”.1

  It was nothing of the kind. It was, however, the last of the navy’s voyages to be sent in search of Franklin. Edward Belcher would see to that.

  The plan, as initially formulated, was as simple as it was hypocritical. No less than four naval ships were to enter and explore Wellington Channel. Ever since the previous expeditions had returned, a battle royal had raged between the “Pennyites”, who insisted Captain Austin should have loaned a steamer to Captain Penny, and those who said Austin had been perfectly correct in writing off Wellington Channel. The navy, true to form, had stood by its man, supporting Austin all the way. Though Penny had offered his services for further searches, the navy wanted nothing more to do with the spirited whaling captain. It was the Admiralty’s contention that enough was enough; they had tried to find Franklin and had failed. Let him rest in peace.

  But the pressure, both from the public and from Lady Franklin, was as unyielding as the Arctic ice. After all, Franklin’s winter encampment had been found; graves had been discovered; success seemed so close. The navy gave in, after a fashion. Not surprisingly, after Penny’s find the public was now pushing for Wellington Channel. The Admiralty agreed to send a full flotilla of four vessels, all of them to enter and explore Wellington Channel and nothing else. After the navy’s defence of Austin, it was an astonishing turn around. But perhaps not so astonishing if Wellington Channel had always been nothing more than misdirection. The issue had become Wellington Channel or nothing. No one was even discussing Peel Sound.

  But then the issue grew more complicated. It was pointed out that McClure and Collinson had not been heard from since they had entered the western Arctic. McClure had been in the ice two winters. No one wanted to contemplate the horror of losing those expeditions as well.

  It was decided something should be done. Instead of sending four ships up Wellington Channel, only two were sent to search that area while two others would sail down Barrow Strait into Viscount Melville Sound to search for the searchers on Melville Island and Banks Land. To further facilitate the search, a fifth ship was added to the roster, that “old sailing-donkey” the North Star, which would remain at Beechey Island to be used as a fallback position and storage depot between the two wings of the flotilla [see map 15].

  Wellington Channel and Melville Island — the navy was essentially using five ships to repeat Austin’s search of the previous year. The secret of Franklin’s fate was safe as houses.

  Map 15

  Sir Edward Belcher’s “Last of the Arctic Voyages,” 1852–1854

  FINDING MCCLURE

  No one was entirely certain why the Admiralty chose Captain Sir Edward Belcher to command so difficult a mission. It was acting under the advice of the Arctic Council, who of course had their own reasons for doing things. Belcher was an elderly officer without a shred of experience in the Arctic, thoroughly detested by all who served under him. But not even his harshest critics could have foreseen the unparalleled disaster that was to follow.

  Before disaster there was success; but a success that could only cast further doubt on the navy’s sincerity in their search for Franklin. While hindsight may be 20/20, it is impossible not to notice the striking contrasts between the bungled efforts made to find Franklin and the swift, almost effortless recovery of McClure’s expedition.

  Where Franklin’s sailing orders were twisted, misquoted and reinterpreted to suggest he might have gone just about anywhere except where he had been told to go, McClure’s instructions were taken to mean precisely what they said. He had been told to sail for Banks Land, so as to enter the northern passage at Viscount Melville Sound. The two search ships, Resolute and Intrepid, were dispatched to search Banks Land.

  The lead ship, Resolute, was under the command of Captain Kellett, who coincidentally had been the officer (then in command of the Herald) who had tried so hard to keep McClure from entering the Arctic ahead of Collinson. The Intrepid was a screw steamer, which proved of immense value in towing the Resolute through the heavy ice and shallow waters of Viscount Melville Sound. Her captain was none other than Leopold McClintock. Having served on that first sledge journey with James Clark Ross in 1849 and then done more sledging on Melville Island under Austin, McClintock returned once again to bring his considerable experience to bear on the McClure search.

  Perhaps the most amazing aspect of this other search was that the Resolute and Intrepid succeeded in reaching their destination at all. It was a spectacular voyage that had not been accomplished by any other ship since Parry’s miracle journey back in 1819. Since the navy had found it impossible to sail even as far as Cape Walker because of heavy ice only two years earlier, this would seem to suggest one of two possibilities — the first being that the search for McClure was blessed.

  In stark contrast to the tangled scenarios dreamed up to confuse the Franklin search, it was instantly assumed that McClure, if he met with trouble, would leave a message at the cairn erected by Edward Parry at Winter Harbour on Melville Island. Kellett was unable to reach Winter Harbour because six miles of pack ice drifted offshore, but once the ships were safely berthed on Dealy Island slightly to the east, a sledge party visited Winter Harbour and, sure enough, McClure had left a message.

  McClure reported that he was stuck fast in the ice on the north shore of Banks Land on the opposite side of the ice river. The next spring, sledges were promptly dispatched. They set out earlier in the year than any of the sledge trips sent in search of Franklin (except for the Canadian expedition).

  More significantly, sledge dogs were employed.

  DOGS VERSUS MEN

  Much has been written about the navy’s inexplicable aversion to the use of dogs to pull their sledges. It has been argued that cultural snobbery was at work; a racist conviction that the Inuit could not know more about travelling in their own backyard than the cream of the British Royal Navy. Or else, it has been said that a romantic mythology developed, whereby the brave men shattering their health hauling in the traces acted the parts of modern knights, struggling valiantly against impossible odds. To varying extents, both factors came into play. At the same time, we can’t help but notice the navy was remarkably selective in this particular aversion. The same spring that a dog team rushed speedily across Viscount Melville Sound to the aid of the ice-mired McClure, ponderously slow man-hauled sledges grimly slogged their way in search of Franklin in the very same area (having set out a full month after the McClure-bound team).

  McClintock had concluded on his previous visit that Franklin was not to be found here, but he resumed the search as ordered. He even found ways to improve the efficiency of the task, developing the practice of employing smaller “satellite” sledges to explore areas around the paths of the main sledges. But he could not escape the limits imposed by the use of men in the traces. McClintock became the officially recognized master of naval sledgers, travelling 1,328 miles that spring. While this was certainly a record distance as far as the navy was concerned, it had been handily bested the year before by the Canadian team of Kennedy and Bellot, who had, of course, used dogs.

  Lieutenant Bedford Pim and two companions, Robert Hoyle and Thomas Bidgood, mushed across the frozen waters of Viscount Melville Sound to find the crew of the Investigator badly ravaged after three winters in the ice. Under Kellett’s orders, McClure and his crew abandoned their vessel and crowded aboard the Resolute on the other side of the ice stream.

  Quickly, Kellett organized a sledge party to transport the most sickly members of the Investigator to the North Star at Beechey Island, where they were subsequently taken home aboard the supply ship Phoenix (which had been dispatched from England to re-provision Belcher’s expedition). When the ice began to break up in the summer, the Resolute sailed from its berth at Dealy Island, only to stick fast in the ice after travelling a scant 100 miles. Nothin
g could be done to free the ship, and once more the sun slipped from the sky and the Arctic night closed like a curtain. As yet, none suspected what disaster awaited in the spring.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  How to Lose a Flotilla

  This time it vanished slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin . . .

  Lewis Carroll,

  Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  MEANWHILE, IN THE EAST

  While Kellett was busy saving McClure and McClintock was making a vain effort to continue the Franklin search, Sir Edward Belcher, in command of the entire expedition (if not entirely in control), was busy pushing forward with the search up Wellington Channel. The previous year he had found a safe haven for the ships on the Grinnell Peninsula, where the north end of Wellington Channel enters Penny Strait. This allowed him to explore even further north, where he discovered a new land which he named North Cornwall Island, but no sign of Franklin was discovered.

  Now, in the spring of 1853, sledge parties were dispatched to the west of Penny Strait while Belcher himself supervised the search in the east. Unlike Kellett, Belcher had managed to make enemies with just about every officer serving under him. Indeed, there are striking similarities between Belcher’s command and Collinson’s aboard the Enterprise. Like Collinson, Belcher refused to listen to the advice of his subordinates and did not hesitate to arrest anyone who dared question his tactics, a group which would eventually include his sister ship’s commander, Sherard Osborn.

  Still, by the time all the various search parties had returned to the two ships in Penny Strait, they had virtually completed the map of the entire northern Arctic archipelago. Geographically speaking, the Belcher expedition was a triumph; the British Royal Navy had successfully defined the roof of the world. Unfortunately, Franklin was (to stretch the metaphor) in the basement, and only Collinson was looking there.

  Like Kellett, Belcher now took advantage of the summer thaw. The Assistance and Pioneer slipped from their harbour and sailed triumphantly down Wellington Channel, headed for home. Also like Kellett, they ran up against unexpectedly resistant ice. Before Belcher knew what was happening, he was forced to seek a second winter harbour, this one fifty miles up Wellington Channel from where the North Star was still patiently waiting at Beechey Island.

  The second winter was worse than the first. Belcher’s first lieutenant, Walter May, was relieved of his duties for the use of subversive language and Sherard Osborn was placed under arrest. At one point, Belcher even cut off all communication with his sister ship as a form of punishment. But, as astonishing as all this was, a far greater madness lay just around the corner.

  BELCHER’S MADNESS

  In the early spring Kellett dispatched a sledge to Beechey Island to learn how Belcher was faring in the search. The sledge team returned with dispatches and a private communication from Belcher. In an official dispatch, Belcher instructed Kellett to “meet me at Beechey Island, with the crews of all vessels, before the 26th of August.”1 Kellett was mystified; he was quite certain his two ships could break free of the ice in the summer, but the 26th of August? In the private communication, Belcher left no doubt of his meaning. He told Kellett to abandon both the Resolute and the Intrepid. Belcher was going home one way or the other.

  Kellett couldn’t believe what he was reading. There was no reason to abandon two navy ships (three, when you included McClure’s Investigator) under the circumstances and anyone who would do so deserved “to have their jackets taken off their backs.”2 Immediately, Kellett wrote a reply to Belcher’s bizarre request, telling his superior that he could not act on the instructions as given and would require an official order from Belcher. Kellett gave the reply into the keeping of McClintock, who carried it speedily to Wellington Channel to argue strenuously against Belcher’s proposed hasty retreat. All Kellett’s officers were certain their ships could be freed in the summer, McClintock told him; there was no need to leave them. But Belcher was adamant. Back McClintock sledged, this time with an official order.

  But Belcher’s madness grew steadily more surreal by the moment. Not content to order Kellett to abandon three vessels, Belcher himself had decided to desert both of his ships in Wellington Channel as well. In the whole history of Arctic exploration, it was a disaster equalled only by the loss of the Franklin expedition itself. Of the five ships sent north under Belcher’s command, four of them were to be deserted, without cause or reason.

  On top of everything, two records were recovered which had been deposited in cairns by Collinson of the Enterprise. He had now been in the Arctic three full winters, the same number as McClure’s expedition had suffered through when Kellett found the crew of the Investigator in such a terrible state. Surely Belcher couldn’t desert Collinson?

  Belcher could and did. His officers pleaded with him to reconsider, offering to stay on and continue the search while he returned to England. For a moment, it seemed McClintock had convinced him to allow the master sledger to take full command of the expedition. It would have made perfect sense. This expedition wasn’t facing the same perils as had previous voyages to the Arctic; with the North Star stationed at Beechey Island and transports arriving each summer with provisions, the ships could have remained in the ice as long as the job required. But, for Belcher nothing less than a complete withdrawal would suffice.

  This astonishing decision to abandon five ships, to desert Collinson, to squeeze six crews aboard the North Star (miraculously relieved when two supply ships arrived at the last moment), to throw away everything, has remained unexplained down to the present day. What was going through Belcher’s head? Why the sudden hurry? Was it merely that Belcher had had enough and wanted out, as historians have assumed? But why then did he refuse to leave McClintock to carry on without him?

  KELLETT’S PLAN

  If an explanation is to be found for Belcher’s abrupt departure, it is to be found the previous spring. Kellett had been sent to the western Arctic primarily to rescue McClure. As we have already noted, what efforts were made to find Franklin were noticeably lacking when contrasted with the exertions made on McClure’s behalf. In this though, Kellett may still have been acting under Belcher’s orders. Once McClure was safely aboard, and McClintock had returned without finding any sign of Franklin, Kellett made a bold and unexpected decision, based on McClintock’s recommendation. If the ships got free in the summer, Kellett would sail back out into Baffin Bay to the coast of Greenland, and once again investigate Adam Beck’s story of a massacre. On the other hand, if the ships were forced to spend a second winter in Viscount Melville Sound (as they were), in the spring Kellett planned to send sledge parties far to the east to travel down Peel Sound [see map 16].

  Peel Sound?

  Frozen to the bottom it might be; blocked by land at its southern end, perhaps; but Kellett was resolved to see where it led just the same. And where it would have led was straight to King William Island and the answer to Franklin’s fate — had Kellett been permitted to pursue that course.

  Map 16

  Kellett’s plan to sledge down Peel Sound

  Belcher would have learned of Kellett’s plans from dispatches brought to Beechey Island by the refugees from the Investigator. He must have been astonished. The sledge journey Kellett contemplated was truly epic; Kellett had been assigned to the western Arctic to search the western Arctic. How could anyone have anticipated the man would decide to mount an expedition to search Peel Sound in the east? Had Belcher wintered with Kellett he could have kept control of the situation, just as he controlled the officers in Wellington Channel; but he was not with Kellett and, because of the stretched lines of communication, Kellett was free to act virtually under his own command.

  Belcher had only one option open to him and he took it. As early as possible in the spring, before Kellett could mount his proposed expedition to Peel Sound, Belcher ordered his subordinate to abandon ship and return to Beechey Island. Kellett might still have sent a sledge to P
eel Sound, but he now needed his sledges and, more importantly, his best sledger, McClintock, to talk Belcher out of his madness.

  A LESSON TOO REFINED

  In the end, Belcher could not be swayed and the swift and wholesale abandonment of the ships and of Collinson was carried out as ordered. On reaching England, a court-martial was convened, as it had to be in the event of even one lost ship. Belcher’s officers, though, were out for his blood. Sherard Osborn was still under arrest when the ships docked. Historian Roderic Owen noted that Commander Richards “actually feared for his life, and in case his fears proved justified he prepared a secret dossier of Belcher’s misdoings which to this day has not been made public.”3 Sophia Cracroft, Jane Franklin’s niece, had spoken to the officers and learned that Belcher’s “sole object was we are told ‘to make a catastrophe for the public in England’.”4 The entire blame thus landed fully on Belcher’s elderly shoulders; it never occurred to any of them that Belcher might have been acting under orders from his superiors—orders to ensure Franklin was not found, whatever the cost.

  The court-martial acquitted Belcher, but it was said his sword was returned to him in chilling silence. To observers this silence was interpreted as a chastisement, and they were mystified that Belcher did not seem to recognize it as such. Dr. Richard King called it “a lesson too refined for the man”.5 But we may perhaps wonder if there was another significance to that moment of silence, an exchange of glances, common understanding and the secret bond of conspirators joined by unworthy motives. Certainly the ruling of the court-martial, in the present context, lends itself to an interpretation considerably different from the one placed on it by Belcher’s enemies. For, after all that he had done wrong, the court-marital seemed able to find but one reason to rebuke him. It was suggested only “that he should have consulted with Captain Kellett previously.”6