The Franklin Conspiracy Page 5

A THIN EXCUSE

  Without the government’s support, having spent three thousand pounds of his own money, aboard a rickety, jury-rigged sidewheeler, John Ross and his nephew James Clark Ross returned to the Arctic. But all was not well between them. Sharing the same cabin during those prolonged sunless winters on Boothia Peninsula, they fought frequently, though about what we don’t know. William Light, the ship’s steward, likened the quarrels between them to “the lava in the craters of Vesuvius and Etna” which frequently “terrified the other inmates of the cabin.”1 Whatever the reason for this animosity, it would stain their relations far into the future. John Ross would remain suspicious of his nephew long after they returned, and would attribute dark motives to him during the later search for Franklin.

  But it wasn’t John Ross who made the trek to King William Island. James was the land traveller, not John. And it was James Clark Ross who, upon reaching the north tip of the island, left the rest of his party behind — all except the ship’s mate, Abernethy. Together the two of them trekked to Victory Point where Franklin’s doomed crew would come ashore years later. If James Clark Ross was looking for something, did he find it? If he did, this is most likely where and when it happened — as he and Abernethy stood alone at Victory Point with the piled hummocks of ice and the howling wind on the brink of a lonely, frozen, heaving strait named for the Queen of England, Victoria.

  We have no evidence that he found anything other than a potential route to the Pacific, no proof that anything out of the ordinary transpired. But after his return to England, James Clark Ross abruptly forsook Arctic exploration and instead turned his attentions to the Antarctic. In command of the Erebus and Terror, he made his name during a single expedition in which he discovered the Antarctic continent. On returning, he was offered what should have been the greatest prize of all: to lead the final expedition in search of the Northwest Passage. Having taken part in all three of Edward Parry’s voyages and both of John Ross’(in essence, every major attempt — now he was being offered the final voyage to which all the others had been leading.

  The Passage, it was said, was as good as complete. After John Ross’ expedition, Peter Warren Dease and Thomas Simpson had travelled overland and extended the Passage from the west to just south of King William Island. All that remained to be accomplished was to connect Barrow Strait in the north with Simpson’s Passage in the south, then on to the Pacific and glory. South past King William Island.

  Inexplicably, James Clark Ross declined. Instead, the mission went to Sir John Franklin.

  Ross’ explanation? He had promised the parents of his new bride that he would never set to sea again. As Pierre Berton commented, “It seems a thin excuse.”2 We can only wonder if there might have been another reason for his refusal to return to that place. As it was, he would soon have no choice but to sail north one more time — to seek the very expedition that he had refused to take part in.

  Curiously, his situation was paralleled by Edward Parry’s. On returning from his third expedition, after the loss of the Fury, Parry was a changed man. He suffered from depression and headaches, conditions that he treated with medications. This change may be understandable considering what he had been through. On the other hand, we have considered the evidence suggesting that the story of the Fury’s loss in Prince Regent Inlet was a fabrication; the evidence points to a shipwreck off the coast of King William Island. Thus, it may be of some significance that, after the loss of the Fury, William Edward Parry, like James Clark Ross, swore never to return to the Arctic again.

  Sir John Franklin would prove how spectacularly right they had both been.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Second 1824

  And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

  Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

  W.B.Yeats,

  The Second Coming

  JOHN ROSS’ CONCERN

  Her Majesty’s Ships Erebus and Terror were last seen in Baffin Bay in 1845. They were still secured to an iceberg awaiting a break in the ice to allow them to enter Lancaster Sound. After that, nothing more was heard from them. There was no way for those back home to determine their progress, as first one and then a second winter passed. Had they even made it to Lancaster Sound? No one could know. Perhaps they had found themselves frozen out and had turned north to search higher up Baffin Bay. On the other hand, perhaps everything had gone perfectly and they were already through the Passage and sailing south in the Pacific. Then there was the third and more likely possibility: they were somewhere deep within the maze of straits and sounds of the Arctic, frozen in, waiting for summer to make a final dash to the Bering Strait and the Pacific.

  Under these circumstances, it wasn’t strange that there should be so little concern for the expedition. Franklin had taken enough food to last three winters, which he could “spin out” to seven years if necessary (or so he told the captain of one of the whalers he met in Baffin Bay). John Ross had managed four winters with relative ease. Ross, of course, had only survived because he had had Parry’s supplies at Fury Beach and because he had had Inuit hunters to supply him for two years. Also, Ross hadn’t had to feed 129 men. But Franklin’s expedition was better supplied than any which had gone before and all but the middle section of the Passage had already been charted. So, by early in 1847, although Franklin had been out of touch for two winters, it was not so odd that the Admiralty wasn’t worrying about him.

  What is more odd is that John Ross did.

  John Ross, from the very beginning, seemed convinced the expedition would meet with disaster. He had spoken with Franklin personally, urging him to set up food caches and small boats along the way. If the ships had to be abandoned, this would give the expedition something to fall back on, just as Ross had fallen back on Parry’s provisions when he abandoned the Victory in 1832. (In the Arctic cold, remarkably, food can remain edible for many years.) Furthermore, he promised Franklin that if nothing was heard from the expedition by February of 1847, Ross himself would set out to rescue them.

  SCIENTIFIC EXPERTISE OVER ARCTIC EXPERIENCE

  One of Ross’ chief concerns centred on the officers chosen for the expedition. Remarkably, for what was supposed to be an allout, no-holds-barred completion of the Northwest Passage, almost none of the officers had any experience in the waters they were supposed to be traversing. Indeed, the Admiralty seemed to have had other criteria in mind when making its selections.

  William Gibson, one time Chief Trader for the Hudson’s Bay Company, observed:

  “The scientific results aimed at were well evidenced in the selection of officers, the majority of whom were versed in some particular field of scientific investigation.1 How heavily such qualifications weighed with the Admiralty, may be guessed from the following extract from a letter by Captain Fitzjames, who was interested in the appointment of the surgeon to the Erebus: ‘Bradford is just the man for the work, being active and energetic, a capital shot, and a pleasant fellow. But he is no “–ologist”. He can’t stuff birds, give long names to slimy things, or put moss in blottingpaper. However if I have a choice, he is the man.’”

  Apparently Fitzjames didn’t have a choice. Gibson added, “With such scientific deficiencies outside his profession Bradford did not receive the appointment.”2 Important areas of expertise were oceanography, geodesy, terrestrial magnetism, botany, ornithology, geology, and marine biology.

  While it was standard for such expeditions to carry out scientific studies along the way, Franklin’s instructions were to do so only in so far as it didn’t interfere with the main purpose of his voyage — traversing the Passage. Why then this emphasis on scientific expertise over Arctic experience? Of the officers, only four had been through Arctic waters before. Lieutenant Graham Gore had been on George Back’s ill-fated voyage through Hudson’s Strait, which ended with the Terror barely making it back to the Irish coast. Any knowledge he could have gained during that voyage would hardly have been helpful during the present one.
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  The two Greenland ice masters both had prior experience. In fact, Thomas Blanky had sailed with John Ross during his visit to Boothia Peninsula, when James Clark Ross visited King William Island, ostensibly for the first time. If James Clark Ross did discover something (or rather, rediscover) on the island, did Blanky know? It would certainly explain his presence on this expedition. Indeed, if Franklin’s true purpose was to reach King William Island, rather than to complete the Passage, he would have needed someone on board who could guide him to his target. Was Blanky that guide?

  FRANCIS CROZIER’S PREMONITION

  Apart from these three, one other officer had experience in Arctic waters. He was Francis Crozier, captain of the Terror and thus Franklin’s second-in-command. Crozier had not been aboard the Victory during John Ross’ second expedition, so there is no definite connection between him and King William Island. On the other hand, Crozier was a close friend with James Clark Ross, having sailed with him on all of Parry’s voyages. When James Ross travelled to Antarctica, Crozier was his second-in-command and the two of them were close friends with Franklin, having spent time at Franklin’s former home in Van Diemen’s Land (now the Australian state of Tasmania) both before and after their voyages to the Antarctic. More important, Crozier had been midshipman aboard the Hecla during Parry’s third voyage when the Fury was supposedly lost at Fury Beach. If Ross really did make a sledge trip to King William Island during Parry’s third expedition, Crozier was there as well. And, whatever happened to the Fury, Crozier was there to witness it.

  This may explain Crozier’s feelings regarding his most recent expedition. Other than John Ross, Crozier seems to have been the only one to feel any doubt about the success of the present mission. In a letter written to James Clark Ross, Crozier made a comment that is oddly suggestive in the present context. He wrote that he was afraid the expedition would “make a second 1824 of it.”3 This was a reference to Parry’s third expedition and the loss of the Fury. Yet according to Parry’s account, the Fury wasn’t lost until the second year of that expedition, in 1825. In 1824, they were supposedly safely wintering on the east side of Prince Regent Inlet.

  Indeed, Pierre Berton noted, “If one navy wife, Lady Belcher, is to be believed, Crozier told a fellow officer that he didn’t expect to come back.”4

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Ghost and Lady Franklin

  The ghost of Roger Casement

  Is beating on the door.

  W.B.Yeats,

  The Ghost of Roger Casement

  JANE FRANKLIN

  Early in 1847, John Ross approached the Admiralty for permission to embark on a rescue mission that summer, just as he had promised Franklin he would. The Admiralty, however, refused to let him go. It was convinced, so it said, that there was no possibility the expedition had run into trouble. Ross kept up the pressure, trying again and again to convince his superiors that something had to be done that summer — another year might be too late. A lonely voice crying in the wilderness, he went to the Royal Society, but they too refused to support him in his cause. Confidently, the Admiralty stated that they “have as yet felt no apprehensions about [Franklin’s] safety,” but conceded that “if no accounts of him should arrive by the end of this year, or, as Sir John Ross expects, at an earlier period, active steps must be taken.”1 With nowhere else to turn, Ross contacted Franklin’s wife, Lady Jane Franklin, and told her of his concerns and desire to go in search of the expedition.

  Ross could never have imagined then the part that Jane Franklin would soon play in the search for her lost husband. She would become an unstoppable force in her all-consuming drive and devotion to the cause, becoming a mythic heroine in the eyes of the contemporary public, thereby inscribing her own name in the annals of history alongside that of her husband. In an age where women were expected to mind their place, Jane Franklin pitted herself against the full might of the British Admiralty in her unceasing endeavour, forcing them to mount search after search where they would have let the matter rest, and organizing her own expeditions to search where they would not. And, when the bodies were finally found on the bleak western shore of King William Island, it was not one of the many navy expeditions that accomplished the task. It was a voyage organized by Lady Franklin.

  EVERYWHERE BUT THE RIGHT PLACE

  As we will see, it is difficult not to see a darker intent behind the Admiralty’s inability to find the lost expedition. How else to explain the astonishing fact that in the eleven years of searching virtually every single island was explored in the Arctic except the right one?

  When the Erebus and Terror entered the Arctic in 1845, little was known about the Arctic islands. Through the overland expeditions of Franklin, Richardson, Dease, and Simpson, it was known that a strait existed along the roof of the Canadian mainland, but no one had yet crossed this strait. Only headlands had been spotted to the north. They were assumed to be separate islands. In fact, they were part of one giant land mass, later to be called Victoria Island. Far to the north, during his amazing voyage of 1819, Edward Parry had crossed in a straight line from east to west discovering Lancaster Sound, Barrow Strait, and Viscount Melville Sound all in one trip. Along the north side of his passage Parry had spotted many different shores, but to the south he had sighted only a single feature, which he named Cape Walker. He assumed Cape Walker was the northwestern corner of Somerset Island, with a wide bay to the east. In fact, Cape Walker was the northern tip of Prince of Wales Island and the “bay” to the east was Peel Sound — the passage which, it would later be deduced, Franklin had actually taken in his doomed voyage to King William Island.

  But to the west of Cape Walker, Parry had not seen anything until he had run up against the impenetrable ice stream in Viscount Melville Sound. There, in the distance, he had spotted another shore almost dead ahead, which he called Banks Land. So, between Cape Walker in the east and Banks Land in the west, then south to the passage along the roof of the mainland, all was terra incognita — a giant unknown rectangle. Everything farther north was equally unknown territory. Finally, everything beyond Banks Land was also a blank.

  Throughout the years of searching for the lost expedition, these areas were filled in — piece by piece, strait by strait, island by island. It was an incredible achievement: they looked everywhere but the right place. Such ineptitude surely stretches credulity. Still, hindsight is 20/20 and the Arctic is, after all, very big. It may seem unfair to be suspicious of the Admiralty simply because they were spectacularly unlucky. And so it might be, were it not for one damning fact.

  From the beginning the searchers knew where to look.

  FRANKLIN’S ORDERS

  Franklin’s sailing orders had been specific. He was to reach Cape Walker, then travel south and west by whatever passages might turn up [see map 7]. In short, he was to attempt to find a route between Parry’s Passage in the north and the Passage along the roof of the mainland by travelling through the unknown rectangle between the two. He was to start this search at Cape Walker.

  Map 7

  Franklin’s sailing orders to find a route southwest of Cape Walker

  Indeed, it was to the southwest of Cape Walker that Jane Franklin felt certain her husband had gone. Her husband’s orders had been explicit. If there was any way to carry them out, he would have done so. Initially, others also argued that this was the first place to look—southwest of Cape Walker.

  At the same time, some argued that the search should concentrate on neighbouring Boothia Peninsula. It was believed that if Franklin’s expedition really had been forced to abandon the ships anywhere within the unknown rectangle beyond Cape Walker, the crewmen would almost certainly attempt to reach Parry’s cache of provisions at Fury Beach. From that point, like John Ross, they could hitch a ride home on a whaler.

  But Jane Franklin’s certainty was stronger than anyone else’s. When the navy later changed the area of search, she remained determined that this was where her husband would be found and the ships that
she herself sent out were directed to search this area.

  Why was she so certain, when everyone told her she was wrong? If, as we have argued, the search for the Northwest Passage was merely what, in a later time, would be called a “cover story”, and if Franklin was secretly instructed to go to Victory Point on King William Island, it is fair to wonder: did Jane Franklin know?

  Obviously, as his wife it wouldn’t be strange if she had known of his true mission. But, on the other hand, later in the search Jane Franklin did momentarily falter in her conviction, which would suggest that she had not been taken into his confidence.

  Why then her certainty?

  A GHOST?

  Surely one of the strangest stories told about the Franklin tragedy concerns a little Irish girl named Louisa (or “Weasy”) Coppin. In May 1849, at the age of four years, Weasy Coppin passed away from gastric fever. A short time later, according to Weasy’s shipbuilder father Captain Coppin, the little girl began making ghostly appearances to his three eldest surviving children, and especially to his ten-year-old daughter, Anne—appearances sometimes in the form of a sort of bluish light, other times merely as a presence felt but not seen. The ghostly Weasy apparently communicated with the children by writing on the walls. During one of these strange visitations, the ghost printed: “Mr Mckay is dead.” Mr. Mckay was a banker and a friend of the family. Worried by this message, they inquired the next day and were horrified to learn that Mr. Mckay had indeed been found dead that morning, having died in his sleep.

  Impressed by this blue light’s powers of revelation, an aunt had sister Anne ask the spectre about the whereabouts of Franklin and his men. Immediately Anne was possessed of a remarkable vision, in which she saw spread out on the floor before her “a complete Arctic scene, showing two ships, surrounded by ice and almost covered with snow, including a channel that led to the ships.”2 According to the Reverend Skewes, who later brought the story into the open, “The ‘revelation’, as if an actual Arctic reality, made [Anne] shiver with cold, and in consequence to clutch the dress of her aunt. This scene in the form of a chart and with much taste [Anne] immediately drew.”3 Anne’s chart was particularly impressive since “as far as the father knew, his child had never seen a chart, much less drawn one.” But this was not the end of the remarkable vision, as moments later ghostly handwriting appeared on the wall of the room “in large round-hand letters about three inches in length”. The message read: “Erebus and Terror. Sir John Franklin, Lancaster Sound, Prince Regent Inlet, Victory Point, Victoria Channel.”