180 VOYAGE AND DEATH OF FRANKLIN 



as the ice broke up they would be away into the sea they had seen from 

 Point Victory, and sailing home with their mission accomplished, their task 

 completed, and nothing but honour and glory waiting them at home. As 

 soon as they came within sight of the two ships, perched up among the ice 

 ridges, they shouted out to their comrades to let them know of the success 

 achieved. Round about the ships they saw men standing in groups, but 

 instead of answering cheers, the men only looked in their direction. Unable 

 to understand why so much indifference was displayed, Lieutenant Gore and 

 his companions hurried forward, and, as they came nearer, some of the men 

 separated themselves from the groups and came to meet them with slow steps. 



"Soon the cause of their depression was made known to the returned 

 explofers. The leader of the expedition lay dying in his cabin on board 

 the Erebus." 



No more tragic picture lives in all history than that of the white-haired 

 British naval officer, lying in torment in his dark cabin, while the haggard 

 men he had sent to spy out the land told him brokenly of their success. He 

 knew that he had done what no other man had done; but he also knew he 

 must die without receiving the plaudits of the multitudes at home. And so 

 he died, June ii, 1847, amid the sobs of his officers. 



When the leader of a desperate hope perishes, the fate of his followers 

 hangs by a thread. So it was with the Franklin party. Capt. Crozier was 

 named the leader, and he took up the burden as soon as Franklin was buried, 

 there in the Arctic ice. Hopeless indeed seemed the situation. The ships could 

 go neither forward nor backward ; the food supply was dwindling. The men 

 were beginning to show the effect of the long imprisonment. Yet all the time 

 they were moving nearer the goal, for the mass of ice which held the ships 

 was carrying them on. 



Winter again. Now the scurvy invaded the crew. Men's minds began to 

 fail. Some could not walk. Many lay helpless in their bunks. By April, 

 1848, twenty were dead. 



It was agreed at last to take the desperate measure of abandoning the 

 ships, and dashing for the spot Gore had discovered, — the brave Gore, who 

 had by now succumbed with others. On April 22, a march was begun over 

 the mainland, in an effort to reach the Great Fish river, where Eskimo camps 

 might be found. But soon it was plain that not all of the men could reach 

 the goal alive. -^ 



"A council was held, and it was decided that the strongest should take 



