Free The Broken Lands by Robert Edric

explanations. He had accompanied Parry on his final disappointing search and was
convinced that their best chance of success now lay in continuing westward, changing their course to the southwest only when the ice in that direction became too much for them.
    Franklin allowed a minute of open speculation before resuming: “Permit me to read you our orders, gentlemen. Afterward I will tell you what I intend to do and hope that I can persuade you of my reasons.”
    The ten men tried to make themselves more comfortable in the confined space.
    Franklin took out a leather satchel, unfastened its bindings and spread its contents on the table at their center. There was a thick sheath of papers and he searched these for the sheet he wanted.
    “Clauses five and six concern us here,” he said. “Five is founded upon the knowledge that Parry has sailed four times through Lancaster Sound and Barrow Strait, finding both to be navigable. The whalers themselves have come this far and suffered no harm. Indeed, so convinced is the Admiralty of the openness of these waters that they speculate upon some extension following directly through to Bering itself.”
    Upon hearing this, Fairholme said, “Surely not. Surely they must realize the impossibility of that?”
    Others nodded their concurrence.
    “I think they do. Hope, I believe, has temporarily triumphed over experience, for they go on to say that rather than exploring any channel north or south from Barrow Strait, we are to sail through the latter along the latitude of seventy-four degrees and fifteen minutes until we reach Cape Walker.” Franklin indicated the dismembered finger of land at 98 degrees west, immediately beyond which lay the map’s large empty space.
    “And from there?” Fitzjames asked.
    “Here the gentlemen of the Admiralty become a little less specific, I’m afraid.” Franklin returned to his papers and read from them. “From the point ninety-eight degrees west we are simply required to steer to the south and the west toward Bering in as straight a line as is permitted by the ice or any unknown land. Surely it is nothing more than any of us expected.”

    “Our only course,” Crozier said confidently, ready now to argue for their continuation westward.
    “It would certainly seem so,” Franklin said.
    “And clause six?” Crozier asked.
    “Clause six would tend to agree with our own consensus of opinion that the best prospect of the Passage does indeed lie in this direction. It points out that the ice in the far west at Cape Dundas and around Melville Island appears to be fixed and heavy and thus presents less of a hazard to navigation in the open channels among it.”
    “Parry’s first under his own command,” Crozier said.
    “I believe so. You see our predicament. Parry continued west and found the ice so thick and extensive in that region that he was barely released from it after a long and difficult winter spent within it.”
    “Which is no reason why we ourselves should not test it again now. Twenty years have passed. There may no longer be any ice in that quarter,” Crozier said, again rising to his feet to add emphasis to his argument. Several others rose alongside him.
    “I agree, gentlemen. But what I cannot accept is that now is the time to be starting out on a journey in that direction. If we had been in this position a month ago I would have been in favor of making the attempt. At least then we might have had the time and opportunity to turn back before we were caught or at least to find a safe harbor in which to winter. If we sail now I fear neither of these opportunities would exist.”
    John Irving was the first to speak. “Then is it your intention to winter the ships close to where we are now?”
    “It is,” Franklin said firmly.
    “Even after having come so far, and so easily?” Crozier said. “Even while the water remains open to us? Surely not.”
    “Let me read to you the concluding remarks of clause six,” Franklin