Free Across Frozen Seas by John Wilson Page A

did not mean to startle you. Are you keeping watch for Mister Gore?”
    â€œAye sir,” I stammer nervously. “His will be a great achievement.”
    â€œIt will be that.” The smile broadens. “To complete the passage is what we came for. But it is our scientific work that will live on long after our journey is forgotten. This stretch of water is of no use for commerce.” Sir John turns his gaze out over the ice. “I have spent many years in these lands. I have seen men starve and have almost died myself. No one will willingly come here with any hopes of profit. The only force strong enough to compel men to suffer in these latitudes is the desire to learn. To know what this world, so different from our own, is really like.”
    Franklin falls silent and I have not the courage to interrupt his thoughts. Eventually he begins speaking again, but more to the barren wastelands than to me.
    â€œIt is a perilous journey we have undertaken and I have been plagued by black dreams of late. I see a lonely grave and I fear that it might be my own.”
    I am horrified that Sir John, who has been the strength and driving force for us all, should be thinking this way. But I am too terrified to offer any comfort.
    â€œThat day we first met,” he says, “when I had that damned image made, I was suffering mightily from a cold. That very evening, I drifted into uneasy sleep on the couch beside the fire. My dear wife Jane was beside me embroidering the Union flag which I am to raiseon the completion of the passage. I felt a weight on my legs and awoke. I found the flag thrown over me for warmth. Poor Jane, she did not realize that the Union Jack is only draped over a corpse.”
    After a moment’s silence, Sir John seems to shake himself from his sad reverie and turns to me. “Do you still have your companion?”
    It is a strange question and I try to answer as best I can. “George is below. He will be cleaning the....”
    â€œNo,” Sir John manages a wan smile as he interrupts me, “I recall when I first saw you that I was getting two sailors for the price of one. Is that still true?”
    â€œAye sir,” I reply, understanding at last. I pull Jack Tar from my pocket and hold him up. “Here he is.”
    â€œGood lad. Keep him warm now, he is not dressed for these climes. You have another friend too I see.” Franklin reaches down to scratch Neptune’s ear. A shout from the topmast stops him.
    â€œSled on the ice. South south east.”
    Sir John straightens. “It seems Mister Gore is back.” With a last half-smile he turns and walks across the deck. He has only gone some ten paces when he stops. As I watch, his broad back seems to tense. He takes another half-step and stops again. One knee buckles and the large figure slumps to the deck.
    For what seems like hours no one moves. Then Mister Fitzjames, who is coming down the bridge ladder, jumps the last few steps and rushes over. Soon there is a crowd around the fallen figure. Surgeon Stanley is called and Sir John is carried below. I am in aturmoil. What has happened? Will he be all right?

    It is night and I am in my hammock, but I cannot sleep. It has been such a day of contrast that I do not know what to think. First Sir John spoke with me. Then he collapsed. Within hours Mister Gore and his party were back with the news that the Northwest Passage has been completed. He is rushed to Franklin’s bedside. The great man has regained consciousness, but he is paralyzed down his left side and only occasionally aware of his surroundings. He is alert enough to realize the significance of Lieutenant Gore’s achievement and promptly elevates him to the rank of Commander. It is almost his last act. Within the hour he lapsed into unconsciousness and, at ten o’clock this evening, Sir John Franklin died.
    How could the heart of such a strong, noble man fail so suddenly? He had become