Soon the short summer months had passed and the dark period of winter was upon them again, with the provisions daily growing scarcer, and the hope of getting their ships out of the ice fainter. Another evil came upon them when among the members of the crew scurvy, the dreaded enemy of the early Polar explorers, broke out. By the following April twenty of their number had succumbed to it, nine being officers, one of whom was Lieutenant Gore.
On April 22, 1848, the remaining 105 officers and men gathered on the ice around the two ships. They had with them sledges laden with what provisions were left, and two whale-boats. Slowly and sorrowfully they bade farewell to the vessels which had been their homes for nearly three years, and set out to march over the ice to the mainland. Their plan was to push on until they reached the Great Fish River, where they might obtain succour either from travelling bands of Indians or at some outlying station of the Hudson Bay Company. Travelling at the rate of five miles a day, so rough and difficult was the route, they arrived on April 25 at the cairn where Lieutenant Gore had left the record of his journey over a year before. The canister in which it was enclosed was opened, and round the margin was written this brief, pathetic story:—
"April 25, 1848. H.M.S. Terror and Erebus were deserted on April 22, five leagues N.N.W. of this point, having been beset since September 12, 1846. The officers and men, consisting of 105 souls, under the command of Captain F. R. M. Crozier, landed here in lat. 69° 37' 42" N., long. 98° 41' W. The paper was found by Lieutenant Irving in a cairn supposed to have been built by Sir James Ross in 1831, four miles to the north, where it had been deposited by the late Commander Gore in June 1847. Sir James Ross's pillar has not, however, been found, and the paper has been transferred to this position, which, it is thought, is where Sir James Ross's pillar was erected. Sir John Franklin died on June 11, 1847, and the total loss of life by death in the expedition has been to this date nine officers and fifteen men. Start to-morrow, April 26, for Back's Fish River."
The record, left as a sign, should it ever be found, of the direction they had taken, the party resumed their dreary march over the frozen shores of King William's Land. The men formed themselves into teams for the purpose of dragging the sledges and whale-boats, and the officers marched beside them, helping them and encouraging them. Even the snail's pace of five miles a day became too severe a strain for many of the men, weakened as they were by attacks of scurvy and reduced rations. Soon it became evident that if a place were to be reached where help and food could be obtained before the provisions were absolutely exhausted, it would be necessary for the stronger to push forward at a more rapid rate.
A council was held, and it was decided that the strongest should take enough supplies to last them for a time and push forward as rapidly as possible, while the remainder should follow at a slower rate and by shorter stages. The majority were in the latter division, and only a few days elapsed after the smaller band, numbering about thirty, had left, before the ravages of scurvy and semi-starvation made it impossible for even less than five miles a day to be covered. So debilitated were all the members that further advance was abandoned until they had, by another long rest, tried to recuperate their energies. But the terrible bleakness of the place where they were wrought havoc among them, and every day men fell down never to rise again, until the only hope for the survivors lay in returning to the ships, where, at least, they would have shelter. Wearily they staggered over the rugged ice ridges, each man expending his remaining energies in striving to carry the provisions, without which only death awaited them. Men fell as they walked, unnoticed by their companions, whose only aim was to get back to the ships, and whose faculties were too dimmed to understand anything else. Blindly, but doggedly, they stumbled onward, silent in their agony, brave to the last when worn-out nature gave way and they sank down, one after the other, till none was left alive, and only the still figures, lying face downwards on the frozen snow, bore mute witness of how they had neither faltered nor wavered in their duty, but had died, as Britons always should die, true to the end.
Their comrades who had left them to push forward for help were equally stolid in their struggle against overwhelming odds. As they were crossing the ice between King William's Land and the mainland, a great cracking of the floes startled them with the fear that the ice was breaking up. Hastily placing their stores in the whale-boat, which they had been dragging in addition to the hand-sledges, they abandoned everything else, fearful lest the sudden opening of the floes might cut them off from a further advance. Harnessing themselves to ropes, they toiled and struggled onward with the boat. They reached the mainland, but at a terrible sacrifice, for in their haste they had left much of their scanty supplies behind. Their food ran out and hope was almost dead, when they espied a small camp of Eskimo.
Fresh life came to them as they learned that they were nearly up to the Great Fish River, and they bartered away some spoons and forks, Sir John Franklin's star, part of a watch and some other metal articles to the Eskimo for a recently killed seal. Had they waited longer with the natives, they might have obtained more food and have recovered somewhat from their fatigue, but in the mind of each was the memory of their stricken comrades toiling on behind, and hoping from day to day for the arrival of relief. Personal feelings were forgotten before that memory, and the gallant little party resumed its way, fighting with all the dauntless bravery of heroes to win help for their weaker friends—fighting till their limbs refused to move, till their starving bodies were numbed and frozen. Then, falling in their own footsteps, they passed away, one by one, silent and uncomplaining, to the list of Britain's honoured dead.