“There was work enough still to be done. The rudder was to be shipped, and rigging to be made taut, sail to be set.”
In another week she was ready to make sail—and though both the whaler and Resolute still drifted in the ice-pack, Captain Buddington resolved to bring her home; however, by October 21, after a gale, the Resolute was free. Ten men were selected from the George Henry, and with rough tracings of the American coast, his lever watch and quadrant for his instruments, Captain Buddington undertook a perilous and remarkable journey. The ship’s ballast was gone, she was top-heavy and undermanned. Heavy gales and head winds drove them as far as the Bermudas. The water left in the ship’s tanks was brackish—and the men suffered from thirst.
“For sixty hours at a time,” says Captain Buddington, “I frequently had no sleep.”
In the meantime, he had communicated with an English whaling bark, and by her sent to Captain Kellett his epaulets and word to his owners that he was coming.
On Sunday morning, December 24, with the British ensign flying from her shorn masts, the Resolute anchored opposite New London. It will be remembered that Great Britain generously released all claims in favour of the sailors, and that Congress resolved to purchase the vessel and restore it as a gift to England. The Resolute was taken to a dry dock in Brooklyn, and there put in complete repair. Everything on board, even the smallest article, was placed in its original position, and at last when this work was completed, she was manned and officered by the United States Navy, and with sails all set and streamers all flying started for England. On December 12, 1856, after a tempestuous voyage, she anchored at Spithead, flying the British and United States ensigns. After an enthusiastic welcome, the Resolute, with an escort of two other steamers, was taken to Cowes, near Queen Victoria’s private palace. December 16, the Queen, accompanied by Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, and a distinguished suite, paid an official visit to the American officers on board ship.
The next morning she was towed up to the harbour of Portsmouth, escorted by the steam frigate Retribution, and, on arriving at her anchorage, was received with a royal salute, and such an outburst of popular applause as was never known before.
On the 30th of December, 1856, the American flag was hauled down on board the Resolute, amid a salute from the Victory of twenty-one guns. The Union Jack was hoisted up, and the formal transfer of the Resolute to the British authorities was completed. The following day the American officers and crew left England for the United States.
TRACES OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN
Though the fate of Sir John Franklin was still a mystery, news of a melancholy character had reached England through the Montreal Herald of October 21, 1854, in which a letter was published written by Dr. Rae of York Factory, August 4 of the same year, and addressed to the governor of the Hudson Bay Company. August 15, 1853, Rae had reached his old quarters at Repulse Bay, where he wintered; the end of the following March he undertook his spring journey. At Pelly Bay he fell in with Eskimos from whom he secured several articles that he recognized as belonging to various members of Sir John Franklin’s expedition. “On the morning of the 20th” (April), he writes in his journal, “we were met by a very intelligent Eskimo driving a dog-sledge laden with musk-ox beef. This man at once consented to accompany us two days’ journey, and in a few minutes had deposited his load on the snow, and was ready to join us. Having explained to him my object, he said that the road by which he had come was the best for us; and, having lightened the men’s sledges, we travelled with more facility. We were now joined by another of the natives, who had been absent seal-hunting yesterday; but, being anxious to see us, had visited our snow-house early this morning, and then followed up our track. This man was very communicative and, on putting to him the usual questions as to his having seen ‘white man’ before, or any ships or boats, he replied in the negative; but said that a party of ‘Kabloomans’ had died of starvation a long distance to the west of where we then were, and beyond a large river. He stated that he did not know the exact place, that he never had been there, and that he could not accompany us so far. The substance of the information then and subsequently obtained from various sources was to the following effect:—
“In the spring, four winters past (1850), while some Eskimo families were killing seals near the north shore of a large island, named in Arrowsmith’s charts King William’s Land, about forty white men were seen travelling in company southward over the ice, and dragging a boat and sledges with them. They were passing along the west shore of the above-named island. None of the party could speak the Eskimo language so well as to be understood, but by signs the natives were led to believe that the ship or ships had been crushed by ice, and they were now going to where they expected to find deer to shoot. From the appearance of the men—all of whom, with the exception of an officer, were hauling on the drag-ropes of the sledge, and looked thin—they were then supposed to be getting short of provisions; and they purchased a small seal, or piece of seal, from the natives. The officer was described as being a tall, stout, middle-aged man. When their day’s journey terminated, they pitched tents to rest in.