"Listen, Doctor, and you will see by how slight a thread life is held. You know that Lieutenant Bellot had already made an expedition in search of Franklin, in 1850?"[*]
"Yes; in the Prince Albert."
"Well, in 1853, having returned to France, he got permission to sail in the Phoenix, in which I was a sailor, under Captain Inglefield. We came with the Breadalbane to carry supplies to Beechey Island."
"Those which we did not find!"
"Exactly, Doctor. We arrived at Beechey Island at the beginning of August; the 10th of that month, Captain Inglefield left the Phoenix to rejoin Captain Pullen, who had been away for a month from his ship, the North Star. He intended on his return to send the Admiralty despatches to Sir Edward Belcher, who was wintering in Wellington Channel. Now, shortly after our captain's departure, Captain Pullen reached his ship. If he had only come back before Captain Inglefield had left! Lieutenant Bellot, fearing that our captain's absence might be a long one, and knowing that the Admiralty despatches were important, offered to carry them himself. He left the two ships under Captain Pullen's charge, and left August 12, with a sledge and an india-rubber canoe. He took with him Harvey, quartermaster of the North Star, and three sailors, Madden, David Hook, and me. We thought that Sir Edward Belcher would be somewhere near Cape Beecher, at the northern part of the channel; hence we made for that part in our sledge, keeping on the east bank. The first day we encamped three miles from Cape Innis; the next day we stopped on the ice nearly three miles from Cape Bowden. During the night, which was as bright as day, land being only three miles distant, Lieutenant Bellot determined to go and camp there; he tried to reach it in the canoe; a violent southeast breeze drove him back twice; Harvey and Madden tried in their turn, and with success; they carried a rope, and with it they established communication with the shore; three objects were carried across by it; but at the fourth attempt, we felt the ice moving away from us; Mr. Bellot shouted to his companions to loosen the rope, and we (the lieutenant, David Hook, and I) were carried to a great distance from the shore. Then a strong southeaster was blowing, and snow was falling. But we were not in any great danger, and he might have been saved, since the rest of us were saved."
Johnson stopped for a moment, and gazed at the ill-fated shore, then he went on:—
"After losing sight of our companions, we tried at first to shelter ourselves under the cover of our sledge, but in vain; then with our knives we began to cut a house in the ice. Mr. Bellot sat down for half an hour, and talked with us about the danger of our situation; I told him I was not afraid. 'With God's protection,' he said, 'not a hair of our heads shall be hurt.' I then asked him what time it was. He answered, 'About quarter past six.' It was quarter past six in the morning of Thursday, August 18th. Then Mr. Bellot bound on his books, and said he wanted to go and see how the ice was moving; he was gone only four minutes, when I went to seek him behind the floe which sheltered us; but I did not find him, and, returning to our retreat, I saw his stick on the opposite side of a crevasse about three fathoms wide, where the ice was all broken. I shouted, but there was no answer. At that time the wind was blowing very hard. I searched all around, but I could find no trace of the poor lieutenant."
"And what do you suppose became of him?" asked the doctor, who was much moved by this account.
"I suppose that when he left the shelter, the wind drove him into the crevasse, and that, being thickly clad, he could not swim to the surface. O Dr. Clawbonny, I never felt worse in my life! I could not believe it! That brave officer fell a victim to his sense of duty! For you know that it was in order to obey Captain Pullen's instructions that he was trying to reach the land before the ice began to break! He was a brave man, liked by every one, faithful, courageous! All England mourned him, and even the Esquimaux, when they heard of his death from Captain Inglefield, when he returned from Pound Bay, did nothing but weep and repeat, 'Poor Bellot! Poor Bellot!'"