John Franklin
But the spring came and went, another and another, but no tidings of Sir John. Then there was alarm. Meetings were called, speeches made, great sums of money raised; brave captains and crews offered to go in search of him. Vessel after vessel went and came, only to report failure.
Five years passed; seven; nine; ten—Hope was dying—eleven. Lady Franklin did not give up, but fitted out, at her own expense, a little ship.
Captain and sailors bid good-by to wives and friends, not knowing they would ever see them again, as they resolved not to come back till they found out something as to the fate of Sir John.
So this little ship disappeared far away northward, and, like the others, in a few weeks, was in the midst of majestic palaces of ice.
But it worked its way on, when, lo! one day as the captain was hunting here and there, he came upon parts of a ship, and he knew it was Sir John's. He also found Sir John's own handwriting and many other things that told of great sufferings and death.
It appeared that he had died June 11th, 1847; but he was not found till 1857. All had perished.
He was a noble Christian man, with a heart tender as a woman's.
When the little ship came back with the news, England mourned as did this nation over the fate of Sir John Franklin.