I had Assumed upon Seeing this that Peglar had recorded that Entry on the Evening of 21 April when Captain Crozier had told the Assembled Crews of Terror and Erebus that the last of them would be Abandoning Ship the next morning.
These were, in other Words, the scribblings of a semiliterate Man and no Proud Reflection on the learning or Skill of Harry Peglar.
Why do you want these? I asked Bridgens. Was Peglar a friend of yours?
Aye, Doctor.
You require a Comb? The old Steward was almost bald.
No, Doctor, just a Remembrance of the man. That and his Journal will serve.
Very strange, I thought, since everyone was lightening their Loads at this point, not adding Heavy Books to what they had to Haul.
But I gave Bridgens the Comb and Journal. No one needed Peglar’s remaining Shirt or Socks or Extra Wool Trousers or Bible, so I left them on the Pile of discarded items the next morning. All in all, the Abandoned Final Possessions of Peglar, Little, Reid, Berry, Crispe, Bates, Sims, Wentzall, and Sait made for a sad little Cairn of Mortality.
That next morning, 12 July, we started coming Across more Bloody Patches in the Ice. At first the Men were Terrified that these were More signs of our Mates, but Captain Crozier led us to the Great Stained Areas and showed us that in the Centre of the Great Starbust of Crimson was the Carcass of a White Bear. They were all Murdered Polar White Bears, these Bloodstained areas, often with little More than a shattered Head, Great Bloodied White Pelt, Cracked Bones, and Paws left behind.
At first the men were Reassured. Then, of course, the Obvious Question set in - what was killing these Huge Predators just Hours before our Arrival?
The answer was Obvious.
But why was it slaughtering the White Bears? That answer was also Obvious: to deprive us of any possible Food Source.
By 16 July, the men seemed Incapable of going farther. In an 18-hour Day of Incessant Pulling, we would cover less than a Mile across the Ice. Often we could see the previous night’s Pile of Discarded Clothing and Gear when we camped the Next Evening. We had found more Slaughtered White Bears. Morale was so low that if we had taken a Vote that Week, the Majority might have voted to Give Up, Lie Down, and Die.
That night of 16 July, as Others Slept and only One Man stood Watch, Captain Crozier asked me to come to his Tent. He now slept in the same Tent with Charles Des Voeux; his purser, Charles Hamilton Osmer (who was showing signs of pneumonia); William Bell (Erebus’s quartermaster); and Phillip Reddington, Sir John’s and Captain Fitzjames’s former captain of the fo’c’sle.
The captain nodded and everyone except First Mate Des Voeux and Mr. Osmer left the tent to give us Privacy.
Dr. Goodsir, began the Captain, I need your advice.
I Nodded and Listened.
We have adequate Clothing and Shelter, said Captain Crozier. The extra boots I Had the Men Haul along in the Supply Pinnaces have saved Many Feet from Amputation.
I agree, Sir, I said, although I knew this was not the Item upon which he was asking for Advice.
Tomorrow morning I am going to tell the Men that we shall be Leaving One of the Whaleboats and two Cutters and one Pinnace behind and will be Continuing on only with the Five Remaining Boats, said Captain Crozier. Those two whaleboats, two cutters, and final pinnace are in the Best Condition and should suffice for Open Water, should we Encounter Any before the Mouth of Back’s River, since our Stores are so Reduced.
The Men will be Heartily Glad to hear this, Captain, I said. I certainly was. Since I now helped Man-haul the boats, the Knowledge that the days of Accursed Relaying were over quite Literally took some of the Ache from my shoulders and back.
What I need to Know, Dr. Goodsir, continued the Captain, his voice an Exhausted Rasp, his face Solemn, is whether I can cut back on the Men’s Rations. Or rather, when we Do cut back, will the Men still be Capable of hauling the Sledges? I need your Professional Opinion, Doctor.
I looked at the floor of the Tent. One of Mr. Diggle’s Hoosh Pans – or perhaps Mr. Wall’s Portable Contraption for Heating Tea back when we had bottles of Ether left for the Spirit Stoves – had burned a Round Hole there.
Captain, Mr. Des Voeux, I said finally, knowing that I would be Stating the Obvious to them, the men do not have enough Nourishment now to meet the Requirements of their Daily Labours. I took a breath.
Everything they eat is Cold. The last of the Canned Foods was Consumed many Weeks ago. The Spirit Stoves and Spirit Lamps was left on the Ice with the Last Empty Bottle of Pyroligneous Ether.
This evening at Supper each man will get one Ship’s Biscuit, a sliver of Cold Salt Pork, one Ounce of chocolate, a Palm Full of Tea, less than a Spoonful of Sugar, and his Daily Tablespoon of Rum.
And his Bit of Tobacco that we’d hoarded for them, added Mr. Osmer.
I nodded. Yes, and his bit of tobacco. And they do love their tobacco. That was a brilliant stroke to keep some hidden in the Stores. But no, Captain, I cannot say that the Men can get by on less than the Current Inadequate Amount of Food.
They must, said Captain Crozier. We shall be out of the salt pork in six days. Out of the Rum in ten.
Mr. Des Voeux cleared his throat. Everything depends upon us Finding and Shooting more seals on the Floes.
So far, I knew – everyone in the Tent knew, everyone on the Expedition knew – we had shot and Enjoyed precisely 2 Seals since leaving Comfort Cove two Months earlier.
I am thinking, said Captain Crozier, that heading North again for the Shore of King William Land – perhaps Three Days’ pull, perhaps Four – might be Best. It is possible to eat Moss and Rock Tripe. I am told that the proper Varieties cook up into an Almost Palatable soup. If one can find the proper Varieties of Moss and Rock Tripe.
Sir John Franklin, I thought in my weariness. The Man Who Ate His Shoes. My older Brother had told me That Story in the Months before our Departure. Sir John would have known, from Pathetic Experience, precisely which Moss and Rock Tripe to choose.
The Men will be happy to get off the Ice, Captain, was all that I could Say. And they will be Overjoyed to Hear that we shall be Hauling Fewer boats.
Thank you, Doctor, said Captain Crozier. That is all.
I bobbed my head in a pathetic Sort of Salute, left, made the rounds of the worst Scurvy victims in their Tents – we no Longer Have a Sick Bay Tent, of course, and Bridgens and I nightly go from tent to tent to counsel and Dose our Patients – and then I staggered back to my own Tent (shared with Bridgens, the unconscious Davy Leys, the dying Engineer, Thompson, and the seriously ill carpenter, Mr. Honey), and fell Instantly Asleep.
That was the night that the Ice opened and swallowed up the Holland Tent in which Slept our Five Marines – Sergeant Tozer, Corporal Hedges, Private Wilkes, Private Hammond, and Private Daly.