“Not a murmur of discontent was heard throughout the voyage and every individual engaged with alacrity in the laborious tasks he was called up to perform.…”
Richardson on his eastern explorations
Franklin learned many lessons from the disasters of his first expedition. However, despite the unqualified success of his second expedition, he had, in fact, learned the wrong lessons.
The first expedition had failed largely due to the heavy reliance on uncertain local resources and on Franklins cultural blindness, which made him unable to learn from the local aboriginal people and the voyageurs who had the knowledge he needed to succeed. His response was not to change his attitude to the local experts and learn from them, but to eliminate them from the equation. This time around, Franklin would take everything he needed with him.
Inuit pillaging the boats in Franklin’s second expedition.
To the upper-class British officer of the early nineteenth century, Franklin’s decision made sense. Don’t rely on locals who do not have the advantages of a classical education and cannot quote anything in Latin or Greek. Franklin’s success in 1826 appeared to confirm his decision. The second expedition was a model of good management, careful planning, and almost flawless execution. Ironically, the expedition’s very success in relying solely on outside resources contained the seeds of much greater tragedy.
While Franklin had been struggling back across the barren lands, Edward Parry had also been busy. His voyage of 1819–1820 had been a great success. It had been followed by an attempt in 1821–1823 to force a passage out of Foxe Basin north of Hudson Bay. This voyage had discovered Fury and Hecla Strait and confirmed the idea that the entrance to the Northwest Passage was indeed Lancaster Sound. When Parry returned to Britain in 1823, he immediately proposed a third assault on the Passage. Franklin had been back since the end of 1822, and he enthusiastically supported the venture, proposing another overland expedition to complement Parry’s nautical one.
The Admiralty was keen on both and again hoped the explorers might meet. This hope was even more wildly off than before. Parry sailed in 1824 to explore Prince Regent Inlet. After wintering there, one of his two ships, the Fury, was damaged and had to be abandoned. The supplies she carried were cached ashore at Fury Beach, and the explorers returned home in October 1825. As they did so, Franklin and his party were just settling in to their winter quarters at Fort Franklin on the shores of Great Bear Lake.
On his second trip to the Canadian North, Franklin was accompanied again by Richardson and Back. He got on well with Richardson and was glad to have him along, but the brash young George Back was not his first choice. Neither Richardson nor Franklin was keen to have Back on the second expedition, and Franklin only accepted him when pressured by the Admiralty after the man who was his first choice had inconveniently died. Back was probably too outspoken and arrogant for Franklin’s quiet temperament, but he was undoubtedly a superb traveller. Had he not been, Franklin and Richardson would not have survived to undertake a second expedition at all.
With the three officers went Mate E. N. Kendall as assistant surveyor, Thomas Drummond as assistant naturalist, and four Royal Marines. They were preceded by several sailors and marines who were to prepare the way for the main party. Rather than rely on birch bark canoes, which had been a problem on the open Arctic sea, Franklin had three wooden boats specially made. Each could carry twenty-two men and eight tonnes of supplies. He also commissioned a small folding craft, called the walnut-shell from its shape, so that the delays at river crossings could be avoided.
Instead of a few months, Franklin had a full year to make preparations this time, and he used it to the full. Supplies and equipment, including the new boats and two carpenters, were shipped out ahead of the party and stored at Hudson’s Bay Company posts along the way. By 1825, the Hudson’s Bay Company had merged with the North West Company, ending the rivalry which had made things difficult in 1821. Franklin was additionally fortunate in securing the services of Peter Warren Dease, Chief Factor with the Hudson’s Bay Company, to organize supplies for him in Canada and fill the role Frederick Wentzel had played on the first expedition.
By February 1825 all was ready Taking a silk flag Eleanor had made for him to unfurl on the shores of the Arctic sea, Franklin said goodbye to his dying wife and sailed for North America. The ocean voyage and the trip across Canada had none of the drama of the previous one. Everything worked like clockwork, and Franklin astonished the local company men by arriving at Fort Chipewyan in mid-July. By the beginning of August, they had reached Great Bear Lake.
This time around, there was time for Franklin to scout ahead and there was no annoying Akaitcho to say “no.” On August 7, Franklin, Kendall, and a boat crew set off down the Mackenzie River to have a look at the Arctic Sea. Nine days later, the party reached salt water and were excited by the sight of the sea “in all its majesty, entirely free from ice,” and with “many seals and black and white whales…sporting on its waves.” The small group pitched a tent, gave three cheers, and unfurled the flag Eleanor had made. It was an intensely emotional moment for Franklin, but he felt it was his duty to hide the way he felt so as not to minimize the joy of his companions. Optimistically leaving a note for Parry, Franklin stayed only one night before hurrying back up the river to his winter quarters.
The winter at Fort Franklin was a much more enjoyable experience than the one at Fort Enterprise. Despite the fact that there were sometimes more than fifty people around the fort, food was never a problem. By fishing and hunting the men laid in a good supply of frozen meat and they added to this stock throughout the cold months. Each officer had his own private room in a building measuring thirteen by seven metres. The men were a bit more cramped. Twenty or thirty of them lived in a building eleven by seven metres but, at least according to the officers, spirits were high. The men received schooling in reading, writing, and arithmetic and participated in games and dances to help combat boredom. Sixty people attended the Christmas party. It was a raucous occasion, with songs and speech in English, Scots Gaelic, French, Inuit, and Chipewyan, Dogrib and Hare dialects, and music provided by fiddle and bagpipes.
In the new year, Peter Dease’s wife gave birth to a daughter. The explorers celebrated with a feast consisting of boiled and roasted fish, accompanied by fish soup and a bottle of preserved peppers. There was no bread since the mice had eaten the flour. The diet was undoubtedly limited, but there was always enough.
As spring progressed, they prepared for that summer’s exploration. Two parties were to set out, both from the mouth of the Mackenzie River. Franklin, Back, eleven sailors and marines, two voyageurs, and one interpreter would take two boats and map the coast to the west and possibly meet up with a ship, commanded by Franklin’s old companion Beechey, that was to sail along the coast from the Bering Strait. Richardson and ten men would map to the east as far as the mouth of the Coppermine River and then return to Great Bear Lake.
By July 4, the two parties were at the mouth of the Mackenzie and ready to go their separate ways. There was a world of difference between this occasion and the first expedition. Then, Franklin was in charge of an unhappy, squabbling group of tired men, with very little food and unsuitable canoes. Now he was accompanied by fit, enthusiastic sailors who would never question his orders. He had custom-designed boats, the best equipment available, a wealth of presents for the Inuit he hoped to encounter, and food enough for three months. What could go wrong?
In fact, very little did go wrong. The only time Franklin’s party was in danger was just after they had begun. On July 7, Franklin spotted an Inuit encampment on shore. Approaching to trade, the Europeans’ boats were soon surrounded by dozens of kayaks whose owners eagerly offered everything they had. Fearing that the situation might get out of control, Franklin ordered his boats to pull off to deeper water. Unfortunately, the falling tide stranded them high and dry. More Inuit arrived until there were 250 to 300 men, women, and children swarming the boats.
Overcome by the sight of all the treasures in the boats, some of the Inuit became aggressive. They climbed in beside the sailors, waving knives and cutting buttons off jackets. One man had to tie the vital astronomical instruments to his leg to prevent them being carried away. Anything not tied down was spirited over the side of the boat and disappeared in the milling throng. With incredible patience, the sailors refrained from reacting violently to the provocation, and for several hours they struggled to keep their weapons and vital equipment.
Eventually, the tide returned and the sailors were able to refloat the boats. To discourage pursuit, Franklin ordered his men to level their muskets at the Inuit. The Inuit withdrew. Franklin was full of praise for the restraint shown by his sailors. It was a tense situation which, like many other European/Native encounters, could easily have turned into a tragedy with just one wrong move. No one had been killed or wounded and the Inuit had stolen mostly trade goods in any case. They had taken some canteens, kettles, a tent, blankets, shoes, and sails, but the vital instruments had been saved. Naming the site Pillage Point, Franklin camped for the night.
The following morning, the Inuit again approached in their kayaks. The leader waved one of the kettles and shouted that he wanted to return it. Not wishing a repeat of the previous day’s swarming, Franklin declined the offer, fired a musket shot across the kayak’s bows to make his point, and sailed on along the coast. In succeeding days, Franklin met other Inuit groups and managed to establish friendly and mutually profitable relationships. He was even told that the Inuit close to the mouth of the Mackenzie had a bad reputation.
After Franklin had survived his encounters with the human occupants of the Arctic coast, he had only the elements to contend with. Intermittently held up by fog, ice, and wind, he worked his way west, mapping the coast as he went. It was tedious work.
On July 27, the party crossed into Russian territory. On August 16, after being held up for a week at a depressing place Franklin christened Foggy Island, it became clear they would have to turn back. Although it was at that time only 240 kilometres away, Franklin would not meet up with Beechey’s ship from the Bering Strait. The season was advanced and the men were suffering from the hard work and continued exposure to freezing water. On August 17, Franklin turned back.
The return journey was marked by severe storms and several friendly encounters with Inuit. On one occasion, Franklin recognized an Inuit man who had been present when the boats had been swarmed. He told Franklin that the intention had been to overwhelm the boats and kill all the occupants. On another occasion, two Inuit arrived with a story that a band of strangers from the mountains were close by and intended to kill the intruders as they believed them to be a threat to their trade. The Inuit urged Franklins men to leave.
On September 21, Franklins party arrived back at Fort Franklin. Richardson had returned safely on September 1 and left again to collect geological samples around Great Slave Lake. Both parties had done well. Franklin had travelled 3295 kilometres and mapped 981 kilometres of previously unexplored coast. Richardson had covered 3186 kilometres including 1633 kilometres of unexplored territory.
Richardson had been favoured with better weather than Franklin had, and the only problems he had faced were with Inuit who threatened to overwhelm his small boats. Like Franklin, he had used the threat of muskets to defuse the situation. Richardson had also made an extensive collection of botanical specimens.
The explorers settled into their winter routine. In February, Franklin, five sailors, and two local guides left the fort and began the long journey home. Travelling from trading post to trading post, he reached Cumberland House on June 18. There he met Richardson, who had travelled to the west to meet with the assistant naturalist Drummond. Drummond had not gone north, but had led a solitary existence collecting specimens across the prairies towards the Rocky Mountains. Between June 1825 and April 1827, he had collected 1500 species of plants, 150 birds, 50 quadrupeds, and hundreds of insects.
Franklin has often been criticized for the slow, ponderous nature of his expeditions. Light, fast parties living off the land could have accomplished more exploration in a shorter time. This is true, but they could not have collected the scientific data that Richardson and Drummond did. One-third of Franklin’s two substantial books on his expeditions consist of scientific appendices. There are notes on topography, geology, and meteorology; data on magnetic variations, the aurora, the speed of sound, and solar radiation; and there are zoological descriptions and drawings and lists of animals, fishes, insects, and a staggering total of 633 plants. Franklin was slow, but he was methodical, and his explorations contributed a considerable body of information to the scientific knowledge of the day.
From Cumberland House, Franklin and Richardson undertook a leisurely journey home, setting aside time for social visits in Montreal and New York. They arrived back in Liverpool on September 26 after an absence of slightly over two-and-a-half years. Back and the others Franklin had left on Great Bear Lake arrived home two weeks later.
Franklin’s second expedition was an unqualified success. The pattern was set for the future: take all necessary supplies and don’t rely on uncertain local resources. Unfortunately, a possible consequence of this approach is overconfidence. The risk becomes one of blundering into a situation where technology, supplies, and expertise are of no use. That is exactly what would happen on Franklin’s third expedition, but he had to wait almost two decades to find that out.
Beautiful and strong-willed. Jane Franklin contemplates how best to advance her husband’s career.