Work Text
71°S 172°W
Ross Sea
There was no reprieve when Terror emerged from between the bergs, barely scraping by for her grand escape. She was battered and bruised and, in the wake of the violence and the shock and the urgency of the situation, coming out into the wide open sea was no relief. How could there be when they were still lost in the grand white expanse of this newly discovered sea, unwanted guests in the kingdom of giant ice lords that were crashing around them, threatening still to crush them into nothing, to make them disappear. How could there be relief when the open sea itself was nothing but a dark expanse of rolling thunder and rolling, icy waves?There would be no relief for Francis either. Because the night was dark and not a star was in sight.He stood frozen on the deck, hands fused to the wheel, as useless as it was with their crippled rudder. He was barely aware of Jopson beside him, fretting about with a blanket to cover the captain’s hands and keep the frostbites at bay. The poor man had a rather concerning cut on his brow, a picture that told plenty of the shock he had fallen victim to when Erebus had met Terror in a deafening crash. His dedication to Francis was astounding but Francis had no spirit left to consider his steward. His bones had been made ice by the polar wind. His heart had been made ice by the absence of… everything that mattered.Only Terror had made it to the open sea and all Francis could do was frantically scan the horizon from the stern for a sign of Erebus. Dear God, had they sunk? Had the Terror's keel broken their hull and made them disappear?There had been a time Francis would have known where to look for a sign of life. Then, there had been a single bright star that would always point northward, toward the one he was hoping for. The one who would come from the cold and make the world bright again.This was not the northern sky, now. Had it not been a pit of darkness and angry black clouds, Polaris was not shining in its firmament and Francis’ bearings had never been so uncertain.A rough rocking motion pushed Jopson away from him and it was only by the strength of the blood being pumped by his frantic heart (his icy heart, the same heart pumping desperately to keep him alive) that Francis shook himself fast enough to catch him and anchor him to the deck. The fury of the sea was not quite done with them and the men were still fighting the elements. Archibald's voice was roaring above the wind and the crashing of waves, commanding an inventory of the damage, for the sails to be adjusted, for…“Light!” Francis cried out, pushing his voice to overtake that of his Lieutenant, taking the man by surprise. “Bring the blue light, Lieutenant. Erebus must be guided!”There was no star now…but he could make one and guide James home, one more time.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
FURY & HECLA
MARCH ‘21
51.45°N 0.34°E
England
“Midshipman Ross, sir. And my orders.”There was no hesitation to that young man’s gait when he came up to Captain Parry, standing tall and only an inch or so below the captain himself. He had a joyful disposition to him, a remarkable shock of dark hair but it was the name he proclaimed that gave Francis pause in his annoyance of being interrupted in his own introduction.Ross, as in Captain John Ross, no doubt. The name was not unknown in the navy, of course, far from. In preparation for his own affectation to HMS Fury, Francis had read Captain Ross’s narratives and, although he had been in Africa for the aftermath, he had heard of all of the inquiries that had followed.It had been a most unfortunate fallout that had not only Captain Ross, Captain Parry and Captain Sabine at its center but the young nephew of the first. A nephew of whom many were eager to talk of his brilliance while speaking cautiously of his integrity. He had quite publicly disavowed his illustrious uncle, under whom he had served for nearly a decade.Captain Gore of HMS Doterel had many opinions on the subject. “Mark my word,” he had told his junior officers, and his sons amongst them. “There is no place for a dissident officer on any Royal Navy crew, even less so on the waters of the Northern Sea.”Which had left Francis wondering about the disagreement and the voyage that had been its spark. He had not so much been curious about the authorship of the expedition's scientific surveys that had been the cause of the conflict. He had took up imagining instead the unknown lands the Isabella and the Alexander had seen, the lands that still had to be seen, and the calls of its birds and seals and the men that had braved those waters with no map to guide them and capricious compasses…Now crowded in the Fury’s great cabin, he understood how little he had actually considered the nephew Ross. Francis could never have predicted how magnetic he could be. Ross even seemed to pull Captain Parry to move around his desk to personally take his papers and shake his hands, and prompt Lieutenant Nias to pat his shoulder. Even as he was ignored, Francis himself was entirely drawn by the brightness in his piercing dark eyes. There was intelligence in them, as befitted of an officer, and something ambitious. Like he was seeing the world and already knew all of its secrets.“Welcome aboard Mr. Ross!” Parry greeted the young man who thanked him with the same energy. “You are quite late in presenting yourself for your commission, I wondered if I might have to sail without you!”“And leave you without the only man onboard who knows to use the dip?”Captain Parry, Crozier was starting to learn, was not one for an overly drawn ceremony. They were friendly, if not outright friends, despite the difference in their age and rank. Then, James Ross turned toward Francis with a charming and, frankly, disarming, smile. He was a man used to turn the attention of a room to him.“Well James!” Parry exclaimed with his own enthusiasm, “Meet Mr. Crozier who is to serve as midshipman, freshly disembarked from Cape Good Hope. I trust he shall find a good companion in you for his first Arctic voyage.”“I say! You could have chosen a lesser change of scenery, old boy! Are you quite ready for the Arctic?”Youth was in all of Ross, in the joy in his voice and the strength of his handshake and Francis was rendered almost voiceless by it. Either from the brazenness of Ross’ flippant words or his character, he would not quite ever know.“Perhaps the African air did not agree with me,” was Francis’ poor answer, made reluctantly and only because he should answer something.Somehow, it might have been an adequate comeback and Ross' smile reached his ears.“Well, Mr. Crozier, I sure hope you shall take to the Pole's air and you shall tell me all about how superior it is! I foresee we shall make a fine Arctic veteran out of you, yet!”
APRIL ‘21
51.45°N 0.34°E
England
The ball Parry arranged for their departure did not help Crozier loosen up. The man had run himself ragged in working to support the ships’ fittings. He was now a permanent fixture by Captain Lyon’s side while the Hecla’s own midshipmen, to the exception of Edward Bird, whom James found a hardy worker as well, kept to themselves.As Bird and Crozier were the only non-veteran officers on this journey, a captain needed to see what kind of stuff they were made of, Lyon had declared to explain his handling of them. They needed to be proven to the rest of the wardroom.James kept for himself his knowledge that Captain Lyon had not yet seen any waters above the 60th parallel. Instead, he dutifully picked up the consequences of Lyon’s own brand of introductory courses by the way of steering a bone tired Crozier to some rest and recreations whenever they had more than an hour of leave from duty.Crozier proved to be a more reticent merrymaker than he was a diligent worker, but he was also the most astonishing companion, a refreshing change from Ross’ usual comrades who preferred to play the sailors and abandon themselves to based fun. Francis was quick witted, highly intelligent and often surprising in his picks of interests, from botany to theater and all matters of intriguing hobbies. Only a month into their acquaintance and James had never felt more in-tune with a fellow since the loss of his brother, Andrew, at sea.It felt like the peak of their prologue when James found himself keeping the man’s company, away from the celebration and its excitement. Captain Parry had spared no resources into bringing life to his vision and to give their expedition a proper send off. The overwhelming parade of brocades and loud revelers had soon proven too much for the overworked Crozier. How easy it had been to steer him to calmer surroundings!Away from it all, James felt overly satisfied being seated on Hecla’s main mast with a bottle of whiskey in hand and, at his right side, Francis Crozier who was indulging a grand, and rather intoxicated, review of the scientific studies accomplished during the Captain's first voyage. All of this accompanied by a plethora of movements and excited deductions in a wonderful show of a brilliant mind at work.And James was quite content to lean back and just listen, entertained and fascinated.In the end, if James had been profoundly endeared by his brother-officer's drunken enthusiasm, he could keep that for himself, lest he felt it should have embarrassed his friend. What he couldn't help was grinning at the man's frustration at some of the readings of the magnetic charts.“Did your needle even know where to go?!”It made all the sense in the world, to be perched so precariously above the deck, looking on the guests passing by like ghosts. It was not quite clear yet what it was about Francis Crozier that felt like they both belonged right there, by the sea and in friendly confidence, but James imagined there would be ample time for this kind discovery, too.
AUGUST ‘21
65.57°N 82.40°W
Nunavut
“I admit, I did not expect this dip to be so difficult… I cannot figure out the mistakes in my handling!”Crozier had finally found the end of his patience. A first since James had met him three months prior. He was now quite comically battling against the Fox while Ross was happily letting him show this side of himself, that of a man who could, in fact, make demonstration of something other than impeccably unflappable professionalism.“They are capricious things,” James said unhelpfully, and the long suffering look he earned for his efforts was all he needed to cement his appreciation of this side of his friend. “Sometimes these things just need to settle for a while before one can bring them back in line.”“Captain Parry asked for these readings.” Crozier replied darkly, quite unhappy with his lack of progress and, most certainly, his companion's lack of helping advice. “I despair to come back empty handed.”Down on the shore of their little island, the seamen that had so dutifully rowed them to their icy rock were now jumping up and down to warm up while the officers were working with their instruments. The little gig was gently floating among the ice while Fury and Hecla were waiting for their men, only a mile away or so.It was quite a view, this side of the northern continent, not much different than what he'd seen under his uncle's command. Except these lands were flat, the sky extended far beyond the reach of the imagination, both above water and above the earth. Crozier was a fine companion to appreciate this little shore leave with, contemplative but also diligent and serious. Ross knew he would not need to review these readings, once they would be taken… except that Crozier was missing the spectacle, so focused he was on the Fox.“Shall I lend a hand, then, old boy? About time you take a rest” James asked when it appeared that his companion's fingers were becoming stiff from the cold and no longer able to turn the fine gear and adjust the science piece.Francis had given quite a valiant effort to it and even in defeat, he was gracious in accepting the help, although he looked frustrated and unhappy about it.“I defer to your experience, Mr. Ross,” he sighed and rubbed his neck, no doubt rendered as stiff as his fingers from how he had been bent so long on the instrument.“I say, Crozier!” James mused as he worked his own way into the dip's complex calibration, stopping only a moment to offer a sincere grin. “It is almost perfect already!" Then, he paused and thought and the next thing he said, he said almost despite himself, because it needed to be said. "You see, dear friend, you do not need me but you should know that you can always count on me to help you back on the right path.”Crozier rolled his eyes at him, perhaps not quite feeling how sincere James felt to say it, but, soon, they rejoiced instead of their victory against the dip and if they took a little bit longer to enjoy the scenery and perhaps their work, no one would know except the shivering and grumpy able seamen.
NOVEMBER ‘21
66.26°N 83.03°W
Winter Island - Nunavut
“I shall make a complete fool of myself!”Francis did not think any of them had done better than making a fool of themselves in these little theatrical productions Captain Parry was rather fond of. At the very least, he and Captain Lyon were thoroughly enjoying themselves playing the protagonists at any occasion...“It's all for jest, James! Look to me for your cues if it may help! We'll make you a grand actor yet!”The truth is, Crozier did not think Ross would make anything like even a passable actor. He did think, however, that James rather handsome in the dress.
AUGUST ‘22
69.44°N 79.33°W
Nunavut
“What in God's name could have possibly possessed you…?!”James was furious. He had been furious before, at his father, his uncle, his brothers… never so much at a fellow officer.Crozier regarded him with little emotion, always so unshaken. A quality of his that James was starting to dislike. There was still a rash-looking rosy tint to his wind bitten face and his hair was in absolute disarray.In contrast, and to his great shame, James was shaking. Having witnessed the ice crack so suddenly in front of his friend had greatly distraught him. Ever so much when the ice floes had decided to hinder the man further and had started to crumble beneath his feet.“I fail to see what else could have been done,” Crozier replied, like he had not merely escaped death in an icy watery grave.The man was quite insistent on vexing James.Even more so that he was right. The scene played again in James' mind, the thunderous crack of the ice, the small dots of the men scrambling to turn back to the safety of the ships’ wooden decks, and one single figure, too far to join them.In his mind's eyes, James could see the look on his friend's face upon seeing the makeshift bridge (a plank, really…) fall into the enlarged crevasse. He can imagine the urgent concern being painted on Francis's face first and then… and then the quick thinking, the smart wit that would often take home in him, when the calculations were trying and the solution was suddenly close at hand, as he found a jump he could achieve..From ice floe to ice floe, he had leapt and James was not sure what it meant that his heart stopped each time while the rest of the crew cheered for Midshipman Crozier and none louder than the captain who welcomed him back in safety with a hearty pat on the shoulder and a push toward James, ‘to find him some rum for his effort!’And it was how they had found themselves in the petty officer's mess, with a blanket on Crozier's shoulders and the most confused look he had ever served on his face.“You… Frank, you could have died!” Ross cried in frustration at his lack of realization of how close he came to meeting their Maker.Crozier blinked and put down his cup.“Is that what got you so agitated, Dear Ross?” he asked, with an insufferable smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Of course I could have died. But I certainly did not want to. Who else would hold your notes while you fluster about with the Fox?”James scoffed and pushed him away, still angry but now mostly still terrified. It was only the hand Francis put on his arm, squeezing with an unsuspected strength, that settled him. It was his reassuring smile that tethered him to this instant and not the constant reliving of that nightmarish moment.“If you ever doubt where I'm going, don't. You can trust me to find my way back.”From Francis, it came as an earnest truth. A reassuring prophecy that lodged itself in James’ throat. If James had trouble swallowing in the next moment, he ignored it. These words, he would keep close to his heart.SEPTEMBER ‘22
69.72°N 81.86°W
Nunavut
Not only Captain Parry, but the men he had brought back as well, were thoroughly drenched and in a frozen state before even setting foot on the deck of the Fury. The gale had only lessened long enough for the retrieval of the sailors and just in time to lower Captain Parry's blood pressure.The surgeon requested a full day of rest for the stranded men, including for Crozier who had deposited his meticulous tide-marks with Lieutenant Reid and promptly obeyed, falling into his berth for the duration. On the deck, James watched him salute and make his way down, only kept in place by the duty of his post until the next bell.“I thought you and that boy had come to be close shipmates by now,” the Captain told James when he had come to report on the temperature readings that evening.The man had looked somber and thoughtful, as if there was disappointment in his regards to Ross.“We are, sir,” James protested, taken aback while his mentor was serving himself one of the last bottles of his port that had not frozen. “Pray tell, did Mr. Crozier say anything to the contrary?”It seemed out of character for his friend to have opened up to someone else, a superior officer, no less. If there was something between them, they would have spoken of it, surely. James had a sudden doubt.“Crozier? He does not speak unless it is to report or to discuss his science assignments, you should know this.” Parry confirmed. “But I was taken aback by your lack of concern for him prior to the dispatch of the relief party. Did something come between the two of you? I must ask, James. You are both extraordinary officers, a pair I have nothing but praise for. You complement each other to be a formidable team. Should I be concerned?”Then, it registered to James what this had been about as he remembered the kind of fretting he had fallen into during Crozier's last bout of death defying game and he smiled to not rightly laugh in Parry's face. “You misunderstand, sir!” He protested fondly. “It is simply that I know that he would be back to us despite any dire circumstances. If you had seen him walking on ice all winter or how he controls the dogs from the Eskimaux's sleds… I am always concerned for him, sir, that is the truth. But not once has he proved me wrong to put my trust in him. It is he who makes our pair so formidable!”“If I may speak frankly sir, I am actually anxious to turn back to our shared berth, now, and make sure he took the doctor's orders seriously.” He added, sheepishly and with a frown. “That is a great concern, in fact.”Parry huffed at that and waved him off. He looked reassured, which was a great comfort.“I see! You do know my men better than I do, then! Go take care of your brother officer! Report to Dr. Edwards any misconduct.”“Sir!” Ross saluted and hesitated just a moment longer to turn and salute once more. “Thank you, sir. For bringing him back.”“Go, Mr. Ross. Be sure he shan't wander off again anytime soon, if you please!”The order revealed itself to be easily fulfilled. When James entered their little cabin, Francis was sleeping soundly and, so, James only had to keep watch on his rest.
FEBRUARY ‘23
69.37°N 81.71°W
Igloolik - Nunavut
Kaga's grave was a sad sight once the ship's company had left its premises, lonely and cold. Captain Lyon, who had taken care of her in with such diligence at first, had been the one to say the service.In the end, only Francis remained a moment longer, so lost in his thoughts he did not hear James approach until he was standing by his side, hands buried under his armpits to keep them warm.“What a wretched thing to do…” Ross remarked, because the silence between them had stretched beyond his comfort. “Leaving her to die like that…”Francis only shrugged and adjusted his cap, looking genuinely distraught but gravely resigned.“It's a wretched country, James.” He said, softer than usual. “They have no food and no riches, survival is for the fittest… you should know… would scarcity befall on his Majesty's countrymen, many would die just like her, forgotten and disavowed.”James opened his mouth to protest. Surely not! They were proper Englishmen, not some lawless savages! His jaw closed with a click when the memory of many a ship's wreck came to mind and the ever looming stories of the custom of the sea. Instances when even proper Englishmen had failed to recognize their countrymen as Men.“I hope we made a difference for her.” Crozier said, ignoring his friend's discomfort. “I hope she knew that someone had seen her to be human at the end. I wish Captain Parry would have sent me sooner so she wouldn't not have felt so forsaken.”“You did not abandon her, Frank. You saved her. Twice! I think it mattered in the end.”“It prolonged her suffering…”It came to mind, then, that Francis was in one of these melancholy moods that left James feeling unworthy and small and scared. The ones where he could feel something heavy and poisonous on Crozier's soul and he was left defenseless against it.“You helped them.” He said, unsure if it was what needed to be said.It was the truth, so it felt like it did need to be said. Many a time Francis had answered to the call of the inhabitants of Igloolik, harnessing the Captain's dogs or even himself to sleds to collect the sick and the infirm and trudge in snow and ice to deliver them to the capable hands of the surgeons. Every child had found a comforting nurse in him, patient and dedicated. Every man and woman had been met with a reassuring guide and compassion. No doubt it had been a thankless task to be out in the cold and bodily haul the sick as he did and Francis still persisted in offering his labor and hope to his fellow Men.“You kept going back to them, with Dr. Edwards and Skoch.’ James reminded him, because it needed to be said..They know this of you, that you care. You know what they call you.”“Aglooka.” Francis supplied, unhappily. “The one who walks…”There was a strange kind of fire in his eyes when he turned to James, then, as if he had come to a realization, an epiphany. There was a fervor in him when he took his friend’s hands in his and held them firmly, as if letting go would break something. It seemed so urgent when he said:“James, I will never forsake you. When you are lost, I will find you. When you are in the dark, I shall light a light for you. When you are sick, I will care for you. When you are hungry, I will feed you, be it with my own flesh… I want you to know this.”James swallowed and nodded. In a few months from then, or perhaps a few months prior, he might have had a joke at Francis’ expense. What could warrant such a serious vow, proclaimed in such a serious voice. But under the polar stars and in the cold, with only the wind as their witness and the silent grave as their altar, the words felt sacred. “I will never forsake you, Frank.” He promised in return, feeling feverish.“I will always be where you are. I will always find you. I will always keep a place warm for you at my side. I swear. You and I… it is a bond I would never wish to break.”It felt right, just then when Francis leaned over and pressed their forehead together. Their breaths fogged together, binding them. James vaguely remembered the word the Eskimaux used for this. Kunik.It felt right.It felt like a vow like the one James would take twenty years later before the eyes of God and under the witness of the best man he'd ever known.
MAY ‘23
69.37°N 81.71°W
Igloolik - Nunavut
“The both of you lack human empathy, plain and simple.”This was the final straw, the last bit of complaint that sent James crumbling unto Francis, heaving to catch his breath. Francis himself was in a rather difficult position, barely able to stand on his own and now burdened with his gasping messmate. Tears burned his eyes, threatening to seal them shut in the frigid cold.“Well… I say!” Edward Bird puffed, scarlet in the face and extremely indignant, working quickly to fix his shirt and hide the disaster that was now permanently inked on him.This sent James in an uproar, matched only by Captain Lyon's uncontrollable laughter. The captain had latched himself for dear life to Parry as James had to Crozier.“I… I cannot! Dear me!” Lyon hiccuped on his First's shoulder who finally decided to take control, himself in dear trouble for he could barely keep his countenance.“Well… let this be a lesson for all of you, young outstanding officers of His Majesty's Navy… if you desire an ink or two… you shall now know to verify that your tattooist is not, as a matter of fact, blind as a bat.”This, indeed, would be a lesson Edward Bird would not soon forget, seeing it was permanently tattooed on his side. The little old lady that had performed her craft on him seemed only ever so proud of her work, all perfectly poised and satisfied with it.As for Francis, well, he was only thankful that the woman who had inked himself and James had had the talent to complete their matching set in the most professional fashion. AUGUST ‘23
69.22°N 80.54°W
Nunavut
To see Igloolik and its eternal summer sun disappear slowly behind the horizon felt like an end of some kind. It did not quite sit right with Francis, if he was to be honest.“I think you were right.” Crozier mused as he was leaning on the railings.“Was I?” Ross asked, distracted by a bit of paper that would not stay still in the wind.“The Pole's air truly is superior to Africa.”James snorted and smirked knowingly. “You were a great guide.”“Well, Frank, here's to hoping you and I will find ourselves to be back here, together and some day soon!”A smile of his own broke on Francis's face, an unknown joy found its way into his chest. He could see it happen, in truth. He knew he would wish for it to be until that promise was fulfilled now that James had spoken it into the world.Francis patted his friend's shoulder, happy beyond words.“If God is good, he shall see us both sailing in these waters again!”
HECLA & FURY
APRIL ‘24
51.45°N 0.34°E
England
Francis grinned to see James come up by (now!) Captain Hoppner's side, his shining shoulders glimmering under the timid London sun.The disappointment that they would not serve on the same vessel faded quickly with the knowledge that they were taking the sea toward those icy shores once more.Of course Parry had need of a trusted man on the Fury, and Francis could think of no one he trusted more than Lieutenant James Clark Ross.
JUNE ‘25
72.79°N 91.90°W
Boothia - Nunavut
“Just take the bunk, James. As I heard it, the pumps had been going every hour for the last three weeks…”James certainly looked like it had been him, laid on the beach and left to the elements and the Arctic, in lieu of the Fury. The work to remove the supplies from her hold and lay the depots had been laborious but, without a doubt, it had been nothing compared to the relentless hours her seamen had taken to keep pumping the leak.How strange it was now that they were taking eastward, toward England, without the magnificent shadow of the Fury in their trail.The gale, the sudden appearance of the bergs that had surrounded the ships so violently was an experience Francis would remember for a long time. He had known rough and difficult ice, and had felt the unforgiven wind on his naked skin in the previous years.Nothing had truly prepared him for the onslaught. Hours, days later, he found he could invoke the appalling emotions it had manifested in him but he could not remember what he did and how he had remained on deck. As if he had witnessed rather than lived it.The defeated spirit of his friend, now rescued and safely aboard Hecla, was to be seared in his memories forever.“I will not take you out of your berth, Frank,” James mumbled instead, looking anywhere other than at his friend.“Then we shall share, let's put the hammock close by and we shall take turns. But for now, I beg you to rest.”There was no fight left in Ross, and, so, he nodded and rolled on the narrow bunk while Francis occupied himself at hanging the hammock, so close they only just needed to stretch a hand to touch.When Francis climbed on the hammock, they did just so, only a moment before James would succumb to exhaustion. Still, Francis kept a strong hold on James's limp hand, willing to let him know he would not let him drift away.
HECLA
JULY ‘26
51.46°N 0.00°E
England
Curious it was how a man could forget about mundane experiences he had been used to for years. James could have sworn that summer in London had never been so hot. Hot enough that his cravat was feeling like a noose and his dear sister Isabella was eyeing him dubiously, as if he might swoon from the heat.She openly found it amusing, of course. But she could not imagine what it was to experience the warmth of an English summer after spending the best of the last decade in freezing conditions.“Oh Jim,” she had said the first time he found himself complaining at how clammy he felt, “I assure you London is rather temperate at this time of year. You should not suffer, then, to be posted in southern places.”James had little patience for her lack of empathy. He did not feel like having patience at all, in fact. He was… restless. Restless for not having any news of a future commission, for the rumors of Franklin coming back and taking on the limelight, for enduring Uncle John's pestering ideas of steam he would press upon him…Restless for the phantom feeling of warmth on his palm and that of a beloved, calloused hand holding his, anchoring him.…Restless for knowing that he was, here, in London, under its sun and its eighty degrees of mercury, suffering the company of dear Isabella when he longed to be in Ulster where he knew the weather was mild and where the one he wished to see was.Miserable, James insisted.Dramatic, Isabella scoffed.It was rather fortunate that it was during one of these habitual moody contemplations that Captain Edward Parry himself saved him (and Isabella) from the misery of the conditions of a sailor abandoned to dry land by calling on him.“Praise be, Captain Parry!” Isabella exclaimed when Miss Bailey came by the salon to announce their visitor. “Never before have I ever been happier to receive a call from you, dear sir! Come, please, have a biscuit!”“I say, Miss Ross, your welcome is as gracious as your countenance,” Parry sputtered as he was being pushed to sit facing James who had been nailed in place by his sister's look. “Have I come at the wrong time?”“Not at all, sir!” She denied with too much of a smile. “As long as you do not delay! Which is it? The Northwest Passage once more? A survey around Africa? I hear the admiralty is interested in the Euphrates? When is he leaving?”“What my dearest sister means,” James interrupted to save Parry any of their familial drama, “is, first of all, congratulations on your wedding. We are very pleased to receive you, Sir, and are eager for news.”Parry cleared his throat, conscientiously ignoring the siblings’ dynamic.“Well! Ahem… I did in fact come to discuss a new scheme of our friend Lord Barrow, if you are open to hear it. I am coming directly from the Admiralty with this, James, because I can not imagine having anyone else with me for this venture…It's the Pole, James! The North Pole! We are to try reaching it by sledge and find any clues of an open polar sea. I made myself come in person for this, for I have this favor to ask of you… You must come as my second, I will accept no other answer!”If, in his enthusiasm, James put his cup a little too hard onto its saucer and if he jumped so quickly out of his seat that the wind of it ruffled Isabella's hair, none present said a thing. As for his answer, the strength of the shake he gave Parry said it all.“I say, Sir! You need not come at all! A line on a piece of paper and I would have been yours entirely!” Ross laughed when the other man moved from the formal handshake to clap on his back. “Say, tell me your plans, all of them! Have you got a ship?”The plans were numerous indeed, and either judicious or a familiar show of hubris that excited James despite himself. They would return to the North, recruit reindeers and walk for their dear life over five months and thousands of miles and make history while Hecla would guard their retreat.In the end, Parry stayed for dinner, having now kept James enraptured in their orders for several hours as they had started on the numbers and figures, already speaking of many speculations and options. All of which would undoubtedly be scrapped as soon as they would sit down with the purser but into which they could, at the moment, expend their energy.“Of course,” Parry said when the main course was taken and Isabella may have been pressed to take her leave, “I already requested from the Admiralty that they approve my pick of men from our previous expeditions…”“Then you must get Crozier.” James declared as quickly as he could, heart pumping in his ears. “If you have me on board, you know you must get Crozier. He made Lieutenant in March, you shall need more than one…”“I do not know that the walk would suit Crozier,” Parry hesitated, suddenly and he looked like he knew he had said the wrong thing. “Come now, James, he is phenomenal at science, only second to you, and he does know how to keep a ship but… he is also prompt to walk his own path, and into danger, no less. The hauling crew must be rigorous and obedient in all things…”“You need someone to maintain Hecla.” James protested instead. Sailing with Francis for a few months was worth walking to the unknown for another few more.“Aye,” the captain said in a moment and it was all they needed to fall back into their mad plans. “Aye, if you recruit him, we shall have Mr. Crozier as our safe harbor. I have no doubt of your choice on this. The Pole is to be ours!”Yes, that sounded quite right… James felt that none could be a safer port than Francis Crozier.
APRIL ‘27
70.66°N 23.67°E
Spitsbergen
“I dare say I hope these beasts will make your trek all the more successful, James, for they certainly did not make mine any easier!”Ross barely looked at him, all busy as he was with guiding the men into wrangling the reindeers in the enclosure constructed for them on the deck. The animals looked as mournful as Crozier felt, utterly confused and rather out of their depth on open water rather than their familiar fields. “Truly, Francis!” James replied, satisfied with the sight of them. “What would I not give to hear you say you believe in our endeavor.” They looked at one another from above the rump of the reindeer that had eaten Crozier’s left elbow during their ferry. James seemed to have no issue with the animal, petting and patting its flank like one would a favorite horse.“What a good boy! You’re a good boy, Tad. You believe in me, don’t you?” He added, only just to draw out absolute disgust from Crozier.“Tad.” Francis repeated, flatly.The reindeer was unmoved.“I cannot let this reindeer make history without a name, Francis,” James explained just as Foster, bless him, pushed the beast toward the menagerie. “I must trust that they will be of use, dear,” he added when they moved away from the cacophony surrounding the deers, side by side, elbow to elbow, in a natural harmony that settled something deep in Francis’ soul. “Else, I fear we may be unsuccessful and what would that make me, to have taken you away from much more rewarding postings only to see me fail…”Francis did not feel the need to express that, in fact, no postings had been in sight when James had called on him with eyes full of stars and the promise of new glory. Francis was not James Ross, he was not a mounting star, nor had he been recognized as a prodigy. It did speak volume that the younger James was the first to be requested for a historic expedition when Francis had been holding out for a captain or the admiralty to remember him. It also spoke volume that James had come to him, directly, as soon as Parry had left, if he was to be believed, to “secure him before anyone else does”.To Francis’ heart, it meant a myriad more than any other offers he would have received. That he would be left behind in Spitsbergen to await their triumphant return was only a small price to pay for it, in fact.“You know I will always come to you, friend, even into oblivion.”
I will not forsake you.
“You deserve better than that.” Ross retorted, sounding confident in this while Francis felt he could never be convinced of it.. Crozier did not dignify that with a reply, only knocked their shoulders together.“Dogs would have been a better choice,” he eventually chose to say, instead of what he really meant.He ignored James’ sputtering by escaping toward Parry. He did have a report to give, after all.
JUNE ‘27
80.63°N 19.76°E
Ross Islet
It was too late in the season and, yet, the walkers were now taking to the open water, becoming smaller at every second. On the abandoned shores were the provisions they left behind and all the comfort that they were giving away for the chance at making a name for themselves, and Lieutenant Francis Crozier who had just bid them farewell.They already have a name, Francis thought bitterly, scared.It was too late in a season that had proven to be so rough already. If there had ever been any luck to run out of, it had been completely depleted by the time they had arrived at Hammerfest to find that their living cargo was not there. Every single moment of this journey had been time lost or wasted. No, of course not, not all wasted.It had only fueled their desire to succeed and offered Crozier a chance to sailing among friends once more.He was alone, now, with five more, to arrange the depot and hide it from the bears and he would be alone for two more months to keep the monotony of an anchored ship’s routine. At least Lieutenant Foster knew how to play chess and would provide distraction… and Francis could always make more trips to this place, he decided. There was ample time to treat the expedition with better stores to find when they would be back from their arduous trek.
JULY‘27
82.72°N 16.10°E
Farthest North
Why had he left, James wondered from where they had laid him and made him comfortable for his recovery. Even hours later he could still feel the violent shock of the gunwale on his ribs. Bruised was a poor word to describe how he felt. On the other side of their little camp, Captain Parry was agonizing in his own malady, although he was rather brave about it. Snow blindness was a heinous thing to suffer from.Still, for all his current disposition, James could not fault his commander, nor his comrades, for the misfortune they had just encountered. They had, quite simply put, run out of luck and he was tired, hungry. To his memory, he had never been so hungry. He longed for them all to be back in the comfort of Hecla, with a warm meal in their bellies and the company of the friends they had left behind.“Alright Men! Gather up!” It was Lieutenant Beverly’s voice that roused him from his brown study, just in time for the last of the rations to be distributed. “The Captain wants to speak!”Finally, thought Ross, before the next passing thought: A shame.It was shocking, indeed, to learn that all of the last week’s efforts had only amounted to a gain of a mile and the men looked discouraged by the prospect. There were no tears or sneers when Parry announced that they would turn back in two days time, only relief. They had been bested by this sea, but none could say their effort had been laughable or less deserving of praises for it.“To Loyalty” was the toast that evening when they hoisted the flag given by the newlywed Mrs Parry, to honor the men that had remained by their side.“To the ones we are returning to!” James toasted, taken by a sudden impulse.Perhaps Edward Parry thought of his dear wife then for he wept at the toast and James let his mind roam to the thought of his own dearly missed friend.What was the Pole worth compared to the wealth of his company?
AUGUST ‘27
80.46°N 19.63°E
Spitsbergen
“I say, mayhaps Captain Parry may be petitioned to rename it Cape Crozier. The Lieutenant is up there again… I bet he does this pining business better than my sea widow!”“Seeing how your wife probably spends her time with Feore between her legs, I have no doubt of it!”“Mind your words, men!” Lieutenant Foster barked at the cackling seamen who sprung like springs to salute, fear in their eyes. “If you have enough idle time to go on like ladies in a parlor, you have time enough to be on deer droppings duty. And you both are marked for a week of duty owing!” He added as they scampered like naughty children caught by an angry parent.Foster turned toward the Cape overlooking the bay and, as expected, there was indeed the solitary figure of Francis Crozier, seated like a gargoyle on a rock or perhaps a little stool he had carried for himself. Behind him, two of the reindeers were lazily grazing or… whatever it was that reindeers did… sometimes coming up to him for a nose rub or a pat on the flank. Tad, perhaps, or Tod…Foster could admit to being a hypocrite, having sent the men to unfavorable duty for voicing an opinion he had himself. But he found no humor in it, only concern for their friends facing the ice and concern for his friend keeping vigil for them at any hour he was not on active duty.In the end, he could do nothing to relieve Crozier of his burdened soul, lest he bring back the one Francis was longing for by himself. Instead, he sent a couple of men and a ship's boy with a spirit stove, chocolate to warm up and woolen blankets to ease his watch.If he also prayed for another crisis to rouse the formidable Irishman from his stupor, he kept that to himself. It would not rouse the superstition of their sailors with it.When it was that, finally, Captain Parry and the men came into view, there was no fanfare and all knew they had given up on the prize. If Foster saw that Crozier and Ross held together a little bit closer and a little bit longer than the others, he elected not to say a word. All twenty of them were in a pitiful state as it is, there was plenty more to be concerned about than those two.There were nineteen other men in need of fresh supplies, warm clothes and to be brought home. Ross was in good hands.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
VICTORY
MAY '28
51.48°N 0.01°W
London
James was not half furious when Mr. Felix Booth finally finished his exposé. A grand idea of steam and going back to the Arctic to surpass Parry.“We all heard of Parry's retirement, of course. But you are much too young to think about it yourself, Commander!”“Truly, I am flattered by your patronage, Mr. Booth” James used all of the charm and diplomacy he knew to keep his voice to a simmer when his spirit was boiling, “but you may be aware I do not sail for my uncle anymore.Moreover, I am on the Navy's pay and unless the Navy should permit my absence for two years, I must remain in England.”Indeed, it had come to James' private understanding that there would be too many disagreements between John and himself for any enterprise they were to put together to be of an harmonious success. Uncle John was Uncle John, but he was also the kind of man who could not see his own faults when in command, an entirely different style to the one James had learned to appreciate in Parry.But Felix Booth was not a man who was often refused, his attitude was that one would expect from excessive wealth. That he would come in James’ Club to ambush him with his uncle’s folly was irritating.“I already spoke with Sir John Barrow,” the man waved away. “Although he will not outright support Captain Ross, he does understand that if we may find the Passage, it would be with this steam technology. There is an incentive for the Navy to have not one but two of their most experienced officers find it, even through a privately funded enterprise."Come now, Commander! I shall say, between you and I, this expedition will not set sail without you on board. It is a condition I set with Lord Barrow for my contribution.”James regarded the man, unhappy. There was an appeal to the North and the Passage, to discovering new fauna and engaging with the natives. To look at Frank's clever hands work their way on the charts and see the smart clogs of his mind create wonderful new ideas… All of this was confronted by the idea of serving under John, a father to him in lieu of his own, but a father he preferred to meet in a familial fashion rather than under orders.Yet, he was trapped by this politicking he had no taste for. Should he refuse and cost Barrow a free chance at the Passage, he would earn the same fate that befell Captain Lyon, who had so faithfully served previously and now found himself out of the roster.“Very well,” he sighed, “if my uncle can be convinced of taking me on as his second, I shall go.”Booth's expression changed to that of a cat who got the cream and this told James that his last resort at finding a way out of this venture was not to be of any hope. Three days later, he received his Uncle's muster.
NOVEMBER '28
51.46°N 0.00°E
England
My dear Ross,
It is a great disappointment that I shall not join you on the Victory . The admiralty did not give me permission of leave. As anxious as I am to know you shall soon be in dangerous waters without your faithful Crozier at your side, I am, however, appeased from knowing our friends Blanky and Abernethy are to accompany you and I trust you three shall keep each other in grand comfort.
Do not let Abe pull you out of your path, as he dearly like to adventure where he should not.
As for myself, I assure you I shall find a way to occupy myself and think of you as I always do when I cannot keep your side. Charlotte begs of me to spend time with her in Banbridge until I receive a commission from the Admiralty and I believe I shall do just so next spring.
Should you find time to drop a line or two by way of the whalers, send them to Small and she shall know where to forward them.
Ah, my friend… I do not wish to burden you so as you are making your way toward treacherous and hard work. It is wholefully selfish of me to express myself in this way but I feel as if I cannot let you go without having you know that I shall be missing you terribly and I admit that without your shining star to guide me, I feel lost at sea…
See now, what it does to your messmate to miss out on your grand adventure! There are still many months before your departure, although I pray not too many as it would not do to sail too late in the season and you shall certainly be mocking my preemptive melancholy when I next see you about the Club or the yards.
Believe me,
Ever yours,
FRM Crozier
AUGUST '29
72.79°N 91.90°W
Fury Beach - Boothia - Nunavut
It felt like a stone in James’ stomach that there was now no sign of the Fury when, only four years prior, she had laid on that shore like a wounded beast that had bled out of her numerous wounds. The Arctic, James had learned in time, had a way of making you disappear like no other place. It was like a siren, teasing and alluring until it would drag you to forgotten depths.Yet still more cruel than the disappearance of old ships' bones was the knowledge that the Arctic cold would have preserved to perfection the bodies of James’ fallen shipmates, of Kaga and the children the surgeons could not save in ‘21.What would happen to James’ own corpse when the siren would take him in turn? Would bleached skin remain to remind the world he had once existed or would he fall into nothingness?Fury was gone, entirely and, with it, the initials that midshipmen Ross and Crozier had carved in her hold and the memories of time spent on her deck, fishing specimens or looking for new birds.“What's the mood for, Jim?” Blanky sorted him out of his tired melancholy, pushing him with his shoulder to anchor him.Solid men like Blanky, James knew, were the reason they kept living to return back.“I suppose I find myself staring at the remnants of my life and find there is very little left. What are we doing here, Thomas? The Passage, and then what?”“Well, if you ask me … maybe I missed the ice and seeing you fall on your ass every so often.” Blanky grinned and Ross scoffed, as if…” But a wage is always welcome! Been planning on buying my future father in law's business and marrying my Esther. She'd have something to keep her floating if I was to get killed by your antics, and all.”“Congratulations, old boy!” Ross exclaimed, at once delighted and surprised at the news.That sneaky bastard had gone and got himself attached then! Blanky sent him a toothy grin to prove he got the effect he hoped for.“Hope to see you among the attendees! I'm sure you'll like her, and the wee ones. She got two from a bugger who gone and died but I swear the girl is wicked smart and the boy is as strong as a horse.”Melancholy was a strange malady, James decided then, as he felt it wrap heavily on his lungs and heart. There were stars in Blanky's eyes, a real joy that exuded from him and James was at once the happiest for him and burdened by his own… own what? Immateriality, perhaps.“I am happy for you, old chap.” He said and the look he received told him Blanky was not convinced.“Cheer up, Jim! You are young yet and not all is lost. Here, I found this for you.”It was with stupefaction that Blanky put in his hands a biscuit, dry and hard as rock, but, also, a piece of wood, about half a foot long with the fading marks of two penknives and half the letters he would recognize anywhere.“There's still something of you, here.” Thomas Blanky concluded when James looked at him with bewilderment. “You're not disappearing. You gotta prove to them you're still here.”That sounded like a promise when Blanky patted his back and went back toward the men to gather them back toward their duties.James spent perhaps a moment too long pondering on the piece of Fury's hold, long enough to bring to him the voice of his Uncle wondering at the state of his inventory of the stores and his observations. With a sigh but a renewed resolution, James, with a forceful jab that gave him splinters, buried the piece of memory on site, were it would stand as a monument, although of the smallest stature, to the memory that, half a decade ago, James Ross and Francis Crozier had stood here, together.He slid the biscuit in his left breast pocket. As unappetizing as it was, fate could always prove it a necessary precaution.
MAY '30
69.66°N 98.27°W
King William Land - Nunavut
Ice was all that was to be seen for miles when James and Thomas Abernethy finally made their rest on top of the ridge that delimited the land and the frozen water way.“That’s it, then,” Tom declared when James preferred to simply let himself sit where they had stopped, “the end of the Earth.”“Nothing so dramatic,” Ross protested and thankfully took a swig of his water flask he’d kept underneath his shirt to keep it from freezing. “We’re still many miles from the known western survey done by Franklin. We may simply have found a middle point.”“It sure feels like the end of the Earth to me.”James snorted and let Thomas to his notions. Of course it was not the end of the Earth, but it was certainly the end of their venture if the state of their supplies was anything to go by now that they were halfway through the rations they had brought, and not a single game met on their way there.“It’s the end of something, certainly,” he agreed before handing his share to his partner. “It would not be prudent to push further than this. Not on the ice and not in further unknown territory.”There, he had said it, it was time for them to walk back to the mates they had left at the Netsilik camp and then make their way to Victory . This was to be the end of their exploration of King William’s Land and although it ended with no discovery of anything spectacular, James hoped that it would satisfy his Uncle that they did find a vast body of water commanded by currents, if one would believe the pressure ridges created over time, and, therefore, navigable.This was not the Passage, not yet, but by all accounts of the known charts, this was the most promising option to offer if they could only map the way from the Barrow strait to this one… It would be for another man than him to complete, James thought bitterly. Once again, he had come so close only to turn back.“I’ll be glad to be back with the lads.” Thomas commented when the silence cracked in him like a sheet of ice. “I can’t abide this… nothing.”“Nothing?” James asked, although he had a feeling he could divine his friend’s meaning.“Yeah, nothing at all. Just you, me and that great nothing. We have not met a living creature in this place and we’ve walked for days and days. No bird, no seal, no fox, nor bear. It ain’t right.”He was right and to the thought of it, James felt like he was suddenly falling and had nothing to catch him. He remembered then how he had felt on Fury Beach, having witnessed the disappearance of his golden youth into the frozen waters. There was nothing here, nothing to prove that they existed and that James Ross was a creature of God and that Thomas Abernethy was his friend. Nothing to prove that there were loved ones waiting for him in England and that there would, one day, be merrymaking with them again.He shivered.One could disappear so utterly, here. Never to be found. Forgotten. Forsaken.“We’ll build a cairn tomorrow,” he declared, shaking the dread before it overwhelmed him, “to mark the spot. Then, we shall walk back to Blanky and the others.”“Aye, that sounds mighty good to me, Commander.”
STAG
APRIL '31
41.13°N 9.23°W
Coast of Portugal
My dearest Ross, I address this to Whalefish Island in the hope that the Victory shall pass by Baffin Bay on the return voyage, although I hope it returns undelivered and that I shall hear news of your coming from the orient for then I would know you were successful in your endeavor. And if that is so, you already know to go to my dear Small to learn of what is to be made of your old friend.
Would this letter return undelivered for any other reason, I do not care to imagine it.
As I promised, I think of you often, more so in the winter month and Small would tell you that I spend too much time on the outside, hoping to catch a sliver of the cold you are feeling so that I can hope to share these moments with you. Are you eating well, my boy? Are you healthy and jolly? Is there music on captain Ross’ ship? Did he take to masquerades and plays like old Parry did? I hope he did, for I think it would be very difficult on the men to live so dully in the neverending night of the Arctic while waiting for the sun to come up again. But from the testimony you have given me of your uncle, I doubt he had adopted this way of living and, so, I hope that at least you keep occupied with your instruments and your charcoals and specimens. I have been commissioned to join the HMS Stag and serve under Sir Thomas Troubridge of whom I hear great many things. We are to take station in the mediterranean sea to support in the conflict there. We are not to take part in combat, as of yet, only to hold the peace as much as can be done. This shall be a difficult time, I assume, for there is much politics involved.
Upon your return, which I hope will be soon, please send many letters and tell me all of your triumphs so that I can feel as if I was there, then.
There is no end date to this commission so I shall keep writing until you answer.
God bless you, my dear friend, and I remain
Ever yours,
FRM Crozier.
VICTORY
JULY '33
72.79°N 91.90°W
Fury Beach - Boothia - Nunavut
Dearest Frank,
Here I am, back on Fury Beach. I wish I could feel the warmth of your hand in mine like I did that day we abandoned Fury. But you are not here. I am here. The cold is everywhere.
It is difficult to remember the worth of what we are doing here. Although I expect less every day that we shall find relief in our effort, I suppose you shall read all I have done and marvel that I did it all without you at my side. I feel my boots would have been lighter then
Scurvy is in us all. Captain Ross is in a bad way, although he maintains a firm discipline. Old war wounds have surfaced. The inuit have helped us now that the hunting season is at its peak but I despair to know what another winter will do to us. Hunger is all we know now and Iong for
We are to attempt reaching Barrow Strait and then Lancaster as soon as we can repair the boats. If God is gracious, he shall send help our
My mind is tricking me. It cannot wish you to be here, dear, for it would kill me to see you wretched like the rest of
This eternal sun is so bleak without you belov
Damn it all
AUGUST '33
74.07°N 87.98°W
Lancaster Sound - Nunavut
Isabella had never seemed so fine a vessel and James found that a man could indeed miss the horrid taste of pemmican when he was sufficiently hungry and desperate. He thought he had known hunger during his walk to the Pole, now he knew it could always be worst.For now, they would live, for better or for worse, and it tasted like the sweetest of nectars.
SEPTEMBER '33
38.20°N 9.53°W
Coast of Portugal
August 29th 1933Banbridge
Dearest Brother,
I am most regretful to send you the news and although I know you shall not love me for it, I think it would be worse for you to come home and learn it this way or, worse, through the vague rumors that pass through sailors. It is otherly more important for me to let you know as I have taken great care to obtain confirmation with our many friends and even wrote to Captain Parry on the matter and I believe this should come from a loving hands rather than that of a stranger.
Dear Francis, I have received, on the morning of the 3rd, the bulk of undelivered letters you had sent to our friend Commander Ross. I have joined also Sir Edward Parry's letter which I hope shall answer all the questions you may have on the maritime subjects and to which I should not know how to answer but for which I was told speak in no uncertainty of the present fate of our beloved friend…
That is to say that the Victory under Captain Ross has been declared missing in action and that very little can be ascertained as to her fate. Moreover, she was supplied for two winters only and is entering her third at the writing of this letter.
Captain Parry assured me that all is being done to mount a rescue, but with as much hope as you would expect from the endeavor. Family of the Rosses have been gathering funds for the venture and I have pitched in as well in regards to your, and mine! affection to the lost men.
It is my dearest hope that we shall soon hear words that this excitement is for naught but I believe you, more than anyone, should be told the facts as we know it. Neither your mind nor your heart would suffer to be coddled and the love I harbor for you is too grand to lie on the matter.
If there is hope to be had, I know you shall cherish it until it blossoms. If none exists, I beg you to remember my unending love for you, and that your dear Small awaits you home in good health.
Your ever devoted sister,
Charlotte C.
By the third or fourth read of the letters, Francis had lost count and the bottle of whiskey had dried out. It dawned on him the meaning of those words, the cruelest of words and the cruelest of meanings and it was only the barest of self preservation he could muster to bury his face in his pillow as he screamed.He screamed and screamed and screamed. At the empty whiskey useless to numb his pain. At the admiralty that had confined him to a place of sunshine and warmth. At the paper that had sealed his fate.James Ross had been lost to the Arctic. And Francis had lost him.
IN YOUR ABSENCE
JUNE '34
51.46°N 0.00°E
England
It was among Isabella's lilacs that James saw her for the first time, all charming and soft like the bird he had named once, in her dress color of a blushing rose.What she saw, James would never dare to ask for he knew himself, still ragged and unwell eight months after Isabella had fished them out of their boats like the wrecks they were, skin on bones and rotten meat. Made worse by the countless hours spent to answer the Parliament's questions and inquiries and the incessant bullying from Uncle John.Still ragged by the absence of his friend, sent to warm climes to forget about him.Miss Charlotte had been so very kind in her replies to his letters; Francis was months out from any correspondence but he had never let James fade from his thoughts. It was not enough, James had known too much nothing while in the midst of the ice to feel at ease with this absence that no other friends nor family could fill.Even the kind life he had at Isabella and William's charitable hands had not quite filled him in the way he should have ought to be and, so, what did the young Miss see, he did not know… but she smiled and it did not feel like she was smiling at the miserable and wretched creature he had become. She was smiling at James.“Good day, Commander Ross,” she greeted kindly.There was a little poetry book in her hands and a gentle bundle of lilac in her curls. It was good that James knew of being lost and being found because he was, all at once, both.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
COVE
DECEMBER '35
51.48°N 0.00°E
England
December 11th 1835
My dear Frank,
I received word from Captain Sabine that we shall soon see you in London. I beg you to come and call when you are.
Although you may have forgotten your old messmate, I long to see you and embrace you.
Please come.
Your devoted friend,
Jas. C. Ross
Francis’ hand was still trembling when he, indeed, set a foot onto English soil and had shook hands with Captain Lockyer and the purser for his pay. It had nothing to do with the December chill or the exhaustion of four years at sea and everything to do with the letter that was burning in his pocket and which he had read enough times that it was wrinkled and stained.It kept shaking when he met Captain Parry by chance upon exiting the admiralty offices and, God bless the man, Francis was finally able to receive answers to his questions. Two years had passed since the last mail he had received, an oversight the mail clerks had no issue with brushing aside. Except that Francis now had a whole new kind of grief to settle with.He had mourned. Thoroughly, deeply. Enough that he was now mourning the feeling of having known such great a loss that it seemed it would never be filled. It was a strange state Francis found himself in. He did not quite know what sort of despair he was victim to.In the end, Parry was gracious in offering a drink, in memory of the good old days, and presented him with a heavy volume which claimed to hold the narratives to John Ross' last voyage. 'Many truths in there,' Parry had commented before adding, 'And a lot of opinions.' The Rosses had indeed returned to London, only two months after Francis had received the dreadful letter from Charlotte and they had, ever since, been a regular fixture around the Admiralty. As it had been with John Ross’ last attempt at the Passage, the voyage had turned into controversy and then into an inquiry, despite not having been fully funded by the Navy."Well, I am sure you will have ample time to reacquaint yourself with the affair," Parry had huffed and tapped the cover of the volume. "At the present, I believe I should indeed say you made landfall at a most auspicious time! I do have a commission for you, if you desire it so. HMS Cove is bound to Baffin Bay for a relief operation to whalers and I know that her captain would cherish you properly as a second!"With this, and no more details, Parry had set him out on his way.Crozier felt no inclination to report just yet to a new command. He regretted that he felt nauseous at the thought of it, something was weighing his legs, something was crawling in his skin. He was not quite ready to leave his grief and be at work once more. It was too strange to have wept for two years for a man only to learn now that he was living, breathing, working in a world that had moved on while Francis had been laid down into a stupor.Did James truly wish to see him, as he had written, when all that Francis could have given him in the last twenty months was the silence imposed on them by the... ah, that poor excuse, the mail. Francis should never have thought him dead without proof. He should have kept writing until all the words Francis could have found in him for James had been said…The call of his bunk at the naval club and a generous finger of whiskey allured him like the song of sirens.“Excuse me sir, I am looking for a ship, could you help me?”Francis blinked, only now realizing that he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk to the docks, having meandered aimlessly in his musing. A voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked down to the miss who had accosted him.She was young, excessively so to be alone in the middle of the yard where men of all state and class were moving about with heavy cargo and less than reputable affairs. Not all of them were of the Royal Navy, although Crozier knew enough of navy men to wonder at the young woman’s bold presence in this place, dressed in her stoat fur coat and obviously not the daughter of any naval officer that Crozier knew of.“Good day, Miss,” Francis said with a tuck of his cap and looked closer to her charming face and the burden of a basket she kept at her side and interrupted himself to say anything more when her mouth turned round in surprise.“Are you not Lieutenant Crozier, sir?” She asked, delighted, having suddenly forgotten their lack of acquaintances to take his hands in hers in a forwardness that caught him by surprise and made him blush terribly. “Oh please tell me you are him!”“I, hum… I am he, Miss. I apologize, I have been away these many past years, are we acquainted?”She laughed at his hesitance, distinctively alive in the dead of the Londonian winter. It sounded like a thousand bells for Francis who had been living in limbo for the past two years. She was made of warm colors, all warm browns and rosy cheeks and she had a look of intelligence in her eyes and, if Crozier was right, she looked secretly pleased to have him at a disadvantage before her expression lost a bit of her joy.“Oh,” she said, demurred, “forgive me, sir. I… I had hoped you would be acquainted with me as I am to you by way of our mutual friend. Did you not receive my letters? I had the presumption that you had beaten the post on your return… My name is Ann, Ann Coulman?”“I must apologize again, Miss Coulman. The mail did not reach the Stag these past two years. It is one of the unfortunate consequences of war. May… May I accompany you to this ship you were looking for, as compensation for my lack of manners?”This brought back a smile to her lips and, boldly, she took his arm, and offered him her basket to hold for her, bringing quite a few looks toward this improbable couple of Lieutenant Crozier, renowned introverted man, and the most elegant Miss many of these miscreants would have evers seen in their lives. “I would be delighted, my dear Crozier,” she said with a renewed mischief. “And I suspect you and I have the same destination. Let’s make a formal acquaintance, then! Oh! Let me tell you all about…”There was no place in her chatter from then on for Francis to protest or add anything but he did learn a great deal about very many gossips he would normally not be interested in the slightest, which was all in Miss Coulman’s favor when she also delighted him also in discussing the numerous reports of the HMS Beagle made in the Nautical Magazine and all the manner of new discoveries they were making or commented on the the magnetic survey Captain Sabine had initiated. Francis could discern that she was witty, if inexperienced. And, finally, they reached the quay at which the HMS Cove was being fitted. She was a full-rigged ship, only just freshly repainted and fitted to the standard of whaling ships. An arctic commission, then, Francis realized and he knew why Parry had recommended him as lieutenant on board. The full reason did not become clear until some of the men turned around and familiar faces lit up at their approach.“Well! If it ain’t Miss Coulman!” came the call from above them and the affable figure of Thomas Blanky who hung from the rat lines. “And, by God! Lieutenant Crozier himself!”Francis’ breath caught, despite himself. This was a friend he had not expected to see once more. Truly, he had of course mourned James Clark Ross but the truth had been that he had also been sorry to imagine being no longer able to exchange friendship with the likes of Thomas Blanky. Yet, here he was, in full health and apparent good mood, running about the lines like a proper monkey.“Good day Mr. Blanky!’ Miss Coulman called back with a wave, obviously at ease, immediately recognizable for she must have been a regular visitor, then. “I have come bearing gifts! May we come aboard?”“Help us all, Miss Coulman and do come aboard,” another sailor added from the bow’s railing, “the Captain is in a mood!”“Aye, we ain't received the slops yet,” Blanky commented when Miss Coulman had deftly walked the gang plank and Crozier had rushed to join her, only to be met by Thomas’ crushing embrace on the deck. “Good gracious, it is good to see you, old boy!”“It is good to see you, Thomas,” Francis replied, genuinely touched. “You seem well.”He did, all jolly as he was.“Oh, aye, I always do. Mrs. Blanky is keeping me well fed now, as it were. Aye,” he added when Francis stared in stupefaction and sputtered a heartfelt congratulations, “married my Esther as soon as I got my fare from Old Ross. Sorry you missed it but, as you know, being alive made it all seem so… urgent.” He waved vaguely in the air and Francis could only nod. Of course…It was with ease that he escorted them into the depth of the ship and gallantly helped Miss Coulman descend the ladder below deck and into the quarters, then directly toward the great cabin.To Francis, it felt like moving toward a gallow but Miss Coulman found herself at ease in the bowels of the ship, knocking with assurance and entering without fear when the answer exploded in from behind the wooden door. That voice, it made Francis’ heart stop and, yet blood was deafening in his ears… “You better have come with my slops, Mr. Light or I swear to… Miss Coulman!”The tall figure of James Ross appeared in the door, having stood from his desk to welcome Miss Coulman with a smile that could have rivaled an aurora in the middle of an Arctic Night by its splendor. He was changed, of course he was, but Francis would have recognized him anywhere, even if his raven hair was now heavily streaked with silver, he still had those high cheekbones and noble nose and sharp eyes, although they were turned to Miss Coulman and Miss Coulman only. Oh! Francis thought, caught off guard. Oh… Mutual friend indeed… “Am I to be Miss Coulman forever, dearest?” She answered and kissed his cheek in greeting, achingly familiar.“Only until I can win your father over the idea of Mrs. Ross.” James replied and Francis’ heart dropped to his stomach.It was suddenly overly hot below deck, not unlike how it felt to have the oven overworked in a tropical climate, he felt faint and the rest of their banter got lost in the deafening rush of blood in his ears. James was alive and he was in love. With this spritely and delicious thing of a woman who could have perhaps even tamed the wounded beast in Francis’ chest. It was not for Francis that James Ross’ heart was beating for. He had prayed night after night to God and any that would hear that he would stop his own if only it would have brought his dearest friend back. James Ross had died and lived and promised himself to a wife on land and Francis felt… forsaken.The letter was burning in his pocket. ‘I long to see you and embrace you.’ “I came bearing gifts.” Ann Coulman’s kind voice pierced Francis’ strange deafness and he saw James look at the basket expectantly only for his hand to be slapped for impudently reaching for it.. “No! Those are for the men you overwork, you tyrant! No, look who I found wandering on the docks!”Dark met blue when James finally looked behind Miss Coulman to see Francis standing there, cap under arm and miserable. In an instant, he went from being unannounced and forgotten to smothered into the embrace of a sailor holding onto a piece of wreckage for dear life. James had crossed the distance between them in one swift step and had crashed unto him like a wave to the shore. But he was solid, material, warm and…alive!“Frank!” he called with a cracking voice, pressed into the crook of his shoulder, although Francis was right there, so close they were one. “By God, you are here, at last, at last!”Francis did not trust his own voice, barely trusted his arms to answer the embrace. Beyond James’ shoulder, Miss Coulman looked at them with a pleased conspiratorial air she shared with Blanky and the both of them made themselves scarce, moving to give a private moment that Francis did not know he desperately needed.“I did not think you would come.” James admitted when they had loosened from their death defying grip to something more comfortable between them. “I made it clear to Parry that this was not an imposed commission… I have received no letters…”“James…” Francis said, the first word that came past his throat and he had moved them so they could look unto each other and he wondered if he looked as aged to James as James seemed to him. “Of course I would come to you. Always. I simply… had no word of your return until last week and I…” The pain stricken look on his friend’s face told him he understood of the terrible turn of fate that had kept them apart for much longer than it rightfully should have. James seemed to falter for a moment only content in looking at each other, hands pressed tightly on shoulders before he found his voice once more.“Come with me, Frank,” James asked, leaving no room for argument. “Be my second. Let’s go back where you and I are masters and commanders.”“What about Miss Coulman?” Francis hated that he needed to ask and James looked exasperatedly fond. “There is no James Clark Ross without Francis Crozier.” James declared as easily as if it was breathing. “And James Clark Ross and Francis Crozier are sailors. There will be a lifetime of shores, once we are done with our work.”Only half a life on the sea was better than nothing, Francis thought, ignoring the bitter taste it left in his mouth, and so he said.“Of course, I will come with you.”
MARCH ‘36
67.60°N 55.30°W
Baffin Bay
Dearest Miss Coulman,
I cannot express how good, although rather surprising, it is to have received a missive from you and it would be wrong to admit that I had a thought there might have been a mistake made to the address as for, in truth, I feel I know you quite intimately already by the way of our common friend but I had no notion you would spare a thought for Lieutenant Crozier.
I find myself fortunate to know you have also joined a letter to Captain Ross as I would have worried of passing on your sentiments by proxy as he has been so anxious for the mail that he may have put me on seventh water for receiving your words while he languishes.
Never fear for a lack in his affection, Miss Coulman, for I may baptize you “thought” seeing you are all his thoughts at all hours of the day and night and may I beg you believe these thoughts are no passing but quite solid in his brains.
I am quite certain you would receive a rather impressive amount of words from him to persuade you of that fact along with my own mail. I can hear him scratch on his writing desk and know I shall keep hearing it long after sixth bell, as you may attest by the many pages he does not shy from sending.
To the matter of your letter, I am rather humbled you should come to me on this subject for I know many more experienced men who would be invested in helping your endeavor.
Regarding an introductory volume to navigational astronomy, I recommend the “Miss Coulman wrote to me.” Francis said when James came by from his dealings with the purser and interrupted his composing. “She asked for recommendations of books to learn about astronomical navigation… You would not have an idea as to why, perchance?”“Why Frank!” James replied with his expression now so bright it might have been the sun. “She is marvelously bright, of course, and eager to learn.”“What I meant,” Francis clarified, stuck between fond and irritated by his lovestruck friend, “would this not be something she should entertain in the correspondence between the both of you?”James looked unimpressed.“She wants to know you, Frank. Wouldn’t Miss Coulman know only half of me if you remain a stranger? Oh! Quit your frowning, dearest, and come on up. We’re nearing the Cape!” Francis finished his whiskey and followed him up.
JULY ‘36
59.08°N 4.71°W
Scotland
No news was heard from the William Torr , it did not sit too well with James. He knew exactly the fate that had befell them. Either starvation, exposure, scurvy or the cruelty of their fellow men who would do anything to survive only to die just the same. Wretched and forgotten. Forty odd souls and not a sign of them.It was easy to disappear here… it was easy in ‘31 and it was easy now. He supposed he should be happy that thirty-three of the whalers had made it back to safe harbor but all he could think of was of the William Torr . And the Isabella . “There you are.” Francis came up from behind him, climbing with ease onto the deck to join him at the rigging. Stromness would soon be in view and, with it, the end of their little freedom. They were coming back having been useless except for mapping some more coasts no one will ever inhabit and failing to save any one. James took a long drag of his pipe and turned a morose eye to Francis as he came to lean just as he did. “What have you in the brown study, now?” Frank asked as seriously as ever. “I am only thinking about the William Torr ,” James admitted somberly. “I suppose I shall have liked to know the name of their widows so that I can send my regards.” “You bury men who could still prevail.” Frank warned and, oh, god loves him, he was trying to comfort him. “No, dear. They're dead now, surely, and no one will bury them. There is no doubt in my mind. The other whalers made themselves safe but no word has been heard from the William in six months. I would know how it is to be stranded there…” “And you came back.” Francis retorted, moving to try and catch his eyes. “You came back.” Francis was still the same, always… wonderful and the rock to hold onto in a stormy sea, the lighthouse to steer clear of danger. The friend he had dreamed of keeping by when he had been dying of scurvy and many other things. “Yes, I came back…” he decided to say instead of what he really meant to say.
I was lost and you were not there.
I came back and you were not there.
I shall remain on shore now and you will not be there.
How can I be found if I do not know where you are?
It was unfair to say it all. James had changed. Perhaps too much for Frank who deserved better than the wreck Isabella had picked up three years earlier. Ann had picked the pieces of him, Francis would have made him whole… “If they are lost, all shall know that you did all that could be done to save them,” Frank said and glued their shoulders together, a point of warmth in infinite cold, “and when you are knighted for it, even Mrs. Coulman could not resist you. A little something to look forward to, hm?” “Well, dear!” James shook himself and bumped their shoulders again and chose to be honest, “a knighthood is a little prize compared to having you with me on this expedition. When we pay off the Cove, come by the Spences, at my sister’s, and stay a while, will you?” It was the little nod of his head and the shy smile Francis did then that completed the melting of James’ heart. Truly, no one was dearer.
AUGUST ‘36
51.48°N 0.00°E
England
Ann was waiting for them at their exit from the admiralty office, her sour-faced chaperone three steps behind had no recourse when the girl skipped the road to take both of their hands and kiss their cheeks. “I have missed you, gentlemen!” She declared and danced to nestle herself between them, arms in arms. Francis’ face flushed with heat.James’ heart melted with joy.Ann's smile shone with love.
SURVEY
MAY ‘37
57.34°N 4.41°W
Inverness - Scotland
“So, this is what you have been doing in the years after your return. Enjoying the wilderness, playing with your needle…”A flick of water was James retribution for the terrible joke but Francis simply laughed louder at him. The little boat pitched at the sudden movement and it was all it took for James not to fully retaliate. All around them, the spectacle of the Loch Ness was breathtaking. Francis was glad to have taken the chance to spend some of these days on shore to visit James at his observatory in Inverness. Not that they were doing any measurement at the moment, having prefered to spend the early day on the loch to fish.“It is important work!” James sulked. “Sabine has been all over it for the last five years. We have already made interesting discoveries.”The great British Magnetic Survey, James had called it. A time to truly study and understand the variation of the magnetic strength across the British isles and, perhaps, offer to extend it to the colonies and beyond.“In my answer to Miss Coulman, perhaps I should suggest she go to you to answer her questions about poles and dips, then.” Francis teased, aiming to make light fun of James’ passion.That seemed to make James perk up, curious. Francis had the image of a dog being promised a treat… any mention of the young lady was enough to transform him.“She continues to write to you, then?” He asked, eager to know. “What do you write about?”“Nothing that would impede your chances with the young lady, I assure you.” Francis replied, adjusted his grip on his fishing rod to grab the flask of liquor he kept on himself.“You jest! You could never ruin my chances!Francis snorted and took a swig before offering one to his overconfident friend who started to gesticulate, having all but forgotten about his own rod but not about his passionate besotting.“If she did forsake me, it would be because she would have found a better prospect and only you could be him! I should say! I would understand her wholy and bless you both! Her choice in you would be impeccable.”Francis almost choked at the implication and took back the flask.“I say, maybe no more scotch for you, my boy. If you believe me a better prospect, Irish and middle bred as I am.”“I do not need to explain myself to you. Enough about prospects. Tell me what she writes about.”It felt right to discuss the lady and her multitude of pleas (all answered) to Crozier to teach her about magnetism and fauna and all the ‘wonderful thoughts that occupy James and yourself when you are far from me.’ While James offered no solution to Crozier's questions (why would the young Miss write to him rather than her courting gentleman?), there was a feeling of familiarity to engage in their favorite subjects.The little boat they had rented was a sanctuary on the mirror water of the Loch. In the end, they only caught a couple of small trouts they would roast for supper and they would camp in James’ observatory. When Crozier departed a week later, he had all but forgotten what had made him seek James so far north in the first place: a stern reprimand for turning down the knighthood and a heartfelt thank for his intercede with his promotion. There had been no one else but the both of them in the remote Highlands and that had felt like bliss.
JANUARY ‘38
51.50°N 0.15°E
England
“I know she corresponds with you often, Frank! You must tell me now… surely you have made your opinion of the lady!”Francis could not help rolling his eyes. James was like a man twenty years younger, following him in his tipsy gait as they made their way in London's night. They certainly both had imbibed in a joyful amount of alcohol and keeping their steps straight was a challenge.James had fallen further in his cups than Francis had, having won at a decent amount of games of cards in the evening. He was made exceptionally happy by broaching his current favorite subject of conversation, the charming Miss Ann Coulman.“I rather think my opinion could never change yours on the matter of Miss Coulman.” Francis grunted when he had to catch his friend who lost balance for a moment. “It is very apparent to me that you are quite taken with her and I am only waiting for you to propose.”“If only! If only!” James lamented, attached to Crozier like an octopus, all long and loose limbs and no easy way to disentangle oneself. “The father will not have me… but, I protest!” He added, like he was suddenly made sober, only for the fog in his eyes to become weepy with either the cold or a sudden emotion. “You are wrong! Wrong, I say! Tell me you love her, Francis Crozier! Tell me you love her as I do for I should have it no other way! Is she not beautiful?”“She certainly is of the fairer sort, very graceful and…”“Is she not smart?”“I can indeed attest to the quickness at which she mastered…”“Is she not quick witted and gifted with good humor?”“She does make a fantastic conversationalist…”If Francis was starting to regret having accepted to celebrate the new year with James, he hoped it would not show on his face, lest he break his friend's heart. Only, Francis had not expected having such a hard time listening to his brother serenade on a lady who was, in fact, everything himself was not… everything James wanted but he, Francis, could not provide.It was alcohol talking, Francis tried to convince himself as James kept on his interrogation. “Is she not the epitome of grace and charm?”“We have only ever truly conversed through letters…”“Frank.” The name was said very seriously, James having suddenly stopped in his tracks to face Francis and force their eyes to meet, hands on his cheeks to keep him trapped. “I shall not… I shall… you and I, Frank, remember!. You and I! And her! If you tell me I should not have her, then I shan't! You! Y… your brains! You face! Y… your dour, lovable face! It is always you first. Do you hear?”Francis certainly heard but if he was less tired and more sober, he may have admitted he did not fully understand and so, he patted the ridiculous man on the shoulders and mustered a reassuring rictus, or so he hoped.“She is delightful, James.” He said, sincerely, affection having filled his heart. “Should you wish her as a wife, I do not find fault in her or your union! I do consider her a dearest friend and it would be a blessing to see you made happier by having her by your side.”The look of pure grace that painted itself on James's face was worth swallowing the hard lump in Francis's throat. James and Ann, he knew they would be magnificent. It was enough for Francis to witness their happiness.It had to be enough. What James remembered of the evening when he woke in their shared room at the club, Francis was unsure. But the next days were followed with the most outlandish plans to get the father's approval and, somehow, a plan for sailing further south than any man had sailed before.
NOVEMBER ‘38
51.50°N 0.15°E
England
Ross read the letter bearing Francis' plea for his patience again and huffed. Dear Small Charlotte Crozier had no qualm in keeping her brother in Ireland, it would seem. The list of logistical maneuvers Francis claimed to be working with would not stop growing.In Greenwich's harbor, the November weather was a miserable time but James could barely feel its bite. He was inhabited by a fervor that was a better shield than his coat. Erebus and Terror had taken their place at the dock, ready to be fitted, patient. Two sisters that would sail toward glory for him. They held promises, they held everything, together with these new orders.Already, Ross had a crew in mind, one that he would not be refused. The prospects of Antarctica and its unknowns would sure bring along the curious naturalists he wished to recruit. Blanky would pass, newly wedded bastard, but Abernethy was to be by his side in the gunnery and mayhaps he could secure that young rising star Fitzjames who had just come back from Syria for the other ship… McCormick had long declared interests in the poles and he even had a plan for an artist. As for the officers… Old Bird was to be his First Lieutenant but his Second… ah! there could only be one he would consider because his second would command Terror.And Terror was a wounded, arctic veteran, one that had barely made it home. There was barely a scratch on her anymore, she looked as new as her sister. Yet, James knew of the hurt she had suffered. He knew it was not something so easily overcome. He, too, had been beached in the Arctic and waited to be bleached by the sun until a miracle brought him home…So he knew that no one else than Francis Crozier would do for her. He could only ever entrust her and her wounds to the one he trusted the most in this world.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
EREBUS & TERROR
AUGUST ‘39
51.48°N 0.00°E
England
My dearest Ann,
I walked by the Observatory this afternoon and thought of you, as I do often and with absolute dedication, when I came by a bush of sweet lilacs. They reminded me of our meeting. You met me when I was feeling so poorly. You appeared to me as a plentiful land of sweet nectars and fruits to a wrecked sailor lost at sea. Dearest Ann, never doubt that you saved me that day and every day since. You are the soft breeze in my sails and the star that guides me home. Your last letter left me sorry to hear that Frank resists you yet. I feel responsible for his distance as I fear to come too bluntly to him of how much it matters to me that both you and he be as dear to each other as you are to me. I have known Frank for quite a many years and I know him as a man who edges and lingers in the comforts of shadows and observance.
It is not without coming to my attention that he also took late to appreciate our old mentor's affection toward him, if he ever did as well as I. I often thought he kept seeking me then, as if he trusted his reading of me but not of the other man. Or, as you hypothesized, did he expect I would refuse him this? That I had known Parry first and, therefore, was to set the hierarchy between us? That I know you now and put him second and set a hierarchy once more?
You may be right that I should certainly be more firm with him. My dear, how well you have seized him as he is now when I still remember the boy he was when we met... although I despair I might have misunderstood him for some times now. He is so eager to leave for the seas where we do not second-guess ourselves and where his mind is at peace and I am torn to remain longer where you are near and depart sooner to relieve him.
Am I greedy, my love, that I do not see a future where there is only one of you? I found a cottage in Greenwich, only a few steps from the yards, close by enough to the Observatory. It is charming and large enough for a wedded couple and a little cohort of small Rosses to bear your eyes and my nose, if they shall be so unfortunate. I hope I do not overstep in saying that it might even be spacious enough for another hardy sailor to share with.
If it shall please you as well as he does me, I shall put it to my solicitor to arrange for the purchase while I have your love to warm me through the icy waters.
I remain your faithful, devoted,
Ever loving,
Jas. C. Ross
NOVEMBER ‘39
6.47°N 17.31°W
Near the Equator - Atlantic
“You!? You are a greenhorn?” Francis was grinning devilishly at the revelation. “I do not believe it!”“Seven crossings of the Arctic Circle under my belt and you find ridicule that I have never crossed the equator?” James replied with a cocked eyebrow. “Also, you know every one of my postings well. You were there for all but three.” He added with a glare.There was not yet outrage in his features but, perhaps a small slight bruise to his ego that Francis found delightful. He also thought it was quite deplorable that all of James’ glorious career had been turned to cold northern waters and he had known none of the plentiful and lush shores of Africa or Brazil.Then, he remembered how he was always welcomed to Erebus by a litany of woes about the infernal heat and revised his opinion.The mark on the Erebus’ journal was that Commander Crozier came to visit to discuss their approach of St Paul's Rocks but this was a long settled matter, in truth. They were simply meeting to put a dent in James’ store of whiskey and scotch. As they usually did.It was with nostalgia that Francis looked back on their days with Cove and how connected their cabins’ doors had been. While they had now both the privileges afforded to captaincy, they still had to find spare time to row the gigs from ship to ship and pretend in their logs as to their doings.More difficult it was still that Terror had been lagging behind so embarrassingly. James, in his eagerness to make good time on his orders was barely affording Francis the mercy of sailing with shortened sails to give him a chance at catching up.What Francis did not say is that Old Bird had confided to him how distraught and worry James had been when they had been delayed in their approach to the Bay of Biscay. Never should I have allowed him to sail out of my sight , Bird had reported James saying with a smirk and, although James had been the face of a perfectly assured captain, it was noticed that he had been quite frantic in the afterwards upon hearing of the terrible storm Erebus had managed to avoid but of which Terror had taken the full brunt. James was a worrywart, always had been. God bless his future wife and their brood that they should be armed with patience to suffer it.“Aye,” Francis said, as serious as he could, barely containing the smirk that threatened to stretch his lips. “I better keep this to myself, lest we see you with a smooth skull when King Neptune sends his regards.”The look James sent him was one of absolute betrayal, his free hand shooting to his luscious hair as if to shield it from suddenly falling off. “You would not dare! You would not!” He squawked indignantly and Francis could only laugh at him but refused to answer.Some things were better left unsaid. Francis regretted not having dared when, fascinated by the magnetic readings around the weakest point, James stalled the whole expedition long enough that even his surgeons and naturalists came to Crozier to put an end to it, having gone mad from the idleness.
DECEMBER ‘39
14.84°S 28.03°W
Atlantic - Near the Coast of Brazil
Damn you, Francis , James thought when the lights shone enough to illuminate his impassible face, looking out to the dark waters instead of taking part in the festivities. One could imagine, however, the fond expression on his face at the hollering of the men celebrating their first Christmas away from home.
Damn you, how about next time I go up there and make you dance myself?
FEBRUARY ‘40
15.91°S 5.77°W
St. Helena
“A great waste of expense and time,” Frank complained as the men were disassembling the Observatory and taking the precious instruments. “Look at this!”The papers he held were indeed full of readings and shaken so vigorously James could not read a single number.“Did we not have a great time and clear weather?” James attempted at consoling him, not to avail.James, for all their measurements had been thoroughly sabotaged by the volcanic nature of the island, could find no fault in their little respite on St. Helena. The men had had a great time of sports and fishing, McCormick and Hooker had found peace in their own little experimentation…As for James, he had had the Observatory to come back to at the end of his days. And there, he would always find Francis scratching at countless pages of numbers and mathematics, lit only by a lamp, as if they had to preserve the oil, although James believed it may just as well be because the lovable fool was too absorbed to realize how much the light had faded in his focus. It was to that dear company that James would come in, with a cup of tea and a generous meal, Mr. Jopson having told him that Frank often missed either the breakfast or midday meal, and there would be hours of delight in recounting their days or making plans. Never had he thought he would say so, but on St. Helena, he did not care much for the accuracy of their measurements, only that they were there.The comfort he was feeling then, to know that there was a hammock strung up for him under the canvas, and that this is where he would find his dearest friend made it James’ favorite place on Earth.He had a thought, again, for the cottage on Eliot Place and hoped dearly that the news of its purchase would wait for him in Hobart.
AUGUST ‘40
42.91°S 147.38°E
Hobart - Tasmania
There had been no reason to worry, once more, as Terror was patiently waiting for them at port when Erebus sailed into Hobart. She looked quite peaceful, as if they had not just spent the past three weeks battling fierce winds and wondering if the white of flotsam on the horizon might be a sister ship, a ghost or a mirage . Francis, for once, had made excellent time and anchored the day before, or so Sgt. Cunningham would have James believed, and the crew that had not been affected to the ship were already on shore to prepare for their work here.It would not be too long, he knew, as the southern warm season would see them on their way soon, having come to port so late in the year and that suited James just so. Their sailing from one tropics to the other had simply cemented his displeasure of the horrid heat one would find there.“Ahoy sir!” Francis called from the gangplank just as James was about to make his own way to shore and meet with the governor, and find his wayward second.He looked fresh, to James’ jealousy and appreciation both, in the way the refreshing bounty of a meal ashore could give a sailor long at sea and the shine of his dress uniform only enhanced his handsome countenance. He was also in a remarkably good mood, having a bag of letters and new instruments brought in by Mr. Jopson who followed him closely. Mr. Jopson, a rather young man that James was coming to know as his ears and eyes on Terror, was almost crushed under the weight of whatever fancy Francis had set his heart to have him lugging around. The poor steward did not look even quite has rested as the captain did.“Good morning, Captain Crozier, Mr. Jopson, glad to see you in safe harbor.”“Aye, no longer shall I see you scribble of Terror's slow pace. See here, mail and gifts. You shall be pleased to see many familiar hands in there.”Indeed, Mr. Jopson had deposited the bag on the quarterdeck's table and the crate before being gently dismissed by Francis and ordered to enjoy the sun and some free time. Indeed, the first package among the mail intended to the crew was addressed to James himself and his name was written in the looping and charming hand of Miss Coulman. He knew the paper would smell of lilac.He scowled at Francis’ cheerful look and removed his hand from the paper he had been caressing. The incorrigible tease was making a fool of him and James objected to that. Ann was worth pining for.“I hope you will find patience for now, old boy,” Francis said, unaffected, “we are due for guests.”It must have been all planned because just then, the silver head of another friend came to view from the ships’ rail and the kind face of Sir John Franklin himself had made his appearance. Good gracious, James thought while making way toward him to shake hands, that is a man who certainly enjoys married life on shore. Fat, he was, yes, but also looking hale and energized. By his side, Lady Jane was the epitome of elegance and poise.“Permission to come onboard, Captain?” Sir John asked and he needed not, James was already by their side to pat shoulders and salute the lady. “It is extremely dear to have you both here, I say! I cannot wait to hear all of your journey so far.”“Pray tell, you shall be lodging with us, certainly!” Lady Jane added with the same enthusiasm as his husband. “We have rooms for both of you.”Right away, James did not announce that they had, in fact, intended to take full advantage of the Observatory they were to set outside of Hobart. Even though they had seldom spent so many days without visiting each other on the sea, James ached for a time Frank and he could revisit in some way the time they had spent in the isolation of the Highlands a few years prior.Ah, but that would come in time, they would have ample occasions to keep to their own company in this paradise. At this time, he would gladly take upon his hosts’ gracious invitations.Frank looked just as pleased to be there as he was and, this, was worth everything.
NOVEMBER ‘40
44.65°S 148.28°E
Coast of Tasmania
The sea was calm but James’ mood was stormy and had been so since their departure from Hobart, or so Old Bird would have him believed, when Francis boarded the Erebus for the first time since their departure from Hobart, a week into their journey south.The mood was, in fact, so severe that even his steward barely dared approach his cabin, a plight that Crozier could not help but believe wholeheartedly that his own Thomas Jopson would have been able to navigate perfectly. As for Francis, he knew he had nothing to fear. When James lashed out to wound, it was never aimed at him.“Would you care to share your troubles, dear?” Francis asked when the steward had quickly retreated with his cap and coat and they were finally alone with a fantastic scotch offered by Lady Jane.James looked positively miserable, hunched on his desk in his shirtsleeve and so agitated that he had unbuttoned part of his vest with and made away with his cravat. The map provided by the Admiralty had now an overlay of the coast Dumont D’Urville had gallantly provided, which had only irritated James more to have part of his own exploration cut short by the ambition of a frenchman.James looked at him with the bloodshot eyes of someone who had seldom slept in the past days and his mouth was only a thin line. To Francis’ memory, the only time he had seen him so contrary had been that very moment they had given up on the William Torr and her men. The loss of the Fury had been a complete failure and absolute desolation for James but the William Torr and, now, this unforeseen competition, that was not just a turn of fate, it was a blow to his confidence.“What are you doing here, Francis? I have been bested before we even reached the equator,” he lamented while shaking the letter graciously sent by D'Urville, “we are not any closer to beat his mark and what good would that be to you to come back with only the claim of a discovery already made! You deserve better than this! I delayed us and cost you to…”It was unlike him to be so agitated. This was not simply about D'Urville and Wilkes, damn them. There was something deeply troubled in Francis’ friend, something that he regretted not having recognized earlier. The days they had had to spare in their works and the moments they had spent in delights in Hobart… it had lightened Francis’ heart and burdened James’...“James! We are not bested! It is as you said, we have barely started.” Francis protested. “Where is this coming from? That yankee and the Frenchman have barely made a mark in our ambitions. Nevertheless, I did not take sail with you for glory! You could have taken me to China and war and I would have followed. You know this!”The look James gave him told him the contrary, however. He was morose, barely looking from under his wild curls. There were other letters on the desk, all scattered and although Francis could see that the ones left pristine were from Ann Coulman, the one that remained on top of the pile was from Miss Cracroft.“You must tell me, Frank,” James sighed and he looked like he was about to crumble. “If you marry her, will you remain in Hobart?”Francis remained shocked for a moment and guffawed, despite himself, taken aback by the question.“Is this what got you in a brown study, now?” He asked, perplexed. “Lady Jane only suggested selling me the land as a jest! I never had any intention of leaving you on your own! I am not married yet and shall not be until we return for good, as I am told Miss Cracroft expects a husband who is not bound for the sort of endeavor we sail for. Come on now, old boy!”James said nothing, apparently unconvinced by Francis’ attempt at appeasing him and Francis felt like a betrayer.He had, in fact, contemplated quite seriously to take the Hobart life, would Sophia have him. She was charming, well read and they shared the same humor. He had told himself he was only dreaming that he might eventually find a wife and retire until he met Miss Cracroft who would make a companion that he could cherish as much as he did his messmate. So, he had imagined, indeed, of staying in the temperate Hobart… He could not say it out loud now. And he certainly could not express that in all of his imaginings, James was also there and that the absence of him would render that life unbearable.“James,” he decided to say, instead, sitting down by him to meet him as an equal. “Let's not be childish about this. You shall marry upon our return to England. And to the most wonderful match you could ever have to boot! It should not be unthinkable that I do the same. Instead of wrangling seamen and marines, we shall share a nursery, perhaps another enterprise you and I would take upon... "We need not stay in Hobart, should Miss Cracroft accept to make me the happiest of men… In fact, I believe I would be quite content were she to come home with me in England, where your life and mine would keep mingling.”This time, James chuckled and patted Crozier's arm. It sounded suspiciously wet.“You are right, yes… I do not know what came over me. Is this not a trifle to worry about? Of course, of course, your happiness is capital to me, always.”This did not dispel the heaviness of worry that Francis felt in his bones, nor did it seem to fully return James to his usual bold and confident self for the evening. That had settled the matter, however and the conversation turned from the fate that awaited them in the far future and toward the adventure that turned them southward. D’Urville and Wilkes had barely made it east of the paralleles at which Van Diemen's Land sat. Between Cook, Weddel, Bellingshausen and now D’Urville and this impudent Wilkes, their course was set in the last part of the coast left unmapped and this… this would make their fortune.At the end of the evening, and deep into their bottle, they found once more their spirit and it was with much confidence that Francis found sleep in the hammock strung for him in the Great Cabin of Erebus, having spent their discussion long into the night. Somewhere close, if Ross slept at all, he did not know.
JANUARY ‘41
77.16°S 165.79°E
Farthest South - Ross Sea
“What did you have to worry about,” Frank was smirking at James as they looked at the festivities held by the crew. From Erebus’ deck, they could even see the rambunctious fun of the Terrors. They were used to celebrating the passing of the years in the darkness of the Arctic and the sun of the Antarctic was quite a welcome sight. Its rays reflected on the iceberg like on mirrors and, indeed, what did James have to worry about, he wondered…“Well, I say, Frank dear, I believe this deserves a toast! It may not be traditional, seeing as this is a Saturday, but I must say… To ourselves!!”“To our imminent success!” Francis replied and they knocked their glasses.“To reaching Further South than them yankees and frenchies and anyone else, my lads!” Thomas Abernethy declared with force from behind them, earning the cheer of the whole company, and the captains too when he engulfed them in an embrace worthy of their victory.What did James have to worry about, indeed… In the following weeks, Mr. Hooker would have a cold realization of the danger of their situation when he would need to be fished out from the icy waters surrounding Franklin Island and they would be at the front lodge to the magnificent spectacle offered by the newly christened Mount Erebus and never before had James felt more sure that this was the life he had chosen and even here was the one he wished for at his side.
FEBRUARY ‘41
76.68°S 165.88°E
Ross Sea
James sidestepped.The bird replied in kind. In the same direction.James blinked. Tried again. To the same result. He was stuck.It was a feisty little thing, much smaller than the great penguins McCormick liked to stuff so much. Yet, it presented itself as the greatest challenge yet ever imposed on Captain James Clark Ross.For, you see, the man was now perched precariously, a fault of his own, on top of the ice floe he had elected to use for his observation, only to find it inhabited by a colony of those pestering birds. And the birds had been quite partial to their presence near their nests, coming in flock to bully them terribly, not unlike little old men chasing away naughty children they had caught stealing in their fields.As for James, he had been the last to find his way to their little gig, closing in on their retreat only to find his own path now blocked by the feistiest of them, unable to defend himself for he was also carrying their precious dip circle.“If you stop laughing now and help me get rid of this little monster, mayhaps we could move on with our journey, Francis!” “I believe you are doing marvelously well, dear!” Francis called back, stretching his head to make sure Mr. Davis was, indeed, rendering the scene perfectly on his paper.“It is just a penguin, sir, educate it as to the dominion of the Empire!” he added for good measure.The looks of worry he received from the men on the boats almost made him cave to send the poor men to the rescue. They did not have the privilege of impunity that Francis enjoyed and to not come to their captain's aid was, in fact, mutinous.The litany of swears that came from the ice was music to his ears but, still, he relented, for the sake of the men.“Very well, then! Mr. Lewis, Mr. Harris, I believe your captain is in need of assistance.” Besides, Davis' sketch was complete and captured the moment perfectly. Secretly, Francis had already decided to send it to Miss Coulman during their next stop at Hobart. And all this had been well worth the glare he received when James joined, very dignified, their boat.
MARCH ‘41
64.06°S 121.02°E
Near Adélie Land - Southern Ocean
Vindication came in the form of a 600 fathoms line at the location where Wilkes had professed to have made landfall and discovered a mountain range. What James and Francis found, to the delight of the former, was empty water and no discernable sea bed.“Imagine!” James laughed with a manic joy and poured more whiskey into Francis’ glass. “Ah, wish that I could see Wilkes’ expression when we shall report the news that his ‘landfall’ had been done to an ice floe after all!”Francis drank and reserved no more than a small smile. James could not fool him, he was relieved beyond word that they, in fact, had had the upper hand all along. The Terre Adélie may remain such (Francis would certainly have called on James’ hypocrisy had he mocked the love-struck Frenchman from naming his part of the coast after his loving wife when James had had to be instructed to refrain from calling every piece of land they found ‘Ann’ or ‘Coulman’), their success in the pack and the discovery of the Barrier would enter History for centuries.“Well, James, how about a toast?” Francis proposed, wishing to teach his friend a lesson. “To Wilkes Land, to Crocker Mountains and to all the mountains we named that shall one day be discovered as mirages!”The look of utter betrayal James sent him was worth it. God, he loved that man and his inflated ego.“Of all of them, Francis, let’s hope Cape Crozier remains, then!” James retorted but still, they drank, content and victorious as they were.
APRIL ‘41
42.91°S 147.38°E
Hobart - Tasmania
Hobart came in view to the cheer of the crew. Five months at sea had never been the most spent by any ships of the Royal Navy but few could claim to have ventured in such treacherous waters as they had. It was great pride that James felt that his crew would have suffered neither loss nor sickness, nor weakness, when that of D’Urville had reported sixteen deaths in a shorter time in the Antarctic circle. Nevertheless, the toll of forcing their way back from the pack and the long cold days would largely be recompensed by the following days in their southerly home.James dreaded it. And he dreaded Miss Sophia Cracroft.Looking from across the water at Terror who was following at good pace, he knew how hypocritical it was from him to hope for a failure on Frank's part at courting the lady. Francis had been right, how could James expect him to answer to James ’ dreams when he was a man of his own, with his own desires.Selfishness was a terrible sickness and James had fallen victim to it. He could pretend that the allure of having it all had blinded him but he could see now that perhaps he had loved Francis wrong. His happiness was paramount. It should have been from the beginning. What did Crozier have to gain in following Ross everywhere only to fall in his shadow when he should have been the one to shine?Hobart did not feel like a beginning anymore. It felt like a reckoning. They were back to civilization now and Ross had many records to set straight. And one above all else his first duty would be to do his utmost to set Francis free. Free from James’ influence and free to build his own. How had he not seen that he had overshadowed Francis was beyond him. Out there, in the Antarctic, there was nothing he could do for it but now, on shore, with plenty to say about his friend and his zeal, that could be corrected.He had already drafted the letter he would send home to recommend Francis to the post of Captain; he should have been promoted too a long time ago and, then, Francis would be free, indeed and James would always cherish having him as a friend, even from afar. It was his penance for having wished for too much. That Miss Cracroft, and Lady Jane, had been on a journey in Sydney improved only marginally his mood.
MAY ‘41
42.91°S 147.38°E
Hobart - Tasmania
I must confess that upon reading James's last missive, I find myself comforted. Do you know how he speaks of your little observatory and how you both seldom leave it. I can see in my mind's eye the two mundane hammocks hung side by side like cozy beds and it is both envy knowing you both so close while I am so far and deep affection at the thought of the constant company you may impart to each other that inhabit my thoughts.
Shall I ever be able to express in words, my dear Captain Crozier, how very much I am grateful to have found a love as grand as the one I have for James, only to have it paired so tightly with the precious gift of your enduring friendship.
I pray for the day I see your ships both at port once more and I shall find myself happy with their Captains near and by. I hope then we shall enjoy the domestic bliss I aspire for us.
I beg of you, dear Captain, to keep in your kindest thoughts,
Your most devoted and affectionate
Ann Coulman
In the end, Francis did not read the letter a second time and as it was most likely useless to reply, as they would race the mail back home, he simply gave it a home in his desk where he could forget the hollow feeling of hope he'd felt at the words “domestic bliss”.James had the same habit, speaking of their future together, always having Francis in his plans, as if he and Ann would share them. Francis knew better. He knew from the friendship grown cold with Lady Jane at his attachment to Miss Cracroft. He knew from Miss Cracroft’s own dejection at his intentions. He knew from being second picked at command. He was not made to be first choice.He could never resent James for it, James simply had not learned it yet but he would, when he would be deep in his marriage and house haunting for the roster of little babes they would make and when he would retreat to write his memoirs. Francis would fade, as he was fated to. That suited Francis fine. He had sisters to care for, a community in Banbridge to support and a career at sea for more years yet. He had lost James once before and this would not be the same. James was living in this world.It hurt, still, to have part of that light shone on him so often, only to disappear in the shadow of reality. Like a lighthouse blinking constantly, a promise of a land and that of treacherous water.“Sorry to interrupt, sir!”How Thomas Jopson ‘interrupted’ in the most convenient of ways had to be declared a scientific mystery. Now, that was a brilliant young lad with too many talents to be wasted as a steward. A very ingrate thought that was, considering how efficient he was in helping Crozier into his captaincy. Never did he have a need for anything on a daily basis, and the accommodation of his fancies were expeditive. If there was a man Francis would recommend with high regard, it was Jospon, once again saving Francis from mopping over.“What is it now, Jopson?” Francis asked, getting up to face what was to come.Jopson never interrupted unless his full attention was necessary.“Dr. Robertson, sir…”“Ah, sir! There you are!”This was, indeed, Dr. Robertson, having entered the Great Cabin in a whirlwind of enthusiasm, rubbing his hands. Suddenly, Captain Crozier knew what this was about and he felt a pressure mounting behind his eyes.Suddenly, he regretted having permitted some of the company to take a short leave to go and assist to that play because for all the words he had received about how poorly it had been acted and produced, they certainly gave grand ideas of the use of props and… mirrors? to impress the gallery.That Dr. Robertson was convinced beyond reasons that he could, should and would outdo Mr. McCormick’s treatment of the Erebus for the upcoming event left little ways for Crozier to convince him to tone down the extravagance. As he turned out, even being Captain did not give him the authority to keep his shaving mirror for himself.
JUNE ‘41
42.91°S 147.38°E
Hobart - Tasmania
Thrice, already, had Francis been sprung unto the dance floor at the arm of a lady for a quadrille or a waltz, dazzling them all with his sure steps and his dress uniform. A rare sight James had not seen much of since their departure from England. There were few occasions for full decorum at sea and one did well to favor the winter clothes over the impractical cuts of the uniform when dredging the ice.Even rarer sight was Captain Crozier losing himself in the rhythm of revelry and the posh rituals of high society. They were both officers of her Majesty’s Royal Navy, after all, they were men who did not often bask in luxury or opulence.This night, however, it was for them and the work the men had done to transform their little barques into the grandest ballroom Hobart had ever seen was enough for James to give in to his sentimentality. The shine of the mirros strung up to reflect the candles like hundreds of ice shards was something to marvel at, although he had also seen the transformation made to Terror and he could not decide which he was more impressed at.What he admired the most, however, was the rose tint on Frank’s cheeks when, at last, the orchestra let their last note fade and he came to join James at the edge of the floor where he had been distractedly conversing with some of the men of science at Hobart.“Out of breath, old man?” James asked to tease when Francis had finally come at his side, a generous glass of champagne in hand.“You would be too, at your age,” Francis retorted to the pleasure of the little assembly. “She intends to write about the fête to a ladies’ magazine and I am quite afraid I may have brought shame on all of these efforts, now.” he added, sheepishly, vaguely showing the work.James was unimpressed. He had very little patience for anyone’s blindness on Francis’ irreproachable character and valor. He itched to take Francis on the floor himself and prove them wrong but they were not at sea, where the men could give in to dancing with their comrades, or in the private space of their homes and, so, he refrained and only patted Frank’s back to console him.“You? Bringing shame? Ah, I have never heard anything more ridiculous.” James smiled and then excused them from the company of the gentlemen to walk the deck.“Do you remember that time Parry worked his purser to death for Fury ’s first voyage?” Frank asked when they had found a quiet spot near the bow where they were able to sit and still appreciate the whirling of skirts and manners of the gentlemen.“You did not last an hour in the company of the guests,” James recounted fondly, remembering how he had found Midshipman Crozier working on Hecla to clear tables just to avoid the crowd.“You had so much fun that night,” was Crozier’s memory of it, looking pleased and nostalgic. “But you still climbed onto that mast and kept me company.”He had done just so and James had not missed the ball for a moment after sitting down with him. There had been magic in the air that night. They had been preparing for the adventure of a lifetime but James had come back with a friendship more valuable to him than the prizes or the renown it had also given him. He often missed those days when they had been much younger and agile, skating on the ice and chasing after floes or running behind sled dogs. They were older men, now, but the feeling of contentment that came with being with the one who knew him best had never faded, even when his hair had turned completely silver and his hands had started to ache.“Captain Crozier… are you asking me to abscond with you on Terror’s mizzenmast?”Frank scoffed and punched his shoulder.“No, you daft boy. I was just remembering how wonderful that had been. But we could be in the worst place on earth, any time with you would be wonderful, dear.”Something lodged itself in James’ throat and he swallowed it as he could.“Frank, I would never let you sail in a place like that.”There was infallible trust in Francis’ pale eyes when they turned to him. But there was also a sad stretch to his lips when he kept quiet and only looked at the dancers. Next time, Ross thought privately, I will make you dance, Francis Crozier.
AUGUST ‘41
40.83°S 161.71°E
Tasman Sea
“Do you need to be here, then?” Francis complained, pale and moody.He had fallen sick, once more, and James had, in fact, to be there as soon as Dr. Robertson sent word. At least, as soon as his duty permitted. So, there he was, in Terror’s great cabin to witness the Irishman be tended to by his steadfast steward, who deserved all of James’ admiration for his dedication.Francis, as it turned out, was not in agony, nor dying. He was simply highly uncomfortable, obviously feverish, and made very unhappy by it all.“I do, in fact, need to be here.” James retorted before gesturing to Jopson to help him get Frank up.This was, not, in fact, in accordance to Dr. Robertson’s recommendation that Francis needed rest and a break from duty, but James felt he could take the surgeon’s reprimands. Same as he was taking Frank’s pitiful protests as he was working to put some proper trousers on him and then cover him in a blanket.“Are you going to make me into a little old lady?” Frank grumbled and let himself get dressed, a testament to the lack of strength he felt.It was not especially cold out but the breeze was persistent and, so, James would not take any chances.“Come on, old man, you are needed on deck.” God bless Archibald McMurdo who came to his help when trying to get Frank up the ladder and out to the beautifully clear night. For a rare time, there was not a single light on the bridge, why would there be? Erebus had been lashed to Terror and the sea was calm, so calm in fact that it looked like a mirror, reflecting a sky that only men who lived or worked away from all the comfort of civilization could enjoy. Even more so now that they were quite away from their familiar stars.On the deck, from between the masts, many hammocks had been stretched and hung and the men who were not on duty were occupying them, raising only to salute them before going back to their lying down. On the quarter deck, two hammocks were awaiting them, not far from the stern rigging and although Francis was still rather confused, James was able to hoist him comfortably, moving away only for Jopson to cover him completely, assuring that he would keep warm for the night.“What in the hell are you doing?” Frank muttered, unhappy and then, James smacked his cheek gently to get his attention.“Look, Frank,” he said, pointing above, ”I could not let you miss this when the rest of us could contemplate.”That was when Francis removed his eyes from James, frowning terribly, to look straight ahead and into the brightly lit moonless sky they had been blessed with. His glassy, feverish eyes grew at the spectacle of the hundred of shooting stars, coming in numbers every second like a natural firework. To James’ memory, he had never seen such a spill of celestial bodies that would certainly rival even the most memorable of auroras he had experienced in his life and, so, it was the same for Francis, certainly.“Oh!” Francis exclaimed, taken aback and quite moved. Dearly, he had raised an arm, as if to catch one of the meteorites.“I am so sorry you feel poorly, dear.” James told him, sitting on the stool Jopson had so diligently brought for him to enjoy the spectacle as well. “I hoped to wish you a happy birthday.”Only for a moment did Francis detach his gaze from the beauty of the world to look at him like he had been the one to hang the stars in the sky and smile. His raised hand found James’ and he sighed, content.“Thank you, James. This is all I needed.”
NOVEMBER ‘41
48.17°S 174.57°E
Coast of New Zealand
From the expression on James’ face, Francis knew he would have reasons to keep him on board and offer him a moment before he would be ferried back to Erebus. He was closed off with a tight jaw, visibly flinching, as imperceptibly as it was, at each strike of the lash. Before the company, Irvin’s back was a right criss-cross of angry lines now.Francis had no sympathy for the man who had been caught stealing so blatantly from his mate and treating him with a brutality that had Francis in a fury. He felt the weight of the blame on himself. Had he been a captain with a clearer eye, he might have caught the man before Mr. McBride had suffered as much. Dr. Robertson had reported burns on the poor man’s arms that could not be explained by the manipulation of tar.Francis also took no pleasure in the punishment. He had been brought up on ships where lashings were common occurrence but this was the first he had to dispense himself as a captain.“Terrible affair,” James had muttered when the lash had been put back and the company ordered to report back to their post and the two captains had found their way back to the great cabin.He was pale and held himself tightly, like he had been the one to receive the lash.“I have no love for this sort of discipline.” he added, low and somber.“I am sorry you were there for it,” Francis said, distressed by his evident distress, and bitter. “I should have kept a tighter ship.”“Come now, Frank”, James smiled weakly and took his hand from across the table, holding it for comfort. “I could not rightly find any fault in your management. Why, Erebus suffered the first lashing between the two ships. Even my Steward deserted! That a man took advantage of your trust in them is not a judgment on your character."I do hate that we must do this, however… I know you have no more love for it than I do. I can see what it does to you, you love these men and they respect you for it.”Love, Francis thought bitterly, would not save them if disorder and his lack of leadership would find them in troubled waters.Love, he thought, should be keeping them in line, out of trouble, alive and unharmed. Something he had failed to do just now.Love, he remembered, was not the type of command neither he, nor James, had been raised on. John Ross had never had a nurturing heart, from what Francis could tell, and the men Francis had served before Parry had also been the kind that expected obedience, and not sympathy or love. Was he wrong?Parry had seen them through the Arctic’s dangerous ways with not a single lash dispensed while the Old Ross had stranded his crew and Blanky had discussed in length what he had thought of Ross’ way of discipline…Frank had seen James’ back, when they had enjoyed a frigid swim in Inverness, when they had shared berth and ablution time. Like his own, it had plenty of marks from the past, one spectacular bruise had remained from his attempt at the North Pole, and he did not remember ever seeing the telltale sign of a flogging and, yet, he was furious only at the thought of a whip touching that skin, murderously so.“I say, I shall certainly hope this shall not be an omen to this new year in the ice.” James continued, interrupting Francis’ line of thoughts.“No,” Francis was certain of it. “We shall prevail again, I know it.”The crews had proven solid, this sordid affair was behind them, now. The marines would keep a close eye on the culprit and the necessary work would set the men’s spirit right back. In any case, where they were going, they could not afford a mutinous thought and, so, the only acceptable answer was that, indeed, this was all behind them.
JANUARY ‘42
66.32°S 156.28°E
Ross Sea
Never before had a crew stuck in ice been so exuberant. A full day and a full night, the men had celebrated the coming of the new year and worked to make that little ice floe of theirs into a wonderful little parlors and ballroom of their own. Not too deeply in the snow, they had worked tirelessly to dig, build and sculpt the approximation of pubs and happy places to dance and play cards. From Erebus, where James had spent the same amount of time closing in on his duties, he could hear them even through the crack of the ice and the heavy hull. They had been "anchored" to the floe, unable to navigate in the heavy ice surrounding them but that had been of no concern at the approach of the New Year's celebrations. A fête that would rival the one held in Hobart, Mr. Hooker had declared when James had inquire about it, not that the captain had any idea how they would top it of.It was when he was finally invited to visit their work that he understood. Upon his arrival, arm-in-arm with Captain Crozier, both disguised for the occasion, as a nod to Parry's own celebrations, he could see that there was little that the people of Hobart would have envied to the crew of Erebus and Terror. The Pioneers of Science and Pilgrims of the Ocean, the pubs were not much more than carved depression in the sparkling snow, their tables and bench only sculpted snow and ice. Yet, James knew what Hooker had meant, when he could see their little holes filled to the brim with dancing men and the music from the fiddlers were reaching each and everyone of them. They had little use of riches or extravagance on their ice floe when the company was so excellent and their livelihood filled the empty Antarctic air as they moved and played in their newly gifted winter gear. Amongst these brave men, there was a place for the Captains, urged by the Lieutenant to sit at the place of honor, a surprisingly comfortable settee made of compact snow. The cheer they received was only just louder than their previous revelry.“I say!” Francis exclaimed when served with the roasted pig and beer, neither of which were to the caliber of their usual officer fare but of which they felt they had been royally treated to, for it came from the men’s own shares. “They do know how to make wonders!”Behind them, the Venus Mr. Hooker and Mr. Davis had sculpted was standing tall, alluringly observing the scene. It was easy, then, to feel oneself energized by their vitality and happiness. When Abernethy pushed them both to the dancefloor, it was the official opening of their New Year’s Ball.There was no brass around them, there was no high end orchestra nor powdered ladies or valet nor posh gentleman, no decorum. The only witnesses to their delight was the men they had brought with them, in rough weather and calm sea, who had braved those dangers with them and a few penguins, all more confused than the last. This was, indeed, much better than what Hobart could offer, a paradise where life was so precious and scarce, a place they could call their own, even for a night or two.And there was the ice and the endless sun reflecting on it like the candle had on the mirrors and the stars had shone that night in august.And there was joy in Francis' eyes as they met and twirled, coming close, chest to chest, taken by rhythm of happy days and happy fiddles.And James Clark Ross finally made Francis Crozier dance.Much later, when they had exhausted themselves in quadrilles and drank merrily and attempted to catch the greased pigs, when they ran from the pelting of snowballs they received upon their retreat, they found themselves in James' cabin aboard Erebus. For the first time since their days on Hecla , they shared the same bunk, uncomfortably pressed against the other, too tired to remove any more of their winter gear than their boots.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
EREBUS & TERROR
MARCH '42
69°S 155°W
Ross Sea
“This one is female,” Francis said, holding the little tortoiseshell kitten in his hand. It was a mewling thing, barely weaned with a little tail that stood straight up, cone shaped and rigid. It did not matter that since James had been given the blasted thing he had not slept a wink from the noise they made, constantly crying for their mother. In that moment, with Francis holding it so preciously against his chest and with the tiny beast being so calm for it, well… even James Ross could succumb to softness, although he had not the mood for it at the present.“It's too late, she's already called Barrow.”“You named the cat Barrow?”“Sabine, Beaufort and Barrow” James said, pointing disinterestedly to the grey and orange puddles left in the basket. “It is customary, is it not? To bestow names of our benefactors to… uh, discoveries?”Frank scoffed and brought the kitten to his face, massaging its ears with two gigantic thumbs. The little cries were strident but only James seemed affected by it, Francis kept smiling at it.“You could have let the men name them.” Francis suggested before depositing the thing back with its brothers.James did not offer an answer to that. Knowing the men, and the humour of sailors, they would have suffered being named either obscenely or with boring names inspired by their daily life… Ratline, Dogwatch and Orlop, probably.“We need to talk about the rudders.” James said now that Francis was no longer distracted by the kitten and because he needed this, somehow. To talk about the ships, about how they would keep moving. How they could leave the icebergs behind.Days later, he could barely sleep. Every shaky movement of the ship, his home, their sanctuary, their fortress against the elements, kept him awake for fear of an impact. When he closed his eyes, he could see the terrible moment Terror 's keel had been exposed, like a great beast speared and rearing in fright. Worst still, he could relive perfectly the moment Erebus overtook her and Terror disappeared from view and was not seen again, leaving him with the unshakeable knowledge that she had sunk. That Francis had drowned.A week later, he could remember perfectly the lurch of the vessel, the fear that froze his heart, the exact sound the bowsprit made when it snapped and the whips of the broken lines. He could still fill at the extremities of his fingers the numbing cold of the helm and the sharp pain of his hip colliding with the rigging, the bite of the cold waves. His ears were still buzzing with the shouts of the men and the groan of the monster made of ice. But he remembered none of the orders he gave following the disaster.Mr. Hooker swore, and recounted in minute details, many times, that he made a show of great seamanship. A feat no one had performed before when, upon seeing the berg coming toward them once more, he had willed Erebus to turn on herself, ignoring the broken bowsprit and torn sails and made her follow his will until she would breach the wall of ice.And James remembered perfectly that Terror had been gone from his sight and that, like that fateful day in Boothia where Fury had been trapped by bergs, he was now at the mercy of the elements and the ship, dear God, the ship was going to capsize or run itself into ice.And Terror was gone. “James!”It was Francis’ hand on his that shook him out of the storm and anchored him. The light he had shone that night had been blue. James saw the same colour in his eyes now.His hand was still shaking so hard it made the glass clatter on the table. His fingers were locked in a vice grip, unable to let it go until, gently, Francis pried them open. His own hands were warm when he felt so cold.“Have you not slept?” Francis asked, so gentle it almost made James cave in to lean into him, to chase that warmth.But how could James do so when he knew this would be the end of his wits. That would break the last thread holding him together. He could not, lest he would run them into catastrophe once more. He needed to remain structured.James removed his hands, feeling burnt.“The rudders, Captain Crozier.” He reminded him, shaking himself into their duties. “How fares Terror ?”Like a coward, he refused to look into Francis’ eyes but he could imagine the effects of his words for his second. Disappointment, certainly. A revulsion. Distrust now that James had almost led them to ruin.“I can tell you all about the rudder and how it cannot be repaired at the moment.” Francis relented for a relieving second before plunging in once more. “But I am currently more concerned as to the state of our leadership…”And, Christ Almighty… he would be right to be…“James, speak to me, plainly… what ails you?”James paused and pinched his nose. There was a monster in him that wished to abuse this… the proximity, the intimacy, the profound desire to take from Francis all that he felt he was offered. Comfort, affection, a promise that had been spoken of only once on the ice of another world... There was a martyr in him that would refuse this so that he would not lose everything.“We came too close to losing the ships.” James settled for, finally burying his head in his hands. “These unrelenting storms and persistent bergs should have been a warning and, instead of heeding it, I led us all deeper in.”“No one could have foreseen what happened. We prevailed, James. You did. There is no failure in the terror we faced…”Francis moved to face him and crouched to meet him and put his hand on his cheek and a fire lit itself in James’ chest who rose to meet him.This collision could not be avoided because James willed it. Francis had been so close, bent over James to coax and comfort and, damn him, James was a very greedy man who let the monster in him win to cradle Francis' beloved face in his hands and kiss him.Shock was in every fiber of Francis, the snapping tension of his body. He did not reply, neither to engage nor to fight. He did not push James away and, so, James got up, scraping his chair on the floor to press himself against Francis, now desperate in his gluttony. He smelled of cologne, his nose was still cold and his hair, short and so soft, gone as pale as James’ in these trials he had been dragged into.“James!” Francis pleaded when, pushed against the stern window by James’ envy, he seemed to shake the stupor off himself. “James stop!”James did, breathless, making himself violence to retreat. He had to brace against his desk to not keel over. As for Frank, he looked shaken, only slightly in disarray, out of breath himself.“This, Francis Crozier. This is what ails me.” James rasped, raw. “I could have lost you… I would have lost you and would have only myself to blame for it! Damn my eyes, I have brought you here!How many times have I heard you assure me that you chose to come for me. That you would be there for me . That you wish me success. That you are glad for my friendship… It is as if you are content in my shadow but… I am not, Frank.”The words were pooling out of his mouth, now imbued with a will that was beyond him. The truth had to come out, now and here, at the end of the world.“I… I want you in the light… I want you in every ray of sunlight, in every glow of the auroras, under every flickering star… this is how you shine to me. With your brilliance, your kindness, your strength and courage… that horridly dry humour of yours…And I made the mistake once of leaving without you and I felt every second of your absence more agonizing than hunger or disease and the only remedy I had was knowing you safe and fed and… not there . I was a fool to have you on this voyage… I thought, damn me, I thought that we could conquer this place because you would be here and when we came back, they would see, all of them, what I know of you: that there is no better man than Francis Crozier.But I failed to conquer anything for you… Instead, I almost made you… disappear. I almost robbed you from the world… and instead of despising me for it, for being so selfish, here you come again, to me, on my ship…”Silence was heavy in the grand cabin. Beyond the wooden door, the ship breathed and lived. Someone was playing a fiddle tune. Erebus was blissfully ignorant of her captain's bleeding heart.James did not dare look toward Francis but fell back into his chair.“You have it, now…” James huffed, feeling himself on the edge of losing it. “My malady is that I love you and I am afraid that it is incurable.”Those three words, they were wrenched from his chest, so true that they hurt on their way out. I love you. “What… what about Miss Coulman? You love her .”Damn the man, James thought exasperated. When he should have stormed off, angry at James’ preposterous notions, he worried about sweet Ann.“I am a greedy man.” He replied and felt his mouth tug at the corners, he felt like laughing at himself. “My Maker has seen fit to split my soul in three parts and I am to honour Him by loving each part in equal measure…”“I am sorry, Frank.” He sighed again when Francis remained guarded.Why would he not be? James had all but assaulted him, affected by his own temper. His sister Isabella had warned him time and time again not to fall within his uncle's habit of demanding the impossible of all but himself and, now, he could see the pain he caused his most beloved, forced to reckon with James’ fervour, the dismantlement of their friendship.“I know this is not what you want…” James kept on, because there was no stopping the horrible ordeal of being known, now. “I… I admit I am jealous of Miss Cracroft, in truth. If I was to be reborn tomorrow, I would wish it to be as something to keep your side… a bird to guard your skies, a sail to move you, a pebble to fit your pocket… a woman to be loved by you.But I am only James Ross to be your friend. I am sorry. I do not want to lose you. Please, forget I said anything, nothing needs to change.”Finally, Francis moved and walked, although hesitant toward James to crouch and take his hands, again. It burned, again.“I… I was frightened that I would never see you again, after the ships separated.” Frank admitted, voice thick and hoarse. “I did not think I would find any joy in the world, had this come to pass. I do not blame you for the fright and I do not want to lose you either.”Mirrored feelings, James’ heart sung. But he did not say “I love you” back , it wept.“I will always be your most faithful friend, James.” Frank said, cruel in his kindness, and that was a knife James would gladly be bled by. “I… I wish I could give you what you desire but… I cannot. We are men of the Navy, you are to be knighted and wed and… I chose to follow you out of… oh James, it is I who is the pebble in your pocket and… and I fear I will one day be too heavy a weight.You will always keep my friendship. I only wish for your happiness.”The press of his lips on James’ forehead only burned all the more that Francis moved back toward the door. Cold took over the grand cabin. Even the kittens, forgotten in the commotion of their confessions, had fallen silent.“You are exhausted, dear.” Francis said, from where he stood, a hand on the handle. “I… I will have Dr. McCormick prescribe something to help you and I will talk to Bird about the division of duty.”“I am not a child,” James retorted, sounding like a child.In the turmoil of his heartbreak, he felt relieved. This was Francis, dedicated, caring and… ah, still “dear”.“No,” Frank admitted and James loved to see the little smile he had at his expense. “But someone ought to take care of you.”“Will you not stay the night?”James had blurted the question and regretted immediately the fall of Frank's smile, the uncertain lick of his lips and the tensions in his shoulders.“McMurdo expects me back.” He settled for with a gentle rebuttal and after a suspiciously long pause. “I… you must rest for now. I… I will have the reports on the rudder sent first light.” Then, he was gone.
APRIL ‘42
55.32°S 58.7°W
Falkland Islands
There was disappointment when it was Edward Bird who was announced by Jopson. Three days since their landfall at Port Louis and none of them had brought Francis with the relief of familiarity and the easiness that came with a port. The sea had long been his mistress and a delight. But shores, ever since they had left England on this odyssey, had been the moments he could steal away with James, hidden with a warm cup of tea in their observatory or on a wild walk in discovery of lands unknown to them.James had yet to come and visit after their initial landfall and meeting with Lieutenant Governor Moody, a man Francis knew instantly that James did not care for. In the weeks following their last harrowing conversation, one that haunted Francis every waking moment and every dream by the words they had spoken, James had not visited Terror once, deferring to Abernethy for ice reports or Lieutenant Wood when signaling did not convey enough information.Francis, in truth, was unbearably lonely and he knew it to be his doing. James had… he had… been so open, and all he had received for it was hurt and betrayal.Francis had been a coward.“A man will turn sour if this is the kind of greeting he gets,” Bird complained at the mournful look he received.He came in fresh, his beard had been shaved and his hair was no longer long enough to hide his receding hairline. He had two bottles in hand.“Well, I suppose we shall still celebrate, with your cheer or without,” he declared and brought the first bottle on the desk before taking two enveloppes from his lapel. “Congratulations, Captain Crozier! Well earned promotion.”The news perked Francis up, interested enough that he caught the paper to read the words of the Admiralty, signed by Lord Minto himself and, indeed, somewhere along the usual verbiage there it was: “Francis Crozier to be afforded the rank of Captain.”Less to his concern but just as much to his interest, the second letter held the proof of his old friend's own promotion. Commander Bird had been long in the waiting.This, too, he knew he owed to his most beloved and, this, too, had been met with Crozier's unfaithfulness.“Glad Ross wrote home with his glorious review of our performances before your lover's quarrel.” Bird commented with a satisfied smack of his lips at the taste of the toast they made.Francis almost dropped his glass, setting it more forcefully than he had intended on the wooden top and stared at Bird in surprise. Then, the shame crept up and the anger, perhaps humiliation…“Oh Frank,” Bird waved dismissively, “Do not look so surprised. Who do you think keeps that nosy steward out of hearing range every time you come to visit Erebus ? ”“You discussed this?!”“Of course not, are you daft? It is simply that I know you both so well now. What? You thought he was any kind of subtle? It’s been years since he’s started yearning and pining after you anytime you were out of sight. He kept those letters you left us at Ross Islet like they were written on gold and Abernethy told me he carried the fishbone charm you made for him like it was a reliquary everywhere they walked on King William Land… it is quite plain to see, really.”Crozier felt his headache pulse stronger in his temple. His only consolation was that Bird took his mirth in highlighting James’, apparently evident, lovebird dance and not his own.“I say, if Ross’ mood was not so detestable, I can assure you I would not impose myself to be anywhere near whatever this is between the two of you. But! This little silent treatment you give each other is becoming old. Has he offended you greatly? Do you resent his love affair with the little miss?”Did Francis? Did he feel offended that he was only second in James’ heart the way he was condemned to be second in every of his commands? Did he resent Miss Coulman who had been gentle and kind with them both and had saved James when Francis could not?No. Of course not. The young woman was only innocent because Francis was no competition to her and, as for James… ah… his mind was larger than life, what was there to resent that his heart be just as vast?“Then I fail to see your objections if it is not to have to share him.” Bird exhaled, impatient when Francis shook his head.“Miss Coulman's opinion on the matter, for one. She has chosen to settle with him, not the likes of me.” Francis reminded him - was he truly the only man in these forsaken land to think of the girl? - “Besides, truly… Miss Cracroft was quite right in regards to my worth. Middle bred and Irish, as they keep telling me. Uneducated and with rather low standing everywhere. In this, he has poor taste.”Bird snorted in his drink and poured one more for them both.“Well, I understand now, I suppose, why we must all suffer from Ross’ moods.” He declared and raised his glass to toast. “Sir, you are an idiot.”Francis had half the mind to throw his own glass at him but he toasted because that was true, after all.“What do you propose I do, then?” Francis despaired and this, at least, earned him a sympathetic look from his friend.“The collision was a terrible hardship,” Bird shrugged and shuddered, like he was remembering it. “We were all so… affected afterward. I think James let himself be governed by it. I have no doubt of the depth of his feelings for you,” he added, seeing that skepticism was creeping into Francis - and this was not as much of a relief as Bird seemed to believe it was. “We all wish things were as they used to be! He still holds your friendship, does he not? Oh, of course I know he does… then be his friend , Crozier! Even though he spoke the words, the bond you two held before is no less real!”It hit Francis like a punch. Bird was right. Of course he was. More than anything, it was the loss of the easy brotherhood with James that had made him miserable in the last weeks. Every time he felt unmoored by the scale of the repairs or yet another storm, he had wished to be on Erebus . When he had heard of the death of the quartermaster, he had almost set a gig to water. On the rare truly calm night, he had walked the deck and imagined the phantom of another soul by his side.James had called himself selfish but.. Francis found that he, too, was the same. He was no sooner ready to let go of his own devotion than he was of letting James ruin his marriage to be.“When did you become so wise?” Frank asked, demurred by the evident choice Bird had laid down for him so easily.“When the crone laid her ink on me.” Bird lamented, unexpectedly bringing them both back to those first winters, when they were young and certain of their path. “Inuk magic.” he added after a beat, wiggling his fingers in the air for effect.And Francis burst out laughing. The late evening saw Francis knock on Erebus great cabin with a bottle of scotch, one from his special reserve and although James appeared as raw as Francis felt, he invited him in.
JULY ‘42
55.32°S 58.7°W
Falkland Islands
“Ah, look at her.” James marveled at Terror ’s shiny copper lining, free of any dent and bright under the pale winter sun. “I could believe she is immortal.”Had he been closed enough to touch her, he might have caressed her haul, fond of that little ship. They looked on from a safe distance. In consolation, he wrapped an arm around Frank's shoulders and squeezed them both.“It is incredible that they both survived so much,” Francis commented.Their improvised port, as Port Louis was yet far from being called anything other than a settlement at the moment, was a beach plagued by cold winds and quite exposed. They were both well covered in their comforters and coats but James did not feel any of it.“I am glad she is ours.”Frank raised a brow at him.“She will carry you to the end of the world and back. Sturdy girl, she is!. I would not entrust you to any other ship.”“You mean you would not trust this ship to… you would not trust me wi… That makes no sense.”James only clapped his shoulder and cheered with the rest of the company when the lines were cut and Terror slid back to the calm waters of the harbour, where Erebus had been patiently waiting for her.
AUGUST ‘42
55.32°S 58.7°W
Falkland Islands
Dear Thot,
I sorely miss receiving your kind mail as we have received very few since this expedition has spirited away your sailors. I do dare hope you may never believe yourself forgotten by your devoted friend.
We have made little progress this season, as I am certain our beloved mutual acquaintance may have included in his own missive. Many dangers have met us rather than the brilliant adventures we could write about last year. More than anything, I believe you were sorely missed and having you by James’ side would have done him much good as I confessed I have made myself a poor friend. It is quite clear to me none shall replace you in his affections.
It would not have done, of course, to have you in such perils as we encountered but the days were lonely. When we meet the shores of England, there is little doubt in me that Captain Ross may meet you first before knocking at the Admiralty. You are, as always, all of his thoughts and hope when we are so far from home. Especially here in the Falklands where everything is bleak and cold and the Lieutenant Governor seems intent on making himself a general foe of Ross and our wait for our next magnetic calculations is becoming excruciating now that we are ready to sail and still we linger here.
For all that our friend is devoted to you and his orders, I know these two facts do not mingle smoothly in his brains nor his heart but when we are done here, I believe he shall have accomplished all it is that we could ask of him so that he shall be free to be yours. I will make certain of it that he may find contentment in this little domestic life you both shall enjoy and your little routines and daily happenings.
Will you find him much changed, I wonder. He is forever James, may he be of the Arctic or the Antarctic, be not worried. It is only that melancholy is a common companion in these places, when cold is unrelenting and darkness comes with a vengeance. But you are a light shining bright to show us the way home.
When he comes home, please spirit him away in turn, that he may know he is cherished. I could not do so myself. I never wanted to come between
We are setting sail soon and I entrust this letter to Lieutenant McMurdo, I shall be certain it reaches you. Keep us in your thoughts as we keep you in ours.
Yours truly,
Your affectionate friend,
FRM Crozier.
Post Scriptum: I hear James is making preparations to celebrate my birthday. The Falklands are not joyous lands but I think I will enjoy it nonetheless. You would be greatly entertained to know that, this year again, he has had no notion that he celebrates three whole months too early. When we are home, do not correct him, I beg of you. I shall prefer he keeps making August a month I look forward to rather than embarrass him so severely.
OCTOBER ‘42
55.26°S 67.21°W
Tierra Del Fuego
“They are not quite like our friends from the North, are they.” James commented one evening they were sharing some dinner with the Fuegans.“Like the Netsilik?” Francis clarified from behind his cup. They were sitting near the observatory, barely concealed from the unrelenting winds. Toward their hut, the men and the Fuegans were exchanging gifts and mimicry. Mr. Davis was a popular man with the locals, enchanting them with his pastels and watercolors. “Why would they be, in any other way than them being unfamiliar to us? They live here, the inuit live out there. Would you say we Englishmen are much like the French or the Americans?”James grimaced and conceded. Foolish, indeed to compare the two. The most common feature between the two people was that they were genuinely affable, mingling and trading easily with the englishmen, and evidently found them as strange as they were seen. That and that they lived in a rather inhospitable place.James was restless, Francis could see it in the uncharitable ways he wrote about the island in his journals, calling it bleak and unalive when Francis found a fond remembrance to the highlands of Norway. It was a hard land, certainly, but they had seen worse.“We will be underway soon,” Francis promised and patted his shoulder, “One last season and then we are set for home.”And toward the end of an era…
DECEMBER ‘42
55.32°S 58.7°W
Coast of the Falkland Islands
It was not too soon that they finally left the Falklands behind and James rejoiced at this. Even as McCormick’s chickens kept pecking at him relentlessly.It was pure bliss to be mocked by Frank for it.Surely, this time, they would make it to the continent…
FEBRUARY ‘43
69.6°S 19.5°W
Weddel Sea
On the first calm day in a week, giant icebergs appeared to them like sphinx guarding their secret treasure, looming over in warning against any of James’ tentation. Tentation to go further, to aim higher, to bring with him one last piece of glory.It had been a lonely week, in truth, even the surgeons, faithful pioneers of science themselves, had turned their gaze North, now. And Terror … she was steadfast on his starboard but the waves had rendered visiting her impossible. Only Old Bird had remained by his side with his counsel.“This is still early for the pack, and yet it approaches.” Edward commented when James had given him the glass to look at the heavy ice. “What do you wish to do?”For the first time in a very long time, James did not know. This sea was proving impenetrable, uncaring of his ambitions. He knew his orders, and had followed them to the letters, but he also knew of the state of the crew, still in good health but exhausted and as homesick as he was feeling. Abernethy had been their voice on more than one occasion, showing off a boat ax everytime James passed by him. Lucky man that they were friends and James had plenty of experience with feeling the mutinous intent…He knew also that turning back would mean the end… once on the shores of England, no longer would Francis and he be part of the same world. He dreaded it.He had not seen him in days. The sea was calm…“I… must confer with Captain Crozier.” James sighed and ignored the pointed look he received.Rowing to the Terror had only been an affair of a dozen minutes or so. The reception he got on board was of the usual decorum, with the Lieutenants in attendance and no sign of Francis.“Sir, there was no signal of your coming,” Mr. Kay explained nervously while Ross was making his way on the deck.Everything seemed in order but for the absence of the captain, but it took a moment for James to remember that Lieutenant McMurdo had been discharged and he blinked at the man one too many times. This expedition was taking a toll on him too… Kay seemed to be squirming and James squinted.“Captain Crozier is in his cabin… Mr. Jopson, would you…”“Belay that, Mr. Jopson,” James said, irritated at the excuses and the apparent discomfort of the man. “I will meet him myself.”One would think Kay was a schoolboy hiding a forbidden sweet treat from a harsh schoolmaster for all that he seemed to be reluctant to let James pass and James had no patience for him.Mr. Jopson followed closely, however, just as nervous in his energy as the lieutenants had been and James felt dread pooling in his stomach. Something was being hidden about Francis and no signals had been sent to let him know. For a moment, he feared he would find him in the sick bay, in fact, rather than at his desk. Perhaps it would have been a better sight, James decided upon entering the aft.The great cabin was tidy in all but the desk. At first glance, one could see the numerous reports strewn about, columns of numbers from the clerk and navigational calculations set on top of half drawn charts. There was only one glass of whisky on the surface but one could see that the reserve usually on display was missing several bottles.As for Francis, he was splayed on the papers, deeply asleep. A woolen blanket had been thrown on his shoulders but had not stirred him any more than Ross’ rough appearance in his domain had. There was an unusual paleness to his visage, exhaustion in his every line, even as he was held so strongly in the arms of Morpheus.“What happened?” James asked Mr. Jopson who, looking like a fright, was trying to tidy up the desk.“It… it's the ‘bergs, sir.” Jopson whispered demurely. “The Captain has refused to sleep in his berth since the first sighting. He is on deck as soon as an alert is sent…”Which had been nearly every hour of every day of the last several weeks, Ross calculated and he sighed, slumping heavily into the armchair that was usually his. He looked upon his friends. They now matched in hair color, made silver by their hardships. Even in his sleep, Francis’ hand had a tremor to it.“Thank you, Mr. Jopson,” James declared after a moment, hoping no grief could be detected in his voice. “I will take it from here. Have Mr. Kay… report if needed.”He clasped his own hands on his lap to keep them from trembling and he waited, unable to make himself leave.
MARCH ‘43
71.2°S 21°W
Weddel Sea
“Hurrah!”A red flag had appeared on Erebus ’ mast. They were going home.Relieved, Francis did not even think of reprimanding Sergeant Cunningham for his excess of enthusiasm.MAY ‘43
7.56°S 14.26°W
Ascension Island
“You are delaying the inevitable. Do not deny it.”James looked up from where he had been observing the turtle colony that Mr. Wall was promising to make it into a feast. Francis was there, their usual bottle of whisky, one of the few remaining, in hand. In the heat, he had foregone his cravat and coat, undressed to his vest and shirt. A sight if there ever was one. James himself had been suffering, as per his constitution, under the equatorial heat but where he felt miserable, Francis always seemed to thrive in those climes.“What is the inevitable?” James asked, taking the bottle from him and the first swig.It was lukewarm.“Going home, settling, seeing the side of life one may enjoy on shore… Please do not tell me you are renouncing Miss Coulman…” No, James thought bitterly and drank once more, it is not her I renounce. “I… this was a good life for you too, wasn't it, Frank?” he asked, rather than to answer.Silence was profound between them since that dreadful night more than a year ago and heavy since James had so foolishly imposed his heart on Francis. As if the words they had been used to utter with the confidence one had of talking to his own soul had been frayed at the edge.It had been so easy to make vows on the snow by the grave some twenty years ago. Where had their honest truth gone?“I could not have imagined a better one.” Francis offered, in the end and James dared look at him.There was a softness in him, the one he showed his sisters and the young officers learning their tables and the animals that came unafraid. It was the expression he wore when he knew he would not be hurt. But the words hurt James, instead. Every one a reminder of the end.“Promise me you will be happy, James, wherever we sail, apart or together and I shall always have the best life I could ever imagine.”In the morning, they would leave toward the northern hemisphere, taking with them the thousands of numbers they had written down and the story of where they had been. Their names would be immortalized on every map, proof that, once upon a time, Francis Crozier and James Ross had been here.For now, they sat and held hands, drank good scotch and watched on to the beach and their ships sleepily floating in the bay, painted gold by the last remnant of a setting sun at their back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
HOME
SEPTEMBER '43
51.50°N 0.05°W
Woolwich, England
Francis had not expected any sort of fanfare at their arrival in Woolwich, only the usual Admiralty clerks and dockmasters to take charge of the ships and pay off their crews. They made it to the docks almost two days after James had made landfall and absconded to present himself to the Lords while, leaving to his faithful second the task of bringing Erebus and Terror upstream of the Thames.
He supposed he should have expected, however, that Mr. Ross would be back to welcome them all to old England. It made Frank smile.
“Come to say your farewell to the old girl?” Francis asked upon reaching him on shore. “I hope you will not regret her too much.”
James did have an air of melancholy to him, the miscreant. Rewarded in all possible ways and drowned in honor and the man dared look like a tragic hero of old.
“She has been my home for four years,” James said as they turned to walk toward the dock master and hand off their reports. “And I will miss commanding her, and any other ship. But, you know, it was somehow worse to leave off
Cove
.”
“That old sail?” Francis remembered fondly, surprised.
Around them, the crew was pooling out of the yard, eager no doubt to see to their well deserved wages and hop on their trains toward friends and family or their next muster. More than it before, Francis imagined he would indeed miss this crew that had carried him to the edge of the world.
“She was my first ship as master and commander, after all.” His friend explained easily, shaking hands with the officers that went by. “And I was more alone on
Erebus
than I was on
Cove
. Do not give me that look, Bird's company does not hold to yours.” He said, louder for the man who was rushing by.
“Lord have mercy! I am now free!” Bird shouted in jest, and passed them by with a pat to the shoulders. “Do drop to call, gentlemen!”
Solid, steadfast Bird... Greatly challenged by Crozier and Ross’ friendship, no doubt.
“It is strange, I admit,” James continued, ignoring the insubordination, “to know I am not to take to the sea anymore. I am sure I shall find plenty to occupy myself, of course.”
“You have a memoir to write.” Francis reminded him with a smirk at his annoyed expression.
Woolwich was a strange sight after four years so far from home. They walked its hill with little familiarity but only the vague knowledge of which of these whitewashed buildings was expecting them. Hobart had been so charmingly colonial, the Falklands so desperately desolate. The press of people going by them did have a curious resemblance to the colonies of penguins they had encountered, all walking with a purpose one could only imagine, pressed against their neighbor for lack of space on the walkway.
“Say, Frank, do you intend on going back to Ireland anytime soon?”
“I am not in a hurry, although I expect this might change once I receive the mail from the sisters.”
The lightened look James gave him almost made him reconsider in worry. This was a look of hijinks. The brightness of his smile blinded him enough to not do so.
“Excellent news, old man!” He said with clear satisfaction. “You and I, we are going to get these ships paid off and I am to take you to the tailor!”
“I rather think this is perhaps a bit unkind to Mr. Jopson, who has done miracles to keep my wardrobe in an adequate state.”
“No offense to Mr. Jopson, indeed! What a brilliant fellow… No, dear, what you need is a new suit to celebrate, well, this. You shall excuse that I picked your mail yesterday.”
The seal of the Royal Society jumped to Francis’ eye and he stopped in his tracks to snatch the envelope from James’ hand to see that, indeed, it was addressed to him. In recognition of his invaluable work on magnetism, the letter said, Captain Crozier was elected Fellow. He almost did not believe it.
“James…” he said, struck dumb by the honor. “James, they elected me in recognition for your work.”
James frowned, took the letter back, read it through, punched it back into Francis’ chest.
“I am fairly certain I cannot be elected twice. I am also firmly certain this is not my work.” James declared and looked unimpressed. “I was busy running with the naturalists for the last four years, Francis! You made most of the observations and calculations! It matters not that it was under my commission that you did the hard work. It does not do for you to believe what they say of your leadership qualities. This is your work, dear. Take pride in it.
I
am proud of you! It is about damn time someone else sees the value of you!”
“Besides,” James added when Francis only carefully folded the letter once more to hide it in his breast pocket, positively warm under his friend’s praise. “You shall need a new coat… Francis, you will stand as my best man, will you not?”
Francis took his chance to be the one to send an unimpressed look his way. It was charming, everything about him was charming, the rose tint that had been brought to his cheeks.
“Dear, I dare you to ask anyone else.” He said, with all the love he could muster. Which was almost too much to handle.
OCTOBER ‘43
53.47°SN 1.14°E
Wadworth, England
“I cannot find it! How did we forget it?!”
James was frantic, disheveled, a fright. To Francis’ memories, not even the ‘bergs had been enough to frazzle him so.
For the fourth time in that same hour, James Clark Ross had made himself a nervous wreck. Edward Bird had long removed himself from the room to “partake, as I should, to breakfast and ignore this shipwreck.” Francis remained more sympathetic although he had a mind to do just that.
“It is in your right pocket, dear.” He commented, hoping to mask his own desire to move toward where the food was - the fool had called on them so early he had had no time for tea nor biscuit himself. “The breast pocket,” he added when James reached into his trousers.
“I swear I moved it so as not to… oh… there it is. Here. Take it. I believe I shan't trust myself to keep it.”
This, too, they had done twice since James had woken him. Constantly changing his mind on whether he felt right to burden Francis with the ring or felt that Francis was the only one he could trust with the matter.
Francis took the ring and slid it in his own breast pocket. It would change hands soon enough.
“I say, we should meet with Bird and have our own meal, don't you think?”
“I do not believe I could eat a single bite, in truth.” James lamented, intent on his pacing. “I have never felt in a more perilous situation. What if she changes her mind?”
“What if the sun rises west and sets east?” Frank sighed, not in the least worried about the miss’ feelings.
He was looking at his watch often, however, certain that James would be the one to snap if the hour did come any later.
“What if her father…”
Francis was blessed in that moment to remain ignorant of what Mr. Coulman could do by Bird's returning with the news of the coach having finally arrived.
“Come on, old boy.” Francis said, pushing James to the door, “we have a Mrs. Ross to meet. Yes, dear! I
have
the ring!”
Ann Ross had not changed her mind. She had walked the aisle with her grim looking father to meet James with a smile and perhaps a little nervousness that only charmed their guests. Flowers were blooming in her hair despite the autumn air that had them bundled in coats in the little country church. She was beautiful, her nose crinkled with pleasure under her veil when James fumbled on the vows from the anxiety.
She only was ever so patient when James looked frantically for the ring in his right pocket, only for Francis to produce it out of his own. She looked softly on them when Francis had to hold James’ shaky hand steady, covering it with his own to slide the promised band on her finger. And again when they signed.
Francis did not see her when they kissed, having looked bashfully away from their love.
“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” Francis said with a kiss to Ann's cheek when he joined them again after having paid the church.
The reception at Wadworth Hall was extravagant, well attended. Many of their friends were to the side, regaling the Coulmans’ family and friends with tales of the groom. They finally had permission to scandalize them rightfully with all the daring do a polar explorer would be up to. James, who had been so shaky a few hours earlier was now beaming like a peacock.
“It is right here,” Ann replied kindly, holding Frank's hands in hers. “Happiness is all I know today.”
“You… Will you… drat… forgive me, I should not be asking. I know you will care for him, of course… It is only… he has a temper sometimes and the wildest ideas and…”
“Francis.” She interrupted him, firm. “My dearest Captain Crozier, I will cherish him, every part of him. Not in your stead, please hear this. Not in your stead but with you. I cherish you too, dear friend, you always have a place in his heart and mine.”
Francis nodded, unable to answer past the emotion stuck in his throat and he caught himself before he would sigh in the palm she cupped on his cheek. Soon, they would leave their guests. She would change into her traveling dress and they would head to the harbor. James had had the peculiar idea of visiting Sweden for their honeymoon where his Uncle served as consul. A peculiar choice Francis had not commented, only amused for the continued penchant of his friend for a preferred frigid climate and quite sympathetic for the newly Mrs. Ross.
Francis would remain in England, perhaps go to Dublin and see his sisters, awaiting a new commission. And he would think fondly over them and imagine all the ways they would occupy themselves.
Yes, he would be fine, nourished by their happiness. Seeing James smile so brightly could only convince him of this.
JANUARY ‘43
54.48°SN 0.62°E
Whitby, England
“Well, well! If it ain't Mr. and Mrs. Ross! In my humble establishment? An honor if there ever was one! What brings you all over to this sodding place, Captain?”
“Why! it must be the pleasure of seeing my good friend Mrs. Blanky and the old chum who has the blessing of being her husband.” James replied, pleased as he always was by Thomas Blanky's cheerful disposition. Dear Mrs. Blanky only had time for a quick kiss to Ann before she was swept away into their work. “You have yourself quite the successful enterprise, I say!”
“It is good to see you, Mr. Blanky.” Ann assured, taking his weathered hands to squeeze them.
“Aye, quite successful! Almost enough that I do not regret having had a go at the penguins with your lot. Abernethy has yet to stop bragging about it but I am eager to read it in your words.”
James grimaced and he knew someone had spilled some words about his difficulties toward fulfilling the publisher's wishes. No doubt it was Bird, the horrid gossip.
“Well, I have been busy.” James retorted, pulling a chair for Ann and sitting down himself.
“Oh, aye, I suppose we'll expect a wee one this year, then.”
“Mr. Blanky!” Ann exclaimed, more delighted by his crude but jovial manners than she had ought to be before adding with a wink. “Well… not quite yet but we are hopeful.”
James was starting to believe she was taking a bit too much to being the wife of a Navy man and his entourage of badmouthing sailors.
“It is good to see some happy faces around here,” Esther commented as she came by with a pitcher of wine and a warm pie. “We have had quite our share these past weeks”
“Oh! have you been unwell, Blanky?” James asked, surprised as the man looked his same old self.
“Life is good, my friend,” Thomas reassured quickly with his infectious smile. “But we have had the pleasure of Captain Crozier’s visit at the turn of the year. His returns from the Southern Regions do not seem to have had the same… well, I hesitate to use the word rejuvenation, as it did you. He was quite melancholy, if I could say so.”
Admittedly, James was dumbstruck at the news. Francis had written often and in great length while they were enjoying Stockholm and then Denmark but he had sounded his same cheerful self, having many anecdotes from his work around the docks to recount and some sketch of plans for the following years. Perhaps he would be tempted by another commission to warmer isles, he had written. There was a new model of dipping needle he was eager to get his hand on, he had added as a post-scriptum. No lady friend in view, he had affirmed and, no, James dear, it had nothing to do with Sophy Cracroft.
“One would never have guessed from his letters.” Ann murmured, echoing her husband’s thought.
“Oh, aye, you would never guess, my girl. That old boy has always only shown you the side of himself he believes his best, bless your heart. But
you
should know,” Blanky added toward James, almost accusingly, “he is not above burning himself to keep you warm.”
James knew this to be true. How many times had Francis been the miracle worker who kept their operation running so smoothly only to be found exhausted and asleep in the most asinine of places. How could he ever forget the aftermath of the collision and that it had been Francis who had comforted James when he, too, must have had been in need of reassurance. In their strength, their mission…
“Talk to your boy,” Thomas finished, gentler than he had been a moment ago, “he is not telling you the whole truth.”
James did not need to be told twice. Only a look from Ann and he knew she was of the same mind. It was time for them to come home. All three of them.
MARCH ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
Francis had little love for the house in Blackheath. It had horrible drafts of cold air in the winter and the proximity of the yards had nothing but the abject habit of reminding him of his half pay when captains would move about to their ships and he remained on land. In truth, it was rather unsuitable for the Rosses, if he had to give his opinion, which he did, at great length until James would concede that he also would reconsider living in a more comfortable place, far from their naval relations who “kept asking about the cursed book as if it was to be the second coming of Christ”.
It was, however, more of a home than he had had since leaving
Terror
to be refitted for the next man to take her helm. He even surprised himself in finding a quiet contentment in the life he was blessed to share, not unlike the one he had envied about from reading the letters Ann had sent to Hobart. Never could it be said that his hosts were not of the most gracious of sorts, to the point where Captain Crozier would feel self-indulgent in the little pleasures he took to sit at their table or in keeping Ann’s company in her husband’s daily absences or in giving a hand in James’ work around the house or toward the memoirs.
In many ways, he was almost made to forget that he had felt at the end of his life only a few months prior, lonely as he was, feeling lost and without purpose.
Purpose had not come, but there was something found, perhaps.
Then, Lady Ann came to join them one morning at the breakfast table, interrupting a rather discouraging discussion as to the future of the Discovery Service with the expression of a cat that got the cream. Rather happy with herself, with an air of mischief that gave Francis pause.
“Gentlemen,” she said, causing her husband to fold the newspaper to give her full attention to her tone. She had a charm that commanded the room. “I am in need of your assistance, big strong men that you are.”
Francis exchanged a look toward James who raised an eyebrow.
“What is this about, pumpkin?” James asked, because one had to reason with her.
“My love,” Ann replied, honey sweet, as if she was not about to make the most outrageous suggestion, “we need to make space in the spare room, I am afraid your specimens must be relocated.”
Frank politely cleared his throat and proceeded to retreat in his cup. James blinked.
“Sugar plum,” James retorted in the same tone, “those specimens are nearly five years of hard labour and they must be stored somewhere.”
“Dear heart,” Ann added, intent on her inevitable victory. “I have something far more precious in the work.” She said so cryptically that Francis could feel a cold sensation running down his back. “Besides, it would not do to dislodge Uncle Frank for his room and, so, the specimens must go.”
Something clicked to Francis and he felt his eyes grow as comically wide as the empty field of his thoughts did. The shock, he would admit later, should not have been so grand considering he was sharing a house with a newly wed couple.
“James,” he said when the husband was about to protest once more, “the specimens must go. Or… or I shall give up the room. Whatever you need, Ann!”
“Hush you,” they both said at once and Crozier fell back to his chair, chastised. He had not even registered; he had stood up in his excitement.
“You must stay, Francis,” Ann said and took his hand from across the table. “If you will not be put off by the restless nights.”
“What in God’s name is this about?” James repeated, obviously exasperated now, and obviously oblivious. “What work? What restless nights and why do we need…”
Then, it seemed to dawn on him and Francis saw a mirror of his own stupefaction for a second before Ann was swooped into the air and into a waltz.
Francis knew of the private nature of the moment and yet… He stayed to see Ann worry about James’ back and for James to suddenly worry about taking her into his wild dance. There was something fully bright in Francis' chest and he refused to let his tired disposition eclipse the emotion the words “Uncle Frank” had made grow in him.
MARCH ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
Sir John Franklin is back in London. Francis does not care for the politics that brought him home, only that it was a pleasure to see the old captain once more and Sophia, who he could swear had only gone lovelier.
In truth, Francis was also thankful for the distraction as the tension in the Ross estate had turned high with the expectation of the child. Ann had not taken well to the first months, having been quite sick and often in the mornings and James was fretting like… well, like an expectant parent.
Only just that morning, there had been high commotion, and mortification, when James was declared inapt at lacing Ann's corset. The argument had been loud, ridiculous and ended when Ann stormed into Francis’ bedroom, in her chemise and hair down, to demand he be the one to try his hand at it.
James had been much chagrined at Ann's preference for Francis’ knots but not as much as Francis who, taken between a rock and a hard place, had applied all the nerves he could muster to perform the task with as much propriety as the situation permitted, which was very little.
All the while, James hovered, looking above his shoulder, as if to discern if Francis was somehow, magically, better at this than he was. The truth was that Francis really doubted it, seeing as he had had very little experiences with women who had requested help with their garment at the end of a fleeting encounter.
As for Ann, she declared herself thankful in a very shy and shaky voice and Francis promised himself, and James, that he would forget the incident for her sake and to not worry about it. She came back to him when he was about to make his way out a few hours later. James had disappeared in his study, feigning to be busy with the book.
“Oh Francis,” she said, looking devastated. “I am quite abashed at myself… What must you think of me…”
“Only that the baby is giving you little rest,” he reassured her with a pat on her hand. “I find no fault in you.”
“And what must James think… I was awful to him… It's only… it's his hands… You know! The rheumatism makes it so difficult for him and, try as he may, the doctor does not think it will ever improve… He could just let me do it but he worries I might hurt myself. Imagine!”
Francis had not known but said nothing. He knew James had sometimes trouble with his hand, having him write most of their observations on the expedition, especially in the colder weather. He had attributed the constant tremors to the shock of the frightful collision but now he saw that it was not the whole truth of it… he had never imagined it was to the point of making lacing a difficulty.
“Thot,” he said, as gently as he could and took her hands in his. “James thinks the world of you, no less. He thinks that ten years of patience was a small price for the joy of you. He thinks you to be his adored wife and mother of his child. He must also think terribly of himself now,” he added, only because it needed saying and not to cause her any more pain. “If he has caused no offense, you must tell him how you care. Air this dirty laundry out, hum? You shall feel much better for it.”
Then, he had left, fled, really, with a kiss to her cheek and, indeed, when he came back, the mood was marginally improved by both their reconciliation and the galant and unexpected invitation they had received from the Franklins to come and dine with them.
In the end, he felt not any better for any of it. Not for the vindication of no longer being the only veteran of the Discovery Services to be on shore unwillingly. Sir John seemed much more comfortable about it than Francis. He did not feel better to have seen the caricature of himself at that tasteless theater show. He did not feel better for Lady Jane's expressed opinions. He felt worse for those of Sophia.
What sort of distraction was a mirror to reflect all his flaws…
AUGUST ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
“Would you not reconsider, Thot?” Francis groaned, dubiously at her little steps and the shortness of her breath and the long way toward their goal, the Observatory.
Lord be merciful they were coming at it from the south and not the steep way up from the river. It still seemed painfully demanding of her to walk through the paths, holding on to him with one hand and resting the other on the roundness of her belly. Half a mile into their journey, Francis was quite dubious of the wisdom of the enterprise.
“My, why?” She asked, smiling between pants. “It is only a little walk, I can still walk, Francis.”
She certainly could and she was very brave for it. But she had also had many fainting spells in the preceding weeks and he knew how her feet were now torture to constraint in her walking boots. James was often employed in massaging the soreness from them, he knew because he had been told. (“Her little feet, Frank! Enlarged so… oh, what have I done to her?”)
James had not accompanied them, his presence having been requested elsewhere. If the man had hoped for a quiet retirement, he had received none of it since his coming back from their honeymoon, always taken with this or that lecture or meeting. This might be, perhaps, why Ann took so much of Francis’ company, the dear.
“Of course, you can.” Francis said, diplomat.
“Only you think I should not.” She said, short of temper and short of breath.
“Only I think that we must manage you. Not because I believe you are unable,” he added quickly under her scornful look, “but well… you are quite burdened as it is, girl.”
Maybe she saw something of his compassion or genuine concern because she seemed to deflate, having been very brave until then. Distraught was a word for her when she finally let him help her sit on the nearest bench.
“Oh bother it all!” She complained and sighed. “We are not going to make it, are we?”
“To the Observatory? I rather think not.” Francis agreed, feeling his lips stretched, amused and endeared by her pout.
He felt sorry for her disappointment, her frustration. Only a few more weeks, they kept telling her. Then, she would meet the child and she would suffer no more.
“I am terribly sorry, Francis, I dragged you with me and now… what a defeat! I suppose it was a foolish idea. I was really looking forward to spending the night with you, seeing that James could not make it… I am a poor substitute, am I not?”
“Ann, there is nothing poor about you!” Frank reassured but was unable to console her. “Your company is always dear to me. We need not do anything grand to enjoy ourselves.”
“Of course we should do something grand!” she protested, agitated suddenly. “It’s your birthday, Francis! We were going to watch the meteors, weren’t we? Like you did with James, like how you said it in your letters, when you were South.”
This left Francis slightly dumbstruck and he could not help a sharp laugh of surprise he quickly turned into a cough. Poor Ann, having turned herself in such a state…
“Thot… Ann, you know it is not my birthday, do you not?”
The look she gave him told him that she did, in fact, know this very well. They had exchanged many a joke on the subject at James’ expense, having never told him that he got it wrong every year.
“I know this, you daft man.” She huffed unhappily. “I also know you’re looking forward to it every year, you said. And you have been so morose lately, I hoped to brighten you up a bit! It is quite ruined, now, is it not?”
Affection flooded Francis like the warmth of a cup of tea in the middle of winter. The dear, he thought, she needed not fret so much on his account, not when he was an incorrigible brown study, not when she had so much to concern herself with already.
“Only when we were sailing South,” He said gently, holding her hand so she would stop nervously flapping it around in her frustration. “The sky was never dark enough in the Arctic in August. The meteors we see these days are called the Perseids. We are quite past their peak now, at any rate. If you wish, we should make plans for the Geminids in December. I need not celebrate today if it is to make you sick, dear girl.”
“Very well,” she capitulated, tiredly and looked amused in turn. “I was quite the fool.”
“And I foolishly love you for it.” Francis’ treacherous mouth said before he could stop it and she blinked at him. “Hum… I mean…”
He had no time to say what he meant, however, not that he truly knew because the grip of her hand was suddenly viciously strong, painfully so and her whole body seized like a spasm had gone through and she doubled over herself in obvious pain.
“Ough!” she whimpered, agonizingly before calling for him, frantic “Oh Francis, Francis! som…something is wrong.”
“Is it the babe?” Francis asked, feeling panic mounting in him. “Is it coming?”
“No, no!” she cried, calling toward her the attention of passersby. “It’s too soon! Oh God…”
When the ‘bergs had blocked Terror’s way, when Erebus had disappeared from view, Francis swore that never again he would feel so helpless. It was nothing but a broken prophecy. He was now seated in the Rosses’ drawing room, anxious beyond reason, feeling aged beyond years.
Francis did not know how he had gotten Terror through the narrow gap that night, just as he could not comprehend how they had made it home. Somehow, he must have called for help, must have mustered the thoughts to demand for the doctor, must have carried Ann to a coach or perhaps even to her house all by himself, made stronger for the urgency of the matter.
The doctor had arrived, quite late to his taste, not quite as urgently as he had wanted him to. Yet, the man had no remorse for pushing him out of the room, to leave him with the hopeless feeling that, somehow, she was not going to make it. That he had failed to care for her.
James was there in the following hour, having obviously left his functions without ceremony. When he asked what had happened, Francis did not know what to answer. Somehow, there was nothing he could say that would absolve him. He had not been careful enough and now she was paying for it. The hand James put on his shoulder while they waited for the doctor did not shake. But it hurt.
“The mother and the child are safe now,” the doctor announced an hour or so later, having finally come out of the room to meet them and if James almost fell over from relief, Francis could not shake the dread.
Bed rest was the order. Until the birth, there would be no more walks or standing except for the necessities. James promised he would take leave of the Admiralty to the pale looking Ann. They had found themselves laid together once the doctor left and Francis knew he intruded on the comfort they gave each other. James was buried in her side, she was raking her fine fingers in his hair. Francis felt like an intruder, a danger, an omen.
Somehow, he had caused this, he thought. He had not been happy enough, it had tainted them.
In the morning, he had made his bag.
SEPTEMBER ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
Peace came to James for the first time in weeks on one cold morning of September when upon finding no rest, he had wandered into the nursery. James Coulman had yawned without a fuss in his father's arms, soft in his sleep, delicately heavy.
Half a lifetime ago, James had felt elated in the wonder of an aurora. He could not remember that it ever incited the same feeling of grace he felt when looking at his son, when he thought of beautiful Ann sleeping soundly in their bed, finally declared out of danger after the perilous birth.
Peace came on a September morning, carried by a love that had yet to know tragedy.
OCTOBER ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
“He is in France.” James declared, feeling relief beyond words flush through him as he skimmed through the letter. He was still shaken to have received the paper, still rattled by the previous days and the insufferable worry he had been subjected to.
Ann perked up on their couch, a clear mirror of his own assuagement.
“What else?” She asks, eager for him to read Francis' tight letters faster.
What else, indeed, except that the poor man had obviously been beside himself when he had left so suddenly two months prior, having been given the fright of his life, no doubt, by the prospect of malady befalling a young and beloved life. There was something else in the words, however, behind the apologies and self-vexation, a sentiment James had rarely known of Frank but always suspected.
“He wishes to spend some time traveling.” James summarized and, then, “he is lonely.”
Alone, lonely, adrift… words repeated on the page in many declinations on a note that was quite short, in a hand not quite steady.
“He.. hum…” James had to clear his throat from the taste these words had left on his tongue and he did not dare look at his beloved wife. “He sends his love, of course. Much love, indeed.” He laughed, because, of course, the last paragraph was spent on “dear, kind Thot”. “He asks of you and the child… I suppose someone must have told him.”
He fell silent, words no longer reached beyond his heart. The letter had only softened the edge of the hole Francis had left when he had gone on the second most terrifying night of James’ life and through the fog of his dismay, the only light he could perceive was the soft round face of his newborn son, sleeping so soundly and unaware of his heartache, and his only comfort the arm Ann slipped over his shoulders.
“He thinks of you,” she said in his ears and he let himself fall by the head of the couch so she could lay down again. “He thinks of us. He will come back.”
And Sir James let himself believe it.
DECEMBER ‘44
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
December 19th
My Dear Frank,
I have well received your letter of the 6th and I am so pleased to hear that Florence has found you in good health indeed. I must thank you greatly for the kind gift. I cannot say that James is at an age he can truly appreciate the fine and good quality of your find, but he is greatly amused by the rattle it makes.
You are very generous of your constant asking of his health and days and of Ann's as well. As I read your last, I had almost come to imagine that you would find great satisfaction if I found myself filling these pages with nothing but the anecdotes of the daily happenings of a newborn babe and I must contain myself lest I succumb to the envy which, surely, is mine entirely. There are no words, however, that could truly encompass the little miracles he makes me believe in. And, so, I shall keep to a minimum my monologue over the little one and tell you, quite sternly, that you ought to meet him yourself to take the measure of him.
Frank dear, do not take to heart that I regret your goings. It is not that I was slighted, and so your last apologies were quite unnecessary, but that I must be convinced yet that you are hale and that your traveling does indeed brighten your days and lift some of what burdens you. You are missed here but you were the one to tell me, once, that sailing apart or together, we must promise to be happy and, so, I must trust that you will be.
This all to say that I do have an inclination of what might reinvigorate you and I have great news to spare, even though you shall need to be discreet about it as it is not yet known to many. Or perhaps this letter will find you in a time where it is known by all. John Barrow has come to me with a new project of sailing to the Arctic in search of the NW Passage once more. I believe he was quite unhappy that I resolved to refuse the command in honor to my promise but I had no kind pity for him. There are plenty of captains I know whom I trust as well as I do myself to take over this venture and perhaps even more. But none that I would recommend more heartily than you.
I have not yet nominated you. Not without your say so. I should not put you in a difficult position of refusing, but you are, of course, at the top of the list and I do have the belief that you may have missed sailing as much as the sails miss you. It is a poor Christmas present perhaps to give you more work when you ought be resting and, yet, I sense you would make this into the triumph you should have been bestowed for so many years.
Pray tell, my dearest friend, what shall I say to Barrow and Lord H? Do not be afraid of saying no if your year of leave is to be completed. You should fear also that they would demand a Book out of you. Dreadful and miserable.
You are my choice in this matter but Sir John Franklin is also amongst the candidates for the expedition and I believe Old Bird may also be a choice. If you prefer, perhaps the second ship should be yours, then.
The joyous season is soon upon us and we think dearly of you now more than ever. I pray for your well being and I feel myself egoist enough at this time to say that I wish you will come by soon. You are missed. Dearly.
Your most sincere friend,
Jas. C. Ross
MARCH ‘45
51.46°SN 0.00°E
Blackheath, England
When Francis Crozier finally reappeared at the Rosses’ doorstep, he was travel weary but, indeed revitalized with the serious air he always wore before sailing. Although James had been terribly disappointed that the stubborn owl had chosen to room elsewhere, he did not begrudge him to do so.
Even as he was about to embark on a journey many would envy, Francis still looked unmoored, adrift but more resolute. And in the presence of James Coulman, balancing his chubby bum on his knee, Francis transformed, returning to the man James knew. Caring and of the best nature.
And then James wanted to shake him and make him see what he saw.
Look
, he could say,
look at who you are when you let yourself be loved.
James did not need any feelings returned. Wherever they sailed, apart or together, he could be his best by the light of Francis’ happiness. Which would be so much easier to nurture if the man would let him.
APRIL '45
51.50°N 0.05°W
Woolwich, England
“Jem!” Dundy called, pulling James from the log book and the damn preserve count only to find the two of them, and Mr. Reid, who was fretting about this and that by the bow, were no longer alone on the deck for the tall and fine silhouette of Sir James Ross had made an appearance. “Isn't his wife on Terror?” Dundy asked and was ignored, as James preferred to unwrinkle his jacket and approach their unannounced visitor.
Only, he hesitated upon now seeing his face better in the declining light of the evening. There was something akin to being lost on his features. His hands, which shook with much less of a tremor than James had heard the rumor of, were moving across the wood like a caress to a dear mistress. This was not a man who had come with a business in mind but, rather, one that had wandered where his spirit had implied he should go.
“Sir James!” James called, when Ross’ frown deepened at the sight of the engine's exhaust, newly installed, and he was immediately rewarded by a brightened expression and a welcoming grin.
Little doubt remained why James was still only a contender to the title of handsomest of the Navy…
“Commander Fitzjames! Hard at work at this hour! You must be commended for it, sir!”
The handshake was solid and the pat he received on his shoulder vigorous. Gone was the quiet and fragile air of Ross of the Antarctic.
“One must, with Sir John feeling poorly and Captain Crozier overseeing both the arrival of the engines and Sir John's own duties.”
“Ah yes, if he has not taken to writing to you just yet, let me reassure you that Sir John arrived safely in Blackheath last Saturday and has been under Lady Jane's strict surveillance. Little doubt remains that he shall make full recovery before the expedition sets sail.”
Would that they were only waiting after Sir John's help, James’ impression of the goings of the preparation would have been greatly improved. Alas, the holds were still empty of their foodstuff…
“That is marvelous news, Sir James!” James chipped in, feeling a bit forced. “Surely, this might not be the reason of your visit! Have you come to see the old girl before she set sail for the ice again? Your blessing would be a grand boon for the crew's morale.”
Ross' eyes stopped wandering to the lines and the deck wood and the shape of the mast and fixed themselves to look into James’. Barrow Jr. had once described James Clark Ross as having a sharp and smart eye, suited to catching the most invisible of landmarks in the expanse of the sea or the ice. Fiztjames understood the vision, now. Even when paired with a gentle expression, that piercing gaze quickly became overwhelming.
“Actually, I came to speak with you, Commander.” Sir James said politely, breaking the strange spell he had conjured. “I was told you did, indeed, keep to the ship late and I took a chance coming aboard.”
“Well…” James stammered, taken a little aback and eyed Dundy who was pretending to go over charts to eavesdrop. “May I invite you to the Great Cabin? I have an excellent bottle of whiskey to share.”
But Ross declined.
“I shall not put you out of a bottle so close to your departure, sir!” He grinned and patted James on the shoulder once more. “God be my witness, I have the strong suspicion you shall need it! No, my friend, the subject is nothing so serious it deserves the full decorum of your hospitality… It is a private matter, however, a favor I should ask of you and for which I cannot go to Sir John…”
He trailed his thoughts and looked on to the starboard with a wistful expression before glancing of his bird eye toward Le Vesconte who promptly caught the meaning and disappeared into Erebus’ belly.
“I will, of course, endeavor to complete your request, sir, but if this may be against Sir John's command or…”
“No! No!” Sir James quickly denied and looked sheepish enough that James believed him. “I promise Sir John would not go against me on this… but, perhaps… Captain Crozier might see me as an interloper…”
Ah… this was about Captain Crozier, then, James deduced. Numerous were the tongues in the admiralty who spoke of Captain Crozier and Sir James Clark Ross as a pair never to be divided. Sir John had expressed just as much in many of his recounting about the visits of Erebus and Terror in Hobart.
The same Captain Crozier of whom he could see the silhouette in Terror's stern windows with who he expected to be Lady Ross perusing the library by the lamp light, and who had been quite a character since their meeting. James had made an opinion of him… that of a man who was morose, not quite as friendly as rumored, diligent but uninspired and with little spirit. A man who was carrying his weight like a burden. Speaking to anyone who had previously sailed with him prevented him from cementing those opinions for all he heard was the opposite.
“Pray tell, Sir James, how may I help with Captain Crozier?”
The sympathetic look he received from Ross in exchange told him everything he needed to know.
“I shall not take it out on you if this is too much of a task,” he said, having apparently read right through Fitzjames’ appraisal of their common acquaintance. “But, you see… Sir John is about to set out for years of dangers with the one my lady wife and I hold dearest and I have an unconditional trust in our friend Franklin to guide you all to good port and to see you all hale and safe in two to three years time.
I would be remiss, however, if I… If I let him go without a modicum of assurance that… that although he can make himself severe and unfriendly, there would be someone to keep his back and guard his friendship.”
“Surely, Sir John…”
“Sir John is a great friend, Mr. Fitzjames, a man of honor and a great leader. But he is
my
friend and, surely… surely you have heard of his and his wife's disapproval of my friend Francis pursuing their niece…”
Twice, Fitzjames recalled and he could feel a pressure form in his temple.
“Well, I daresay you shan't have nothing to worry about on this subject,” Ross huffed and walked to lean on the starboard railing, looking at the black shadows of Crozier and Lady Ross exchanging over a map or some paper in the Terror. “Francis is also a man of honor and he knows to keep personal and professional apart and he has nothing but respect for Sir John.
This all to say, my dear Commander, that the favour I must ask of you is both patience and friendship. I am afraid that you are to be James on the Erebus, as I cannot be him anymore…”
“I do not know that he holds me in great esteem, Sir James.” James admitted, a bit stunned once more by the vulnerable look on the other man's face.
“I did say he knew how to make himself unfriendly,” Ross smirked and shook his head. “Ah, I am just anxious, you see… do not take it to heart… Although, would he remove his head from his behind long enough to see you, he would come to appreciate you greatly, this I am sure of.
For your sake, and mine, and his, then, my favor is only that you may not give up on him. He is the most precious of cargo…”
What else could be said, then? James simply shook the man's hand and nodded, feeling like he had made a pact.
The feeling that, somehow, he had sealed a fate of some sort lingered long after Sir James Ross had disembarked from Erebus to strut over to Terror and be welcomed by wife and friend.
MAY '45
51.50°N 0.05°W
Woolwich, England
Terror had not changed, despite the new fittings and the engines. She was no more of the elegant frigates they passed at port or one of the modern steamers than she was before. But she had the same Spirit she had carried to the South, the same strength that had brought her back from the ice, from war. A spirit that hummed like a song that carried hope and passion of her young crew.
Terror had not changed. She had kept the memories, she had absorbed them into her wood. Francis loved her for it. He loved her still when the song he heard was no longer of vast countries and endless skies under the cheers of families and friends on their departure.
When Francis sighted James and Ann Ross, and the little one, waving at Francis Crozier, he heard a different song.
You should know, I love you too. I love you too.
By God, may I return...