Resolute (22 page)

HE KNEW MORE
about the Inuit than any other explorer, had traveled more Arctic miles than any other Franklin seeker, and was highly respected by all those who served with him, but John Rae's controversial report made him a pariah among much of the English population.

Ever since the search for Franklin had begun, Rae had made a practice of asking every group of Inuit he met up with the same question. Had they heard any stories of white men or ships? When he posed this query to In-nook-poo-zhe-jook he got a startling reply.

“This man,” Rae's report stated, “was very communicative and, on putting to him the usual question as to having seen ‘white men' before, or any ships or boats—he replied in the negative; but he said, that a party of
Kabloonas
(white men) had died of starvation, a long distance to the west of where we then were, and beyond a large River. Hestated that, he did not know the exact place; that he had never been there; and that he could not accompany us so far.” The substance of the information then and subsequently obtained from various sources was as follows:

Rae's report then detailed more distressing news related by the natives:

It was devastating news, and, as he had listened to the story, Rae had only one thought: If the tale was true, who else could these unfortunate souls have been but members of the lost expedition? And almost immediately he had proof. After relating his story, In-nook-poo-zhe-jook, along with other Inuit, had showed and then sold Rae items that, without question had belonged to the men of the
Erebus
and the
Terror.
Later, when Rae returned to Repulse Bay, preparing to rush to England with his news, other natives brought him even more items, which he also purchased. Included in the sad array were a silver tablespoon with the initials “F.R.M.C.” (Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier, commander of the
Erebus)
, a silver fork bearing the initials “H.D.S.G.” (Henry Duncan Spens Goodsir, assistant surgeon of the
Erebus)
, three other silver forks with the initials “A.M.D.” (Alexander McDonald, assistant surgeon of the
Terror)
, “G.A.M.” (Giles Alexander McBean, second master of the
Terror)
, and “J.S.P.” (John Smart Peddie, the
Erebus's
surgeon). There was also a round silver plate inscribed “Sir John Franklin, K.C.B.” and Franklin's cherished Royal Guelphic Order medal inscribed with the words “Difficulties do not terrify.” Finally, there was a knife handle marked with the initials of the
Terror's
caulker's mate, Cornelius Hickey, and many small items—coins, chains, and a silver pencil case.

Rae was well aware that the tragic story he had heard was secondhand. He also knew that Arctic conditions would not allow him to personally investigate the sites mentioned in the tale anytime soon, but he was convinced that the Franklin relics he now had in his possession would unquestionably support the Inuit's story. What he was unprepared for was the reaction that one of the final paragraphs he had written in his report would elicit. In concluding his account of In-nook-poo-zhe-jook's story, Rae had written:

Cannibalism
—with that one word John Rae would stir the greatest controversy since the quest for the Northwest Passage and the search for John Franklin had begun. The furor caused by John Ross's mirage fiasco or Edward Belcher's abandonment of four seaworthy ships would be nothing compared to the maelstrom caused by Rae's assertion that members of the Franklin party had suffered “a fate as terrible as the imagination can conceive.”

Cannibalism? Among officers and men of the Royal Navy, members of the most awe-inspiring expedition that had ever set forth? The Victorian mind simply would not accept it. These men were Englishmen to the core. And was not England the most civilized nation the world had ever known? Only three years before, the Great Crystal Palace Exhibition—a monumental technology fair—had verified Great Britain's extraordinary industrial and scientific leadership. It was the home of Alfred Lord Tennyson, the Brontë sisters, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Matthew Arnold, and John Ruskin. Cannibalism among Englishmen? It was impossible; it negated everything that the English believed themselves to be. (This would be the first documented case of cannibalism among Arctic explorers, but not the last; see note, page 272).

As would be expected, no one was more outraged by Rae's report than Lady Jane Franklin. It was one thing, she stated, for Rae to have recovered some relics, but to “embellish” them with accounts of cannibalism and starvation was inexcusable. Such things would never happen on her husband's watch. Immediately, she set out to discredit Rae, labeling him an opportunist, interested only in claiming the reward that had been posted for finding the first relics of the missing expedition. Once again she took her case to the highest authorities and the press.

This time, she felt even that was not enough. This time she needed a spokesperson, someone whose eloquence and position would remove any doubt that Rae's assertions were false. She found him in the person of one of the nation's—and the world's—most widely read and admired authors. At this point in his career, Charles Dickens had already written
Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol
, and
David Copperfield.
His new book,
Bleak House
, was just appearing in the bookstores. As anyone who read his work knew, Charles Dickens was, above all, an Englishman. And as such, he had also been appalled by the report of cannibalism among Franklin's men. “It is in highest degree improbable,” he had written, “that such men as the officers and crews of the two lost ships would or could, in any extremity of hunger, alleviate the pains of starvation by this horrible means.”

Dickens chose
Household Words
—a weekly journal that he both edited and contributed to—as the vehicle in which to fully present his explanation of why he believed the assertions of cannibalism were false. Unlike Jane Franklin, Dickens was a great admirer of John Rae and actually began his lengthy, detailed article by applauding the explorer's motives in bringing the Inuit's story to the attention of the Admiralty. “Of the propriety of his immediate return to England with the intelligence he had got together, we are fully convinced. As a man of sense and humanity he perceived that the first and greatest account to which it could be turned, was, the prevention of the useless hazard of valuable lives; and no one could better know in how much hazard all lives are placed that follow Franklin's track, than he who has made eight visits to the Arctic shores.”

After questioning the reliability of any secondhand accounts, particularly those gathered through an interpreter, Dickens got down to the business of challenging the whole idea that the reported cannibalism had really taken place:

Not content with debunking the notion of cannibalism, Dickens, displaying the racist attitudes of his day, then presented his theories as to what might have actually taken place:

Proclaiming that it was unimaginable that the “flower of the trained adventurous spirit of the English Navy, raised by Parry, Franklin, Richardson, and Back” could have resorted, even under the most dire circumstances, to such a despicable act, Dickens concluded his article by proclaiming how Franklin and his men should really be remembered. “Because no Franklin can come back, to write the honest story of their woes and resignation, read it tenderly and truly in the book he has left us. Because they lie scattered on those wastes of snow, and are as defenceless against the remembrance of coming generations, as against the elements into which they are resolving, and the winter winds that alone can waft them home … therefore cherish them gently, even in the breasts of children. Therefore, teach no one to shudder without reason, at the history of their end. [They are to be remembered for their] fortitude, their lofty sense of duty, their courage, and their religion.”

In the end, Charles Dickens's article was one of the relatively few outward signs of the turmoil that the report of cannibalism had engendered. For the most part, the angst would be hidden; few Victorians would be able to face the issue openly.

As Dickens had acknowledged, John Rae had had no hidden agenda in rushing back to England with his news. He truly was motivated by a desire to prevent the launching of more life-threatening searches. But ultimately it would be he who would suffer most from the cannibalism report. Eventually he would receive the £10,000 reward that had been offered to the person who discovered Franklin's fate. But that too would engender controversy, particularly from Lady Jane Franklin and her supporters, who decried that granting the reward implied that some of Franklin's men had indeed resorted to the unthinkable.

Lady Franklin would never forgive John Rae. And although several Arctic authorities of the day privately believed his report, the Admiralty, by omission, inflicted its own not-too-subtle form of rejection. Among other major achievements, Rae had walked over twenty-three thousand miles and had surveyed close to ten thousand miles of Arctic coastline, all in the cause of English national honor. Yet he would go to his grave as the only major nineteenth-century British explorer never to receive a knighthood.

Ironically, even those authorities that doubted the veracity of Rae's report accepted his belief that it might well be time to end the searches. Much of the public agreed. The front pages of the newspapers were now dominated by news of a very different nature. The Crimean War had erupted. For the first time in years there were battles to be won, British military honor to be upheld. Steadily, cries for Franklin's rescue were literally being put on the back page.