next day they were joined by a large party of Indian hunters, under a chief Akaitcho. The progress was very slow, and the winter came on earlier than usual. By 25 Aug. the pools were beginning to freeze, and, though Franklin was anxious at all hazards to push on to the sea and establish himself for the winter at the mouth of the Coppermine, he yielded to the very urgent remonstrances of Akaitcho, and wintered in a hut which is still shown on the map as Fort Enterprise. It was not till 14 June 1821 that the ice gave way sufficiently for them to launch their canoes on the Coppermine, and to bid farewell to Akaitcho and his Indians. By 14 July they came within sight of the sea, and on the 21st embarked for their voyage in the Arctic Ocean. And so to the eastward in a tedious navigation along the coast, naming Cape Barrow and Cape Flinders, as far as Cape Turnagain, which they reached on 18 Aug.; when Franklin, finding that his resources would admit neither of going on nor of going back to the Coppermine, determined to take his way by a river to which he gave the name of his young companion, Hood. Hood's river was soon found to be impracticable for navigation. They took the large canoes to pieces, built two small ones which they could carry with them, reduced their baggage as much as possible, and began their march for Fort Providence through the country which has the distinction of being labelled, even in the Arctic, as ‘Barren Grounds.’ The story of their sufferings is one of the most terrible on human record. Cold, hunger, and fatigue broke down even the strongest of the party. Some died, some were murdered—poor Hood among the number, one was put to death as the murderer. In their last extremity Franklin and Richardson fell in with Akaitcho, who fed them, took care of them, and brought them in safety to Fort Providence on 11 Dec. Back and the miserable remnant of their party joined a few days later. They rested there for some months, and reached York again on 14 June 1822. ‘Thus terminated,’ wrote Franklin, ‘our long, fatiguing, and disastrous travels in North America, having journeyed by water and land (including our navigation of the Polar Sea) 5,550 miles.’
In the following October Franklin, with his companions, arrived in England. He had already, during his absence (1 Jan. 1821), been made a commander; he was now (20 Nov.) advanced to post rank, in recognition of his labours and sufferings; he was also elected a fellow of the Royal Society. Richardson was appointed surgeon of the Chatham division of marines, and Back, who had been promoted to be a lieutenant, after three Arctic winters was sent out to the West Indies to be thawed. Franklin employed his time in England in writing the narrative of his journey, which was published early in the following year, and at once took its place among the most classic of books of travel. He also wooed and, in August 1823, was married to Miss Porden [see Frankin, Eleanor Anne]. Early in 1824 Franklin laid before the admiralty a scheme for another expedition, which might benefit by his previous experience, and possibly co-operate with the more purely naval expedition then fitting out under the command of Captain Parry [see Parry, Sir William Edward]. Franklin proposed that during the course of 1824 and the early months of 1825 stores, together with a party of English seamen, should be sent on in advance as far as possible; that he himself, starting in the spring, should go from New York to Lake Huron, and take on from the naval establishment there such further supplies as were available; and so, picking up his party as he proceeded, make his way to the Great Bear Lake, down the Mackenzie river, and along the coast westward as far as Kotzebue Sound, where a ship might be sent to meet him. In accordance with this the instructions were drawn out; the Blossom was commissioned for the service in Behring's Straits [see Beechey, Frederick William]; and the previous arrangements having been made, Franklin, again with Back and Richardson, and with Mr. Kendall, a mate, as a third colleague, sailed from Liverpool on 16 Feb. 1825.
His wife, who had some months before given birth to a daughter, was now in an advanced decline; but he had probably persuaded himself that her illness was not necessarily mortal, and was much shocked by the news of her death, which reached him at the station on Lake Huron. He pushed on to join his advanced party with the boats, which he found near Fort Methy on 29 June. On 7 Aug. they reached Fort Norman on the Mackenzie, and leaving a party to build huts by Great Bear Lake, Franklin himself went down the river, a run of six days, to the sea; and landing on an island—which he named Garry Island, after the deputy-governor of the Hudson's Bay Company—he there planted the British flag, a silk union-jack which had been worked for the express purpose by his deceased wife. ‘I will not,’ he wrote, ‘attempt to describe my emotions as it expanded to the breeze.’ For the sake of his companions, however, he endeavoured to simulate cheerfulness; and after examining the archipelago at the mouth of the river, returned to
