Ilatsiak - 28

The next day was at least sunny, although the wind continued to blow strongly in gusts from the north, making walking into it a chore. All three men trudged along silently, each one thinking about his own misery. From time to time one would slip and fall on the rough, but barely snow covered ground. Rolling as they fell, they would become covered with wet sticky snow which clung to their woolen parkas and leggings. It would then melt, soaking their parkas and so increase their misery as the wind blew the dampness closer to their skin. After a year and a half of almost continual use the wool no longer possessed the natural oils which had once helped to shed moisture the way it had a year ago. Now only the exercise of walking kept them warm. Whenever they stopped for a rest break, they would feel the chill creep toward their bodies, forcing them to continue walking once again.
Stopping to eat around noon, they used up the last of their food, a ‘portable soup’ which could be mixed with water. It was somewhat akin to pemmican in that it provided considerable nourishment when mixed with warm water. Here again they ran into difficulty as the stove had bearly melted the snow before it ran out of fuel, their last. Forced then to drink the soup mix cold, Irving was the first to complain. He finally stood up and threw his cup as far as he could from where they huddled below a slight ridge of broken stones and stood up.
“I’m going ahead, Mr Fairholme. See if I can’t make better time on my own to the Cape. I’ll have them send a relief out to assist you people with the sledge.”
Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heel and headed over the ridge for the Cape. Lt Fairholme said nothng. What was there to say? He assisted the sailor in packing the sledge and taking a pulling-line himself, followed in Irving’s tracks.
They followed behind Irving for the rest of the day before Fairholme realised that he was heading further and further inland rather than remaining near the coast. It was obvious that Irving would miss the Cape entirely if he wasn’t careful. The two men tried yelling at him, but Irving was over a mile ahead and what with the gusting winds, he was certainly out of hearing range. Fairholme returned to the coast all the while keeping track of Irving’s movements as best he could given the undulating terrain. Rather than stop to eat at suppertime they kept walking with the idea of reaching the Cape as soon as possible. By the early evening they had lost sight altogether of Irving, but managed to estimate his route. Hopefully he would turn towards the coast at some point and make the Cape soon after they did.
Just into the early hours of the morning, Fairholme’s little party saw the magnetic observation building at Cape Felix. Another hour of walking and pulling brought them into the sleeping camp about two hours after midnight. Peering into the sleeping quarters, it soon was apparent they had beaten Irving to the Cape. Hopefully he would arrive by morning. Dead tired, they found places to put their blankets and fell asleep themselves.
The next morning, Fairholme set about to find Commander Fitzjames and report their findings, however he soon discovered that Fitzjames was not at the site, but had returned to the Erebus. Sir John had again taken ill with the same respiratory affliction which had plagued him on and off throughout the voyage. This time however, it appeared more serious and Mr Stanley, the surgeon, feared Sir John would not have the strength this time to fight it off. That left no officers presently at the site although Lt. LesVisconte was expected to arrive from the Erebus sometime during the day.
About mid morning Lt. Irving strolled into the little camp of four tents that comprised the Observation Site. He seemed to be in a good mood and Fairholme was surprised at how cheerily he was greeted, almost as if the past twenty-four hours had not happened. Irving’s only comment on his strange behaviour was to joke about how the years he had spent aboard the permanently docked gunnery ship Excellence was taking its toll on his ability for making longish treks. He just didn’t seem to have the stamina he once had, he joked. Upon hearing the news that Franklin was once again ill, Lt. Irving determined to return to the Terror to see whether he could be of any assistance to Capt. Crozier and to inform him that Eskimos had been sighted at the depot of materials belonging to their ship and would no doubt begin pillaging it now they knew it was there. Accordingly, he ate a hearty meal, slept for a few hours and then set off alone following the set of hand sign posts frozen into the ice along the fairly well trodden ice route out to the ships, 15 miles away.