Ilatsiak - 30

Lt. LesVisconte didn’t arrive at the Observation Site that day or even the next as expected. Lt Fairholme on hearing the news about Sir John’s health decided his duty lay in returning to the Erebus to be with his Commander. It was possible his illness was what was keeping LesVisconte at the ship. Fairholme realised he would surely be of more service there than here at the site where the only activity was the regular recording of the magnetic variations each day. Accordingly, he packed his gear again, repaired his boot for the umpteenth time and, accompanied by a Marine from the ship named Pvt. Joseph Healey, he set out over the ice. Even though the path was well trodden, it was by no means smooth. The recent snow had made walking difficult. Each step sunk down about 4 inches into a water-logged layer just above the ice itself. The warm weather, while vastely more bearable than the cold endured during the winter, also had its less welcome side - soaked feet. In any event, the two men trudged on. By noon, Healey estimated they were about half way to the ship, having walked about 10 miles altogether. They found a place to rest and ate their lunch cold, not having brought a stove with them. As they began to get ready to set out once again, the ice suddenly made a loud cracking sound. It made Fairholme jump, as if a cannon had suddenly discharged behind him. Healey, smiled, “I should have warned you, Sir. The ice has been making a lot of noises this past week. Good sign. It will be sending us on our way soon, if it doesn’t crush us first!”
“God willing, Private. I’ll be none too happy to have water under the keel again and be homeward bound.”
“Yes Sir. That’s everyone’s wish. It has been a hard winter, this one.”
With that the two men walked silently on, both dreaming of the ones they had left at home nearly two years ago.
“Would you look at that, sir?” Healey pointed downwards as he came up over the last hummock of ice. “It’s all water.”
Fairholme got his first look as he came to the top of the ice. The crack in the ice had allowed water from beneath to come to the surface and flood the path and the surrounding are, making a mini-lake about 100 yards in diameter. There was nothing to do but make their way over the jagged ice mounds which formed the lake’s sides. Half an hour later, they regained the trail and for the first time could see the Erebus laying at a slight list about two miles ahead.
Finally coming close to the ships, Fairholme found a number of the crew out on the ice beside the Erebus milling about. The previous winter he would have more likely seen a ball game underway with one watch playing another, the third watch acting as spectators, waiting to take on the winner. The scene was quite different now. Groups of men had formed more often more for the purpose of grumbling about something or other. The cheeriness had all but disappeared. Fairholme made a note to remind Sir John of the promise to get the men out hunting as soon as possible. Hunting always seemed to raise the spirits, and King William Land had offered good hunting in the fall and was bound to do so again with the summer solstice only a week or so away.
He climbed aboard, but no one greeted him as he pulled the canvas winter deck cover aside and looked along the ship. The deck was empty. He swung open the hatch cover, descended to the lower deck, turned to his left and then opened the door to his tiny cabin on the port side of the ship. All was as he had left it. He began to feel the warmth of the steam heating system installed in the ship. It felt good. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm again. Removing his heavy coat, his boots and socks, he dried himself off, pulled on a couple of dry socks and slipped into his homemade felt slippers. he then headed aft to the mess to inquire of the news. It was not good. Glum faces told the news without asking. Sir John was not expected to live through the day. It was June 11, 1847.