Franklin Expedition Quotes

European explorers ignoring indigenous geographical names and creating their own was all about ego, honor, and power, and some sense that having someone speak your name while pointing to an island or a strait was the closest one could get to everlasting life on Earth. In the relentless drive for discovery, the planet seemed to be their plaything.

What does Africa — what does the West stand for? Is not our own interior white on the chart? black though it may prove, like the coast, when discovered. Is it the source of the Nile, or the Niger, or the Mississippi, or a Northwest Passage around this continent, that we would find? Are these the problems which most concern mankind? Is Franklin the only man who is lost, that his wife should be so earnest to find him? Does Mr. Grinnell know where he himself is? Be rather the Mungo Park,the Lewis and Clark and Frobisher,of your own streams and oceans; explore your own higher latitudes — with shiploads of preserved meats to support you, if they be necessary; and pile the empty cans sky-high for a sign. Were preserved meats invented to preserve meat merely? Nay, be a Columbus to whole new continents and worlds within you, opening new channels, not of trade, but of thought. Every man is the lord of a realm beside which the earthly empire of the Czar is but a petty state, a hummock left by the ice. Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.What was the meaning of that South-Sea Exploring Expedition,with all its parade and expense, but an indirect recognition of the fact that there are continents and seas in the moral world to which every man is an isthmus or an inlet, yet unexplored by him, but that it is easier to sail many thousand miles through cold and storm and cannibals, in a government ship, with five hundred men and boys to assist one, than it is to explore the private sea, the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean of one's being alone.

A few minutes later the fishing boat pulled away from the wharf and chugged smoothly down the bay. Chet, as leader of the expedition, bustled about importantly. He assigned places to everyone and explained the technique of tuna fishing, about which he had just read. It was a calm, warm day and the sea was smooth, with only a slight swell. A few miles beyond the mouth of the bay, the captain announced they had reached tuna water. He distributed the rods and herring he had brought along as bait and scattered fresh chum over the side to attract the fish. Mr. McClintock took up his position in a fishing chair, and Chet showed him the proper way to hold the heavy rod. He threw the bait overboard and watched it sink until the end of the leader disappeared from sight. Next, he coiled about fifteen feet of the thirty-nine-thread line on the stern and held it. “Tuna grow pretty big, don’t they?” asked Mr. McClintock, becoming a little nervous. “It won’t pull me overboard, will it?” “Could be.” Captain Harkness grinned. “But don’t worry, we’ll rescue you!

Ultimately, with ice pressing in on them from all sides, Greely had made the decision to commit the boats and men to the mercies of the floes, with the forlorn hope that tides and winds would propel them south to Cape Sabine. If that failed, they would abandon everything not essential and attempt to cross ice bridges from floe to floe until they reached land. Some of Greely’s men disagreed with him, muttering that his decisions were madness and amounted to suicide. One of the men said he feared “another Franklin disaster.” The expedition doctor scribbled furiously in his journal: “It is terrible to float in this manner, in the snow, fog, and dark. This seems to me like a nightmare in one of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories.” And in many ways, it was.

He held many of them in his arms as they whispered their final words and breathed their last breaths. The pages of his book and journals reveal a profound sense of caring and humanity, a deep responsibility for those he was destined to lead. The dedication he wrote at the beginning of his book offers insight into the man, and it seems fitting to close this book with that same dedication, to serve as a reminder of what grace looks like: To the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition These volumes are dedicated: To its dead who suffered much— To its living who suffered more. Their energy accomplished Farthest North Their fidelity wrought out success; Their courage faced death undauntedly; Their loyalty and discipline in all the dark days Ensured that this record Of their services should be given to the world.

The nature of the canning process of the day, which required that tins be nearly immersed in boiling water or saltwater, destroyed any ascorbic acid they may have contained, so that their tinned meats, vegetables, soups and even fruits were virtually useless as antiscorbutics.

Only in 1795 did the Royal Navy heed decades of advice and begin enforcing the consumption of lime juice on its ships (giving rise to the term “limey”).

Evidence not of imperial glory, but of complete cultural failure and betrayal by men who insisted on importing their environment with them, rather than adapting to a new one in which they found themselves struggling to survive.

The C the C the open C it grew so fresh the Ever free It finishes: When I was On Old England Shore I like the young C more and more and ofte times flew to a Shelltering Plase like a bird that Seek its mother’s Case and a H She wos and Oft to me for I love I love a young and Hopen C.