Arctic Terror: What Really Happened to the Franklin Expedition?

Did you know that two British ships vanished in the Arctic in 1845, and were never heard from again? The Franklin Expedition set off with great fanfare, showing once again that the British Empire was at the helm of modernity and the master of nature itself. That's right, masters of nature. Or so they thought. What do you mean by that? Their aim was to uncover and conquer the last great mystery of the age, the Northwest Passage. Hello, I'm getting a little worried. Aboard the HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, 129 men sailed into the Arctic, equipped with cutting-edge technology, steam-powered ships, and supreme confidence. See? Cutting edge. Nothing to worry about. But here's the thing. They never returned. No messages, no survivors. Only silence. And a question. What could have gone so catastrophically wrong? This isn't going to have a happy ending, is it? Oh, dear. The year is 1845. Victorian Britain is booming. The Industrial Revolution has spread to all corners of the globe, and they're experiencing world domination like no one's ever seen before. That's right. We're absolutely booming in here. Life couldn't get any better for me. Right. The British Empire is quite literally high in its own supply. They've got colonies everywhere. The empire where the sun never sets. Unless you're a child up a chimney. It's pretty dark up there. Help me, sir. I'm lost. I can't find my way out. It's dark in here. Would you be quiet? I'm trying to read the newspaper, you bloody chimney sweep. Like I said, booming. But we're not talking about Victorian Britain today. We're talking about a whole other wilderness. Enter the Northwest Passage. Oh, I beg your pardon. Enter the what? The one that got away. The one elusive part of the globe Britain hadn't quite got their grubby hands on. It was believed that this mythical Arctic route would act as a shortcut from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. And if by shortcut, we mean an ice-infested hellhole that was more likely to claim your life than the Sentinel Islands on a Sunday morning. So naturally, the British had to go there. Why, you may ask? Because empires always need expansion. Like a hype beast in line to buy their next pair of overpriced shoes. And God forbid the French or the Americans got there first. Can you imagine the scandal? Another reason for the trip is they wanted to record magnetic data to see whether a better understanding of this would help with navigation. So the Royal Admiralty, under the Right Honourable Thomas Hamilton, 9th Earl of Haddington, former Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 1st Lord of the Admiralty, and a man with apparently more titles than you can shake his dick at, was like, let's send an expedition. Who's the guy for the job? Drum roll, please. Sir John Franklin, come on down. That's right. Sir John Franklin of the Coppermine Expedition fame. A 59-year-old human pudding with a track record for disaster. Just the man for the job, then. His last Arctic mission ended with his crew starving, and one thing led to another. And let's just say... Looks like meat's back on the menu, boy. This should be a disqualifier, right? Not in Victorian Britain, no, no, no. That's a resume builder. Ah, let's see here. John Franklin. Let's see his credentials to lead the expedition. He's been to the Arctic before. That's very good, yes. It was a poorly planned. It wasn't his fault. He'll get it right this time. Half his crew died, yes. Moving on. And the other half turned to cannibals. Ah. He's the right man for the job. Get him here straight away. Yeah. Moving on. The Admiralty hand Franklin two ships, the HMS Terror and the HMS Erebus. I mean, who comes up with these names? One ship named after Terror, and the other name after the Greek god of darkness. Not exactly the most optimistic names for boats, are they? They sound more like the names of a haunted house, not an Arctic research vessel. But the British thought, this was cute. Let's just send Terror into an unexplored frozen wasteland. I mean, technically they did, but we'll get into that later. I mean, what could go wrong? A lot of things, actually. A bit of a foreshadowing for things to come. These boats were tricked out with steam engines, heating systems, and over 8,000 tins of food. But here's the snag. They're from the cheapest supplier that they could find, and they were sealed with lead solder, and a dash of industrial strength brain poison, and a fast track to future mental confusion and breakdown. Bon appétit. Compliments to the chef. You really outdid yourself this time. Cheers! So 129 men embarked on the expedition, mostly from England, and some from Scotland and Ireland. All aboard, ready to make history. Or so they thought. Why did they join, you may ask? For some, it was good old British patriotism. For others, dreams of a 19th century gap year, of exploring the world. Or others, maybe they were just broke, and wanted a steady paycheck. Times were hard back then. Sounds a lot better than dying in a dank alleyway, if you ask me. But in reality, they were signing up for a role in a slow-motion horror movie on ice, as we'll soon find out. The expedition set sail on the 19th of May, 1845, from Greenhithe in Kent. Ah, look at that, Jim! Look at what, Barry? Kent! Hey, what did you just call me? Er, nothing. Oh, I think I hear the captain calling. Ta-ta! They hop over to the Shetlands for water. So far, so good. Then travel across the Atlantic to Greenland, with a naval escort, and a ship full of meat, at Disco Bay. Which sounds a lot more hip-happening than it actually is. Ah, hip-happening. Did I really just say that? Jeez. Anyway, moving on. They slaughter some oxen. Who do they think they are? Ancient Greeks trying to appease the gods for their journey. Just joking, it wasn't like that. They transfer the meat and write their final letters. An order was made by Sir John. No swearing and no drunkenness on board. Did you hear that? He said no swearing and no drunkenness on board. We're on a boat, for goodness sake. That's the only reason I signed up for this thing, to swear and drink. It's a disgrace, it really is. Incredibly, five men were transferred off the ship due to sickness, and sent back to England. Talk about a blessing in disguise. But for the rest of the crew, a month later, two whaling ships or the Terror and the Erebus in Baffin Bay, Canada, waiting to sail west to Lancaster Sound. And this was the last sighting of the ships by Europeans. Then after that, radio silence forever. Hello, Barbara. Have you heard from the Terror or the Erebus lately? No, I haven't, Gladys. And one of the men on the ship owes me some money. I've sent the many a letter, but he hasn't replied the cheeky so-and-so. It's a disgrace, it really is. Other than Barbara and Gladys, apparently. Everyone else in Britain, including the Admiralty, were pretty nonplussed about not hearing from them yet. That's how optimistic they were. Or deeply in denial. Uh, you decide. Meanwhile in the Arctic, well, let's just say, all hell begins to break out. And that is putting it very mildly. By now, three men have already died by suspected poisoning after wintering in Beachy Island. I wonder what led to their deaths. Get it? Lead. What led to their deaths. Probably lead poisoning. Moving on. Next on the list of disasters, the ships get trapped in the ice off King William Island for 18 months. Think how far they could have travelled in that time. The ships become sort of Frozen Ice Hotel death traps. Not quite like the ones you find in Finland. But the crew try to wait it out. The thing is, at this point, they still have a bit of optimism, um, in the back burners. They burn coal, they eat their canned food, and remember, the tins were marinated in lead, but they were still none the wiser. They were getting slowly poisoned, one tin at a time. And what are lead poisoning symptoms, you might ask? Don't ask Google, I'm about to tell you. Or you can ask Google, up to you, but stick around, please. Oh, nothing serious, really. Just a casual bit of hallucinations, joint pain, memory loss. Oh, and insanity. So perfect conditions for polar exploration. To put things simply, some men were dying, scurvy was kicking in, they're slowly unraveling body and soul. Bet they didn't put that on the postcard now, did they? But not only that, the crew were dealing with intense arctic weather, and everything that comes with that, like frostbite, for example. And also, let's talk about the sun for a second. Sometimes it can't be bothered to rise for months, and other times it can't be bothered to set. So all in all, it's a pretty confusing, horrible place to be. And then to make matters worse, the man who made this all happen, Sir John Franklin, well, he dies in June 1847. Eventually, after all of this, someone says, yeah, it's probably time to leave, isn't it? We can't really stay here anymore. We have to walk out. Good luck, everyone. But this isn't some kind of great turning point. This is where it goes from bleak, to a full-blown tragedy. Those who are luckily still alive, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it at this point, well, they had a decision to make. Some of the crew stayed on the ships, to protect the supplies, or they were just too unwell to move. And for some, they still had hope that the ice would improve somehow. Look at that, Jimmy. There's a crack in the ice. Uh, yeah, go on. Look, look, look, there it is. Oh, it's quite, it's quite a hairy crack. I didn't know ice was hairy. Uh, Barry, I don't think that's, I don't think that's a crack in the ice. I think that's just Gerald. Is it? Oh, oh yes. Oh, oh dear. But the vast majority, they abandoned ship and began the perilous journey overland, with the goal of traveling hundreds and hundreds of miles to Back River, Canada, to the nearest fur trading post. And remember, not sure how you can forget at this point, it was across Arctic tundra, and they were in Victorian wool, so they weren't exactly set up for success, to put it bluntly. And they also had to pull sleds with all the real survival essentials. Jenkins? Yes, sir. Did you pack the silver candelabra? I did, sir. Splendid, splendid. You never know who you're going to meet on these expeditions. Very good, sir. As you can imagine, they didn't get very far. But don't worry, chaps, the British are on their way to save the day. All be it a little late, but better late than never, I suppose. Though the mood in Britain was initially confident about the whole expedition, unease was beginning to set in, as they hadn't heard any news for years now. Lady Franklin was naturally worried, but so were members of Parliament and the national press, and they were all urging the Admiralty to finally send a search party, who were at first hesitant to acknowledge their alarm to the situation. But finally, they shrugged their shoulders and said, all right, fine, we'll send someone. Jeez, we get it. Beginning to send search parties in 1848, but it didn't end there with dozens more to follow. But it went beyond that. People were obsessed with what happened to the people on the expedition. Ballads were written such as Lady Franklin's Lament, and Victorian ladies were holding séances. Not really sure why, maybe to summon the army of the dead, maybe to try and speak to one of the dead crew members. Not really sure there. But everyone was trying to help in their own supernatural way. Yeah. Anyway, eventually, when the search parties reached the Arctic, they finally spoke to the Inuits, who had most of the answers, I'd like to add. Not a Ouija board, I'm afraid. But anyway, I won't dwell on that. So yes, they asked the Inuits, and the Inuits replied, yeah, you guys are out here. They were dying, lost, carrying dead weight. And remember that thing they did on Franklin's last expedition? Well, yeah, they were definitely doing that on this one too. Yep, you heard that right. Years later, search teams confirmed this, finding their remains scattered all over the ice, including bones with cut marks, which in other words is, meat was definitely back on the menu, if you'll pardon the pun. Yeah. But it wasn't just this that they found. The crew themselves had left notes near Victory Point. One in 1847, when things were kind of still okay. And another in 1848, when things had gotten a bit pear-shaped. This included death tolls, and also their decision to abandon ship. So from this and the other things they found, they could start to paint a picture of what had happened. But the crazy thing about these search parties is that men were dying A notable example is the McClure Arctic Expedition, who suffered the same fate of those who they're trying to find and even save. They got stuck in the ice as well, and they had to also abandon ship. But ironically, they were the first to discover and navigate the Northwest Passage. Talk about stealing thunder there, but we won't begrudge them for that. But if that doesn't sum up the absurdity of this whole thing, I don't really know what does. For the men of the Franklin Expedition, they weren't just explorers. They were sacrifices, victims of hubris of so-called greater men. And let's face it, they were sent into probably the most unforgiving place on Earth, with lead in their stew and high hopes. And when the whole thing ended in disaster, those in power, they buried the truth in the snow, they built a few statues, and they told everyone it was glorious. But this isn't to begrudge the people on the expedition itself. This group of 100 or so men, who signed up for their own reasons, maybe just for the hope of doing something significant, or with the modest idea of improving their tough lives at home. Remember, Victorian Britain was a pretty hard place to survive. But the thing is, whatever their reasons, they faced unbeatable conditions. And though at one point, it seemed they were sailing into history and victory over nature, they were in fact, heading towards an inevitable defeat and paid the ultimate price for it. Ooh, that got a bit melancholic at the end. But anyway, we hope you enjoyed this video. If you did, we've got lots more that we've already released, which are just as good. And we've also got lots more coming in the future. So stay tuned, and get everyone and your auntie to watch it. Go on, get Auntie Mabel to watch it. I don't want to watch it. You will watch it. No, I don't want to. Help me. 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