and officers made
excursions to the neighbouring islands to hunt. Their hopes revived with
the increasing light. Only 260 miles of unknown coast remained of the
north-west passage, and they believed that the New Year would see them
return home. The sun remained longer and longer above the horizon, and
at last the long Polar day commenced.

When the _Erebus_ and _Terror_ were released in late summer from their
prison of ice, and the small island could at last be left, three sailors
remained on the beach. Their gravestones, carved with a few simple
words, were found five years later by a relief expedition, and they
constitute the only proof that Franklin wintered at this particular
spot.

To the south lay an open channel, and this southern passage must in time
bend to the west. Mile after mile the vessels sailed southwards,
carefully avoiding the drifting ice. East and west were seen the coasts
of islands, and in front, in the distance, could be descried King
William Land, a large island which is the nearest neighbour to the
mainland. The north-west passage was nearly accomplished, for it was now
only about 120 miles westward to coasts already known. How hopelessly
long this distance seemed, however, when the vessels were caught in the
grip of the ice only a day or two later! Firmer and firmer the ice froze
and heaped itself up round the _Erebus_ and _Terror_; the days became
shorter, the second winter drew on with rapid strides, and preparations
to meet it were made as in the preceding year. The vessels lay frozen in
on the seventieth parallel, or a little south of the northernmost
promontory of Scandinavia; but here there was no Gulf Stream to keep the
sea open with its warm water. Little did the officers and crew suspect
that the waves would never again splash round the hulls of the _Erebus_
and _Terror_.

We can well believe that they were not so cheerful this winter as in the
former. The vessels were badly placed in the ice, in an open roadstead
without the shelter of a coast. They lay as in a vice, and the hulls
creaked and groaned under the constant pressure. Life on board such an
imprisoned vessel must be full of unrest. The vessel seems to moan and
complain, and pray that it may escape to the waves again. The men must
wonder how long it will hold out, and must be always prepared for a
deafening crash when the planks will give way and the ship, crushed like
a nutshell, will sink at once. But worst of all is th