Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/379

368 forty white  men  were  seen  early  one  spring,  dragging a boat  and  sledges  south  upon,  or  near,  King William’s Land. The men  were  thin,  and  supposed to  be  getting  short  of  provisions; the  party was led  by  a stout  middle-aged  man. Later in the  season,  after  the  arrival  of  the  wild  fowl  (May), but before  the  ice  broke  up,  the  bodies  of  thirty persons, and  some  graves,  were  discovered  on  the continent, and  five  other  corpses  on  an  island; some of  these  bodies  were  in  a tent,  others  under the boat  which  had  been  turned  over  to  afford shelter. Of those  corpses  seen  on  the  island,  one was supposed  to  be  a chief; he  had  a telescope over his  shoulders,  and  a double-barrelled  gun beneath him. The native  description  of  the  locality where  this  sad  scene  was  discovered  agreed exactly with  Montreal  Island  and  Point  Ogle,  at the  entrance  of  the  Great  Fish  River; and  knowing what  we  now  do  of  the  position  of  the  ships, the date  of  abandonment,  and  taking  all  circumstances into  consideration,  it  is  now  vain  to  suppose that  any  survivors  exist  of  the  crews  of  the Erebus and  Terror; nor  is  it  likely  that  records  of their  voyage  will  now  be  found,  as  we  may  be assured  that  no  Christian  officers  or  men,  would  for one moment  think  of  dragging  logs,  books,  or journals  with  them  when  they  were  obliged  to abandon  their  dying  comrades  on  King  William’s Land: and, indeed,  when  it  is  remembered  that they neither  cached  journals  or  books  of  any  description at  Cape  Victory,  or  the  deserted  boat,  it is  not  probable  that  any  were  ever  taken  out  of the  vessels  at  a juncture  when  the  sole  object must have  been  to  save  life — and  life  only.

We shall  soon  learn,  from  the  publication  of Captain  M’Clintock’s  journals,  how  a woman’s devoted love,  and  a generous  nation’s  sympathy, at last  cleared  up  the  mystery  which  once  hung over the  voyage  of  her  Majesty’s  ships  Erebus  and Terror, and  secured  to  Franklin  and  his  followers the honour  for  which  they  died — that  of  being  the First Discoverers  of  the  North-West  Passage.



Before these  pages  will  be  in  the  hands  of  our readers a grave  in  Westminster  Abbey  will  have opened and  closed  over  the  remains  of  Robert Stephenson. He too  is  gone —so  soon  after Brunei, that  we  conceive  of  the  Angel  of  Death, our fancy  playing  with  his  terrors,  as  commissioned to remove  the  Chiefs  of  the  engineering  world. Both were  the  eminent  sons  of  illustrious  fathers, -who died,  like  those  sons,  at  no  long  interval from each  other. But it  was  the  lot  of  Robert Stephenson to  stand  as  it  were  in  the  shadow  of a parent  greater  than  himself  in  some  respects: greater in  the  bound  he  made  from  lowliness  to fame  by  a single  conception  and  by  herculean energy, but  not  greater  in  the  largeness  of  his heart or  understanding,  or  more  deservedly honoured and  beloved  by  the  world.

Robert Stephenson  was  a great  man,  if  we  try him by  his  works  and  look  only  to  the  material tests of  his  professional  eminence. If George Stephenson was  the  parent  of  the  locomotive engine, Robert  may  be  justly  styled  the  parent  of the  railway  system  as  it  exists  among  us. He was the  engineer  of  the  London  and  Birmingham (now London  and  North-Western)  railway,  the first long  line  that  was  opened  between  the metropolis and  the  distant  provinces: and,  if  the name of  Brunei  will  be  for  ever  associated  with that of  the  Great  Western  on  land,  and  the  Great Eastern on  the  waters,  the  name  of  Robert