The sound of desperate striking fills my ears, as it has done so often for months. It was, of course, the sound of my crew, trying with all their might to dislodge the great Erebus from its frozen coffin. But I believe each and every one of us, the crews of both Erebus and Terror, know that it is a fruitless endeavour.

In my many years on the sea, I have discovered nary a place as hostile as this dreaded passage. A man may overcome the tribulations of war against his fellow man, but none alive are a match for the cruelty of nature.

As the men outside work away at the ice trapping them in place, their bodies are being battered and destroyed by the frozen winds that surround them. If it is intense enough, it won’t be long before those boys end up in a state as sorry as my own.

With barely the strength left to move, I open the journal on the desk next to my bed, checking the date one final time. 11th June, 1847. Roughly two years since I last saw my wife, since I last saw England.

I’m sorry, my dear Jane. I believe today is the day I will die. I wish only that I could have spent the rest of my years in your arms.

A searing pain shoots through me as I take up my ink pen in my frostbitten right hand. My handwriting barely legible, I take to writing my final words.

FRIDAY 11TH JUNE 1847

Captain’s Log entry 753

I believe this will be the last log I ever write. The cold has obliterated much of my body, and the last of my strength is beginning to leave me.

As a husband, as a father, and as a man of the seas, I have failed. Instead of at home, surrounded by those I love, I will die here, in the freezing tundras of Canada, having led my men to their demise.

With Fitzjames still at the helm, the men may make it out of this icy tomb alive. But I am afraid I will not be joining them. Is this fate a divine punishment for my actions? Or simply the result of a man’s insatiable hubris? I know not the answer, but I do know that my undoing is of my own making.

If ever this book makes its way to my family, I want Jane and Isabella to know that I love them dearly. They will be the last things on my mind as my body gives out, and my soul ascends to heaven.

My loves, I regret my parting from this world only because I leave you behind. If God allow, I will watch over your every moment in heaven.

Signing on for the final time,

Captain Sir John Franklin of The British Empire.

Content with my final goodbyes, I close the logbook and set it back upon the bedside table. Already, my consciousness begins to fade.

As the world slowly begins to turn black around me, I extend my arm one final time, reaching for the Beaufort Sea.

I’ve heard the waters are beautiful. I wish only that I could have seen them.