The Arctic Ghost Ships Found in a Seattle Paper
A haunting inventory of the lost Franklin Expedition, recovered by Lieutenant Schwatka, offers a somber look at the items that survived a generation in the ice.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
In the rooms of the American Geographical Society, on Twenty-ninth street, are collected the last relics of the men who accompanied Sir John Franklin in his Arctic search. Lieutenant Schwatka has carefully preserved the smallest objects in any way connected with that ill-fated expedition, and they are now being carefully labeled, preparatory to being placed on private exhibition, before they are sent to England. For a generation these mementos have been lying in the sand or snow, or have been in the possession of the Esquimaux, and their battered appearance can hardly fail to add to the pathetic interest that envelops them. Some of the earliest discoveries were made at Irving Bay, including a rusty pike bearing the broad arrow of England. Near Lieutenant Irving's grave, explorers picked up a rusty tin box, a prize medal, the object glass of a telescope, brass buttons, and small shoe buckles. The most melancholy interest attaches to a large silk handkerchief, found near the grave, tattered and incrusted with mould. Many wooden articles, wonderfully well-preserved, were brought back, including pieces of a boat, snow-shoes, and a shoe so widely gaped at the seams that its appearance would be ludicrous did one forget its history. From Erebus Bay, a razor was found, the blade half eaten by rust, along with two combs and fish lines. Copper from the ships was turned to a variety of uses by the Esquimaux, including rude fish hooks, crescent-shaped knives, and even a dagger made entirely of bone. These instruments, fashioned by the native population, serve as a final, silent testament to the wreckage of the Erebus and Terror.
“The shoe, gaping open so widely at the seams that its appearance would be ludicrous did one forget its history.”
This report from 1880 offers a rare window into the Gilded Age's obsession with exploration and the 'civilizing' of the frontier. While Seattle's press focused on local hardware and land sales, they simultaneously curated international tragedy, highlighting the era's fascination with the 'heroic' failure of Arctic discovery—a stark contrast to our modern, climate-driven anxiety over the melting North.
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