Dan Simmons - The Terror

They were all going home. If they left today, the healthy among them man-hauling the ill in the boats only the four miles on the winding trail through pressure ridges that Des Voeux had carefully charted, they would be afloat within three or four days, to the mouth of Back’s Great Fish River within the week. And it was probable that the opening leads had advanced even closer to shore by now!

Filthy, ragged, slumped creatures emerged from their tents and left their desultory camp chores to come out to stare at Des Voeux’s party.

The cheering of Des Voeux’s men – Fat Alex Wilson, Francis Pocock, Josephus Greater, George Cann, Robert Johns, Thomas Tadman, Thomas McConvey, and William Mark – died as they looked at the dour, immobile, haunted-eyed faces of the men facing them. The men from the camp could see the seals being dragged, but they seemed to have no reaction.

Mates Couch and Thomas came out of their tents and down the shingle to stand in front of the line of Rescue Camp spectres.

“Did someone die?” asked Charles Frederick Des Voeux.

Second Mate Edward Couch, First Mate Robert Thomas, First Mate Charles Des Voeux, Erebus Captain of the Hold Joseph Andrews, and Terror Captain of the Maintop Thomas Farr were crowded into the oversized tent that had been used as Dr. Goodsir’s hospital. The amputees, Des Voeux had learned, had either died in the four days he was gone or been moved back to smaller tents shared with the other sick men.

These five in this tent this morning were the last officers with any command authority left alive – or at least at Rescue Camp and well enough to walk – from the entire John Franklin Expedition. They had just enough tobacco left for four of the five – Farr did not smoke – to have their pipes going. The interior of the tent was filled with blue smoke.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the thing from the ice that committed the carnage you found out there?” asked Des Voeux.

Couch shook his head. “We thought that might be the case at first – in fact, that was our assumption – but the bones and heads and remaining pieces of flesh we found…” He stopped and bit down hard on the stem of pipe.

“Had knife marks on them,” finished Robert Thomas. “Lane and Goddard were butchered by a human being.”

“Not a human being,” said Thomas Farr. “But some vile thing in the shape of a man.”

“Hickey,” said Des Voeux.

The others nodded.

“We have to go after him and the murderers with him,” said Des Voeux.

No one spoke for a moment. Then Robert Thomas said, “Why?”

“To bring them to justice.”

Four of the five men looked at one another. “They have three shotguns now,” said Couch. “And almost certainly the captain’s percussion-cap pistol.”

“We have more men… guns… powder, shot, cartridges,” said Des Voeux.

“Aye,” said Thomas Farr. “And how many of them would die in a battle with Hickey and his fifteen cannibals? Thomas Johnson ne’er came back, y’know. His job was just to track Hickey’s band, make sure they was leaving like they said they was.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Des Voeux, removing his pipe and tamping at the bowl. “What about Captain Crozier and Dr. Goodsir? Are you just going to abandon them? Leave them to Cornelius Hickey’s whims?”

“The captain ain’t alive,” said Captain of the Hold Andrews. “Hickey wouldn’t have no reason to keep Crozier alive… unless it was to torture and torment him.”

“All the more reason to send a rescue party after them,” insisted Des Voeux.

The others did not respond for a moment. The blue smoke swirled around them. Thomas Farr untied the tent door and opened it wider to let some air in and smoke out.

“It’s been almost two days since whatever happened out on the ice happened,” said Edward Couch. “It would be several more days before any party we sent could find and fight Hickey’s group, even if they could find them. All the devil has to do is travel farther out on the ice or inland to throw us off. The wind obscures tracks in hours… even sledge tracks. Do you really think Francis Crozier, if he’s alive now – which I doubt – would be alive or in any shape to be rescued in five days or a week?”

Des Voeux chewed the stem of his pipe. “Dr. Goodsir, then. We need the surgeon. Logic dictates that Hickey would keep him alive. Goodsir may be the reason Hickey and his accomplices came back.”

Robert Thomas shook his head. “Cornelius Hickey may need Dr. Goodsir for his own infernal purposes, but we don’t any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that most of our good surgeon’s potions and instruments were left behind – he brought only his portable medical kit,” said Farr. “And Thomas Hartnell, who’s been his assistant, knows which potions to administer and how much and for what.”

“What about actual surgery?” asked Des Voeux.

Couch smiled sadly. “Lad, do you really think that anyone who needs actual surgery from this point on in our travels is likely to survive, no matter what?”

Des Voeux did not answer.

“And what if Hickey and his men ain’t goin’ nowhere?” asked Andrews. “And never planned to? He come back to kill the captain, grab Goodsir, and take poor John Lane and Bill Goddard and carve ’em up like animals. He sees all of us as livestock. What if he’s just waiting out there beyond the next rise, waiting to attack the whole camp?”

“You’re turning the caulker’s mate into a bogeyman,” said Des Voeux.

“He done that to his self already,” said Andrews. “But not a bogeyman, the Devil. The actual Devil. Him and his tame monster, Magnus Manson. They sold their souls – God-damn them – and received some dark power for it. Mark my words.”

“You’d think that one real monster would be enough for any arctic expedition,” said Robert Thomas.

No one laughed.

“It’s all one real monster,” Edward Couch said at last. “And not a new one to our race.”

“So what are you all suggesting?” Des Voeux asked after another spell of silence. “That we run from a five-foot-tall demon caulker’s mate and just head south with the boats tomorrow?”

“Me, I’m saying we leave today,” said Joseph Andrews. “As soon as we load the boats with the few things we’re takin’. Man-haul through the night. With luck, there’ll be enough moonlight to guide by when she rises. If not, we use some of the lantern fuel we kept back. You said yourself, Charles, that the wands is still out there markin’ the way. They won’t be after the first real storm blows through.”

Couch shook his head. “Des Voeux’s men are tired. Our people are totally demoralized. Let’s have a feast tonight – eat every one of those eight seals you brought in, Charles – then leave tomorrow morning. We’ll all have more of a sense of hope after a big meal, some cooking and light using the seal oil, and a good night’s sleep.”

“But with men on watch tonight,” said Andrews.

“Oh, aye,” said Couch. “I’ll stand watch myself. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“There’s the question of command,” said Thomas Farr, looking from face to face in the dim light filtering through the canvas.

Several of the men sighed.

“Charles is in overall command,” said First Mate Robert Thomas. “Sir John himself promoted him as first mate of the flagship when Graham Gore got killed, so he’s senior officer.”

“But you were first mate on Terror , Robert,” Farr said to Thomas. “You have seniority.”

Thomas shook his head adamantly. “ Erebus was the command ship. When Gore was alive, it was understood that he had overall expedition command above mine. Charles’s got Gore’s job now. He’s in charge. I don’t mind. Mr. Des Voeux is a better leader than me, and we’re going to need leadership.”