The Terror

They saw many men on foot.

All starving.

He met them?

"We saw a captain there.

The one called 'Aglooka.'"

Ask him...

if one of these men is the one he's calling "Aglooka."

"He spoke in our tongue.

He was dying."

"He pointed south,

says they were going overland, home."

"But they could barely walk."

"And with Tuunbaq behind them."

"Tuunbaq"?

"Behind them, coming. Always coming."

Someone was pursuing them? An Esquimaux?

"From the shamans."

"The thing that eats, on two legs and four."

"The thing made of muscles... and spells."

I don't understand. Is he describing a man?

Sorry, Sir James.

I don't know what the hell he's describing.

What did Francis say?

Aglooka?

"Your friend took my hands.

He said, 'Tell those who come after us not to stay.'"

"The ships are gone.

There's no way through. No Passage."

"Tell them we are gone."

"Dead...

and gone."

Billy, take this one up with you

and don't let him down until he can do becket bends with his eyes closed.

Yes, sir.

- Come on, then. - Captain.

Captain, sir.

Daily observations are starting to make for bizarre reading, sir.

Well, magnetic north wanders miles every day.

We're within its circle now.

It will be tall headlines for the men.

Terror is signaling, Sir John.

Captain Crozier requests an ice report.

Shall I send Mr. Reid back?

No. Tell Francis James and I will be joining him for dinner.

Mr. Terry!

Open the flag box!

Word has it they have not yet run out of beef tongue on Terror.

Tell Mr. Diggle

Sir John and Commander Fitzjames are coming aboard to dine tonight.

He can choose whatever he likes in my storeroom. He'll enjoy that.

- Yes, sir. - Did you see them?

I saw them.

Of all the hardships of Discovery Service,

this may be the toughest, Thomas.

Keep it to three courses, it will be over before you know it.

Not with Fitzjames there.

We'll have to hear his whole saga

about policing that massive islet of guano off the coast of Namibia.

Or the time he got shot by the Chinese.

I'm inclined to put the food in my ears.

- One more go. - Let it go now.

Pull away on the rope.

That's it.

Welcome aboard, Sir John.

Captain Fitzjames.

If we're near the pole, we'll see King William Land any day.

Look who's an expert.

Mr. Farr showed me on a chart.

Past King William Land

we get to the American coast, and it's all mapped out from there.

Hello, boy.

That thing whined all night. Must be sick, or got a scent.

With the right wind, he can smell bears at a mile.

What rank is that dog?

You ever wonder that?

He's on deck most nights, so I'd guess you could call that watch duty.

I don't know. That would make him an AB, or a marine.

But he walks the quarterdeck, so that makes him a petty officer at least.

Right? And some nights he's back there in officer's country.

Petty officers can't sleep aft.

So that's considered a wardroom officer?

What would that be?

A mate? A lieutenant?

Are we still talking about this dog?

It's of consequence, isn't it?

Putting a dog above a man. Who serves who?

It's a ship's dog. We put up with it.

I haven't settled the matter of spirits for tonight.

But is there anything special you require, sir?

More open water clear to the Pacific,

and then we can go home.

We're close, sir.

Be careful how you use that word, "close."

This is the Discovery Service.

"Close" is nothing.

It's worse than nothing.

It's worse than anything in the world.

Well, the brigades already ashore

were catching every kind of fire, so I was bringing up the Congreves.

- The rockets? - Yes.

Ironic, considering it was the Chinese themselves

who had pioneered the things.

We shot the marksmen down off the city walls and we started up.

As I climbed the ladder, I was thinking of...

Caesar crossing the Rubicon.

We reached the top, and I saw the city of Chinkiang

laid out before us, wavering in the morning heat.

And the soldiers in the alleys below started using their matchlocks on us,

those muskets for which you carry a lit taper at all times.

But in such dry conditions...

when we would shoot one of them,

they would fall down on top of these tapers

and they would catch fire like tinder piles.

So soon the whole city was dotted

with these lone columns of personal smoke,

and the whole view smelled of roast duck.

And then... we rushed down into the streets to assist the 49th,

which we could hear was under attack.

We came upon a pack of Chinese behind a street barricade.

And I had just loaded a rocket and aimed

when I was pierced.

Single musket ball, the size of a cherry.

It passed clean through my arm and kept on in,

making a third wound here, entering my chest.

Shot that killed Lord Nelson at Trafalgar.

And had it not used up most of its energy on my arm,

yes, I might have ended same as he.

They finally got me back to the Cornwallis,

where it was our very own Dr. Stanley who dug out the shot.

It turned the war. The Chin'g mission signed the treaty five weeks later.

By which time I was up and about,

my arm in a sling, smiling for the official portrait. Have you seen it?

Tell us about Birdshit Island, James.

That's a capital story.

Mr. Reid and I chatted about the ice today.

He tells me we've started sailing past slabs

he thinks are not part of the summer break-up.

- Old ice? - He's not concerned.

We're close to an intersection with some bigger channel

coming from the north, bringing bergy bits with it.

But it means our little summer straight is likely coming to an end.

It has yet to be named,

and I thought Sir James Ross

could be honored thusly.

Hear, hear.

Do you approve, Francis?

He'll be very pleased.

It's on account of the magnetic energy here.

I heard when Sir John got as far as he got in '23,

his hair grew two inches in a week, and they weren't even close to here.

Is that why you signed on, then, Strong? To get your two inches?

You alright?

Young?

David?

David?

David!

Turn him over! He can't breathe!

Get a doctor now!

Come on!

Roll him over!

I don't want to be the first one to say the word, Sir John,

but we're all thinking it.

None of the three who died at Beechey showed any sign of it.

And even if it's the case now, we will be in the Pacific

before it has a chance to don its undertaker's weepers.

Your confidence is reassuring, of course.

You're not confident?

With all our progress?

I don't know why. We've all but found the Passage in a year.

We're not rowing drekars, after all.

In this place, technology still bends the knee to luck, James.

Sir.

We've given the boy a Dover's powder and settled his spasms.

He's resting now, as he can.

But he has dark blood in his stool.

Digested blood. He's bleeding above his colon.

- That's a vivid description. - Is it scurvy?

I see nothing to mark it as such, but can't rule it out.

But if I were to wager a guess at this point,

I'd say the patient's consumptive.

- It doesn't always attack the lungs. - Dr. Stanley should examine him.

Perhaps he can discern something more.

- I'll send a gig for him. - There's no need.

We'll take him with us.

Young? In his condition?

Yes. Wrap him up well and have our boat readied.

I would hesitate to move him, sir.

I don't frankly know how much spirit the boy has left in him.

A bit of cool air will freshen him.

He'll be tucked up just the same in half an hour.

Steady now.

Ease away.

Oh, Francis, tell your cook "yes" to the calf's head,

"no" to the capers he cooked it with.

For future visits.

Good night, Francis.

Try to shake the brown study.

All is well.

All clear. Heave away.

There is nothing worse than a man who has lost his joy.