THE EREBUS STOOD LIKE A FORGOTTEN RELIC OF a bygone era. Caught in an ice floe that had separated her from her damaged sister ship, the Erebus had been pushed onto the shore by a mammoth caravan of winter sea ice that pressed down Victoria Strait some one hundred and sixty years earlier. A shipwreck that refused to die at sea, she had been thrust into the ravine and gradually entombed in ice.

The ice had encased the hull and cemented the port side of the ship to the steep hillside. The ship’s three masts still stood upright, tilted at an irregular angle and sheathed in a layer of ice that melded into the adjacent ridge. The starboard sides and deck were remarkably free of ice, however, as Pitt and Giordino found when they hiked up the gulch and climbed over the side rail. The men gazed in awe, incredulous that they were pacing the deck of Franklin’s flagship.

“Melt all the ice and she looks like she could sail back to England,” Giordino remarked.

“If she’s carrying any ruthenium, then I might consider a side trip up the Potomac first,” Pitt replied.

“I’d settle for a couple of blankets and a shot of rum.”

The men were shivering nonstop with cold, their bodies fighting to keep their internal temperature from dropping. Each felt a touch of lethargy, and Pitt knew they would have to find warmth soon. He stepped over to a ladderway aft of the main hatch and pulled off a crumbling canvas cover.

“Got a light?” he asked Giordino while peering down into the darkened interior.

Giordino pulled out a Zippo lighter and tossed it to him. “I’ll need that back if there should be any Cuban cigars aboard.”

Pitt led the way down the steeply inclined steps, snapping on the lighter as he reached the lower deck. He spotted a pair of candle lanterns mounted to the bulkhead and ignited their blackened wicks. The ancient candles still burned strong, casting a flickering orange glow over the wood-paneled corridor. Giordino found a whale oil lamp hanging on a nail nearby, which provided them a portable light.

Stepping down the passageway, the lamp illuminated a bizarre scene of murder and mayhem aboard the ship. Unlike the Terror, with its spartan appearance, the Erebus was a mess. Crates, garbage, and debris littered the corridor. Tin cups were scattered everywhere, while the distinct smell of rum hung in the air, along with a number of other dank odors. And then there were the bodies.