The first New Year's Day was saddened by the death of one of their comrades, and the silent ice-fields witnessed another impressive sight when the crews of both vessels slowly marched ashore to the grave dug in the frozen soil of Beechy Island. The body, wrapped in a Union Jack, was borne by the deceased man's messmates, the members of his watch headed by their officers following, and after them the remainder of the officers and crew. The bells of each ship tolled as the _cortège_ passed over the ice, the crunching of the crisp snow under foot being the only other sound till the grave was reached. There the solemn and impressive service of a sailor's funeral was said, the mingled voices as they repeated the responses passing as a great hum through the still, cold air. A momentary silence followed as the flag-swathed figure was lowered into the grave, and then a quick rattle of firearms as the last salute was paid echoed far and wide among the icebergs. Twice more was that scene repeated before the ships cleared from the ice, and one of the first signs discovered by the searchers after Franklin were the three headstones raised on that lonely isle to the memory of W. Braine, John Hartwell, and John Torrington, who died while the ships were wintering in the cold season of 1845-6. By July the ice had broken up and the voyage was resumed and passed without any exceptional incident, up to the middle of September 1846, when they were again caught by the ice, but 150 miles nearer their destination than the year before. Only 100 miles more to be sailed over and they would be the conquerors--but that 100 miles was too firmly blocked with ice-floes for them ever to sail over. The winter of 1846-7 was passed just off the most extreme northerly point of King William's Land. The ice was particularly heavy, and hemmed the vessels in completely, the surface being too rugged and uneven to permit of travelling in the immediate vicinity even of hunting parties. This was the more unfortunate because the provisions were growing scant, and supplies brought in by hunters would have been of great assistance. At the time of starting, the vessels had only been provisioned for three years. Two had now passed, so that only a twelvemonth's stock of food remained in the holds. It might occupy them all the next summer in working through the remaining 100 miles of the passage, and that would leave them with another winter to face, unless they were sufficiently fortunate in finding open water when they reached the end. But, on the other hand, they might not be able to get through in the time, or the passage might not be navigable. Either possibility was full of very grave anxiety for those in command, for it was a terrible prospect of being left, with 130 men to feed, in the midst of the frozen sea, "a hundred miles from everywhere."