Much has been written about Sir John Franklin’s lost Arctic expedition. Yet the role of the whalers has usually been mentioned only in passing if at all, and still less about their biographies.

Photo 1. Image of James Reid from the mounted set of Franklin expedition photographs made in 1845 (D8760/F/LIB/8/1/5, Derbyshire Record Office, Matlock, Derbyshire, UK). This is a calotype copy of the original daguerreotype (N: 589/5, Picture Library, Scott Polar Research Institute, Cambridge/UK), which was taken aboard HMS Erebus before the Franklin expedition departed. The copy was originally in the possession of Sir John Franklin’s daughter Eleanor Isabella (1824–1860), for whom it was certainly manufactured.

As is well known, the Admiralty decided in 1845 to send so-called “Greenland pilots” – whaling captains experienced in the Arctic – as ice masters to navigate in Arctic waters on Sir John Franklin’s last expedition, as they had done on the search expeditions for the Northwest Passage and Transpolar Passage for a good quarter of a century before (Markham, Reference Markham1875). That is why a whaling captain by the name of James Reid joined Sir John Franklin (1786–1847) as ice master of the flagship HMS Erebus (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 1). But the question of what had prompted the Admiralty to make this decision, although it was actually already generally believed at the time that the Royal Navy had sufficient experience in the Arctic itself after a dozen expeditions, has not even been asked, let alone answered. Nor has the question of why Reid decided to go in the first place, or who he was, been addressed. Richard J. Cyriax, in his 1939 monograph on the Franklin expedition – for a long time the reference work on the subject – just wrote that Reid “was a whaling captain who was selected to accompany the Arctic expedition on account of his extensive experience of ice navigation” (Cyriax, Reference Cyriax1997, p. 212). Although Cyriax also mentioned that Commander James Fitzjames, third in command of the expedition, considered James Reid to be a highly original character (ibid.), everything important seemed to have been said. Even the late W. Gillies Ross (Reference Ross1983, Reference Ross and Sutherland1985, Reference Ross1985a, Reference Ross1997, Reference Ross2019), who did the most research on British Arctic whalers and their role in the Franklin search over the last decades, barely mentions his name.

Therefore, it is no surprise that until recently, virtually nothing was known about the ice master of the Erebus. Since his name is simply the Scottish variant of the name Read, from the Old English “rēad” for “red,” which is originally nothing more than a designation of red-haired or red-faced people, it is not exactly rare in Scotland, especially around the Aberdeen area (Hanks, Coates, & McClure, Reference Hanks, Coates and McClure2016, pp. 2226, 2236). That is why it was not even certain which ships he was master of, because, among the Scottish whalers, there were several captains named Reid in the first half of the 19th century. With the rediscovery and publication of the last letters to his wife Ann, which are now in Australia (Potter, Koellner, Carney, & Williamson, Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022; Reid, Reference Reid1845), to which parts of the family had later emigrated, some light has been shed on the subject.

Even to his fellow voyagers, James Reid seemed somewhat strange and enigmatic. James Fitzjames wrote about him from aboard Erebus on 25 June 1845:

Although he had lived in Aberdeen for the last few years before the voyage, James Reid did not originally come from there, as Fitzjames assumed, but from the small whaling town of Montrose about 40 miles further south.

Henry Thomas Dundas Le Vesconte (1813–1848/51?), the 2nd lieutenant of Erebus, however, said in a letter home on 2 May 1845:

Apparently, no thought had originally been given to Greenland pilots when planning the expedition. Le Vesconte and others of the later officers of the expedition were apparently not alone in their opinion that this was not necessary. Already on some Arctic expeditions, such as that of Frederick William Beechey (1796–1856) in 1825–8 (Beechey, Reference Beechey1831, Markham, Reference Markham1875), the Admiralty had refrained from appointing an official ice master. James Clark Ross’s Antarctic expedition of 1839–1843 did not have a whaling master as pilot either (Ross, Reference Ross1847). On board HMS Erebus this role was assumed more than once by Thomas Abernathy (1803–1860). Nominally only a gunner on the expedition, he came from Peterhead, Scotland and had been brought up on merchant ships and whalers. He had subsequently taken part in several of William Edward Parry’s expeditions and in John Ross’s second (private) Arctic expedition 1829–1833 with the paddle steamer Victory (Ross, Reference Ross1835) as mate, on which he had accompanied James Clark Ross on many excursions, including that to the magnetic North Pole (Ross, Reference Ross1847).

Nevertheless, the fact that there were no experienced whaling masters on board certainly made life even more difficult for the two captains of Erebus and Terror, although together they had more experience in the ice than anyone else in the Royal Navy.

James Clark Ross (1800–1862) and Francis Crozier (1797–1848/51?), after all, had known exactly how difficult it could be to navigate the polar ice, even with an experienced whaling captain at their side, since their voyage with the hired whaler Cove in 1836 (Jones, Reference Jones1950).

Ross had initiated and led a Navy mission to rescue several whalers trapped in the ice (see, e.g. The Morning Post (London), No. 20 (290), 18 Dec. 1835, p. 1). In the end, however, the feared catastrophe did not happen because most of the ships were released by themselves, and the hasty mission was ultimately unsuccessful. Ross and Crozier had been unable to find the trapped whalers, despite the many years’ experience of Richard Wallis Humphreys as their pilot. Humphreys was a friend of Ross since he had rescued him and his uncle John in 1833 with the rest of their stranded crew from the Arctic while commanding the whaler Isabella (John Ross’s own former expedition ship of 1818). However, in the course of the 1836 voyage and the subsequent one towards the South Pole, James Clark Ross and Francis Crozier apparently came to realise not only how difficult manoeuvring in the ice could be but also the advantages of having a Greenland pilot on board. This was to have a long-term effect on the Franklin expedition.

When James Clark Ross informed his friend Francis Crozier that, contrary to the hopes of the Admiralty, he would not be taking command of the planned, hopefully, last search expedition for the Northwest Passage, and that it would now probably go to John Franklin, Crozier not only immediately agreed to sail under Franklin as his second-in-command but also made one further request, asking Ross on 31 December 1844:

Obviously a lot, because apart from Crozier actually becoming Franklin’s second, not only were second masters appointed as navigators for both ships (HMS Erebus, 1845; HMS Terror, 1845), as on the Antarctic expedition, but ice masters also. Ross had, therefore, also immediately informed the new expedition leader Sir John Franklin of Crozier’s proposal. The two had also apparently agreed that two ice masters – one for each ship – would be better than just one, because Franklin asked Ross in a letter dated 10 February 1845 (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, pp. 52–53), while the latter was in Yorkshire, and therefore near Hull anyway, not only to inquire with the whalers there about the recent Arctic ice conditions but added: “Will you also be good enough to enquire after the Ice Masters and leading men for both ships.” (ibid. p. 52) Ross’s search, however, was apparently unsuccessful. But at least word seems to have spread among the whalers that Franklin was looking for Greenland pilots, because shortly afterwards James Reid, an experienced whaling master, actually joined the expedition, of whom Franklin wrote to his wife in the beginning of June 1845:

So, possibly the officers’ attitudes also changed over time. Certainly, Henry (Harry) Goodsir (1819–1848/51?), the Erebus naturalist who, like Reid, came from Scotland, called him “a good hearted rough old sailor” (quoted from: Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 215). Even if all expedition members over 40 might have seemed old to the 25-year-old assistant surgeon, the characterisation is not only true because of his experience, for James Reid was probably actually older than previously assumed.

In 1854, in connection with the discussion about a widow’s pension for Ann, the Admiralty files (Great Britain, 1854) contain a reference to her having been 22 and the groom 24 years old when they married. According to the parish registers, James Reid had married Ann Walker, his “Loving Wife” (as he always called her in his letters, which also record his place of origin as Montrose), on 28 September 1818 in her home village, neighbouring Dun (Old Parish Registers Marriages 281/10 345 Dun, p. 345).

In the birth register, there is an entry that Ann was born on 3 November 1797 to William and Mary Walker, née Stephen (Old Parish Registers Births 281/10 222 Dun, p. 222.), which also corresponds sufficiently with the Census records, which give 1798 as her year of birth (Reid, Reference Reid1851, Reference Reid1861, Reference Reid1871).

To find James is admittedly more difficult. In the corresponding register for Montrose, there is an entry of 1 June 1801 for the birth of the son of Robert and Elizabeth Reid, née Prott (Old Parish Registers Births 312/50 222 Montrose, p. 222.), who was christened James and was previously thought to be the correct person (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 380). However, in view of the Admiralty records, this is not very likely.

But there is another, more appropriate entry, according to which James Reid was born on 20 January 1795 to William Reid and Mary Arcle (more often written: Arkley in other documents) and baptised on the same day (Old Parish Registers Births 312/50 149 Montrose, p. 149). That Robert and Elizabeth were not his parents is also supported by the fact that their names do not appear in the next generation, which would not have been in accordance with tradition. The names of William and Mary, on the other hand, do appear among the names of James Reid’s children: James (1819–1857), Alexander (1821–1837); David (1824–1839); William W. (1826–1860); Gilbert (1830–18??); John M. (1830–1875); Ann (1833–1899); Mary (1835–1909) and Alexandrina (1838–1901?) (Family Memorial, 1871), called by her father Alexanderina in his letters (see e.g. Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 110). Since their father mentions James, William, John (ibid. pp. 64, 66, 104, 111) “& the three young Lasess” (ibid. p. 111), his “three Darulins” (ibid. p. 65.) several times in his letters, but not Gilbert, one of the twins born after the family moved from Montrose to Aberdeen in 1830, it can be assumed that he too, like Alexander and David, was no longer alive at that time.

Presumably, James Reid came from a family of Scottish whalers (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842; Sanger, Reference Sanger2016, see also Coltish, Reference Coltish1842a), for at least his younger brother Charles (1798–186?) also went to sea as a whaler (Reid, Reference Reid1850). Both began their careers at Montrose: James, according to family lore, in 1813–1815, was a boat steerer on London, Brand master, where he remained later as a harpooner, while Charles was a seaman on Spencer, Keith master, in 1816–1817. (Anon., 1920; Coltish, Reference Coltish1842; Reid, Reference Reid1850). Charles then transferred to Aberdeen and was first harpooner and then mate on Bon Accord under the Scottish whaling master John Parker of Aberdeen from 1818 to 1831. On which ships James served at this time we do not know. However, he was more successful than his brother, being master of his own ship by the time he moved to Aberdeen in 1828 at the latest (Directory Aberdeen, 1832, p. 97). Probably, though, he had taken command of Henrietta – a whaler built at Whitby in 1764 – a year earlier (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842). Montrose was still a whaling town, but the number of ships registered there, just four, was far fewer than in Aberdeen (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842), to which more and more families eventually moved.

Presumably, Charles and James were not the first in the family to decide to take this step. Captain Reid had become the Master of Neptune in 1811 and took command of the newly built whaler St Andrew in 1813, and William Reid was to remain her Master’s name, apart from a few years between 1819 and 1826 when he commanded another ship (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842). While this alone does not necessarily mean that there was a relationship between the two, given the frequency of the name in the region, there is another clue:

At the birth of James Reid’s twins on 11 December 1830, besides the Shipmaster William Bruce (Old Parish Registers Births 168A/220 176 Aberdeen, p. 176.), the master of the Jane (Directory Aberdeen, 1829, p. 15), who was probably just a friend, a Shipmaster William Reid is also named as a witness (Old Parish Registers Births 168A/220 176 Aberdeen, p. 176). This is likely to have been, first, the Captain of the St. Andrew, for no other master of that name is listed in Aberdeen or Montrose as a mariner of any other vessel. Second, as he is a witness, and family members are also listed on the birth certificates of other children as witnesses (e.g. Charles in 1838 at the birth of James’s youngest daughter, see Old Parish Registers Births 168A/240 24 Aberdeen, p. 24), it is very likely that this William Reid is either James Reid’s father or his brother, born in 1797 (Old Parish Registers Births 312/50 169 Montrose, p. 169). It is possible that not only one but both of them lived in Aberdeen and went to sea together, for curiously enough St. Andrew is mentioned twice in the corresponding directory of that time, once as the ship of William Reed of “Verginia Street,” and once as that of William Reid of “St. Clemment’s-street” (Directory Aberdeen, 1829, pp. 97, 98). As the spelling of the street names suggests, the typesetter was not very precise, so that despite the names Reed and Reid, it could well be the same family.

That St. Andrew, which had only returned to Aberdeen from the Arctic in mid-October, was then under the command of Captain Reid is also confirmed by the press, which gave a detailed account of what he had to say about the worst season for a long time (Aberdeen Press and Journal, 14 Oct. 1830, p. 6). Of the 90 vessels sent into Davis Strait that year – 10 from Aberdeen, including St Andrew, Bon Accord and James Reid’s new ship Hercules – 19 did not return, 4 of which were from Aberdeen. Among them was the Alexander, the same ship that William Edward Parry had first sailed to the Arctic in 1818. Several of the returning vessels were severely damaged. The disaster went down in history as “Baffin Fair” because hundreds of sailors camped on the ice and did not want to let the alcohol supplies go to waste. Miraculously, however, most of the men survived (Laing, Reference Laing and Credland2003; Aberdeen Press and Journal 1830, Oct. 13, p. 3).

Apart from 1831, when the ship was under the command of Captain Allan, former master of Alexander (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842; Ross, Reference Ross1985a, pp. 29–51), James Reid remained master of Hercules till 1834. Although his family moved around town several times, he remained in Aberdeen and only did not go to the Arctic for the summer when there was absolutely no opportunity. In 1843–1844, he finally commanded St Andrew himself. But by then she had not been a whaler for some time. She had been sold in 1840, just like Neptune, which he subsequently commanded, to be used, like so many other whaling ships from the 18th or early 19th century, for a few more years in the supposedly less dangerous transatlantic timber trade (Lubbock, Reference Lubbock1937, p. 343). Like many ageing captains, Reid had decided a few years earlier to follow the ships into the mercantile marine when no opportunity arose to take command of a whaler. Whereas in the 1820s, there were still over a dozen whalers setting sail from Aberdeen each year, and still as many as 10 in 1830, by the early 1840s, there was no longer even a handful (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842).

According to a contract dated 22 August 1843, a copy of which is preserved in William Penny’s papers (Reid, Adams, & Smith, Reference Reid, Adams and Smith1843), James Reid was to fetch pines from North America with the Neptune. However, as the press later reported, a disaster occurred:

The crew was rescued, but the captain was dismissed, even though the claim that Neptune was a “total wreck” proved to be false, as a later letter from Reid proves. In the first of the preserved letters, James Reid had written to his wife from London on 22 March 1845:

This letter is revealing for two reasons: first, it provides a clue as to why James Reid finally decided to sign on to a Royal Navy expedition, although he does not seem to have had any closer contact with the Admiralty until then; and second, how he probably came into contact with John Franklin.

It is quite clear from the letter that it was primarily financial concerns and not pure love of adventure that prompted him to take this step, for in the same letter he confesses to Ann: “it hurts me very much to think how bad of[f] we are but I hope god will Spare me, on any of the ships we will get over this (ibid.).” This is why he made the wages of £18 a month a condition of his joining the expedition and resents Neptune’s owners for having previously dismissed him from service but now looking for him again to resume the command they had shortly before taken from him, just, he thought, to save money. His enthusiasm about them having surprisingly contacted him again was, therefore, limited, but at least it offered an alternative if the voyage of discovery to the Arctic should not come to anything: “If I wase clear of all in Aberdeen. & you & the family in London or any other Place I would bee happy – Aberdeen will never see me again […]” (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 64). This was, contrary to what was thought in retrospect, by no means “a sad prophecy” (Anon., 1920), but on the contrary the hope of a new beginning.

This hope also seemed to be fulfilled, for in the letter he wrote on 26 March, after he had come to an agreement with John Franklin, he first informed Ann, not without satisfaction:

But how did he come into contact with Franklin in the first place?

There is already a hint in his first letter. After informing Ann that, despite his surprise offer to take command of the Neptune again, he still intended to sail to the Arctic with Franklin if his financial demands were met, he came to talk about the Enderby brothers. That is certainly no coincidence. As is clear from this and the other letters, he knew all three of them and must have had a close relationship with at least one, because the latter was prepared to look after Reid’s financial affairs while he was in the Arctic. This was something one normally asked friends or relatives to do, unless a ship’s agent was engaged to do it. Francis R. M. Crozier, for example, asked his brother-in-law Charles Robert Magee (1794–18??) to do it (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 118). It was not normally part of the duties of “the famous whaling house of Enderby & Sons” (Melville, Reference Melville1851, p. 493), as Herman Melville had once called the London firm of brothers Charles (1797–1876), Henry (1800–1876) and George Enderby (1802–1891). At the end of the 1780s, their father Samuel Enderby (1719–1797) already owned fishing rights on all seas and worldwide trading concessions, and some 70 ships had sailed for him. Those days were long gone, however, not only because the heyday of whaling was over but also because the brothers were more interested in geography and discoveries in the polar regions than in the welfare of their own business (Ash, Reference Ash2015; Jones, Reference Jones1981, pp. 93–96). Their father had already encouraged his captains not only to hunt whales but also to go on voyages of discovery – for example, Abraham Bristow (c. 1771–1846) had discovered the sub-Antarctic Auckland Islands in August 1806 (Jones, Reference Jones1970). At that time, unlike later, both could be successfully combined, as the number of whales and seals was still large enough. The 1830–1833 voyage, which brought fame and glory to the Enderbys because Captain John Biscoes (1794–1843) not only circumnavigated Antarctica but also sighted unknown sections of its coast, which he named after his employers, was already a complete commercial failure (Jones, Reference Jones1964, Reference Jones1971; Savours Reference Savours1964, Reference Savours1970, Reference Savours1982, Reference Savours1983, Reference Savours and Raraty2021). But this did not make the Enderbys change their minds. In 1830, Charles and George Enderby as well as John Barrow were among the founders of the Geographical Society of London, the forerunner of the Royal Geographical Society. Since John Franklin was also one of the founding members (Lambert, Reference Lambert2009, p. 45), it is reasonable to assume that the contact between him and Reid came about through the Enderbys, who had probably recommended the whaling captain to the polar hero.

Apart from Reid’s general experience of many years in Arctic waters, it was probably decisive that he also knew how HMS Erebus would be likely to behave in Arctic ice, even though she had only been in Antarctic waters so far. In his letter of 26 March, James Reid mentions in passing: “The ship I go in is the Erebus, and the other is the Terror. just such ships as the Hecla but not Quite so Large” (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, pp. 66–67). Apparently, he was not only well acquainted with the size of Royal Navy bomb vessels converted into expeditionary ships but also did not have to explain to his wife what Hecla was. At first glance, this is surprising.

William Edward Parry’s former expedition ship was indeed larger than his new ship, but the difference was minimal: HMS Hecla was 375 tons burthen (builder’s measure), HMS Erebus 372 and HMS Terror 325 (Winfield, Reference Winfield2005, Reference Winfield2014; Winfield & Lyon, Reference Winfield and Lyon2004). Moreover, all three ships were originally designed by the same shipbuilder and were later converted from warships to expeditionary vessels according to the same plans. The public and even members of the navy had problems telling the Franklin expedition ships apart before they set sail. HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were not even sister ships, unlike HMS Erebus and HMS Hecla, which were of the same class and almost the same size. The latter were modernised and slightly enlarged versions of HMS Terror and her sister ships (Betts, Reference Betts2022). All this can only mean that James Reid, writing to his wife, was well aware of Franklin’s expedition ships. This seems obvious since by then he had not only met the officers but also the expedition leader himself (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, pp. 64, 66–67). Hecla, in turn, he knew because he had gone whaling with her in Davis Strait in 1834 and 1835 as her master.

After voyages to the Arctic under William Edward Parry and a deployment surveying the coast of Africa in 1830, HMS Hecla had been sold to Aberdeen. Her new owner was the merchant, shipowner, politician and later Member of Parliament Sir Alexander Bannerman (1788–1864) (Moulton & Robertson, Reference Moulton and Robertson1976), who first used the ship in trade between London and St Petersburg (Lloyd’s Register (1831), H-supplement pages, Seq. № H66). After his whaler Hercules had become less and less suitable for voyages into the ice due to its age, he had decided to refit the Hecla and send her to Davis Strait in 1834 instead, as its suitability for voyages into the ice was undisputed (Lubbock, Reference Lubbock1937, p. 299). The master of the Hercules since 1831 was none other than James Reid (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842; Directory Aberdeen, 1831, p. 106, 1832, p. 105, 1833, p. 112.), for there was no other master mariner of that name living in Aberdeen at that time. While his old ship transferred to the overseas trade, he took command of the Hecla (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842; Directory Aberdeen, 1834, p. 119). In 1834, he killed 5 whales with her in Davis Strait and brought home 63 barrels of whale oil; in 1835, it was 4 whales and 51 barrels. Although this did not make him one of the successful skippers, the owner does not seem to have blamed him personally, even though he sold the Hecla to Kirkcaldy (Coltish, Reference Coltish1842). Shortly before Franklin’s expedition sailed down the Thames, the two met for a glass of beer, as Reid wrote on 16 May 1845, delighted with the encounter (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, pp. 110–112). In the same letter, he also mentioned that he called on the Enderbys again: “I [saw] Mr. George but not Charles nor H[enry.]” (ibid. p. 111).

It is safe to assume that it was the Enderbys to whom James Reid owed his participation in the Franklin expedition – after all, he had written to his wife on 26 March:

But the expedition leader wanted to make use of his knowledge and experience in another way as well. Shortly after James Reid agreed to participate in the expedition, but even before he was officially appointed, John Franklin asked him for the same favour he had asked of James Clark Ross a few weeks before, using the same words, as Reid wrote to his wife on 26 March 1845:

That he asked his brother, and that Franklin was prepared to send him to other towns famous for whaling, shows that (among his acquaintances in Aberdeen and Montrose, at least) he had not yet approved of anyone he thought suitable, and obviously, he did not want everyone, for at the last moment after he had already sealed the letter, he added a note on the envelope:

Although there was at least one other shipmaster named Clark living in Aberdeen at the time, called James (Bon-Accord Directory, 1845, p. 88), Reid’s accusation that he was wasting his best days and daring nothing suggests that he had written to his former neighbour John B. Clark. Clark was the former master of the whaler Laetitia, with which he had sailed to the Arctic year after year from 1818 onwards. However, the Laetitia was one of the four Aberdeen ships that had remained in the ice in 1830. After the “Baffin Fair” and the loss of the only ship he had ever captained, Clark did not go to the Arctic again – possibly not even to sea – despite all his experience, wasting, in James Reid’s view, his best years. But apparently, he could not get himself up to go on the adventure.

Nevertheless, Reid apparently received a more promising answer from his brother, who had been in Dundee since 1840, first as mate and since 1842 as master of the Alexander (Reid, Reference Reid1850). Indeed, George Valentine (1791?–18??), who was probably the son of the legendary William Valentine (1764–1829) of Dundee (Archibald, Reference Archibald2013, p. 223), was willing to join (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 15). In 1817, George Valentine himself had become famous because he had been one of two captains who, after an unsuccessful season in the Greenland Sea, instead of returning to Scotland had sailed through in between the ice off the Greenland coast and the so-called middle ice in Baffin Bay and discovered the ice-free north water, to where the whales had escaped their pursuers until then (Sanger, Reference Sanger2016, pp. 97–98). It seemed that the second ice master and a few more suitable seamen had been found. But then, on 13 May, James Reid disappointedly informed Ann that the Admiralty, wanting to cast off all those he had struggled to find, had not deemed them fit enough and had dismissed them again on 25 April (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 15):

That Reid speaks of “Mr. Valentin” is a clear indication that this was a stranger to him, whereas he obviously did not need to explain to his wife who the black lad was, as she may already have known him. If so, it is likely to have been John Lindsey (1811–18??), for according to the entry in the Muster Book (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 15), he came from Montrose and was the first of those who were additionally hired in April as “disposable supernumeraries,” although they were to be “employed in the ordinary duties of the ship.” He was hired even before Valentine, who did not enter until 2 days later, on 13 April. Whether this was indeed a black seaman, as has recently been conjectured (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 412), is not so certain. Although it cannot be ruled out, as there were black sailors not only in the Royal Navy but also in the merchant navy, they rarely came from Scotland, which is why another explanation is more likely: in a part of Scotland where red-haired or red-faced people were so common that the name Reid, Reed or Read was one of the most common surnames, it probably only took a slightly darker complexion than usual, or black hair, to be nicknamed “black lad.” In the end, none of the experienced whalers or, as Reid had called them, “leading men,” whom he had chosen, went on the expedition as Greenland pilots or Ice Mates (the position was officially recorded as “Ice Quartermaster”), but many did in the search expeditions after Sir John Franklin and his crew had disappeared (Markham, Reference Markham1875). Only one sailor was originally appointed quartermaster on board HMS Erebus: William Bell (1809? –1848/51?), who came from Dundee and was a first entry in the Royal Navy, so he most likely came from a whaler since he was 36 years of age already (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 10). That is why James Reid told his wife on 19 May 1845: “I am sorry to say I am badly of[f] for Quarter Masters, and we are the leading ship, it will keep me much on my legs –” (ibid. p. 129). At least some whalers went as common sailors, despite their original hopes: “David Leys is not Quartermaster.” (ibid.), Reid had written in the same letter. Leys, who came from Montrose, was an acquaintance of Reid’s family, and Reid obviously cared for him (ibid. pp. 112, 282), but in the end, he went as able seaman on board HMS Terror (1845).

But maybe another person Reid knew and could rely on was on board the flagship: Daniel Arthur (1810?–1848/51?) came from Aberdeen, had originally enlisted able seaman and although he was transferred from a Royal Navy ship, it is likely he had been a whaler before because he became quartermaster as well before the ships left Greenland (HMS Erebus, 1845, No. 9).

Even if James Reid’s efforts to find an ice master for HMS Terror were ultimately in vain, one who was also agreeable to the Admiralty had been found, for in his letter of 13 May he also mentions in passing: “The other Ice Master is from Whitby, the name of Brinkly […]” (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 104). This version of the name, which James Reid spelled phonetically as he did many other words, was only one of many for the man who eventually went down in history as Thomas Blanky (1804–1848/51?) (Bullimore, Reference Bullimore2020, Reference Bullimore2020a).

Judging by his letters, James Reid was a family man and a whaler through and through. “Hopping this finds my three Darlings Quite well not forgetting yourself” was a typical ending of his letters (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 68). He missed his son James, who could have lent a helping hand down in London with all the things to be organised after they had landed back in the United Kingdom (Potter et al., Reference Potter, Koellner, Carney and Williamson2022, p. 64) – that James Reid uses the plural form “they” could mean that his oldest son had accompanied him on the disastrous last voyage on Neptune. Although he was not quite sure if it was good that his son was at sea at the same time as he, he was happy to see him (ibid. pp. 64, 66), just as he was when he met John, although he could not quite understand why his son did not want to take his father’s sea chest, saving him money (ibid. pp. 104, 111). After all, he too was about to put out to sea.

The quarrel over the chest that made the father seemingly so unhappy led to an admonition to his wife Ann to be careful of their sons:

But in the end, he proudly told Ann on 3 June: “I am Glade John is shipped again, if he is spaired, he will make a good Seaman” (ibid. p. 173). James Reid’s fears proved not to be true.

The gravestone that Mary placed in the Nellfield cemetery in Aberdeen after her mother’s death, in memory of her parents and brothers (all of whom apart from John, who died a few years later) who were no longer alive at the time (Family Memorial, 1871), shows that the family continued to stick together. James’s sons were not to forget or abandon their parents, as his eldest son’s involvement in the search for the Franklin expedition shows (see below).

Not only his son James but also his brother Charles and his closest friends among the whalemen were to set out in search of James Sr. after his disappearance. After all, his last thoughts before leaving Greenland had been for them and their welfare, as can be seen from his last letter from Greenland on 11 July, in which he tells Ann, among other things, what the locals had to say about the weather and the unusually good ice conditions before he continues:

It is surely no coincidence that while he did not remember most of the numbers of catches or names of ships and masters, he did remember those of Alexander, St. Andrew and the ship commanded by Parker of Hull – old legendary Truelove, built in 1764 (Credland, Reference Credland1995, pp. 60–65, 148–150). It is not surprising that James Reid was interested in the Alexander, as this was Charles Reid’s ship. She was then owned by the “Dundee and Union Whale Fishing Company” and her manager, whom Ann was to inform, was a certain Patrick Smith (Dundee Directory, 1842, 1853). Master of St Andrew was none other than his friend and former mate of Hecla William Penny (Tillotson, Reference Tillotson1869, pp. 122–128). The ship had by then passed into the ownership of “Messrs Oswald George & Co.” of Aberdeen, who had not previously been involved in whaling, wanting to try Penny as Master. John Parker (1803–1867) of Hull (Credland, Reference Credland1995, p. 69), who bore this epithet to distinguish him from his Scottish colleague of the same name, was apparently a friend of Reid as well as of Penny. Therefore, it is not surprising that it was these two who were to be the first to set out in search of John Franklin’s expedition and, therefore, their friend James Reid (Anon., 1847; Penny, Reference Penny1847).

Just like all the other members of the Franklin expedition, the ice master too did not return from the Arctic. After the last letters from Greenland had been sent, however, there was one last sign of life from him, even if it was not to be known in the United Kingdom until years later. The last two ships that the expedition ships – moored to an iceberg – encountered in Baffin Bay off Melville Bay on the coast of Greenland were the whalers Prince of Wales from Hull under Edward Dannett (1786–1853) and Enterprise from Peterhead under Robert Martin (c. 1800–1878) (Jones, Reference Jones1969). Danett reported on the encounter with Franklin’s officers on 26 July to J. R. Duncan, one of his ship’s owners, who in turn passed the information on 29 October 1845 onto Sir John Barrow (Duncan, Reference Duncan1845), while Martin wrote to Barrow himself on his return to Scotland (Martin, Reference Martin1845). Both letters were only brief reports that the expedition was well and in good spirits, though curiously unlike Duncan’s letter (Reference Duncan1845a), Martin’s letter was not published at the time. Since the Admiralty did not react in any other way, Martin did not consider it important. It was only when he happened to meet William Penny in Peterhead at the end of 1851 and told him about the encounter that the public learned of it through Penny’s letter to The Times (Penny, Reference Penny1851). In the ensuing debate, which mainly revolved around how long the expedition’s provisions could last, Martin himself finally spoke up, as people doubted his report. In an affidavit, he said the following, among other things, about the encounter with HMS Erebus and HMS Terror on 22 July 1845:

Robert Walker (1815–1890), the former chief mate of the Enterprise, who corroborated his former captain’s report, also recalled:

While both go into more detail that the conversation with Franklin was mainly about the successful hunting of birds and the expedition’s provisions, none of them mention what Martin talked about with Reid because neither the press nor the public were interested. Yet this could have been interesting, since the three of them might have known each other. Aside from that, it is still puzzling why a few days later, when the wind changed, the two whalers took the arising opportunity to cross Baffin Bay, while Franklin’s ships stayed behind. Thus, we are left with the simple mention of the last encounter with Reid before his trail is lost – or almost:

Thanks to her husband’s precautionary measures, Ann Reid not only received half of his pay – and thus, at £9 a month and even a 13th month’s salary, the most money of all the surviving wives of seamen of the expedition – but also a pension by the Admiralty afterwards (Great Britain, 1854).

Her eldest son James was to take part in the search for his father, first taking part in William Penny’s expedition 1850–1851, initiated and funded by Jane Franklin. While Penny commanded Lady Franklin James was mate on board her consort Sophia under the Scottish whaling master Alexander Stewart (1830–1872) (Ross, Reference Ross2019, p. 76). Due to a quarrel with Captain Horatio Thomas Austin (1800–1865), the leader of the Royal Navy’s squadron that his expedition was nominally part of, Penny decided afterwards to return to whaling. But he kept his eyes open for traces of the Franklin expedition every time he went back to the Arctic until the end of his days (ibid. pp. 61–3). James Reid Jr. meanwhile joined the next squadron sent to the Arctic as Ice Quartermaster of HMS Assistance, Sir Edward Belcher’s (1799–1877) flagship. A man named James Reid of the right age and origin can be found in the muster book (Assistance, 1852) and is also the captain of a sledge named Lady Franklin during a major sledge expedition in 1853 in search of the lost expedition (Great Britain, 1854a, p. 84). Both the name and the motto under which this particular sledge went can be seen as a hint that it was indeed commanded to be the son of the ice master of HMS Erebus: while the other sledges bore common mottos like “Success to the brave” or “Go forth in faith,” this one was more specific and may be chosen for more personal reasons: “Speed to the rescue” (ibid.). As is well known, this hope was in vain.

After his return from the Arctic, James Reid Jr., like all his brothers, went back into the merchant navy and to sea again, where he also found his grave in 1857 (Family Memorial, 1871). His brother William died of cholera in Calcutta (now Kolkata) in 1860 (Aberdeen Journal 6 June 1860, p. 7) and John passed away in 1875 (Family Memorial, 1871). The three sisters survived their mother, who remained in Aberdeen until her death on 25 June 1871 (Family Memorial, 1871).

Spelling, punctuation and marking in the quoted sources follow the originals. Deviations from the orthography common today have not been specially marked, and additions have only been made in square brackets where comprehension would otherwise have been impaired.