Out Stack, 1849
Dreadful images haunt her mind, The chief of those being nothing But ice and snow as far as eye can see. A vast expanse that only ends At the gloomy, grey horizon, Full of foreboding and portending - what? She dreads to think what these dreams might foretell. Remembrance of the dreams comes to her now As she sits on the little wooden boat That has just cast off from Muckle Flugga. The sun, hidden for the moment behind A cloud, casts a weak light over the scene That faces her and surrounds her. So dismal and dramatic is the view, So unlike the towns and cities she knew, With their pent-up streets and pent-up people Who only see places like this in books And papers full of lurid pictures And telling the most horrid stories About her husband's dreadful disappearance. She had read them all, searching for a clue To her dear John's whereabouts, and one by one The pictures flash past in her fevered mind. A sudden gust of cold October wind Brings her back to present reality, Reminding her of where she is and why. Too engrossed has she been with her own thought To talk to the boatman in front of her, Who has been quiet all this time. Perhaps he is unsure about his guest, And the wisdom of her expedition. Perhaps he is embarrassed by The difference in their dress and state. Perhaps he simply feels quite ill at ease In the company of women. The only woman he had ever known, The only woman he had ever loved Was the woman his boat is named after - His dear, departed Maggie. The passenger carries a little book, Finely bound in light brown leather - The four Gospels and the psalms of David. The first page was blank so the owner Could write down her own special lines, Those passages particularly dear. The lady reads the eight words written there. She raises her head to address The boatman, who is rowing silently. Pointing north-west, she says excitedly: "Could you take me to that rock please, The tiny one not far away from us?" The boatman turns his head to where she points Then, turning back to her again, He answers "That is Out Stack, miss". "I'd like to visit it, if that's all right. Would you take me to it?" she asks again, Standing as if to get out of the boat As if he has agreed to her request And the boat is there already. "Sit down please miss" the boatman says In a voice that commands and reprimands. Embarrassed by her silly recklessness Which could have caused the boat to tilt and sink She takes her seat again immediately. Without another word he steers the boat To Out Stack and within a little while The island is reached and the oars, In the trustworty hands of the mariner, Bring the boat to a slow and steady halt. "You can stand up now miss" he says. Perhaps a little smile plays on his lips As he sees her still seated, awaiting His permission to leave the seat. But in her eagerness to reach the rock She does not notice this. As she stands up, The sailor takes her hand and leads the way. Soon she is standing on top of the rock, The little book of Scripture in her hand. Silently she stands, looking out to sea, Her dark eyes scanning the horizon As if hoping to achieve what others Had tried to do for years, and failed. The old sailor feels he is intruding On private thngs, so silently withdraws, But keeps his eyes upon her lest she need him. She stands there for a long time, watching, silent, Her moist, dark eyes gazing to the distance. Her lips move, as if she is communing With a spirit unseen by all but her; Then suddenly, after some minutes, She stretches her black-sleeved arms in front of her And, with tears streaming down her lovely eyes, She says "Send love on the wings of a prayer". Having performed this act of love, She turns to the sailor, and smiles for the first time, Though her face still glistens with her late tears. "I'd like to go home now" she says. In 1845 English explorer Sir John Franklin set out to discover the Northwest Passage, which would give a safer sea route to the Orient. He didn't return. When fears were raised for his safety, his wife began a campaign travelling throughout the length and breadth of Britain, appealing for volunteers to go on a search and rescue mission. One of these journeys took her, in 1849, to the islands off the north coast of Scotland. She asked to be taken to Out Stack, a rock which is the northernmost piece of land in Britain. The Shetland writer and folklorist Jessie Saxby reported: "She stood on the Out Stack and said 'send love on the wings of a prayer', quite silent with tears falling slowly and her hands stretched out toward the north". Ten years after her visit to Out Stack, Lady Franklin discovered that Sir John had died in 1847.
