Hawkins, it will have been remarked, was no bigoted “lime-juicer;” although he knew the virtues of anti-scorbutic acids, he had a correct apprehension of the need of cleanliness, dry clothing, exercise, amusements and discipline, and if he had understood the need of wind-sails for the ventilation of ’tween-decks, he would have had as scientific a grasp of the whole question as Blane had two centuries after. But in the end of the Tudor period, and in the Stuart period, with abounding enterprise and national expansion, there was little sense of the personal need of breathing space, whether in ships or in houses. The number of souls on board, in proportion to a ship’s tonnage, was twice or thrice as great as the Board of Trade now allows. It was not only in long voyages, or in the monotony of tropical calms, that scurvy was apt to invade a crew. The following experience, on our own shores, is credible enough: In 1611 Purchas was shown a letter from Newfoundland, giving an account of a winter spent there, the writer taking credit to himself for the small amount of scurvy among the men under him: in a company of 39 persons, only four were wanting in the spring; but, by way of contrast, he recalls what happened at home in the year 1600[1141]:
“One Richard Fletcher, that is master pilot here, and a director of the fishing, reported unto me that he was one of the company, consisting of forty persons, that went in a drumbler of Ipswich called the ‘Amitie,’ to the north of Ireland about eleven years ago from London in the late Queen’s service under the charge of one Captain Fleming, and continued there the space of two years. In which time two and thirty died of the scurvie, and that only eight of them returned home, whereof the said Richard Fletcher was one ... notwithstanding that there were to be had fresh victuals and many other helps, which their country [Newfoundland] as yet hath not, but in good time may have.”
We have not yet come to any deliverance of the faculty on the subject of scurvy; Hawkins appears to be giving merely his own experience and reflections. Beside these we may here place the contemporary observations and practice of the French laymen, which are expressly at variance on some points with medical teaching. Some time previous to 1609, Marc Lescarbot wrote an account of ‘the voyage of M. de Monts into New France;’ the expedition sailed from Havre in March, 1604. Their first winter in Canada is thus related[1142]:
In the meanwhile the cold and snows came upon them.... Many idle, sluggish companions drank snow-water, not willing to take the pains to cross the river. “Briefly, the unknown sicknesses like to those described unto us by James Quartier in his relation, assailed us. For remedies there was none to be found. In the meanwhile the poor sick creatures did languish, pining away by little and little for want of sweet meats, as milk or spoon meat for to sustain their stomachs, which could not receive the hard meats, by reason of let, proceeding from a rotten flesh which grew and overabounded within their mouths; and when one thought to root it out, it did grow again in one night’s space more abundantly than before.... There died of this sickness thirty-six; and thirty-six or forty more that were stricken with it recovered themselves by the help of the Spring, as soon as the comfortable season appeared. But the deadly season for that sickness is the end of January, the months of February and March, wherein most commonly the sick do die, every one at his turn, according to the time when they have begun to be sick; in such sort that he which began to be ill in February and March may escape, but he that shall overhaste himself, and betake him to his bed in December and January, he is in danger to die in February and March, or the beginning of April.... M. de Poutrincourt made a negro to be opened that died of that sickness in our voyage, who was found to have the inward parts very sound except the stomacke, that had wrinkles as though they were ulcerated.”
Then follow Lescarbot’s views of the treatment and prevention of scurvy. After advising to avoid “cold” meats without juices, gross and corrupted, salted, “smoaky,” musty, raw and of an evil scent, including dried fishes, he proceeds:
“I would not, for all that, be so scrupulous as the physicians, which do put in the number of gross and melancholy meats, beeve’s flesh, bear’s, wild boar’s and hog’s flesh (they might as well add unto them beaver’s flesh, which notwithstanding we have found very good), as they do amongst fishes the tons [tunnies], dolphins, and all those that carry lard; among the birds the hernes, ducks and all other water-birds; for, in being an over-curious observator of these things, one might fall into the danger of starving. They place yet among the meats that are to be shunned, bisket[1143], beans and pulse, the often using of milk, cheese, the gross and harsh wine and that which is too small, white wine, and the use of vinegar”
—just like our own great masters in prohibitory dietetics.
Lescarbot’s advice agrees on the whole with that of Sir R. Hawkins: the men should be well shod and clothed, merriment should be encouraged, and again:
“Good wine taken according to the necessity of nature, it is a soveraigne preservative for all sickness, and particularly for this. The young buds of herbs in the Spring time be also very soveraigne.... We have had some sick that have been (as it were) raised up from death to life, for having eaten twice or thrice of a coolice made of a cock.”
In the voyage of Sir Thomas Smith to Baffin’s Bay in 1616, the treatment of scurvy by vegetable juices is mentioned: “Next day, going ashore on a little island we found great abundance of scurvie grass, which we boiled in beer, and so drank thereof, using it also in sallet, with sorrel and orpen, which here groweth in abundance; by means whereof, and the blessing of God, all our men within eight or nine days shall gain perfect health, and so continue till our arrival in England[1144].”