May 8th.—We at length forced ourselves to believe that the disease from which our men were suffering was really scurvy. We issued to those who were afflicted daily allowances of lime-juice from the small stock that we brought away with us.
But it was with the utmost difficulty that a small allowance for each could be thawed. The lime-juice was in two bottles. On putting one near the cooking apparatus to thaw, the bottle cracked and fell to pieces. At last I adopted the plan of placing the other bottle between my legs when in the sleeping-bag, and, after a long time, I succeeded in thawing a small quantity. But it is now known that this was of no use; for the state of the lime-juice used by Dr. Coppinger at Polaris Bay showed that the whole volume must be thawed and remixed before it can be used with any advantage. This can only be done in the warmer weather of June or July.
The loss of appetite, depression of spirits, with other symptoms were, we thought, decidedly scorbutic, and we feared, without fresh meat and vegetables, that there was little chance of seeing the sick men on the drag-ropes again during the journey. Being a fine, bright day, the invalids were made to come out and bask in the sun, whilst the rest of the party, with pickaxes and shovels, were engaged in cutting a road through the hummocks. A double series of magnetic observations were obtained, together with sights for latitude, longitude, and variation of the compass. The hummocks amongst which our tents were pitched were of various heights and bulk, from small fragments of ice to huge piles over forty feet high. Some of them consisted of a number of small hummocks squeezed up into one large mass, whilst others were apparently the regular floe-bergs, and, although perhaps of greater bulk, were not quite so high.
Between these hummocks, and consequently along the only road where we could drag our sledges, the snow had accumulated in drifts to a great depth, and this, formed into ridges by the wind, rendered the travelling all the more difficult. Occasionally the tops of these ridges were frozen hard, and it was of no uncommon occurrence to step from deep snow, through which we were floundering up to our waists, on to a hard, frozen piece, or vice versâ.
Sometimes these ridges were only partially frozen, or covered with a slight crust, just hard enough not to bear our weights, and this made it exceedingly disagreeable and laborious to travel over.
May 9th.—Another beautifully warm day, with the temperature only a degree or two below zero! It was impossible to remain idle on such a day, so we resolved to push on.
Lightening two of the sledges of about half their loads, two of the sick men were placed on them, and these were dragged to the limit of the road made yesterday. Here the tent was pitched, the two invalids placed inside, the sledge unpacked and dragged back. In this manner we succeeded in advancing during the day a distance of about three-quarters of a mile; but so tortuous was our road, and so often had it to be traversed, that to accomplish this short distance we had to walk about seven miles, and this through very deep snow. Rawlings, Simpson, and Ferbrache were complaining of aching limbs, and their legs exhibited slight discolouration.
May 10th.—We advanced the sledges in the same manner as yesterday, accomplishing about the same distance; but so distressing was it to see the exertions of the men in their endeavours to perform a good day’s work, and so painful was it to witness the sufferings of the sick, that I very reluctantly came to the conclusion that our camp this evening must be our most northern one. With five of my little force disabled, and as many more showing decided scorbutic symptoms, it would have been imprudent to persevere farther, however much inclination might prompt such a proceeding. Besides, our provisions must be taken into consideration, and we had only thirty days left to take us back a distance that occupied us forty days to advance, so that our turning back became an imperative necessity. We might, I think, console ourselves with the knowledge that the motto engraved on my flagstaff, and which had been presented to me by my friend and former Captain, now Commodore A. H. Hoskins, had been fully carried out. It was happily chosen, and although the lines are expressed in the first personal pronoun they had reference to the whole party:
| “I dare do all that may become a man: Who dares do more is none.” |