The surgeon had little more knowledge of his profession than I had, and had not the slightest notion of what ought to be done to stop the ravages of disease. He physicked indiscriminately, or bled or starved his patients, without paying the slightest regard to their ailments. When they died they were thrown overboard, with scant ceremony; but the men had the greatest difficulty in tearing the bodies of the Irish from their friends, or of children from their wretched parents; and it was heart-rending to listen to the shrieks and howls of grief as this was attempted to be done.
However, I do not wish to dwell on these scenes, or to discourage emigration. I fully believe that by thoroughly cleansing the ship, and by serving out good provisions, disease might then have been arrested. The object is to prevent the occurrence of such disorders for the future, by the introduction of a well-organised system. In spite of all obstacles, emigration will go forward; but it depends on every one of us, whether it will prove a curse or a blessing to those who go forth, whether the emigrants are to be in future friends or deadly foes to the country they quit.
Chapter Six.
For ten days we had fine weather and light winds; but a southerly gale sprang up, and drove us to the northward, and I then found out what it was to be at sea. Of course I had to do duty, as before, aloft; and following Derrick’s advice was of service, or one night, while furling top-sails, and when the ship was pitching tremendously, I should certainly have been killed. On a sudden I found myself jerked right off the yard; but I fortunately had hold of the gasket, which I was passing through the mizzen top-sail, and by it hauled myself up again and finished the work. After the gale had lasted a week, the wind came round from the northward, and bitter cold it was. We then stood on rather farther to the north than the usual track, I believe.
It was night, and blowing fresh. The sky was overcast, and there was no moon, so that darkness was on the face of the deep—not total darkness, it must be understood, for that is seldom known at sea. I was in the middle watch, from midnight to four o’clock, and had been on deck about half-an-hour when the look-out forward sang out, “Ship ahead—starboard—hard a star-board!”
These words made the second mate, who had the watch, jump into the weather rigging. “A ship!” he exclaimed. “An iceberg it is rather, and—All hands wear ship,” he shouted in a tone which showed there was not a moment to lose.
The watch sprang to the braces and bowlines, while the rest of the crew tumbled up from below, and the captain and other officers rushed out of their cabins: the helm was kept up, and the yards swung round, and the ships head turned towards the direction whence we had come. The captain glanced his eye round, and then ordered the courses to be brailed up, and the main top-sail to be backed, so as to lay the ship to. I soon discovered the cause of these manoeuvres; for before the ship had quite wore round, I perceived close to us a towering mass with a refulgent appearance, which the look-out man had taken for the white sails of a ship, but which proved in reality to be a vast iceberg; and attached to it and extending a considerable distance to leeward, was a field or very extensive floe of ice, against which the ship would have run had it not been discovered in time, and would in all probability instantly have gone down with every one on board.
In consequence of the extreme darkness it was dangerous to sail either way, for it was impossible to say what other floes or smaller cakes of ice might be in the neighbourhood, and we might probably be on them before they could be seen. We therefore remained hove to. As it was, I could not see the floe till it was pointed out to me by Derrick.