an excruciating pain in the mouth, and swelled gums, rendering eating a torture. On the 18th of December, twenty-one men were affected with scurvy. To add to their distress, the ice again gave way, and threatened to crush every one of the miserable vessels. The Advice and Grenville Bay were in greatest danger, and the crews were at times expectant only of death. The allowance of pork was reduced, on the 24th, to half a pound a day for each man. Some of the men of the Dee were now so bad with scurvy as to be confined to bed. On The 1st of January 1837 was a day of sorrowful remembrance, it being customary for the sailors of whaling vessels to be at that period in the enjoyment of all the pleasures of home, in the bosoms of their families. On the 2d, 3d, and 4th, scurvy was making rapid strides among the Dee's men-fresh provisions, the only cure for the complaint, being out of the attentive surgeon's reach. On the 5th, the men applied to Captain Gamblin for an increased allowance of provisions. This he declined to grant, expressing at the same time his hope, that they knew their duty better than to use force, which might certainly procure them their wish. To their credit, the crew disclaimed all desire to employ coercive means, and the gratified commander rewarded their forbearance, by giving each man a little additional flour to his mess. the 6th, a brilliant sky gave hopes of the sun's speedy reappearance, and a large sheet of water on the starboard brought anticipations of release to the ships. A sad damp was thrown next day on these prospects, by the greater number of the crew of the Dee being unable to leave their beds, which were in a deplorable state from the intense cold, and also from vermin. On the 11th, the first death in the Dee took place, the sufferer being William Curryall, of Stromness. The funeral-prayer was read over the body by Mr Littlejohn, and the crew then, with hearts full of inexpressible sadness, carried it to a distant opening in the ice, where it was consigned to the deep. The daylight was now shewing signs of return; and on the 16th, the sun, a joyful spectacle, made his reappearance in the heavens. Captain Gamblin, unhappily, did not long enjoy the sight of it. His health began to fail, and he was unable to make his customary observations. Under these depressing circumstances, the mate, finding the crew to become weaker day by day, prudently resolved to take in two reefs of the topsails, from the fear that all hands would be ineffective, if the vessel should get out to sea, and a gale come on. Only fifteen men were found able to go aloft on this duty, which was performed, according to an observation made by the mate, in latitude 69° 1', the drift still continuing southward. Four of the men died between the 19th of the month and the 1st of February; and two days after, the heaviest stroke of all befell the Dee, in the death of its beloved commander. Captain Gamblin's body was placed in a coffin, to be carried home, at the desire of his friend Captain Taylor of the Grenville Bay; the other bodies were laid beneath the polar ice. To quote a solemn and expressive line of a humorous ballad "The iceberg is the monument that lies upon their graves.' Though the whalers were at this time three or four degrees further south than at first, the frost was even more severe than ever. Every liquid was frozen; and while the snow was being melted, to cook the victuals, the icicles were hanging on the water-cask, at the distance of six feet from the fire. The beds were covered with solid ice-the pillows frozen in every part but where the head lay, the very hairs of which were in some cases stiff with cold-and vermin of a more rapacious kind began to swarm among the blankets; creatures that ate their way through the skin, and fed on the raw flesh. And the men all the while bowed down with mortal sickness, and incapable of defending or cleaning themselves! So scarce was fuel, besides, that it could only be used for the melting of ice and cooking of victuals. Can we wonder that ere the 12th of February, six others of the crew sank under their distresses ? On the 13th, a good deal of water was seen not far off, but the bay ice was still strong. The latitude, according to an observation on this day, was 67° 32', and on the 16th it was 63° 33', shewing the Dee to be moving rapidly to the south. The other vessels were advancing more slowly, the Advice being at this time not less than twenty miles further north than the Dee. Between the 23d and 27th, six of the survivors of the latter vessel died, and, by the 7th of March, other five had followed their departed mates. So many deaths as these enabled the remainder to enjoy full allowance of provisions. Six hands only were able at this time to do duty, and the ship was in great danger of a fatal squeeze from the state of the ice, which was loose, and rapidly breaking up. It was still so entire, however, as to permit the mate of the Dee to go over to the Grenville Bay, at this time not far off, and ask if Captain Taylor could render any assistance should the Dee get out into the open sea. Twenty of his men being on the sick-list, Captain Taylor could promise no help. The Norfolk and Advice were about seven miles distant from the Dee on the 9th; and on the 11th, the whaler of Dundee was seen moving with her sails set into the open sea. Between the 11th and 15th, three more of the Dee's crew died, and they were the last that were buried below the ice, which was now broken up in all directions. On the 16th, after being locked up for five months and eight days, the Dee entered into open water. Great was the joy of the unhappy mariners on this occasion, but, alas! many of those yet alive were destined never to see their native shores. Fortunately, light and favourable breezes attended, in general, the passage of the ship homewards, otherwise not one man of the Dee's crew could ever have reached his home. The scurvy raged so fearfully on board, that between the 16th of March and the 22d of April, twenty more of the men had fallen victims to it. A ship was seen on the 20th, but it does not seem to have perceived the signals of distress that were hoisted by the whaler. On the 25th, a fishingboat was hailed, and it was found that the Dee was then off the Butt of Lewis. The fishermen in the boat cruelly refused to give any assistance, suspecting a case of plague, it is supposed. The bark Washington of Dundee, Barnett master, bound for New York, bore down upon the miserable whaler on the evening of the same day, and inquired if any assistance was wanted. On being informed of the state of matters, and that only three hands of the Dee were able to go aloft, Mr Barnett instantly sent four men on board, and followed in person, carrying with him wine, porter, and other provisions. He then took the Dee in tow, and enabled her to come to anchor, on the 27th of April, in the harbour of Stromness. Every attention was here paid to the survivors of the crew, and on the 5th of May, the owners having sent effective hands, the Dee was again put to sea, and carried into the harbour of Aberdeen, after an absence of thirteen months and three days. A heart-rending scene took place on the quay, which was crowded with the relatives of the deceased seamen-with weeping widows, children, and parents. Forty-six men had died on board the Dee, nine of whom belonged to the Thomas of Dundee. Fourteen men only survived of the Dee's own complement. Thus ended this unhappy voyage. In the narrative from which the preceding account is condensed, and which has been drawn up from the notes of one of the survivors, David Gibb, and published at Aberdeen for his benefit, we find some judicious remarks on the propriety of storing whaling vessels, on all occasions, with a whole year's provisions and fuel, and also with a full medicinechest. Individual seamen are even recommended to provide themselves amply with coffee and sugar, at their own expense. It is morally, and ought to be legally, incumbent upon all owners to attend to these directions, the product of dearly-bought experience. The companions of the Dee in adversity-the Norfolk, the Grenville Bay, and the Advice-all reached their respective places of outfit in safety, as far as the vessels were concerned. The sufferings of the Advice, like those of the Dee, were terrible, and the loss of lives great. In the other two ships, much misery also had been endured. None of the distressed vessels, we believe, had the good fortune to fall in with the ships which their sympathising country sent to the northern seas for their relief. I MUST NOT LOVE. BY THE LATE ANDREW JOHNSTON, I MUST not love!-for envious Time I must not love!-for thou art fair, Own not one charm thy heart to bind. I must not love!-for thou art dear, I must not love!-for I must toil, I must not love!-for I have loved, I must not love!-farewell! farewell! |