August 13, "the old man's wife"

August 13—The weather continues fair and the ice light, although it is heavier up against the Somerset coast. We progress west some ten or twelve miles off land, which is much different from the cliffs we have seen recently. To be sure, there are some cliffs but not of the same uniformity. Altogether the land hereabouts is more hilly, in keeping with its namesake, but of course the hills are much higher and there is no grass nor any of the apple orchards for which that delightful county of Somerset is so justly renowned. I would be no where else at this moment; yet to sit with you beneath an old oak and sample some cold roast duck and a glass of cool cider, would be most pleasant! 

But we are well looked after; bread and biscuits are baked in ovens whenever the weather permits and the meat is of good quality. Our canned supplies, provided by the contract with Goldner’s Patent Preserved Meats, are not so good and some have been found leaking their contents already. I suspect this is a consequence of rushing to fill the supplies before we left and of purchasing them from an unknown and untried supplier simply because he managed to quote the lowest price. The food in the cans which are not leaking are of good quality and we have dined on the soups, vegetables and meat on a number of occasions. I shall distribute cans to the crew on special occasions.

The officers eat Mister Goldner’s produce more regularly to stave off the stultifying effects of salt meat, but the sick I have ordered fed exclusively out of the cans. Stanley feels, and I agree, that the quality and variety of diet offered by the cans will aid the men in regaining their strength. Not that our sick bay is full. Stanley has the usual number of shipboard accidents to deal with, including a man with a bad axe wound from slipping while at work on the ice, with which he deals with admirable efficiency. It is one of the most important things for the state of a ship’s crew to have a good surgeon. So many are but butchers with a bit of book learning, and we are lucky in Stanley who is much experienced and able to deal with any and all ailments to the patient’s satisfaction. There is also one man in sick bay who shews every sign of consumption. Why he did not tell us before we sailed, as all the crew were charged to do, I cannot fathom. This Arctic world, the cold and the hard work, are not for the weak. I fear he may be a casualty if we have a long voyage. 

But back to our diet, we must each drink our share of cranberry or lemon juice every day to ward off the dread effects of scurvy which is the main problem on these long voyages. Fortunately, we also have a good stock of brandy and port, which Sir John distributes before and after dinner as appropriate. Last evening, he regaled us with the story of his unforgivable treatment when governor of Van Diemen’s Land. Apparently, the settlers thereabouts formed very strong cliques and retained a strong allegiance to the former governor. They resented Sir John’s liberal-mindedness on many matters and were constantly disloyal to him. Sir John maintains that this is often to be expected in the more remote colonies, but what was unforgivable was the local society ladies’ treatment of Lady Jane. 

I have only had the pleasure of meeting the old man’s wife on one occasion, when she sailed on board from Greenwich to Greenhithe on the Thames, but even at that, I was struck by her forceful personality and energy. She is a very cultured person and would, I am sure, have railed heavily against the parochialism of the inhabitants of a small bleak island at the ends of the Earth. In any case she was treated very shabbily and Sir John cannot forgive the Tasmanians for that. He shewed us a rebuttal of their complaints which he had arranged for publication after we sailed. It is, I think, a very reasoned document, although he was advised against publishing it for fear of annoying the friends of the colonials in the government. I think Sir John is happy to be free of the machinations of politics. He strikes me as a straightforward man, happy to be carrying out orders and working in the hard simplicity of exploration. Of course he misses his wife most dreadfully, as I miss you every day, dear Elizabeth. 

Oddly, on earlier voyages I envied the men with families and sweethearts their connections home, the memories they carried with them whatever the circumstances, and the delicious anticipation they felt before a return to port. I would joke them about the enviable freedom I had without the burden of responsibility, but secretly I sometimes wished I had more of a home to return to than my rooms at the club in town or the generous lodging of some friend. Now that I have a home, for I think of you, William and the children as my family no less than Sir John or Fairholme think so of their wives and kin, I find that the thought of you now produces an almost exquisite longing to return which, when felt to the full, is a distraction from one’s duties and a trouble to the heart. Now I sometimes find myself envying the carefree emotional state of young Le Vesconte or Des Voeux. Not that I would trade places with them, I merely say this to show you the effects you have on your poor brother even at such a great distance. 

But I am in danger of becoming maudlin, I must to bed. Sir John’s most excellent port has made me sleepy and overly voluble. Good night.