Now! Then! Starving amidst Arctic ice, and with Captain Gravill on his deathbed, the crew of the Diana of Hull celebrate a “horrible mockery of the spirit of an English Christmas”

Excerpt

I spent the entire night with the captain, who was extremely restless and uneasy. The weather during the night was horribly cold in the cabin.

At 8 a.m. I went on deck, and found the ship driving with great rapidity towards a large iceberg. We passed within three or four ship’s lengths of the berg. We were most wonderfully preserved from driving upon it or being crushed by the whirling, crashing ice, which was in commotion far and wide around the berg, which is aground.

This morning the men held a prayer meeting in the half-deck, and, it being Christmas Day, they commenced with singing the chant, “How beautiful upon the mountains.”

Flour and plums having been served out yesterday, Joe, the cook, was up at three o’clock this morning, busy as a bee making plum puddings for the different messes. Every man and boy on board had a large shoe of very good plum pudding served out to him at twelve o’clock in honour of Christmas Day. As most of the men have been saving up meat, biscuits, etc., you may be sure every one of our ship’s company enjoyed a good dinner. In the cabin we dined at one o’clock, and had a large plum pudding, which was equally divided, our usual 1 pound of boiled salt beef, and a dish of tripe. George Clarke, the mate, had brought this, pickled in a jar, from home, and it turned out to be fearfully salt.

We ate our Christmas dinner almost in silence, each man’s mind being occupied with gloomy thoughts of home, families, and friends. The poor old dying captain lay upon the sofa, occasionally turning over or dozing uneasily in a half-unconscious slumber.

What a Christmas dinner! What thoughts of the many merry ones at Sandon, and at home, and of last year’s Christmas at Mr. Moffat’s [Dr. Paul Moffatt, Dalston, Cumberland]. What a change! Thoughts of father, brothers, and sisters, at home on Christmas Day, and thinking of me, as I am thinking of them.

To these thoughts add my anxieties and apprehensions on the captain’s account, and the gloomy prospect before every one of us. You will readily believe that a more miserable Christmas dinner would be difficult to imagine even. The dinner, such as it was, was soon despatched, and I was glad when ’twas over, it seemed such a horrible mockery of the spirit of an English Christmas.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.

Abbreviations

Comment

Which version of the hymn are they singing? Here’s one published in 1831 and another from 1856, but is it something older?

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Original

I spent the entire night with the captain, who was extremely restless and uneasy. The weather during the night was horribly cold in the cabin.

At 8 a.m. I went on deck, and found the ship driving with great rapidity towards a large iceberg. We passed within three or four ship’s lengths of the berg. We were most wonderfully preserved from driving upon it or being crushed by the whirling, crashing ice, which was in commotion far and wide around the berg, which is aground.

This morning the men held a prayer meeting in the half-deck, and, it being Christmas Day, they commenced with singing the chant, “How beautiful upon the mountains.”

Flour and plums having been served out yesterday, Joe, the cook, was up at three o’clock this morning, busy as a bee making plum puddings for the different messes. Every man and boy on board had a large shoe of very good plum pudding served out to him at twelve o’clock in honour of Christmas Day. As most of the men have been saving up meat, biscuits, etc., you may be sure every one of our ship’s company enjoyed a good dinner. In the cabin we dined at one o’clock, and had a large plum pudding, which was equally divided, our usual 1 pound of boiled salt beef, and a dish of tripe. George Clarke, the mate, had brought this, pickled in a jar, from home, and it turned out to be fearfully salt.

We ate our Christmas dinner almost in silence, each man’s mind being occupied with gloomy thoughts of home, families, and friends. The poor old dying captain lay upon the sofa, occasionally turning over or dozing uneasily in a half-unconscious slumber.

What a Christmas dinner! What thoughts of the many merry ones at Sandon, and at home, and of last year’s Christmas at Mr. Moffat’s [Dr. Paul Moffatt, Dalston, Cumberland]. What a change! Thoughts of father, brothers, and sisters, at home on Christmas Day, and thinking of me, as I am thinking of them.

To these thoughts add my anxieties and apprehensions on the captain’s account, and the gloomy prospect before every one of us. You will readily believe that a more miserable Christmas dinner would be difficult to imagine even. The dinner, such as it was, was soon despatched, and I was glad when ’twas over, it seemed such a horrible mockery of the spirit of an English Christmas.

At about 3 p.m. the ice was in motion again, and pressing heavily upon the ship. I happened to be on deck at the time, but instantly ran down to the cabin. Here I found the captain, whom I had left calm and tranquil and breathing regularly, changed for the worse in a sudden and alarming manner.

He had heard or felt the ship move under the pressure of the ice, and knew very well what it meant. He knew that the ship was in danger. He knew, whatever poor chance his ship’s company had of saving their lives, he had none if the ship were stove in and we had to take to the ice.

Happily the pressure moderated and the ice became quieter. At 6 p.m. the captain was calmer, but evidently very much weaker, and more incoherent and difficult to understand.

578 words.