432 
SICKNESS INCREASING. 
different distances from the floor. The avenue by 
which it is approached is barely to be seen in the 
moss wall forward:—twenty feet of air-tight space 
make misty distance, for the puff of outside-tempera¬ 
ture that came in with me has filled our atmosphere 
with vesicles of vapor. The avenue—Ben-Djerback is 
our poetic name for it—closes on the inside with a 
door well patched with flannel, from which, stooping 
upon all-fours, you back down a descent of four feet in 
twelve through a tunnel three feet high and two feet 
six inches' broad. It would have been a tight squeeze 
for a man like Mr. Brooks when he was better fed and 
fatter. Arrived at the bottom, you straighten your¬ 
self, and a second door admits you into the dark and 
sorrowing hold, empty of stores and stripped to its 
naked ceiling for firewood. From this we grope our 
way to the main hatch, and mount by a rude stairway 
of boxes into the open air. 
“December 2, Saturday.—Had to put Mr. McGary 
and Riley under active treatment for scurvy. Gums 
retracted, ankles swollen, and bad lumbago. Mr. Wil¬ 
son’s case, a still worse one, has been brought under. 
Morton’s is a saddening one: I cannot afford to lose 
him. He is not only one of my most intelligent 
men, but he is daring, cool, and everyway trustworthy. 
His tendon Achilles has been completely perforated, 
and the surface of the heel-bone exposed. An operar 
tion in cold, darkness, and privation, would probably 
bring on lockcd-jaw. Brooks grows discouraged: the 
poor fellow has scurvy in his stump, and his leg is 
