The sun had disappeared on the 20th of October, nor was he seen again until the 24th of February, when the mariners were so weak as to be constantly confined to their cabins. Two days after, they ceased to be able to write, at that time expressing themselves in a journal thus: "Four of us who still survive, lie flat on the floor of our hut. We think we could still eat, were there only one among us able to get fuel, but none can move for pain; our time is spent in constant prayer, that God, in his mercy, would deliver us from this misery; we are ready whenever he pleases to call us. Assuredly we cannot long survive without food or firing; we are unable to assist each other in our mutual afflictions, and each must bear his own burden."
The seamen of the Dutch fleet arriving at Spitzbergen, in 1635, hastened to inquire after the fate of their comrades; and having found their hut all closed around as a protection against wild beasts, they broke open the back door. A man then entering, ran up stairs, where he discovered part of a dead dog on the floor, laid there to dry, and quickly descending, trod on the carcass of another dog also dead. Thence passing towards the front door, he stumbled in the dark over several dead bodies, which, after the door was opened, were seen lying together. Three were in coffins; Nicholas Florison and another, each in a cabin; and the other two on some sails covering the floor, lying with their knees drawn up to their chins. Therefore the whole of these unfortunate people had perished.
Coffins were prepared for the four bodies wanting them, and all were buried under the snow, until the ground became more penetrable, when they were deposited in the earth beside each other, and stones laid on their graves, to preserve them from the ravenous beasts of prey.
Sailors are men of rough habits, but their feelings are not by any means so coarse: if they possess little prudence or worldly consideration, they are likewise very free from selfishness; generally speaking, too, they are much attached to one another, and will make great sacrifices to their messmates or shipmates when opportunities occur.
I remember once, when cruising off Terceira in the Endymion, that a man fell overboard and was drowned. After the usual confusion, and long search in vain, the boats were hoisted up, and the hands called to make sail. I was officer of the forecastle and on looking about to see if all the men were at their station, missed one of the fore-top men. Just at that moment I observed some one curled up, and apparently hiding himself under the bow of the barge, between the boat and the booms. 'Hillo!' I said, 'who are you? What are you doing there, you skulker? Why are you not at your station?'