In 1740 a British fleet under the command of Commodore George Anson sailed for the Pacific with instructions to attack a Spanish treasure galleon carrying silver from Acapulco to the Philippines. England and Spain had gone to war in 1739 over “trade rights” and capture of the treasure ship would strike at the heart of the Spanish economy. Although the galleon was eventually seized, from a personnel standpoint the expedition was an unmitigated disaster. Because the fleet was at sea for so long, by the time they reached the Pacific more than half of the 2,000 men in the fleet had died, most to the ravages of scurvy. In 1744 a single ship with 200 men, including Anson, limped back to England. Although the voyage was profitable financially, it also drew public awareness to the social costs of scurvy.

Scurvy had puzzled physicians since ancient Greece, but it was not until the Age of Sail (1500-1800), that the disease was recognized as such a killer. Author Stephen Brown states in the prologue, “scurvy was responsible for more deaths at sea than storms, shipwreck, combat and all the other diseases combined.” Because of the long voyages, Brown describes scurvy as an “occupational disease” as the world was explored. Over a 300-year period, historians estimated that more than two million sailors perished.

As the title of this well-researched, informative little book states, it took the efforts of three men working in the second half of the 18th century to bring the British Admiralty to its senses. I will spare the reader Brown’s grim descriptions of the disease, which by the 19th century doctors came to realize stemmed from a deficiency of vitamin C.  

James Lind, a surgeon in the Royal Navy, was the first to experiment with different treatments. In 1753 he published a 400- page tome in which he disputed ancient cures and insisted “oranges and lemons were the most effectual remedies for this distemper at sea.” Unfortunately for Lind and sailors all over the world, it would be another 50 years before his ideas were accepted.  

The second contributor was the well-known explorer, Capt. James Cook. As a young sailor, Cook had become well aware of the ravages of the disease; loose teeth, bleeding gums, anemic lethargy and black splotches leading to agonizing death. Before leaving on his first voyage in 1768, Cook made sure that his ship was well supplied with fresh fruits and vegetables. Many sailors died on his three expeditions, but none from scurvy. Possibly because so many men died, the British Admiralty failed to appreciate Cook’s achievement.

In 1779 Gilbert Blane, a gentleman-physician, sailed to the West Indies with Admiral George Rodney to fight the French. After seeing the high death rate among the sailors from scurvy, and with Rodney’s support, Blane insisted crews receive citrus juice as a dietary supplement. In 1782, with a full complement of sailors, Rodney won a major victory over a scurvy-decimated French fleet in the Battle of the Saints.

Brown makes two important historical points in the final chapter of this very readable book. Incredibly, Blane’s dietary suggestions had still not gained acceptance by the time the scurvy-weakened fleet guarding the British army at Yorktown was defeated, leading to the success of the American Revolution. By 1796, however, the Admiralty appears to have come to its senses and a daily ration of lemon juice for mariners became the norm. With more seamen available, the British Navy was able to successfully blockade and eventually defeat Napoleonic France. By 1815, free from scurvy, the seas were open to exploration, commerce and travel for many nations.

Retired from teaching, Harry Gratwick writes in Philadelphia and on Vinalhaven.