A hastily
shouted warning brought the men tumbling out, but fortunately the loose
ice which filled the bay damped the wave down so much that, though it
flowed right under the hut, nothing was carried away. It was a narrow
escape, though, as had they been washed into the sea nothing could have
saved them.
Although they themselves gradually became accustomed to the darkness
and the dirt, some entries in their diaries show that occasionally they
could realize the conditions under which they were living.
"The hut grows more grimy every day. Everything is a sooty black. We
have arrived at the limit where further increments from the smoking
stove, blubber-lamps, and cooking-gear are unnoticed. It is at least
comforting to feel that we can become no filthier. Our shingle floor
will scarcely bear examination by strong light without causing even us
to shudder and express our disapprobation at its state. Oil mixed with
reindeer hair, bits of meat, sennegrass, and penguin feathers form a
conglomeration which cements the stones together. From time to time we
have a spring cleaning, but a fresh supply of flooring material is not
always available, as all the shingle is frozen up and buried by deep
rifts. Such is our Home Sweet Home."
"All joints are aching through being compelled to lie on the hard,
rubbly floor which forms our bedsteads.
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