Hussey was outside in the blizzard digging up
the day's meat, which had frozen to the ground, when a gust caught him
and drove him down the spit towards the sea. Fortunately, when he
reached the softer sand and shingle below high-water mark, he managed
to stick his pick into the ground and hold on with both hands till the
squall had passed.
On one or two rare occasions they had fine, calm, clear days. The glow
of the dying sun on the mountains and glaciers filled even the most
materialistic of them with wonder and admiration. These days were
sometimes succeeded by calm, clear nights, when, but for the cold, they
would have stayed out on the sandy beach all night.
About the middle of May a terrific blizzard sprang up, blowing from
sixty to ninety miles an hour, and Wild entertained grave fears for
their hut. One curious feature noted in this blizzard was the fact
that huge ice-sheets as big as window-panes, and about a quarter of an
inch thick, were being hurled about by the wind, making it as dangerous
to walk about outside as if one were in an avalanche of splintered
glass. Still, these winds from the south and south-west, though
invariably accompanied by snow and low temperatures, were welcome in
that they drove the pack-ice away from the immediate vicinity of the
island, and so gave rise on each occasion to hopes of relief.
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