Between us we got the primus alight somehow, and by hand
we balanced the cooker on top of it, minus the two members which had been
blown away. The flame flickered in the draughts. Very slowly the snow in
the cooker melted, we threw in a plentiful supply of pemmican, and the
smell of it was better than anything on earth. In time we got both tea
and pemmican, which was full of hairs from our bags, penguin feathers,
dirt and debris, but delicious. The blubber left in the cooker got burnt
and gave the tea a burnt taste. None of us ever forgot that meal: I
enjoyed it as much as such a meal could be enjoyed, and that burnt taste
will always bring back the memory.
It was still dark and we lay down in our bags again, but soon a little
glow of light began to come up, and we turned out to have a further
search for the tent. Birdie went off before Bill and me. Clumsily I
dragged my eider-down out of my bag on my feet, all sopping wet: it was
impossible to get it back and I let it freeze: it was soon just like a
rock. The sky to the south was as black and sinister as it could possibly
be. It looked as though the blizzard would be on us again at any moment.
I followed Bill down the slope. We could find nothing. But, as we
searched, we heard a shout somewhere below and to the right. We got on a
slope, slipped, and went sliding down quite unable to stop ourselves, and
came upon Birdie with the tent, the outer lining still on the bamboos.
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