But
returning we had no oil for such luxuries, until the last day or two.
I do not believe that any man, however sick he is, has a much worse time
than we had in those bags, shaking with cold until our backs would almost
break. One of the added troubles which came to us on our return was the
sodden condition of our hands in our bags at night. We had to wear our
mitts and half-mitts, and they were as wet as they could be: when we got
up in the morning we had washer-women's hands--white, crinkled, sodden.
That was an unhealthy way to start the day's work. We really wanted some
bags of saennegrass for hands as well as feet; one of the blessings of
that kind of bag being that you can shake the moisture from it: but we
only had enough for our wretched feet.
The horrors of that return journey are blurred to my memory and I know
they were blurred to my body at the time. I think this applies to all of
us, for we were much weakened and callous. The day we got down to the
penguins I had not cared whether I fell into a crevasse or not. We had
been through a great deal since then. I know that we slept on the march;
for I woke up when I bumped against Birdie, and Birdie woke when he
bumped against me. I think Bill steering out in front managed to keep
awake. I know we fell asleep if we waited in the comparatively warm tent
when the primus was alight--with our pannikins or the primus in our
hands.
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