A huge glacier across the bay behind the hut nearly put an end to the party.  Enormous blocks of ice weighing many tons would break off and fall into the sea, the disturbance thus caused giving rise to great waves.  One day Marston was outside the hut digging up the frozen seal for lunch with a pick, when a noise “like an artillery barrage” startled him.  Looking up he saw that one of these tremendous waves, over thirty feet high, was advancing rapidly across the bay, threatening to sweep hut and inhabitants into the sea.  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.”

Again, later on, one writes:  “Now that Wild’s window allows a shaft of light to enter our hut, one can begin to ‘see’ things inside.  Previously one relied upon one’s sense of touch, assisted by the remarks from those whose faces were inadvertently trodden on, to guide one to the door.  Looking down in the semi-darkness to the far end, one observes two very small smoky flares that dimly illuminate a row of five, endeavouring to make time pass by reading or argument.  These are Macklin, Kerr, Wordie, Hudson, and Blackborrow—­the last two being invalids.

“The centre of the hut is filled with the cases which do duty for the cook’s bed, the meat and blubber boxes, and a mummified-looking object, which is Lees in his sleeping-bag.  The near end of the floor space is taken up with the stove, with Wild and McIlroy on one side, and Hurley and James on the other.  Marston occupies a hammock most of the night—­ and day—­which is slung across the entrance.  As he is large and the entrance very small, he invariably gets bumped by those passing in and out.  His vocabulary at such times is interesting.