So I suffer four times as much as you possibly can.

Here; hold the candle while I look at the bottoms of my claws.

I declare," he said, examining them by the flickering light, "there are bunches of pain all over them!" "P'r'aps," said Trot, who was very glad to sit down beside her companions, "you've got corns." "Corns?
Nonsense! Orks never have corns," protested the creature, rubbing its sore feet tenderly.
"Then mebbe they're--they're-- What do you call 'em, Cap'n Bill?
Something 'bout the Pilgrim's Progress, you know." "Bunions," said Cap'n Bill.
"Oh, yes; mebbe you've got bunions." "It is possible," moaned the Ork.

"But whatever they are, another day of such walking on them would drive me crazy." "I'm sure they'll feel better by mornin'," said Cap'n Bill, encouragingly.

"Go to sleep an' try to forget your sore feet." The Ork cast a reproachful look at the sailor-man, who didn't see it.
Then the creature asked plaintively: "Do we eat now, or do we starve ?" "There's only half a biscuit left for you," answered Cap'n Bill.