The doctor seized and pressed Steve's hand in silence as he hurried up
on deck to struggle aft to the captain, fully expecting that they were
going down. But he was invisible in the driving snow. They made out
somehow, though, that he was on the bridge in company with the mate;
and, unable to reach and question him, they crept together right aft to
the wheel, where Steve found himself at Johannes' feet.
The big Norseman did not wait to be questioned. He knew why the lad had
come, and, bending down, he roared in his ear:
"Ice--struck bows!"
That was all, and the man stood immovable once more at his post.
"Come away!" cried the doctor. "We have no business here."
Closely as his lips were pressed to Steve's ear, the words were hardly
heard; but the movement he made was suggestive, and though he longed to
stay there by the big Norseman, he felt that it was right, and he
followed his companion, stopping just under the bridge, and, unable to
resist the desire, he began to creep up the steps.
The wind pressure was fearful, and everything he touched was coated with
ice; but he persevered till he could touch the captain's leg. In an
instant he had stooped down to the boy, to shout, as loudly as he could:
"Go down!"
It seemed hard to the boy, when the touch only meant a desire to show
that he was thinking about the man so bravely facing the fierce storm;
but he obeyed, and, somehow or other, he hardly knew how, reached the
cabin, where the doctor, after several tries, lit the lamp.
As the light shone out Steve stared in wonder at his companion, and then
around him at what should have been the snugly furnished cabin. Now all
was changed; the white snow had penetrated through door-cracks and the
ventilator, covering everything.
But they could breathe and talk here as they rubbed the snow from their
faces and hair; though their coats were like so much armour, and were
too stiff to bend.
"Awful, Steve, my boy! Awful!" shouted the doctor. "What a fearful
storm!"
The noise increased just then, for the door was quickly opened, but as
quickly shut, and a white figure stood before them; and for the moment
they thought it was the captain; then the icy helmet upon the man's head
was with some difficulty taken off, revealing the face of Mr Lowe, the
mate.
"The captain says you are not to run such a risk again, my lad. You can
do us no good, and it troubles him when he wants all his energy to save
the ship."
"Then we are in great danger?" cried Steve.
"Yes, my lad, I think so," was the reply; "but the captain will save us
if it is to be done."
"What was that awful crash?"
"Ice beneath our bows. We have it all round now, and it is impossible
to avoid it. All we can do is to keep her head to the wind, and drift.
We can make no headway with full steam on, and we dare not if we could."
"But--"
"Can't stop," was the reply; "going forward to the men;" and the mate
replaced his ice-laden cap and passed out into the storm.
"The captain was thinking of your safety, Steve, my lad; but we must
think for him and the crew. Exposure such as they are going through is
murderous. Let's wait for a bit, and then take them all some more hot
drink."
He led the way out of the whitened cabin, and they struggled back
through the driving snow to the engine-room, down into whose warm glow
they crept just as there was another blow, which jarred the whole ship.
Then the gong sounded.
"Slower," said the engineer, as he moved the lever. "There, that's
about as little as we can do. Just enough to give her steering power."
No more was said, and Steve looked round, as he warmed his numbed hands,
to see that Watty was lying with his face in his hands, close to the
side.
"Asleep?" said Steve, with his lips to the cook's ear; but the man shook
his head.
"Fright!" he replied.
A few minutes later one of the Norwegians and three of the crew came
down all covered with ice, and one of the furnace doors was opened to
send out a genial glow, lighting up the whole place, which was now
dripping wet with thawed snow, and the stream rose up to float out
through the hatch.
"Mate sent us down for a warm," said one of the men. "To stay half an
hour, and then relieve some more. We can do nothing on deck."
"Let's leave them," said the doctor in Steve's ear; and after warning
the cook to be ready with the refreshment in half an hour, they made
their way back to the cabin.
Those refreshments were not taken to the men on deck, for in turn all
were sent down to the engine-room for warmth and food; and at last, to
Steve's great delight, the captain entered the cabin, to reply to the
grips of the hand given him, and then drink with avidity the hot coffee
ready on the table.
"I don't like leaving the deck," he said cheerfully; "but I must have
coal and water for my engine, or I cannot work. No, no, don't question
me; I have no news. We are in an awful storm, and are being carried
with the drifting ice, Heaven only knows where."
That storm lasted forty-eight hours--hours of as great trial as man
could go through, and live. Steve had borne up till, in spite of the
danger, his eyes would keep open no longer, and then he had slept a
troubled nightmare-like sleep to dream of shipwreck and struggling with
the wind and waves. Every now and then he would start awake suffering
from cold, and draw the great skin rug in which he had nestled closer
round him, and drop off again into what was almost a stupor.
There was one time, or else he dreamed it--he never quite knew which--
when he crept all about the deck again, to find it deeply encumbered
with snow. Then he was back in the cabin lying on a locker, and he
opened his eyes and saw the captain rolled up in a blanket lying asleep
on the table. The next minute he was looking about again, to find that
the captain had gone, and that the doctor only was there. Once it was
Mr Lowe, but he, too, disappeared, and then all was blank, till he
started into wakefulness, to find that the deafening rush and roar had
ceased, and that a peculiar weird light was forcing its way into the
cabin; while at intervals there came a curious grinding, cracking sound,
followed every now and then by a loud, rending crash. The ship was
rolling slowly upon a heaving sea, and steaming slowly, for the
vibration of the screw made the things in the cabin quiver. Then there
was more light in the cabin, for the door was opened with a crackling
sound, as of moving broken ice, and the captain, glistening and white,
entered the cabin.
"Awake, Steve?" he said in a low, weary voice.
"Yes, I'm so ashamed. Then the storm is over?"
"Yes, my lad," said the captain, sinking down on the locker with his
great oil-skin coat crackling loudly; "at last, thank God!"
There was a deep, heartfelt ring in Captain Marsham's voice as he
uttered those words, and for some moments Steve was silent, conscious
now that the doctor was lying on the cabin floor sleeping soundly.
"And we ought to have been on deck to help you, sir," said Steve at
last.
"No, my lad, I sent word for you to stay below; man or boy could not
help us then. We could only wait."
"But we are safe?"
"For the present, yes."
"And where are we?"
The captain smiled faintly.
"Where are we?" he said. "That's more than I can tell. In the ice,
Steve, and for aught I can tell, right up somewhere toward the North
Pole."