Those words were quite cheering, and the lad hurried down to make the change suggested, noting, before he went into the cabin, that their course was altered, and the Hvalross’s head lay to the south-east.
“He doesn’t want to be near the ice in a storm,” thought Steve; and, strange enough as it appeared to him, he felt comparatively happy, a big, real trouble making the petty affair over which he had felt so despondent begin to fade away.
When he reappeared Captain Marsham was forward seeing to the extra lashing of the boats, which were drawn on board, and a glance showed him that Johannes and Andrew were at the wheel—that is, one was holding the spokes, while the other had been ordered there ready to render aid if it were required.
“Going to be much of a storm, Johannes?” asked Steve.
“Yes, sir, a fierce, heavy snowstorm, with a great wind from the north.”
“Ay, awm thenking she’ll have ferry dirty weather for twa or three days, Meester Steve,” added Andrew. “Well, lad, ye’ve got rid of all ta feathers, hey?”
“Yes,” said Steve shortly, as if he did not want to hear any allusion to the morning’s trouble. “But tell me, Johannes, can’t we get into any sheltered bay till the storm has passed?”
“Not without running a great deal of risk of being caught in the ice, sir. We couldn’t beat back to the west coast with this wind rising; and even if we could, I fear that the ice would be drifting down and stopping us.”
“Ay, she’d never get roond the cape this weather,” grunted Andrew. “Look ahint ye, my lad. She’s hat some ferry douce weather lately; now she’s coing to have some ferry pad weather. But she’s a coot poat, and she can ride oot the gale if she ton’t go to ta pottom.”
“Well, you’re a pretty sort of a Job’s comforter, Andra,” said Steve, trying to be cheerful under depressing circumstances. “But I say, if we do take to the boats, mind and not forget the pipes.”