“Ta pipes, Meester Steve, sir? She needna have anny fear apoot tat. They shan’t pe trooned.”
“What do you say, Johannes?” cried Steve, laughing.
“The captain knows his business, sir,” said the man gravely, “and he has a good crew. He is having the steam got up so that we can get right away from the ice. With plenty of room the Hvalross will not hurt.”
Every one was busy now save the doctor and Steve, who, being the non-combatants in the fight about to take place with the coming storm, felt both of them rather in the way; and as birds of a feather are said to flock together, they, after their fashion, flocked; in other words, they naturally joined company to talk about the outlook.
“Glad you and the captain are all right again, Steve,” said the former. “Matters look too serious now for petty troubles, eh?”
“It did not seem to be a petty trouble to me, sir,” replied Steve quietly.
“No, no, of course not; but that’s all over now. I’m afraid we are going to have a bad storm.”
“Think so, sir?”
“Look at the captain. He does; or he would not be taking all these precautions. I suppose we can do nothing?”
“Only get out of the way,” replied Steve. “Every one looks as if he wishes we would go below.”