Chapter Nineteen.
In the Grip of Nature.
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: