“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?”