“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.