“Yes, sir, of course,” said the man, with a slight change in his voice; and Steve left them to go and talk to Andrew and Hamish, who were both aft, the latter being at the wheel.
“They don’t think we shall ever find the poor fellows,” thought Steve sadly. “I could see it in their looks when I spoke. But they can’t tell any more than I can; and, for all we know, they may be frozen-in, waiting for the ice to break up. Yes; as it has broken up, so that we may come across them at any time.”
Just then he encountered the doctor in a heavy sheep-skin coat. He had been in the cabin.
“Captain’s sleeping like a top,” said the doctor. “I’ve been to see. Couldn’t you and I relieve Mr Lowe here?”
He looked up as he spoke, for they were just below the bridge, and the mate leaned over and spoke.
“No, thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “I can stand it for a couple of hours longer, and then the captain will wake up and relieve me. You could not con the vessel through this ice, and there’s only one man on board to whom I’d give up my place—the captain.”
“We seem very helpless people here. Let’s go and talk to our two Scotch friends. But look here, my lad, hadn’t you better get on a fur coat?”
“I’m not cold,” replied Steve; and they went on to the man by the wheel, where Andrew greeted them with a grin.
“The pipes are a’ recht, Meester Steve,” he said. “She’ll like to hear them the noo?”
“I don’t believe they’d go.”