A muffled voice rose from the engine-room.
"All right, sir. But McCloskey, he just rung for full speed ahead."
"He did? That's McCloskey, all over. The old rascal! He has set his heart on making Grafton Landing to-night, instead of tying up alongshore. Hear that? He's making that old wheel jump. To be sure, he knows the river channel like a book. But, even with double search-lights, no man living can see ice-cakes and brush far enough ahead to dodge them."
"Let's take a look on deck," suggested Rod.
Once outside the warm, cheerful cabin, the night wind swept down on them, a driving, freezing blast. The little steamer fairly raced through the water. Her deck boards quivered; the boom of the heavy engine throbbed under their feet.
"Thickest night I've seen in a year," growled the captain. "I say, McCloskey! Slow down, and let's put her inshore. This is too dangerous to suit me."
No reply. The boat fled pitching on.
"McCloskey!"
At last there came a faint hail.
"Yes, captain! What's yer pleasure, sir?"