Two steps forward, a sudden plunge, and again she was in the freezing water.
Once on the ice she dashed away at top speed. It was a race, a race for her life. Already her clothing was freezing stiff.
Here she leaped a chasm of black water; there she tripped over a hole and fell flat; here dodged a stretch of honeycomb ice and raced across a broad level stretch.
Almost before she knew it she was alongside a row of steamships tied up in a channel close to shore. Then, to her surprise, she caught the gleam of a light in a cabin on the upper deck of the smallest boat tied there.
“There’s a rope cable hanging over the side,” she told herself. “I—I could climb it. There must be someone up there, and—and a fire. A fire! Oh, a fire and warmth! I must do it, or I’ll freeze.
“Of course they are strangers—a man, two men, maybe a family, but sea folks are kind people, I’m told. They know what it means to be wet and cold. I—I’ll risk it.”
The next moment, hand over hand, she was making her way up the cable.
Once on deck, she raced along the side until she came to a stair. Up this she sprang, then down the side again until she was at the door of the room where the light still gleamed into the night.
Without a moment’s hesitation she banged on the door.
“Who—who’s there?” came in a distinctly feminine voice. Florence’s heart gave a great throb of joy.