That was all, and the man stood immovable once more at his post.

"Come away!" cried the doctor. "We have no business here."

Closely as his lips were pressed to Steve's ear, the words were hardly
heard; but the movement he made was suggestive, and though he longed to
stay there by the big Norseman, he felt that it was right, and he
followed his companion, stopping just under the bridge, and, unable to
resist the desire, he began to creep up the steps.

The wind pressure was fearful, and everything he touched was coated with
ice; but he persevered till he could touch the captain's leg. In an
instant he had stooped down to the boy, to shout, as loudly as he could:

"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?"

"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