an hour they were on their
way first to the wheel, holding on tightly to prevent their being swept
heavily across the poop, and they felt, more than saw, the two men, and
by them the captain and mate.

They did not speak their mission, but told it dumbly by pressing a
bottle of hot coffee in each man's hand, waiting while it was consumed,
and then returning to get the bottles refilled, their thanks being a
warm, hearty pressure and a shouted warning from the captain to take
care as they turned to creep back under such shelter as they could get,
Steve having hard work once to save himself from being driven forward by
the wind, which seemed to come from all quarters at once.

The men huddled forward on deck were now relieved in the same way, this
taking two journeys, after which they joined the engineer in partaking
of the hot, steaming compound, and prepared to return on deck.

"Hadn't you better stay below here, sir?" said the man; "there's nothing
to be done on deck."

"We'll come down again," replied the doctor. "Why, Steve," he cried,
"Captain Marsham is on the bridge!"

For at that moment there was a sharp ting upon the gong just overhead,
which the engineer responded to by seizing the lever and altering the
number of revolutions per minute of the screw. The next moment he
staggered, and would have fallen but for his grasp of the lever, the
doctor staggered up against the side, and Steve caught hold of the
engineer, while Watty Links was pitched from his seat on to the iron
flooring, and evidently uttered a yell, though it was not heard in the
terrific noise of the storm; neither did they hear a tremendous crash;
but all knew that they had struck something, for there was a fearful
shock, and a peculiar thrill ran through the vessel just as if she were
being shaken to pieces and her timbers were about to fall apart.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN THE GRIP OF NATURE.

The doctor seized and pressed Steve's hand in silence as he hurried up
on deck to struggle aft to the captain, fully expecting that they were
going down. But he was invisible in the driving snow. They made out
somehow, though, that he was on the bridge in company with the mate;
and, unable to reach and question him, they crept together right aft to
the wheel, where Steve found himself at Johannes' feet.

The big Norseman did not wait to be questioned. He knew why the lad had
come, and, bending down, he roared in his ear:

"Ice--struck bows!"