"But how can you help me, Sven," she asked, "when all these men
will be against us?"

"Ay tank," said Sven Anderssen, "it blow purty soon purty hard,"
and then he turned and left the cabin.

Though Jane Clayton doubted the cook's ability to be of any material
service to her, she was nevertheless deeply grateful to him for
what he already had done. The feeling that among these enemies
she had one friend brought the first ray of comfort that had come
to lighten the burden of her miserable apprehensions throughout
the long voyage of the Kincaid.

She saw no more of Rokoff that day, nor of any other until Sven
came with her evening meal. She tried to draw him into conversation
relative to his plans to aid her, but all that she could get from
him was his stereotyped prophecy as to the future state of the
wind. He seemed suddenly to have relapsed into his wonted state
of dense stupidity.

However, when he was leaving her cabin a little later with the empty
dishes he whispered very low, "Leave on your clothes an' roll up
your blankets. Ay come back after you purty soon."

He would have slipped from the room at once, but Jane laid her hand
upon his sleeve.

"My baby?" she asked. "I cannot go without him."

"You do wot Ay tal you," said Anderssen, scowling. "Ay ban halpin'