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"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' you, so don't
you gat too fonny."
When he had gone Jane Clayton sank down upon her berth in utter
bewilderment. What was she to do? Suspicions as to the intentions of the Swede
swarmed her brain. Might she not be infinitely worse off if she gave herself into
his power than she already was?
No, she could be no worse off in company with the devil himself than with Nikolas
Rokoff, for the devil at least bore the reputation of being a gentleman.
She swore a dozen times that she would not leave the Kincaid without her baby,
and yet she remained clothed long past her usual hour for retiring, and her
blankets were neatly rolled and bound with stout cord, when about midnight
there came a stealthy scratching upon the panels of her door.
Swiftly she crossed the room and drew the bolt. Softly the door swung open to
admit the muffled figure of the Swede. On one arm he carried a bundle,
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