"Who are you?" asked Lavelle quietly.
"If you had been about the ship you would know, Mr. Lavelle," he sneered. "For your information I am Orloff Rowgowskii. I am a seaman—an officer—and I will take charge here. These ladies are intrusted in my charge."
Not a muscle of Lavelle's face moved. He spoke over his shoulder to Chang. He asked Chang something in Chinese only to have the giant blaze over his head angrily at the man who called himself Rowgowskii:
"Whachamalla you? What for! You clay-zee?"
The coolie drew the steering oar inboard, for it was now nearly a dead calm. A shake of Lavelle's head silenced his angry chatter instantly.
"My serang—Chang there tells me this is his boat; that he has been in command since we abandoned the ship."
"Yes," interrupted Elsie, pausing in wringing the water from her streaming black hair. "We wouldn't have been here now if it hadn't been for that Canton coolie." She broke off quickly in Chinese and spoke to Chang.
"He is a very good sailor—a very good sailor," said Rowgowskii. "He will be of use—and I will use you, too, Lavelle—properly, if you behave. If not——" He shrugged his shoulders. "I have the means to enforce obedience." He glanced from Lavelle toward Emily and Elsie. "We shall have order here, ladies, and——You may trust me." From them he turned to Chang. "Tell those men to get that sea anchor aboard and set that sail."
"My flen, you more better sit down. Huh! You may get kill," said Chang.
"Mutiny already!" exclaimed Rowgowskii, straightening and with his hand going toward his hip.