step backward toward his questioner.

"Because I am a sailor, Haines," he replied angrily. "Anyhow it is
none of your business; I was left in command here. Those clouds don't
look good to me; there is going to be a blow before morning."

"Then it's yer intention ter work out'er this yere berth?"

"It's my intention to be ready, if it becomes necessary. There is no
regular officer left aboard, but, just the same, I am not going to let
this bark pile up on those rocks yonder. We'll hang on here for
another half hour, maybe, and then, if the long-boat don't show up,
we'll work further off shore until daylight. That's sensible, isn't
it?"

Haines growled something, inaudible to me, but evidently accepted as
an assent, and LeVere, still in no good humor from the questioning,
wheeled sharply about to go forward. This movement placed him face to
face with me.

"What are you loafing here for?" he burst forth, no doubt glad to thus
vent his anger on someone. "Who the hell are you?"

"Joe Gates, sir," I answered quickly, mouthing the first name which
came to my lips.

"Gates--Joe Gates?" peering savagely into my face, but unable to
distinguish the features. "I never heard of anybody on board by that
name. Who is the fellow, Haines?"