A Sun of the Sun by Jack London

Tulifau but to put a good face on his

favourite’s disgrace, and his

mountainous fat lay back on the

mats and shook in a gale of

Gargantuan laughter.

When Sepeli dropped both pig and

Chancellor, a talking man from the

windward coast picked up the

carcass. Cornelius was on his feet

and running, when the pig caught

him on the legs and tripped him. The people and the army, with shouts and

laughter, joined in the sport. Twist and dodge as he would, everywhere the

ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer was met or overtaken by the flying pig.

He scuttled like a frightened rabbit in and out among the avocados and the

palms. No hand was laid upon him, and his tormentors made way before

him, but ever they pursued, and ever the pig flew as fast as hands could

pick it up.

As the chase died away down the Broom Road, Grief led the traders to the

royal treasury, and the day was well over ere the last Fitu-Ivan bank note

had been redeemed with coin.

VIII

Through the mellow cool of twilight a man paddled out from a clump of

jungle to the Cantani. It was a leaky and abandoned dugout, and he

paddled slowly, desisting from time to time in order to bale. The Kanaka

sailors giggled gleefully as he came alongside and painfully drew himself

over the rail. He was bedraggled and filthy, and seemed half- dazed.

“Could I speak a word with you, Mr. Grief?” he asked sadly and humbly.

A SON OF THE SUN

125

“Sit to leeward and farther away,” Grief answered. “A little farther away.

That’s better.”

Cornelius sat down on the rail and held his head in both his hands.

“‘Tis right,” he said. “I’m as fragrant as a recent battlefield. My head aches

to burstin’. My neck is fair broken. The teeth are loose in my jaws. There’s

nests of hornets buzzin’ in my ears. My medulla oblongata is dislocated.

I’ve been through earthquake and pestilence, and the heavens have rained

pigs.” He paused with a sigh that ended in a groan. “‘Tis a vision of

terrible death. One that the poets never dreamed. To be eaten by rats, or

boiled in oil, or pulled apart by wild horses—that would be unpleasant.

But to be beaten to death with a dead pig!” He shuddered at the awfulness

of it. “Sure it transcends the human imagination.”

Captain Boig sniffed audibly, moved his canvas chair farther to windward,

and sat down again.

“I hear you’re runnin’ over to Yap, Mr. Grief,” Cornelius went on. “An’

two things I’m wantin’ to beg of you: a passage an’ the nip of the old

smoky I refused the night you landed.”

Grief clapped his hands for the black steward and ordered soap and

towels.

“Go for’ard, Cornelius, and take a scrub first,” he said. “The boy will bring

you a pair of dungarees and a shirt. And by the way, before you go, how

was it we found more coin in the treasury than paper you had issued?”

“‘Twas the stake of my own I’d brought with me for the adventure.”

“We’ve decided to charge the demurrage and other expenses and loss to

Tui Tulifau,” Grief said. “So the balance we found will be turned over to

you. But ten shillings must be deducted.”

“For what?”

“Do you think dead pigs grow on trees? The sum of ten shillings for that

pig is entered in the accounts.”

Cornelius bowed his assent with a shudder.

“Sure it’s grateful I am it wasn’t a fifteen-shilling pig or a twenty- shilling

one.”

A SON OF THE SUN

126

The Pearls of Parlay

(First published in The Saturday Evening Post, v. 184, October 14, 1911: 9-

11, 64-66)

I

The Kanaka helmsman put the wheel down, and the Malahini slipped into

the eye of the wind and righted to an even keel. Her headsails emptied,

there was a rat-tat of reef-points and quick shifting of boom- tackles, and

she was heeled over and filled away on the other tack. Though it was early

morning and the wind brisk, the five white men who lounged on the poopdeck

were scantily clad. David Grief, and his guest, Gregory Mulhall, an

Englishman, were still in pajamas, their naked feet thrust into Chinese

slippers. The captain and mate were in thin undershirts and unstarched

duck pants, while the supercargo still held in his hands the undershirt he

was reluctant to put on. The sweat stood out on his forehead, and he

seemed to thrust his bare chest thirstily into the wind that did not cool.

“Pretty muggy, for a breeze like this,” he complained.

“And what’s it doing around in the west? That’s what I want to know,” was

Grief’s contribution to the general plaint.

“It won’t last, and it ain’t been there long,” said Hermann, the Holland

mate. “She is been chop around all night—five minutes here, ten minutes

there, one hour somewhere other quarter.”

“Something makin’, something makin’,” Captain Warfield croaked,

spreading his bushy beard with the fingers of both hands and shoving the

thatch of his chin into the breeze in a vain search for coolness. “Weather’s

been crazy for a fortnight. Haven’t had the proper trades in three weeks.

Everything’s mixed up. Barometer was pumping at sunset last night, and

it’s pumping now, though the weather sharps say it don’t mean anything.

All the same, I’ve got a prejudice against seeing it pump. Gets on my

nerves, sort of, you know. She was pumping that way the time we lost the

Lancaster. I was only an apprentice, but I can remember that well enough.

Brand new, four-masted steel ship; first voyage; broke the old man’s heart.

He’d been forty years in the company. Just faded way and died the next

year.”

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127

Despite the wind and the early hour, the heat was suffocating. The wind

whispered coolness, but did not deliver coolness. It might have blown off

the Sahara, save for the extreme humidity with which it was laden. There

was no fog nor mist, nor hint of fog or mist, yet the dimness of distance

produced the impression. There were no defined clouds, yet so thickly

were the heavens covered by a messy cloud-pall that the sun failed to

shine through.

“Ready about!” Captain Warfield ordered with slow sharpness.

The brown, breech-clouted Kanaka sailors moved languidly but quickly to

head-sheets and boom-tackles.

“Hard a-lee!”

The helmsman ran the spokes over with no hint of gentling, and the

Malahini darted prettily into the wind and about.

“Jove! she’s a witch!” was Mulhall’s appreciation. “I didn’t know you

South Sea traders sailed yachts.”

“She was a Gloucester fisherman originally,” Grief explained, “and the

Gloucester boats are all yachts when it comes to build, rig, and sailing.”

“But you’re heading right in—why don’t you make it?” came the

Englishman’s criticism.

“Try it, Captain Warfield,” Grief suggested. “Show him what a lagoon

entrance is on a strong ebb.”

“Close-and-by!” the captain ordered.

“Close-and-by,” the Kanaka repeated, easing half a spoke.

The Malahini laid squarely into the narrow passage which was the lagoon

entrance of a large, long, and narrow oval of an atoll. The atoll was shaped

as if three atolls, in the course of building, had collided and coalesced and

failed to rear the partition walls. Cocoanut palms grew in spots on the

circle of sand, and there were many gaps where the sand was too low to

the sea for cocoanuts, and through which could be seen the protected

lagoon where the water lay flat like the ruffled surface of a mirror. Many

square miles of water were in the irregular lagoon, all of which surged out

on the ebb through the one narrow channel. So narrow was the channel, so

large the outflow of water, that the passage was more- like the rapids of a

river than the mere tidal entrance to an atoll. The water boiled and whirled

and swirled and drove outward in a white foam of stiff, serrated waves.

A SON OF THE SUN

128

Each heave and blow on her bows of the upstanding waves of the current

swung the Malahini off the straight lead and wedged her as with wedges

of steel toward the side of the passage. Part way in she was, when her

closeness to the coral edge compelled her to go about. On the opposite

tack, broadside to the current, she swept seaward with the current’s speed.

“Now’s the time for that new and expensive engine of yours,” Grief jeered

good-naturedly.

That the engine was a sore point with Captain Warfield was patent. He had

begged and badgered for it, until in the end Grief had given his consent.

“It will pay for itself yet,” the captain retorted. “You wait and see. It beats

insurance and you know the underwriters won’t stand for insurance in the

Paumotus.”

Grief pointed to a small cutter beating up astern of them on the same

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