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Adventure by Jack London

Whisky and soda kept him going while he made report and turned in

his accounts.

“You’re rotten with fever,” Sheldon said. “Why don’t you run down

to Sydney for a blow of decent climate?”

The old skipper shook his head.

“I can’t. I’ve ben in the islands too long. I’d die. The fever

comes out worse down there.”

“Kill or cure,” Sheldon counselled.

“It’s straight kill for me. I tried it three years ago. The cool

weather put me on my back before I landed. They carried me ashore

and into hospital. I was unconscious one stretch for two weeks.

After that the doctors sent me back to the islands–said it was the

only thing that would save me. Well, I’m still alive; but I’m too

soaked with fever. A month in Australia would finish me.”

“But what are you going to do?” Sheldon queried. “You can’t stay

here until you die.”

“That’s all that’s left to me. I’d like to go back to the old

country, but I couldn’t stand it. I’ll last longer here, and here

I’ll stay until I peg out; but I wish to God I’d never seen the

Solomons, that’s all.”

He declined to sleep ashore, took his orders, and went back on

board the cutter. A lurid sunset was blotted out by the heaviest

squall of the day, and Sheldon watched the whale-boat arrive in the

thick of it. As the spritsail was taken in and the boat headed on

to the beach, he was aware of a distinct hurt at sight of Joan at

the steering-oar, standing erect and swaying her strength to it as

she resisted the pressures that tended to throw the craft broadside

in the surf. Her Tahitians leaped out and rushed the boat high up

the beach, and she led her bizarre following through the gate of

the compound.

The first drops of rain were driving like hail-stones, the tall

cocoanut palms were bending and writhing in the grip of the wind,

while the thick cloud-mass of the squall turned the brief tropic

twilight abruptly to night.

Quite unconsciously the brooding anxiety of the afternoon slipped

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50

from Sheldon, and he felt strangely cheered at the sight of her

running up the steps laughing, face flushed, hair flying, her

breast heaving from the violence of her late exertions.

“Lovely, perfectly lovely–Pari-Sulay,” she panted. “I shall buy

it. I’ll write to the Commissioner to-night. And the site for the

bungalow–I’ve selected it already–is wonderful. You must come

over some day and advise me. You won’t mind my staying here until

I can get settled? Wasn’t that squall beautiful? And I suppose

I’m late for dinner. I’ll run and get clean, and be with you in a

minute.”

And in the brief interval of her absence he found himself walking

about the big living-room and impatiently and with anticipation

awaiting her coming.

“Do you know, I’m never going to squabble with you again,” he

announced when they were seated.

“Squabble!” was the retort. “It’s such a sordid word. It sounds

cheap and nasty. I think it’s much nicer to quarrel.”

“Call it what you please, but we won’t do it any more, will we?”

He cleared his throat nervously, for her eyes advertised the

immediate beginning of hostilities. “I beg your pardon,” he

hurried on. “I should have spoken for myself. What I mean is that

I refuse to quarrel. You have the most horrible way, without

uttering a word, of making me play the fool. Why, I began with the

kindest intentions, and here I am now–”

“Making nasty remarks,” she completed for him.

“It’s the way you have of catching me up,” he complained.

“Why, I never said a word. I was merely sitting here, being

sweetly lured on by promises of peace on earth and all the rest of

it, when suddenly you began to call me names.”

“Hardly that, I am sure.”

“Well, you said I was horrible, or that I had a horrible way about

me, which is the same thing. I wish my bungalow were up. I’d move

to-morrow.”

But her twitching lips belied her words, and the next moment the

man was more uncomfortable than ever, being made so by her

laughter.

“I was only teasing you. Honest Injun. And if you don’t laugh

I’ll suspect you of being in a temper with me. That’s right,

laugh. But don’t–” she added in alarm, “don’t if it hurts you.

You look as though you had a toothache. There, there–don’t say

it. You know you promised not to quarrel, while I have the

privilege of going on being as hateful as I please. And to begin

with, there’s the Flibberty-Gibbet. I didn’t know she was so large

a cutter; but she’s in disgraceful condition. Her rigging is

something queer, and the next sharp squall will bring her head-gear

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51

all about the shop. I watched Noa Noah’s face as we sailed past.

He didn’t say anything. He just sneered. And I don’t blame him.”

“Her skipper’s rotten bad with fever,” Sheldon explained. “And he

had to drop his mate off to take hold of things at Ugi–that’s

where I lost Oscar, my trader. And you know what sort of sailors

the niggers are.”

She nodded her head judicially, and while she seemed to debate a

weighty judgment he asked for a second helping of tinned beef–not

because he was hungry, but because he wanted to watch her slim,

firm fingers, naked of jewels and banded metals, while his eyes

pleasured in the swell of the forearm, appearing from under the

sleeve and losing identity in the smooth, round wrist undisfigured

by the netted veins that come to youth when youth is gone. The

fingers were brown with tan and looked exceedingly boyish. Then,

and without effort, the concept came to him. Yes, that was it. He

had stumbled upon the clue to her tantalizing personality. Her

fingers, sunburned and boyish, told the story. No wonder she had

exasperated him so frequently. He had tried to treat with her as a

woman, when she was not a woman. She was a mere girl–and a boyish

girl at that–with sunburned fingers that delighted in doing what

boys’ fingers did; with a body and muscles that liked swimming and

violent endeavour of all sorts; with a mind that was daring, but

that dared no farther than boys’ adventures, and that delighted in

rifles and revolvers, Stetson hats, and a sexless camaraderie with

men.

Somehow, as he pondered and watched her, it seemed as if he sat in

church at home listening to the choir-boys chanting. She reminded

him of those boys, or their voices, rather. The same sexless

quality was there. In the body of her she was woman; in the mind

of her she had not grown up. She had not been exposed to ripening

influences of that sort. She had had no mother. Von, her father,

native servants, and rough island life had constituted her

training. Horses and rifles had been her toys, camp and trail her

nursery. From what she had told him, her seminary days had been an

exile, devoted to study and to ceaseless longing for the wild

riding and swimming of Hawaii. A boy’s training, and a boy’s point

of view! That explained her chafe at petticoats, her revolt at

what was only decently conventional. Some day she would grow up,

but as yet she was only in the process.

Well, there was only one thing for him to do. He must meet her on

her own basis of boyhood, and not make the mistake of treating her

as a woman. He wondered if he could love the woman she would be

when her nature awoke; and he wondered if he could love her just as

she was and himself wake her up. After all, whatever it was, she

had come to fill quite a large place in his life, as he had

discovered that afternoon while scanning the sea between the

squalls. Then he remembered the accounts of Berande, and the

cropper that was coming, and scowled.

He became aware that she was speaking.

“I beg pardon,” he said. “What’s that you were saying?”

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52

“You weren’t listening to a word–I knew it,” she chided. “I was

saying that the condition of the Flibberty-Gibbet was disgraceful,

and that to-morrow, when you’ve told the skipper and not hurt his

feelings, I am going to take my men out and give her an

overhauling. We’ll scrub her bottom, too. Why, there’s whiskers

on her copper four inches long. I saw it when she rolled. Don’t

forget, I’m going cruising on the Flibberty some day, even if I

have to run away with her.”

While at their coffee on the veranda, Satan raised a commotion in

the compound near the beach gate, and Sheldon finally rescued a

mauled and frightened black and dragged him on the porch for

interrogation.

“What fella marster you belong?” he demanded. “What name you come

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