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- Herausgeber: Diamond Book Publishing
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In these vivid stories, London pits nature at its most extreme against men who must struggle violently to survive. Whether describing ore cables strung across a valley in Sacramento gold-mine territory or the straining boards of ships battered by gales, London's eye for realism keeps his dramatic tales vivid and fresh -- even now, nearly a century after his death.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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Jack London
Table of contents
CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN
TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN
THE LOST POACHER
THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO
IN YEDDO BAY
By
Jack London
Table of Contents
CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN
TYPHOON OFF THE COAST OF JAPAN
THE LOST POACHER
THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO
IN YEDDO BAY
CHRIS FARRINGTON: ABLE SEAMAN
"If you vas in der old country ships, a liddle shaver like you vood pe only der boy, und you vood wait on der able seamen. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, der water-jug!' you vood jump quick, like a shot, und bring der water-jug. Und ven der able seaman sing out, 'Boy, my boots!' you vood get der boots. Und you vood pe politeful, und say 'Yessir' und 'No sir.' But you pe in der American ship, and you t'ink you are so good as der able seamen. Chris, mine boy, I haf ben a sailorman for twenty-two years, und do you t'ink you are so good as me? I vas a sailorman pefore you vas borned, und I knot und reef und splice ven you play mit topstrings und fly kites."
"But you are unfair, Emil!" cried Chris Farrington, his sensitive face flushed and hurt. He was a slender though strongly built young fellow of seventeen, with Yankee ancestry writ large all over him.
"Dere you go vonce again!" the Swedish sailor exploded. "My name is Mister Johansen, und a kid of a boy like you call me 'Emil!' It vas insulting, und comes pecause of der American ship!"
"But you call me 'Chris'!" the boy expostulated, reproachfully.
"But you vas a boy."
"Who does a man's work," Chris retorted. "And because I do a man's work I have as much right to call you by your first name as you me. We are all equals in this fo'castle, and you know it. When we signed for the voyage in San Francisco, we signed as sailors on the Sophie Sutherland and there was no difference made with any of us. Haven't I always done my work? Did I ever shirk? Did you or any other man ever have to take a wheel for me? Or a lookout? Or go aloft?"
"Chris is right," interrupted a young English sailor. "No man has had to do a tap of his work yet. He signed as good as any of us and he's shown himself as good—"
"Better!" broke in a Novia Scotia man. "Better than some of us! When we struck the sealing-grounds he turned out to be next to the best boat-steerer aboard. Only French Louis, who'd been at it for years, could beat him. I'm only a boat-puller, and you're only a boat-puller, too, Emil Johansen, for all your twenty-two years at sea. Why don't you become a boat-steerer?"
"Too clumsy," laughed the Englishman, "and too slow."
"Little that counts, one way or the other," joined in Dane Jurgensen, coming to the aid of his Scandinavian brother. "Emil is a man grown and an able seaman; the boy is neither."
