The Cruise of the Snark E-Book

Jack London

• Herausgeber: ShadowPOET
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The Cruise of the Snark

IT began in the swimming pool at Glen Ellen. Between swims it was our wont to come out and lie in the sand and let our skins breathe the warm air and soak in the sunshine. Roscoe was a yachtsman. I had followed the sea a bit. It was inevitable that we should talk about boats. We talked about small boats, and the seaworthiness of small boats. We instanced Captain Slocum and his three years’ voyage around the world in the Spray.

We asserted that we were not afraid to go around the world in a small boat, say forty feet long. We asserted furthermore that we would like to do it. We asserted finally that there was nothing in this world we’d like better than a chance to do it.

Leseprobe

TheCruiseoftheSnark

ByJackLondon

Publisher: ShadowPOET

THECRUISEOFTHESNARK

CHAPTER IFOREWORD

IT began in the swimming pool at Glen Ellen. Between swims it was our wontto come out and lie in the sand and let our skins breathe the warm air and soakin the sunshine. Roscoe was a yachtsman. I had followed the sea a bit. It wasinevitable that we should talk about boats. We talked about small boats, andthe seaworthiness of small boats. We instanced Captain Slocum and his threeyears’voyagearoundtheworldintheSpray.

Weassertedthatwewerenotafraidtogoaroundtheworldinasmallboat,sayforty feet long. We asserted furthermore that we would like to do it. Weasserted finally that there was nothing in this world we’d like better than achancetodoit.

“Letusdoit,”wesaid...infun.

Then I asked Charmian privily if she’d really care to do it, and she said that itwastoogoodtobetrue.

The next time we breathed our skins in the sand by the swimming pool I saidtoRoscoe,“Letusdoit.”

Iwasinearnest,andsowashe,forhesaid:

“Whenshallwestart?”

I had a house to build on the ranch, also an orchard, a vineyard, and severalhedgestoplant,andanumberofotherthingstodo.Wethoughtwewouldstartin four or five years. Then the lure of the adventure began to grip us. Why notstartatonce?We’dneverbeyounger,anyofus.Lettheorchard,vineyard,andhedges be growing up while we were away. When we came back, they wouldbereadyforus,andwecouldliveinthebarnwhilewebuiltthehouse.

So the trip was decided upon, and the building of the Snark began. We namedher the Snark because we could not think of any other name—this informationis given for the benefit of those who otherwise might think there is somethingoccultinthename.

Our friends cannot understand why we make this voyage. They shudder, andmoan,andraisetheirhands.Noamountofexplanationcanmakethemcomprehend that we are moving along the line of least resistance; that it iseasier for us to go down to the sea in a small ship than to remain on dry land,just as it is easier for them to remain on dry land than to go down to the sea inthe small ship. This state of mind comes of an undue prominence of the ego.They cannot get away from themselves. They cannot come out of themselveslongenoughtoseethattheirlineofleastresistanceisnotnecessarilyeverybody else’s line of least resistance. They make of their own bundle ofdesires, likes, and dislikes a yardstick wherewith to measure the desires, likes,and dislikes of all creatures. This is unfair. I tell them so. But they cannot getaway from their own miserable egos long enough to hear me. They think I amcrazy. In return, I am sympathetic. It is a state of mind familiar to me. We areall prone to think there is something wrong with the mental processes of themanwhodisagreeswithus.

The ultimate word is I LIKE. It lies beneath philosophy, and is twined aboutthe heart of life.When philosophy has maundered ponderously for a month,telling the individual what he must do, the individual says, in an instant, “ILIKE,” and does something else, and philosophy goes glimmering.It is ILIKE that makes the drunkard drink and the martyr wear a hair shirt; thatmakes one man a reveller and another man an anchorite; that makes one manpursuefame,anothergold,anotherlove,andanotherGod.Philosophyisveryoftenaman’swayofexplaininghisownILIKE.

But to return to the Snark, and why I, for one, want to journey in her aroundtheworld.ThethingsIlikeconstitutemysetofvalues.ThethingIlikemostofallispersonalachievement—notachievementfortheworld’sapplause,butachievementformyowndelight.It is the old “I did it!I did it!With myownhandsIdidit!”Butpersonalachievement,withme,mustbeconcrete.

I’dratherwinawater-fightintheswimmingpool,orremainastrideahorsethatistryingtogetoutfromunderme,thanwritethegreatAmericannovel.Each man to his liking. Some other fellow would prefer writing the greatAmericannoveltowinningthewater-fightormasteringthehorse.

Possiblytheproudestachievementofmylife,mymomentofhighestliving,occurred when I was seventeen. I was in a three-masted schooner off the coastof Japan.We were in a typhoon.All hands had been on deck most of thenight.Iwascalledfrommybunkatseveninthemorningtotakethewheel.

Not a stitch of canvas was set.We were running before it under bare poles,yet the schooner fairly tore along.The seas were all of an eighth of a mileapart, and the wind snatched the whitecaps from their summits, filling. The airsothickwithdrivingspraythatitwasimpossibletoseemorethantwowavesat a time.The schooner was almost unmanageable, rolling her rail under tostarboard and to port, veering and yawing anywhere between south-east andsouth-west, and threatening, when the huge seas lifted under her quarter, tobroach to. Had she broached to, she would ultimately have been reported lostwithallhandsandnotidings.

I took the wheel. The sailing-master watched me for a space. He was afraid ofmy youth, feared that I lacked the strength and the nerve. But when he saw mesuccessfully wrestle the schooner through several bouts, he went below tobreakfast. Fore and aft, all hands were below at breakfast. Had she broachedto, not one of them would ever have reached the deck. For forty minutes Istood there alone at the wheel, in my grasp the wildly careering schooner andthe lives of twenty-two men. Once we were pooped. I saw it coming, and,half-drowned, with tons of water crushing me, I checked the schooner’s rushto broach to. At the end of the hour, sweating and played out, I was relieved.But I had done it! With my own hands I had done my trick at the wheel andguided a hundred tons of wood and iron through a few million tons of windandwaves.

My delight was in that I had done it—not in the fact that twenty-two menknew I had done it. Within the year over half of them were dead and gone, yetmy pride in the thing performed was not diminished by half. I am willing toconfess, however, that I do like a small audience. But it must be a very smallaudience, composed of those who love me and whom I love.When I thenaccomplish personal achievement, I have a feeling that I am justifying theirlove for me. But this is quite apart from the delight of the achievement itself.This delight is peculiarly my own and does not depend upon witnesses. WhenI have done some such thing, I am exalted.I glow all over.I am aware of apride in myself that is mine, and mine alone.It is organic.Every fibre of meis thrilling with it.It is very natural.It is a mere matter of satisfaction atadjustmenttoenvironment.Itissuccess.

Life that lives is life successful, and success is the breath of its nostrils. Theachievement of a difficult feat is successful adjustment to a sternly exactingenvironment.Themoredifficultthefeat,thegreaterthesatisfactionatitsaccomplishment.Thus it is with the man who leaps forward from thespringboard,outovertheswimmingpool,andwithabackwardhalf-revolutionof the body, enters the water head first. Once he leaves the springboard hisenvironmentbecomesimmediatelysavage,andsavage the penalty it willexact should he fail and strike the water flat. Of course, the man does not haveto run the risk of the penalty. He could remain on the bank in a sweet andplacid environment of summer air, sunshine, and stability.Only he is notmade that way.In that swift mid-air moment he lives as he could never liveonthebank.

As for myself, I’d rather be that man than the fellows who sit on the bank andwatch him.That is why I am building the Snark.I am so made.I like, that isall.The trip around the world means big moments of living.Bear with me amoment and look at it.Here am I, a little animal called a man—a bit ofvitalized matter, one hundred and sixty-five pounds of meat and blood, nerve,sinew, bones, and brain,—all of it soft and tender, susceptible to hurt, fallible,and frail.I strike a light back-handed blow on the nose of an obstreperoushorse, and abone inmy hand isbroken.I putmy headunder the waterforfiveminutes,andIamdrowned.Ifalltwentyfeetthroughtheair,andIamsmashed.Iamacreatureoftemperature.Afewdegreesoneway,andmyfingersandearsandtoesblackenanddropoff.Afewdegreestheotherway,andmyskinblistersandshrivelsawayfromtheraw,quiveringflesh.Afewadditionaldegreeseitherway,andthelifeandthelightinmegoout.Adrop ofpoisoninjectedintomybodyfromasnake,andIceasetomove—foreverIceasetomove.Asplinterofleadfromarifleentersmyhead,andIamwrappedaroundintheeternalblackness.

Fallible and frail, a bit of pulsating, jelly-like life—it is all I am. About me arethegreatnaturalforces—colossalmenaces,Titansofdestruction,unsentimental monsters that have less concern for me than I have for the grainof sand I crush under my foot. They have no concern at all for me. Theydonot know me. They are unconscious, unmerciful, and unmoral. They are thecyclones and tornadoes, lightning flashes and cloud-bursts, tide-rips and tidalwaves,undertowsandwaterspouts,greatwhirlsandsucksandeddies,earthquakes and volcanoes, surfs that thunder on rock-ribbed coasts and seasthatleapaboardthelargestcraftsthatfloat,crushinghumanstopulporlickingthem off into the sea and to death—and these insensate monsters do not knowthat tiny sensitive creature, all nerves and weaknesses, whom men call JackLondon,andwhohimselfthinksheisallrightandquiteasuperiorbeing.

InthemazeandchaosoftheconflictofthesevastanddraughtyTitans,itisfor

me to thread my precarious way. The bit of life that is I will exult over them.The bit of life that is I, in so far as it succeeds in baffling them or in bittingthemtoitsservice,willimaginethatitisgodlike.Itisgoodtoridethetempestand feel godlike. I dare to assert that for a finite speck of pulsating jelly to feelgodlikeisafarmoregloriousfeelingthanforagodtofeelgodlike.

Here is the sea, the wind, and the wave. Here are the seas, the winds, and thewaves of all the world.Here is ferocious environment.And here is difficultadjustment, the achievement of which is delight to the small quivering vanitythatisI.Ilike.Iamsomade.Itismyownparticularformofvanity,thatisall.

There is also another side to the voyage of the Snark. Being alive, I want tosee, and all the world is a bigger thing to see than one small town or valley.We have done little outlining of the voyage. Only one thing is definite, andthat is that our first port of call will be Honolulu. Beyond a few general ideas,we have no thought of our next port after Hawaii.We shall make up ourminds as we get nearer, in a general way we know that we shall wanderthrough the South Seas, take in Samoa, New Zealand, Tasmania, Australia,New Guinea, Borneo, and Sumatra, and go on up through the Philippines toJapan.Then will come Korea, China, India, the Red Sea, and theMediterranean. After that the voyage becomes too vague to describe, thoughwe know a number of things we shall surely do, and we expect to spend fromonetoseveralmonthsineverycountryinEurope.

The Snark is to be sailed. There will be a gasolene engine on board, but it willbe used only in case of emergency, such as in bad water among reefs andshoals, where a sudden calm in a swift current leaves a sailing-boat helpless.The rig of the Snark is to be what is called the “ketch.” The ketch rig is acompromisebetweentheyawlandtheschooner.Oflateyearstheyawlrighasproved the best for cruising. The ketch retains the cruising virtues of the yawl,andinadditionmanagestoembraceafewofthesailingvirtuesoftheschooner. The foregoing must be taken with a pinch of salt. It is all theory inmy head. I’ve never sailed a ketch, nor even seen one. The theory commendsitself to me. Wait till I get out on the ocean, then I’ll be able to tell more aboutthecruisingandsailingqualitiesoftheketch.

As originally planned, the Snark was to be forty feet long on the water-line.But we discovered there was no space for a bath-room, and for that reason wehave increased her length to forty-five feet. Her greatest beam is fifteen feet.She has no house and no hold. There is six feet of headroom, and the deck isunbroken save for two companionways and a hatch for’ard. The fact that thereis no house to break the strength of the deck will make us feel safer in casegreat seas thunder their tons of water down on board. A large and roomycockpit,sunkbeneaththedeck,withhighrailandself-bailing,willmakeour

rough-weatherdaysandnightsmorecomfortable.

There will be no crew. Or, rather, Charmian, Roscoe, and I are the crew. Weare going to do the thing with our own hands. Withourownhandswe’regoing to circumnavigate the globe. Sail her or sink her, with our own handswe’ll do it. Of course there will be a cook and a cabin-boy. Why should westew over a stove, wash dishes, and set the table? We could stay on land if wewanted to do those things. Besides, we’ve got to stand watch and work theship. And also, I’ve got to work at my trade of writing in order to feed us andto get new sails and tackle and keep the Snark in efficient working order. Andthen there’s the ranch; I’ve got to keep the vineyard, orchard, and hedgesgrowing.

When we increased the length of the Snark in order to get space for a bath-room, we found that all the space was not required by the bath-room. Becauseofthis,weincreasedthesizeoftheengine.Seventyhorse-powerourengineis, and since we expect it to drive us along at a nine-knot clip, we do not knowthenameofariverwithacurrentswiftenoughtodefyus.

We expect to do a lot of inland work. The smallness of the Snark makes thispossible. When we enter the land, out go the masts and on goes the engine.There are the canals of China, and the Yang-tse River. We shall spend monthson them if we can get permission from the government. That will be the oneobstacle to our inland voyaging—governmental permission. But if we can getthatpermission,thereisscarcelyalimittotheinlandvoyagingwecando.

WhenwecometotheNile,whywecangouptheNile.WecangouptheDanube to Vienna, up the Thames to London, and we can go up the Seine toParis and moor opposite the Latin Quarter with a bow-line out to Notre Dameandastern-linefasttotheMorgue.WecanleavetheMediterraneanandgoupthe Rhône to Lyons, there enter the Saône, cross from the Saône to the Mainethrough the Canal de Bourgogne, and from the Marne enter the Seine and goout the Seine at Havre. When we cross the Atlantic to the United States, wecan go up the Hudson, pass through the Erie Canal, cross the Great Lakes,leave Lake Michigan at Chicago, gain the Mississippi by way of the IllinoisRiver and the connecting canal, and go down the Mississippi to the Gulf ofMexico.AndthentherearethegreatriversofSouthAmerica.We’llknowsomethingaboutgeographywhenwegetbacktoCalifornia.

People that build houses are often sore perplexed; but if they enjoy the strainof it, I’ll advise them to build a boat like the Snark.Just consider, for amoment,thestrainofdetail.Taketheengine.Whatisthebestkindofengine

—the two cycle? three cycle? four cycle? My lips are mutilated with all kindsof strange jargon, my mind is mutilated with still stranger ideas and is foot-soreandwearyfromtravellinginnewandrockyrealmsofthought.—Ignitionmethods;shallitbemake-and-breakorjump-spark?Shalldrycellsorstorage

batteriesbeused?Astoragebatterycommendsitself,butitrequiresa dynamo.How powerful a dynamo?And when we have installed a dynamoand a storage battery, it is simply ridiculous not to light the boat withelectricity.Then comes the discussion of how many lights and how manycandle-power.Itisasplendididea.Butelectriclightswilldemandamorepowerfulstoragebattery,which,inturn,demandsamorepowerfuldynamo.

And now that we’ve gone in for it, why not have a searchlight? It would betremendouslyuseful.Butthesearchlightneedssomuchelectricitythatwhenitruns it will put all the other lights out of commission. Again we travel thewearyroadinthequestaftermorepowerforstoragebatteryanddynamo.Andthen, when it is finally solved, some one asks, “What if the engine breaksdown?” And we collapse. There are the sidelights, the binnacle light, and theanchor light. Our very lives depend upon them. So we have to fit the boatthroughoutwithoillampsaswell.

Butwearenotdonewiththatengineyet.Theengineispowerful.Wearetwosmall men and a small woman. It will break our hearts and our backs to hoistanchor by hand.Let the engine do it.And then comes the problem of how toconvey power for’ard from the engine to the winch. And by the time all this issettled,weredistributetheallotmentsofspacetotheengine-room,galley,

bath-room, state-rooms, and cabin, and begin all over again.And when wehaveshiftedtheengine,IsendoffatelegramofgibberishtoitsmakersatNewYork,somethinglikethis:Toggle-jointabandonedchangethrust-bearingaccordinglydistancefromforwardsideofflywheeltofaceofsternpostsixteenfeetsixinches.

Just potter around in quest of the best steering gear, or try to decide whetheryou will set up your rigging with old-fashioned lanyards or with turnbuckles,if you want strain of detail. Shall the binnacle be located in front of the wheelin the centre of the beam, or shall it be located to one side in front of thewheel?—there’s room right there for a library of sea-dog controversy. Thenthere’s the problem of gasolene, fifteen hundred gallons of it—what are thesafest ways to tank it and pipe it? and which is the best fire-extinguisher for agasolene fire?Then there is the pretty problem of the life-boat and thestowage of the same. And when that is finished, come the cook and cabin-boyto confront one with nightmare possibilities. It is a small boat, and we’ll bepacked close together.The servant-girl problem of landsmen pales toinsignificance. We did select one cabin-boy, and by that much were ourtroubleseased.Andthenthecabin-boyfellinloveandresigned.

And in the meanwhile how is a fellow to find time to study navigation—whenhe is divided between these problems and the earning of the money wherewithto settle the problems? Neither Roscoe nor I know anything about navigation,andthesummerisgone,andweareabouttostart,andtheproblemsare

thicker than ever, and the treasury is stuffed with emptiness. Well, anyway, ittakes years to learn seamanship, and both of us are seamen. If we don’t findthetime,we’lllayinthebooksandinstrumentsandteachourselvesnavigationontheoceanbetweenSanFranciscoandHawaii.

There is one unfortunate and perplexing phase of the voyage of the Snark.Roscoe, who is to be my co-navigator, is a follower of one, Cyrus R. Teed.Now Cyrus R. Teed has a different cosmology from the one generallyaccepted, and Roscoe shares his views.Wherefore Roscoe believes that thesurface of the earth is concave and that we live on the inside of a hollowsphere.Thus, though we shall sail on the one boat, the Snark, Roscoe willjourney around the world on the inside, while I shall journey around on theoutside.But of this,more anon.Wethreatentobeoftheonemindbeforethevoyageiscompleted.IamconfidentthatIshallconverthimintomakingthejourneyontheoutside,whileheisequallyconfidentthatbeforewearrivebackinSanFranciscoIshallbeontheinsideoftheearth.HowheisgoingtogetmethroughthecrustIdon’tknow,butRoscoeisayamasterfulman.

P.S.—That engine! While we’ve got it, and the dynamo, and the storagebattery, why not have an ice-machine? Ice in the tropics! It is more necessarythan bread. Here goes for the ice-machine! Now I am plunged into chemistry,and my lips hurt, and my mind hurts, and how am I ever to find the time tostudynavigation?

CHAPTERII

THEINCONCEIVABLEANDMONSTROUS

“SPARE no money,” I said to Roscoe. “Let everything on the Snark be of thebest.And never mind decoration.Plain pine boards is good enough finishingfor me.But put the money into the construction.Let the Snark be as staunchand strong as any boat afloat. Never mind what it costs to make her staunchandstrong;youseethatsheismadestaunchandstrong,andI’llgoonwritingandearningthemoneytopayforit.”

And I did . . . as well as I could; for the Snark ate up money faster than I couldearn it. In fact, every little while I had to borrow money with which tosupplementmyearnings.NowIborrowedonethousanddollars,nowIborrowed two thousand dollars, and now I borrowed five thousand dollars.And all the time I went on working every day and sinking the earnings in theventure. I worked Sundays as well, and I took no holidays. But it was worth it.EverytimeIthoughtoftheSnarkIknewshewasworthit.

Forknow,gentlereader,thestaunchnessoftheSnark.Sheisforty-fivefeet

long on the waterline. Her garboard strake is three inches thick; her plankingtwo and one-half inches thick; her deck-planking two inches thick and in allher planking there are no butts. I know, for I ordered that planking especiallyfrom Puget Sound. Then the Snark has four water-tight compartments, whichis to say that her length is broken by three water-tight bulkheads. Thus, nomatterhowlargealeaktheSnarkmayspring,Onlyonecompartmentcanfillwith water. The other three compartments will keep her afloat, anyway, and,besides, will enable us to mend the leak.There is another virtue in thesebulkheads. The last compartment of all, in the very stern, contains six tanksthat carry over one thousand gallons of gasolene.Now gasolene is a verydangerousarticletocarryinbulkonasmallcraftfaroutonthewideocean.

But when the six tanks that do not leak are themselves contained in acompartmenthermeticallysealedofffromtherestoftheboat,thedangerwillbeseentobeverysmallindeed.

The Snark is a sail-boat. She was built primarily to sail. But incidentally, as anauxiliary, a seventy-horse-power engine was installed. This is a good, strongengine. I ought to know. I paid for it to come out all the way from New YorkCity. Then, on deck, above the engine, is a windlass. It is a magnificent affair.It weighs several hundred pounds and takes up no end of deck-room. You see,it is ridiculous to hoist up anchor by hand-power when there is a seventy-horse-powerengineonboard.Soweinstalledthewindlass,transmittingpowerto it from the engine by means of a gear and castings specially made in a SanFranciscofoundry.

The Snark was made for comfort, and no expense was spared in this regard.There is the bath-room, for instance, small and compact, it is true, butcontainingalltheconveniencesofanybath-roomuponland.Thebath-roomis a beautiful dream of schemes and devices, pumps, and levers, and sea-valves. Why, in the course of its building, I used to lie awake nights thinkingabout that bath-room.And next to the bath-room come the life-boat and thelaunch.They are carried on deck, and they take up what little space mighthavebeenleftusforexercise.Butthen,theybeatlifeinsurance;andtheprudentman,evenifhehasbuiltasstaunchandstrongacraftastheSnark,willseetoitthathehasagoodlife-boataswell.Andoursisagoodone.Itisadandy.Itwasstipulatedtocostonehundredandfiftydollars,andwhenIcametopaythebill,itturnedouttobethreehundredandninety-fivedollars.Thatshowshowgoodalife-boatitis.

I could go on at great length relating the various virtues and excellences of theSnark, but I refrain. I have bragged enough as it is, and I have bragged to apurpose,aswillbeseenbeforemytaleisended.Andpleaserememberitstitle, “The Inconceivable and Monstrous.” It was planned that theSnark shouldsailonOctober1,1906.Thatshedidnotsosailwasinconceivableand

monstrous. There was no valid reason for not sailing except that she was notready to sail, and there was no conceivable reason why she was not ready. Shewas promised on November first, on November fifteenth, on December first;andyetshewasneverready.OnDecemberfirstCharmianandIleftthesweet,clean Sonoma country and came down to live in the stifling city—but not forlong, oh, no, only for two weeks, for we would sail on December fifteenth.And I guess we ought to know, for Roscoe said so, and it was on his advicethat we came to the city to stay two weeks. Alas, the two weeks went by, fourweeks went by, six weeks went by, eight weeks went by, and we were fartherawayfromsailingthanever.Explainit?Who?—me?Ican’t.Itistheonethingin all my life that I have backed down on. There is no explaining it; if therewere, I’d do it. I, who am an artisan of speech, confess my inability to explainwhy the Snark was not ready. As I have said, and as I must repeat, it wasinconceivableandmonstrous.

The eight weeks became sixteen weeks, and then, one day, Roscoe cheered usup by saying: “If we don’t sail before April first, you can use my head for afootball.”

Twoweekslaterhesaid,“I’mgettingmyheadintrainingforthatmatch.”

“Nevermind,”CharmianandIsaidtoeachother;“thinkofthewonderfulboatitisgoingtobewhenitiscompleted.”

Whereatwewouldrehearseforourmutualencouragementthemanifoldvirtues and excellences of the Snark. Also, I would borrow more money, and Iwouldgetdownclosertomydeskandwriteharder,andIrefusedheroicallytotake a Sunday off and go out into the hills with my friends. I was building aboat, and by the eternal it was going to be a boat, and a boat spelled out all incapitals—B—O—A—T; and no matter what it cost I didn’t care. So long as itwasaBOAT.

And, oh, there is one other excellence of the Snark, upon which I must brag,namely,herbow.Noseacouldevercomeoverit.Itlaughsatthesea,thatbowdoes; it challenges the sea; it snorts defiance at the sea. And withal it is abeautiful bow; the lines of it are dreamlike; I doubt if ever a boat was blessedwith a more beautiful and at the same time a more capable bow. It was madeto punch storms. To touch that bow is to rest one’s hand on the cosmic nose ofthings. To look at it is to realize that expense cut no figure where it wasconcerned. And every time our sailing was delayed, or a new expense wastackedon,wethoughtofthatwonderfulbowandwerecontent.

The Snark is a small boat. When I figured seven thousand dollars as hergenerous cost, I was both generous and correct. I have built barns and houses,and I know the peculiar trait such things have of running past their estimatedcost.Thisknowledgewasmine,wasalreadymine,whenIestimatedthe

probable cost of the building of the Snark at seven thousand dollars. Well, shecost thirty thousand. Now don’t ask me, please. It is the truth. I signed thechequesandIraisedthemoney.Ofcoursethereisnoexplainingit,inconceivable and monstrous is what it is, as you will agree, I know, ere mytaleisdone.

Then there was the matter of delay. I dealt with forty-seven different kinds ofunion men and with one hundred and fifteen different firms.And not oneunion man and not one firm of all the union men and all the firms everdelivered anything at the time agreed upon, nor ever was on time for anythingexcept pay-day and bill-collection. Men pledged me their immortal souls thatthey would deliver a certain thing on a certain date; as a rule, after suchpledging, they rarely exceeded being three months late in delivery.Andsoitwent,andCharmianandIconsoledeachotherbysayingwhatasplendidboattheSnarkwas,sostaunchandstrong;also,wewouldgetintothesmallboatandrowaroundtheSnark,andgloatoverherunbelievablywonderfulbow.

“Think,” I would say to Charmian, “of a gale off the China coast, and of theSnark hove to, that splendid bow of hers driving into the storm. Not a dropwill come over that bow. She’ll be as dry as a feather, and we’ll be all belowplayingwhistwhilethegalehowls.”

And Charmian would press my hand enthusiastically and exclaim: “It’s wortheverybitofit—thedelay,andexpense,andworry,andalltherest.Oh,whatatrulywonderfulboat!”

Whenever I looked at the bow of the Snark or thought of her water-tightcompartments,Iwasencouraged.Nobodyelse,however,wasencouraged.Myfriends began to make bets against the various sailing dates of the Snark. Mr.Wiget, who was left behind in charge of our Sonoma ranch was the first tocash his bet. He collected on New Year’s Day, 1907. After that the bets camefastandfurious.Myfriendssurroundedmelikeagangofharpies,makingbetsagainst every sailing date I set. I was rash, and I was stubborn. I bet, and I bet,and I continued to bet; and I paid them all. Why, the women-kind of myfriends grew so brave that those among them who never bet before began tobetwithme.AndIpaidthem,too.

“Never mind,” said Charmian to me; “just think of that bow and of being hovetoontheChinaSeas.”

“You see,” I said to my friends, when I paid the latest bunch of wagers,“neithertroublenorcashisbeingsparedinmakingtheSnarkthemostseaworthy craft that ever sailed out through the Golden Gate—that is whatcausesallthedelay.”

InthemeantimeeditorsandpublisherswithwhomIhadcontractspesteredmewithdemandsforexplanations.ButhowcouldIexplaintothem,whenIwas

unable to explain to myself, or when there was nobody, not even Roscoe, toexplain to me? The newspapers began to laugh at me, and to publish rhymesanent the Snark’s departure with refrains like, “Not yet, but soon.”AndCharmian cheered me up by reminding me of the bow, and I went to a bankerand borrowed five thousand more.There was onerecompense for the delay,however.Afriendofmine,whohappenstobeacritic,wrotearoastofme,ofall I had done, and of all I ever was going to do; and he planned to have itpublished after I was out on the ocean. I was still on shore when it came out,andhehasbeenbusyexplainingeversince.

And the time continued to go by. One thing was becoming apparent, namely,that it was impossible to finish the Snark in San Francisco. She had been solong in the building that she was beginning to break down and wear out. Infact, she had reached the stage where she was breaking down faster than shecould be repaired. She had become a joke. Nobody took her seriously; least ofall the men who worked on her. I said we would sail just as she was and finishbuildingherinHonolulu.Promptlyshesprangaleakthathadtobeattendedtobefore we could sail. I started her for the boat-ways. Before she got to themshe was caught between two huge barges and received a vigorous crushing.Wegotherontheways,and,partwayalong,thewaysspreadanddroppedherthrough,stern-first,intothemud.

It was a pretty tangle, a job for wreckers, not boat-builders.There are twohigh tides every twenty-four hours, and at every high tide, night and day, for aweek, there were two steam tugs pulling and hauling on the Snark. There shewas, stuck, fallen between the ways and standing on her stern.Next, andwhilestillinthatpredicament,westartedtousethegearsandcastingsmadeinthe local foundry whereby power was conveyed from the engine to thewindlass.Itwasthefirsttimeweevertriedtousethatwindlass.Thecastingshad flaws; they shattered asunder, the gears ground together, and the windlasswas out of commission. Following upon that, the seventy-horse-power enginewent out of commission. This engine came from New York; so did its bed-plate; there was a flaw in the bed-plate; there were a lot of flaws in the bed-plate; and the seventy-horse-power engine broke away from its shatteredfoundations, reared up in the air, smashed all connections and fastenings, andfelloveronitsside.AndtheSnarkcontinuedtostickbetweenthespreadways,andthetwotugscontinuedtohaulvainlyuponher.

“Nevermind,”saidCharmian,“thinkofwhatastaunch,strongboatsheis.”“Yes,”saidI,“andofthatbeautifulbow.”

So we took heart and went at it again. The ruined engine was lashed down onits rotten foundation; the smashed castings and cogs of the power transmissionwere taken down and stored away—all for the purpose of taking them toHonoluluwhererepairsandnewcastingscouldbemade.Somewhereinthe

dim past the Snark had received on the outside one coat of white paint. Theintention of the colour was still evident, however, when one got it in the rightlight. The Snark had never received any paint on the inside. On the contrary,shewascoatedinchesthickwiththegreaseandtobacco-juiceofthemultitudinous mechanics who had toiled upon her. Never mind, we said; thegrease and filth could be planed off, and later, when we fetched Honolulu, theSnarkcouldbepaintedatthesametimeasshewasbeingrebuilt.

By main strength and sweat we dragged the Snark off from the wrecked waysandlaidheralongsidetheOaklandCityWharf.Thedraysbroughtalltheoutfit from home, the books and blankets and personal luggage.Along withthis, everything else came on board in a torrent of confusion—wood and coal,waterandwater-tanks,vegetables,provisions,oil,thelife-boatandthelaunch,all our friends, all the friends of our friends and those who claimed to be theirfriends, to say nothing of some of the friends of the friends of the friends ofour crew. Also there were reporters, and photographers, and strangers, andcranks,andfinally,andoverall,cloudsofcoal-dustfromthewharf.

We were to sail Sunday at eleven, and Saturday afternoon had arrived. Thecrowd on the wharf and the coal-dust were thicker than ever. In one pocket Icarried a cheque-book, a fountain-pen, a dater, and a blotter; in another pocketI carried between one and two thousand dollars in paper money and gold.Iwas ready for the creditors, cash for the small ones and chequesforthelargeones,andwaswaitingonlyforRoscoetoarrivewiththebalancesoftheaccountsofthehundredandfifteenfirmswhohaddelayedmesomanymonths.Andthen—

And then the inconceivable and monstrous happened once more.BeforeRoscoe could arrive there arrived another man.He was a United Statesmarshal. He tacked a notice on the Snark’s brave mast so that all on the wharfcould read that the Snark had been libelled for debt. The marshal left a littleold man in charge of the Snark, and himself went away. I had no longer anycontrol of the Snark, nor of her wonderful bow. The little old man was nowherlordandmaster,andIlearnedthatIwaspayinghimthreedollarsadayforbeing lord and master. Also, I learned the name of the man who had libelledthe Snark.It was Sellers; the debt was two hundred and thirty-two dollars;and the deed was no more than was to be expected from the possessor of suchaname.Sellers!Yegods!Sellers!

But who under the sun was Sellers? I looked in my cheque-book and saw thattwo weeks before I had made him out a cheque for five hundred dollars. Othercheque-books showed me that during the many months of the building of theSnark I had paid him several thousand dollars. Then why in the name ofcommon decency hadn’t he tried to collect his miserable little balance insteadoflibellingtheSnark?Ithrustmyhandsintomypockets,andinonepocket

encountered the cheque-hook and the dater and the pen, and in the otherpocket the gold money and the paper money. There was the wherewithal tosettle his pitiful account a few score of times and over—why hadn’t he givenme a chance? There was no explanation; it was merely the inconceivable andmonstrous.

Tomakethematterworse,theSnarkhadbeenlibelledlateSaturdayafternoon;andthoughIsentlawyersandagentsalloverOaklandandSanFrancisco,neitherUnitedStatesjudge,norUnitedStatesmarshal,norMr.Sellers,norMr. Sellers’ attorney, nor anybody could be found.They were all out of townfortheweekend.AndsotheSnarkdidnotsailSundaymorningateleven.

The little old man was still in charge, and he said no.And Charmian and IwalkedoutonanoppositewharfandtookconsolationintheSnark’swonderfulbowandthoughtofallthegalesandtyphoonsitwouldproudlypunch.

“A bourgeois trick,” I said to Charmian, speaking of Mr. Sellers and his libel;“a petty trader’s panic. But never mind; our troubles will cease when once weareawayfromthisandoutonthewideocean.”

And in the end we sailed away, on Tuesday morning, April 23, 1907. Westarted rather lame, I confess. We had to hoist anchor by hand, because thepower transmission was a wreck. Also, what remained of our seventy-horse-power engine was lashed down for ballast on the bottom of theSnark.Butwhat of such things?They could be fixed in Honolulu, and in the meantimethink of the magnificent rest of the boat!It is true, the engine in the launchwouldn’t run, and the life-boat leaked like a sieve; but then they weren’t theSnark; they were mere appurtenances. The things that counted were the water-tightbulkheads,thesolidplankingwithoutbutts,thebath-roomdevices—theywere the Snark. And then there was, greatest of all, that noble, wind-punchingbow.

We sailed out through the Golden Gate and set our course south toward thatpart of the Pacific where we could hope to pick up with the north-east trades.And right away things began to happen.I had calculated that youth was thestuff for a voyage like that of the Snark, and I had taken three youths—theengineer,thecook,andthecabin-boy.Mycalculationwasonlytwo-thirdsoff;I had forgotten to calculate on seasick youth, and I had two of them, the cookand the cabin boy. They immediately took to their bunks, and that was the endof their usefulness for a week to come.It will be understood, from theforegoing, that we did not have the hot meals we might have had, nor werethings kept clean and orderly down below. But it did not matter very muchanyway, for we quickly discovered that our box of oranges had at some timebeen frozen; that our box of apples was mushy and spoiling; that the crate ofcabbages,spoiledbeforeitwaseverdeliveredtous,hadtogooverboard

instanter; that kerosene had been spilled on the carrots, and that the turnipswere woody and the beets rotten, while the kindling was dead wood thatwouldn’tburn,andthecoal,deliveredinrottenpotato-sacks,hadspilledalloverthedeckandwaswashingthroughthescuppers.

Butwhatdiditmatter?Suchthingsweremereaccessories.Therewastheboat

—she was all right, wasn’t she? I strolled along the deck and in one minutecounted fourteen butts in the beautiful planking ordered specially from PugetSoundinorderthatthereshouldbenobuttsinit.Also,thatdeckleaked,anditleaked badly. It drowned Roscoe out of his bunk and ruined the tools in theengine-room, to say nothing of the provisions it ruined in the galley. Also, thesides of the Snark leaked, and the bottom leaked, and we had to pump herevery day to keep her afloat. The floor of the galley is a couple of feet abovethe inside bottom of the Snark; and yet I have stood on the floor of the galley,trying to snatch a cold bite, and been wet to the knees by the water churningaroundinsidefourhoursafterthelastpumping.

Then those magnificent water-tight compartments that cost so much time andmoney—well, they weren’t water-tight after all. The water moved free as theair from one compartment to another; furthermore, a strong smell of gasolenefrom the after compartment leads me to suspect that some one or more of thehalf-dozen tanks there stored have sprung a leak. The tanks leak, and they arenot hermetically sealed in their compartment. Then there was the bath-roomwith its pumps and levers and sea-valves—it went out of commission insidethe first twenty hours.Powerful iron levers broke off short in one’s handwhen one tried to pump with them. The bath-room was the swiftest wreck ofanyportionoftheSnark.

Andtheiron-workontheSnark,nomatterwhatitssource,provedtobemush.For instance, the bed-plate of the engine came from New York, and it wasmush; so were the casting and gears for the windlass that came from SanFrancisco.Andfinally,therewasthewroughtironusedintherigging,thatcarried away in all directions when the first strains were put upon it. Wroughtiron,mindyou,anditsnappedlikemacaroni.

Agooseneckonthegaffofthemainsailbrokeshortoff.Wereplacedit with the gooseneck from the gaff of the storm trysail, and the second gooseneckbrokeshortoffinsidefifteenminutesofuse,and,mindyou,ithadbeentakenfromthegaffofthestormtrysail,uponwhichwewouldhavedependedintimeofstorm.AtthepresentmomenttheSnarktrailshermainsaillikeabrokenwing,thegooseneckbeingreplacedbyaroughlashing.We’llseeifwecangethonestironinHonolulu.

Man had betrayed us and sent us to sea in a sieve, but the Lord must haveloved us, for we had calm weather in which to learn that we must pump everydayinordertokeepafloat,andthatmoretrustcouldbeplacedinawooden