The Sea-Wolf

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London, Jack

"The Sea-Wolf"

Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,

And her ropes are taut with the dew,

For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,

We're sagging south on the Long Trail- the trail that is always new.

? ? ? ? 'Eh, Hump? How's it strike you?' he asked, after the due pause which words and setting demanded.

? ? ? ? I looked into his face. It was aglow with light, as the sea itself, and the eyes were flashing in the starshine.

? ? ? ? 'It strikes me as remarkable, to say the least, that you should show enthusiasm,' I answered coldly.

? ? ? ? 'Why, man, it's living; it's life!' he cried.

? ? ? ? 'Which is a cheap thing and without value.' I flung his words at him.

? ? ? ? He laughed, and it was the first time I had heard honest mirth in his voice.

? ? ? ? 'Ah, I cannot get you to understand, cannot drive it into your head, what a thing this life is. Of course life is valueless, except to itself.

Pages:
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Experiments and Considerations Touching Colours (1664) (page 360) The Swiss Family Robinson; or Adventures in a Desert Island (page 42) The Universal Copyright Convention (1988) (page 15)

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London, Jack

"The Sea-Wolf"