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- Джек Лондон
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- До Адама
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I
know
that
we
were
turned
from
our
course
countless
times
by
streams
and
lakes
and
slimy
seas
.
Then
there
were
storms
and
risings
of
the
water
over
great
areas
of
the
low
-
lying
lands
;
and
there
were
periods
of
hunger
and
misery
when
we
were
kept
prisoners
in
the
trees
for
days
and
days
by
these
transient
floods
.
Very
strong
upon
me
is
one
picture
.
Large
trees
are
about
us
,
and
from
their
branches
hang
gray
filaments
of
moss
,
while
great
creepers
,
like
monstrous
serpents
,
curl
around
the
trunks
and
writhe
in
tangles
through
the
air
.
And
all
about
is
the
mud
,
soft
mud
,
that
bubbles
forth
gases
,
and
that
heaves
and
sighs
with
internal
agitations
.
And
in
the
midst
of
all
this
are
a
dozen
of
us
.
We
are
lean
and
wretched
,
and
our
bones
show
through
our
tight
-
stretched
skins
.
We
do
not
sing
and
chatter
and
laugh
.
We
play
no
pranks
.
For
once
our
volatile
and
exuberant
spirits
are
hopelessly
subdued
.
We
make
plaintive
,
querulous
noises
,
look
at
one
another
,
and
cluster
close
together
.
It
is
like
the
meeting
of
the
handful
of
survivors
after
the
day
of
the
end
of
the
world
.
This
event
is
without
connection
with
the
other
events
in
the
swamp
.
How
we
ever
managed
to
cross
it
,
I
do
not
know
,
but
at
last
we
came
out
where
a
low
range
of
hills
ran
down
to
the
bank
of
the
river
.
It
was
our
river
emerging
like
ourselves
from
the
great
swamp
.
On
the
south
bank
,
where
the
river
had
broken
its
way
through
the
hills
,
we
found
many
sand
-
stone
caves
.
Beyond
,
toward
the
west
,
the
ocean
boomed
on
the
bar
that
lay
across
the
river
’
s
mouth
.
And
here
,
in
the
caves
,
we
settled
down
in
our
abiding
-
place
by
the
sea
.
There
were
not
many
of
us
.
From
time
to
time
,
as
the
days
went
by
,
more
of
the
Folk
appeared
.
They
dragged
themselves
from
the
swamp
singly
,
and
in
twos
and
threes
,
more
dead
than
alive
,
mere
perambulating
skeletons
,
until
at
last
there
were
thirty
of
us
.
Then
no
more
came
from
the
swamp
,
and
Red
-
Eye
was
not
among
us
.
It
was
noticeable
that
no
children
had
survived
the
frightful
journey
.
I
shall
not
tell
in
detail
of
the
years
we
lived
by
the
sea
.
It
was
not
a
happy
abiding
-
place
.
The
air
was
raw
and
chill
,
and
we
suffered
continually
from
coughing
and
colds
.
We
could
not
survive
in
such
an
environment
.
True
,
we
had
children
;
but
they
had
little
hold
on
life
and
died
early
,
while
we
died
faster
than
new
ones
were
born
.
Our
number
steadily
diminished
.
Then
the
radical
change
in
our
diet
was
not
good
for
us
.
We
got
few
vegetables
and
fruits
,
and
became
fish
-
eaters
.
There
were
mussels
and
abalones
and
clams
and
rock
-
oysters
,
and
great
ocean
-
crabs
that
were
thrown
upon
the
beaches
in
stormy
weather
.
Also
,
we
found
several
kinds
of
seaweed
that
were
good
to
eat
.
But
the
change
in
diet
caused
us
stomach
troubles
,
and
none
of
us
ever
waxed
fat
.
We
were
all
lean
and
dyspeptic
-
looking
.
It
was
in
getting
the
big
abalones
that
Lop
-
Ear
was
lost
.
One
of
them
closed
upon
his
fingers
at
low
-
tide
,
and
then
the
flood
-
tide
came
in
and
drowned
him
.
We
found
his
body
the
next
day
,
and
it
was
a
lesson
to
us
.
Not
another
one
of
us
was
ever
caught
in
the
closing
shell
of
an
abalone
.
The
Swift
One
and
I
managed
to
bring
up
one
child
,
a
boy
—
at
least
we
managed
to
bring
him
along
for
several
years
.
But
I
am
quite
confident
he
could
never
have
survived
that
terrible
climate
.
And
then
,
one
day
,
the
Fire
People
appeared
again
.
They
had
come
down
the
river
,
not
on
a
catamaran
,
but
in
a
rude
dug
-
out
.
There
were
three
of
them
that
paddled
in
it
,
and
one
of
them
was
the
little
wizened
old
hunter
.
They
landed
on
our
beach
,
and
he
limped
across
the
sand
and
examined
our
caves
.
They
went
away
in
a
few
minutes
,
but
the
Swift
One
was
badly
scared
.
We
were
all
frightened
,
but
none
of
us
to
the
extent
that
she
was
.
She
whimpered
and
cried
and
was
restless
all
that
night
.
In
the
morning
she
took
the
child
in
her
arms
,
and
by
sharp
cries
,
gestures
,
and
example
,
started
me
on
our
second
long
flight
.
There
were
eight
of
the
Folk
(
all
that
was
left
of
the
horde
)
that
remained
behind
in
the
caves
.
There
was
no
hope
for
them
.
Without
doubt
,
even
if
the
Fire
People
did
not
return
,
they
must
soon
have
perished
.
It
was
a
bad
climate
down
there
by
the
sea
.
The
Folk
were
not
constituted
for
the
coast
-
dwelling
life
.
We
travelled
south
,
for
days
skirting
the
great
swamp
but
never
venturing
into
it
.
