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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 186/210
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*
*
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*
*
At
the
end
of
my
eighth
year
on
the
island
in
the
month
of
September
,
when
I
had
just
sketched
most
ambitious
plans
to
raise
my
pyramid
to
sixty
feet
above
the
summit
of
the
island
,
I
awoke
one
morning
to
stare
out
upon
a
ship
with
topsails
aback
and
nearly
within
hail
.
That
I
might
be
discovered
,
I
swung
my
oar
in
the
air
,
jumped
from
rock
to
rock
,
and
was
guilty
of
all
manner
of
livelinesses
of
action
,
until
I
could
see
the
officers
on
the
quarter-deck
looking
at
me
through
their
spyglasses
.
They
answered
by
pointing
to
the
extreme
westerly
end
of
the
island
,
whither
I
hastened
and
discovered
their
boat
manned
by
half
a
dozen
men
.
It
seems
,
as
I
was
to
learn
afterward
,
the
ship
had
been
attracted
by
my
pyramid
and
had
altered
its
course
to
make
closer
examination
of
so
strange
a
structure
that
was
greater
of
height
than
the
wild
island
on
which
it
stood
.
But
the
surf
proved
to
be
too
great
to
permit
the
boat
to
land
on
my
inhospitable
shore
.
After
divers
unsuccessful
attempts
they
signalled
me
that
they
must
return
to
the
ship
.
Conceive
my
despair
at
thus
being
unable
to
quit
the
desolate
island
.
I
seized
my
oar
(
which
I
had
long
since
determined
to
present
to
the
Philadelphia
Museum
if
ever
I
were
preserved
)
and
with
it
plunged
headlong
into
the
foaming
surf
.
Such
was
my
good
fortune
,
and
my
strength
and
agility
,
that
I
gained
the
boat
.
I
can
not
refrain
from
telling
here
a
curious
incident
.
The
ship
had
by
this
time
drifted
so
far
away
,
that
we
were
all
of
an
hour
in
getting
aboard
.
During
this
time
I
yielded
to
my
propensities
that
had
been
baffled
for
eight
long
years
,
and
begged
of
the
second
mate
,
who
steered
,
a
piece
of
tobacco
to
chew
.
This
granted
,
the
second
mate
also
proffered
me
his
pipe
,
filled
with
prime
Virginia
leaf
.
Scarce
had
ten
minutes
passed
when
I
was
taken
violently
sick
.
The
reason
for
this
was
clear
.
My
system
was
entirely
purged
of
tobacco
,
and
what
I
now
suffered
was
tobacco
poisoning
such
as
afflicts
any
boy
at
the
time
of
his
first
smoke
.
Again
I
had
reason
to
be
grateful
to
God
,
and
from
that
day
to
the
day
of
my
death
,
I
neither
used
nor
desired
the
foul
weed
.
*
*
*
*
*
I
,
Darrell
Standing
,
must
now
complete
the
amazingness
of
the
details
of
this
existence
which
I
relived
while
unconscious
in
the
strait-jacket
in
San
Quentin
prison
.
I
often
wondered
if
Daniel
Foss
had
been
true
in
his
resolve
and
deposited
the
carved
oar
in
the
Philadelphia
Museum
.
It
is
a
difficult
matter
for
a
prisoner
in
solitary
to
communicate
with
the
outside
world
.
Once
,
with
a
guard
,
and
once
with
a
short-timer
in
solitary
,
I
entrusted
,
by
memorization
,
a
letter
of
inquiry
addressed
to
the
curator
of
the
Museum
.
Although
under
the
most
solemn
pledges
,
both
these
men
failed
me
.
It
was
not
until
after
Ed
Morrell
,
by
a
strange
whirl
of
fate
,
was
released
from
solitary
and
appointed
head
trusty
of
the
entire
prison
,
that
I
was
able
to
have
the
letter
sent
.
I
now
give
the
reply
,
sent
me
by
the
curator
of
the
Philadelphia
Museum
,
and
smuggled
to
me
by
Ed
Morrell
:
*
*
*
*
*
"
It
is
true
there
is
such
an
oar
here
as
you
have
described
.
But
few
persons
can
know
of
it
,
for
it
is
not
on
exhibition
in
the
public
rooms
.
In
fact
,
and
I
have
held
this
position
for
eighteen
years
,
I
was
unaware
of
its
existence
myself
.
