Jerry of the Islands | Page 4

of the
Minota's splendid skipper. So much did Mrs. London and I come to
love her, that Mrs. London, after the wreck of the Minota, deliberately
and shamelessly stole her from the Minota's skipper. I do further admit
that I did, deliberately and shamelessly, compound my wife's felony.
We loved Peggy so! Dear royal, glorious little dog, buried at sea off the
east coast of Australia!
I must add that Peggy, like Jerry, was born at Meringe Lagoon, on
Meringe Plantation, which is of the Island of Ysabel, said Ysabel Island
lying next north of Florida Island, where is the seat of government and
where dwells the Resident Commissioner, Mr. C. M. Woodford. Still
further and finally, I knew Peggy's mother and father well, and have
often known the warm surge in the heart of me at the sight of that
faithful couple running side by side along the beach. Terrence was his
real name. Her name was Biddy.
JACK LONDON WAIKIKI BEACH, HONOLULU, OAHU, T.H.
June 5, 1915

CHAPTER I

Not until Mister Haggin abruptly picked him up under one arm and
stepped into the sternsheets of the waiting whaleboat, did Jerry dream
that anything untoward was to happen to him. Mister Haggin was
Jerry's beloved master, and had been his beloved master for the six
months of Jerry's life. Jerry did not know Mister Haggin as "master,"
for "master" had no place in Jerry's vocabulary, Jerry being a
smooth-coated, golden-sorrel Irish terrier.
But in Jerry's vocabulary, "Mister Haggin" possessed all the
definiteness of sound and meaning that the word "master" possesses in
the vocabularies of humans in relation to their dogs. "Mister Haggin"
was the sound Jerry had always heard uttered by Bob, the clerk, and by

Derby, the foreman on the plantation, when they addressed his master.
Also, Jerry had always heard the rare visiting two-legged man-creatures
such as came on the Arangi, address his master as Mister Haggin.
But dogs being dogs, in their dim, inarticulate, brilliant, and
heroic-worshipping ways misappraising humans, dogs think of their
masters, and love their masters, more than the facts warrant. "Master"
means to them, as "Mister" Haggin meant to Jerry, a deal more, and a
great deal more, than it means to humans. The human considers himself
as "master" to his dog, but the dog considers his master "God."
Now "God" was no word in Jerry's vocabulary, despite the fact that he
already possessed a definite and fairly large vocabulary. "Mister
Haggin" was the sound that meant "God." In Jerry's heart and head, in
the mysterious centre of all his activities that is called consciousness,
the sound, "Mister Haggin," occupied the same place that "God"
occupies in human consciousness. By word and sound, to Jerry, "Mister
Haggin" had the same connotation that "God" has to God-worshipping
humans. In short, Mister Haggin was Jerry's God.
And so, when Mister Haggin, or God, or call it what one will with the
limitations of language, picked Jerry up with imperative abruptness,
tucked him under his arm, and stepped into the whaleboat, whose black
crew immediately bent to the oars, Jerry was instantly and nervously
aware that the unusual had begun to happen. Never before had he gone
out on board the Arangi, which he could see growing larger and closer
to each lip-hissing stroke of the oars of the blacks.
Only an hour before, Jerry had come down from the plantation house to
the beach to see the Arangi depart. Twice before, in his half- year of
life, had he had this delectable experience. Delectable it truly was,
running up and down the white beach of sand-pounded coral, and,
under the wise guidance of Biddy and Terrence, taking part in the
excitement of the beach and even adding to it.
There was the nigger-chasing. Jerry had been born to hate niggers. His
first experiences in the world as a puling puppy, had taught him that
Biddy, his mother, and his father Terrence, hated niggers. A nigger was
something to be snarled at. A nigger, unless he were a house-boy, was
something to be attacked and bitten and torn if he invaded the
compound. Biddy did it. Terrence did it. In doing it, they served their
God--Mister Haggin. Niggers were two-legged lesser creatures who

toiled and slaved for their two-legged white lords, who lived in the
labour barracks afar off, and who were so much lesser and lower that
they must not dare come near the habitation of their lords.
And nigger-chasing was adventure. Not long after he had learned to
sprawl, Jerry had learned that. One took his chances. As long as Mister
Haggin, or Derby, or Bob, was about, the niggers took their chasing.
But there were times when the white lords were not about. Then it was
"'Ware niggers!" One must