The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-09-03
Jack London in 'The Cruise oi Shark"

Shark.
 0NE sunny morning the Shark
 \ poked her nose into narrow
 O opening in a reef that smoked with the crashing impact of the trade wind swell and beat slowly up Papeete harbor Coming off to us was boat, ny ling yellow flag. We knew it contained
 the port doctor. But quite a distance or'
 In it's wake, was a tiny outrigger canoe
 that puzzled us. It was flying a red flag
 Then the doctor came on board. After he had examined the state of our health
 and been assured that we had no live
 rats hidden away on the Shark, l asked
 him the meaning of the red flag. "Oh, that is Darling" was the answer. And then Darling, Ernest Darling, flying the red flag that is indicative of the brotherhood of man, hailed us. Hello,
 Jack," he called Hello, Charmian!'
 He padded swiftly nearer, and I saw that he was the tawny prophet whom l had met before in California. He came
 over the side, sun god clad in scarlet loin cloth, with presents of Already and greet ling in both his hands-a bottle of golden honey and a leaf basket filled with great golden mangoes, golden bananas specied with freckles of deeper gold, golden pine apples and golden Times and juicy oranges minted from the same precious ore of sun and soil. And in this fashion, under the southern sky, met once more Darling, the Nature Man.
 Tahiti is one of the most beautiful spots in the world inhabited by thieves and robbers and liars, also by several honest and truthful men and women. Where fore, because of the blight cast upon Tahitrs wonderful beauty by the spidery human vermin that infest 1t, am minded to write, not of Tahiti, but of the Nature IMan. He, at least, is refreshing and
 wholesome. The spirit that emanates
 from him is so gentle and sweet fhat It would harm nothing, hurt nobodys s leel- ings save the feelings of predatory ara plutocratic capitalist.
 ..so you write books?" he said, one day
 when. tired and sweaty, I finished ny
 mornings work.
 "I too. write books" he announced Aha, thought l, now dl iooe he ID o'i'S
 to poster me with his literary efforts. My soul was. in revolt. I had not come all inc way to. the South Seas to be liter ary bureau.
 ..Tbis is the book write,' he explained, smashing himself a resounding blow on the chest with his clinched fist. "The gorilla in the African jungle pounds his
 chest till the noise of 1t can be heard half a mile away
 | "A pretty good chest quoth I, admir- Iingyy; .it would even make a gorilla en- lvious."
 | And then, and later, learned the de- tails of the marvellous book Ernest Dar- ling had written. Twelve years ago he ,av close to death. He weighed but 90
 pounds and was too weak to speak. The doctors had given him up. His father, a practicing physician, had given him up.
 Consultations with other physicians lad
 been held upon him. There was no hope for him.
 l Overstudy (as a school teacher and as q university studenD and two successive attacks of pneumonia were responsible for his breakdown. Day by day he was los ing strength. He could extract no nutri- ltion from the heavy foods they gave him; nor could pellets and powders help his stomach to do the work of digestion. Not only was he a physical wreck, but he was a mental wreck. His mind was over
 wrought He was sick and tired of mcdi-
 cine, and he was sick and tired of per
 sons. Human speech jared upon sim.
 Human attentions drove him frantic.
 The thought came to him that since he
 was going to die. he might as well die in
 the open, away from all the bother and
 Irritation And behind this idea lurked a
 snealSing idea that perhaps he would not
 die after all if only he could escape from
 the heavy foods, the medicines and the
 well mentioned persons who made him
 frantic
 So Ernest Darling, a bag of bones and a
 deaths head. g perambulating corpse