"Jack London - Yah! Yah! Yah!" - читать интересную книгу автора (London Jack)

"YAH! YAH! YAH!"

He was a whiskey-guzzling Scotchman, and he downed his whiskey neat, beginning
with his first tot punctually at six in the morning, and thereafter repeating
it at regular intervals throughout the day till bedtime, which was usually
midnight. He slept but five hours out of the twenty-four, and for the
remaining nineteen hours he was quietly and decently drunk. During the eight
weeks I spent with him on Oolong Atoll, I never saw him draw a sober breath.
In fact, his sleep was so short that he never had time to sober up. It was the
most beautiful and orderly perennial drunk I have ever observed.

McAllister was his name. He was an old man, and very shaky on his pins. His
hand trembled as with a palsy, especially noticeable when he poured his
whiskey, though I never knew him to spill a drop. He had been twenty-eight
years in Melanesia, ranging from German New Guinea to the German Solomons, and
so thoroughly had he become identified with that portion of the world, that he
habitually spoke in that bastard lingo called "bech-de-mer." Thus, in
conversation with me, SUN HE COME UP meant sunrise; KAI-KAI HE STOP meant that
dinner was served; and BELLY BELONG ME WALK ABOUT meant that he was sick at
his stomach. He was a small man, and a withered one, burned inside and outside
by ardent spirits and ardent sun. He was a cinder, a bit of a clinker of a
man, a little animated clinker, not yet quite cold, that moved stiffly and by
starts and jerks like an automaton. A gust of wind would have blown him away.
He weighed ninety pounds.

But the immense thing about him was the power with which he ruled. Oolong
Atoll was one hundred and forty miles in circumference. One steered by compass
course in its lagoon. It was populated by five thousand Polynesians, all
strapping men and women, many of them standing six feet in height and weighing
a couple of hundred pounds. Oolong was two hundred and fifty miles from the
nearest land. Twice a year a little schooner called to collect copra. The one
white man on Oolong was McAllister, petty trader and unintermittent guzzler;
and he ruled Oolong and its six thousand savages with an iron hand. He said
come, and they came, go, and they went. They never questioned his will nor
judgment. He was cantankerous as only an aged Scotchman can be, and interfered
continually in their personal affairs. When Nugu, the king's daughter, wanted
to marry Haunau from the other end of the atoll, her father said yes; but
McAllister said no, and the marriage never came off. When the king wanted to
buy a certain islet in the lagoon from the chief priest, McAllister said no.
The king was in debt to the Company to the tune of 180,000 cocoanuts, and
until that was paid he was not to spend a single cocoanut on anything else.

And yet the king and his people did not love McAllister. In truth, they hated
him horribly, and, to my knowledge, the whole population, with the priests at
the head, tried vainly for three months to pray him to death. The devil-devils
they sent after him were awe-inspiring, but since McAllister did not believe
in devil-devils, they were without power over him. With drunken Scotchmen all
signs fail. They gathered up scraps of food which had touched his lips, an
empty whiskey bottle, a cocoanut from which he had drunk, and even his
spittle, and performed all kinds of deviltries over them. But McAllister lived