The Mutiny of the Elsinore - London, Jack; Jack London
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From the first the voyage was going wrong. Routed out of my hotel on a bitter March morning, I had crossed Baltimore and reached the pier-end precisely on time. At nine o'clock the tug was to have taken me down the bay and put me on board the Elsinore, and with growing irritation I sat frozen inside my taxicab and waited. On the seat, outside, the driver and Wada sat hunched in a temperature perhaps half a degree colder than mine. And there was no tug. Possum, the fox-terrier puppy Galbraith had so inconsi-derately foisted upon me, whimpered and shivered on my lap inside my greatcoat and under…mehr

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From the first the voyage was going wrong. Routed out of my hotel on a bitter March morning, I had crossed Baltimore and reached the pier-end precisely on time. At nine o'clock the tug was to have taken me down the bay and put me on board the Elsinore, and with growing irritation I sat frozen inside my taxicab and waited. On the seat, outside, the driver and Wada sat hunched in a temperature perhaps half a degree colder than mine. And there was no tug. Possum, the fox-terrier puppy Galbraith had so inconsi-derately foisted upon me, whimpered and shivered on my lap inside my greatcoat and under the fur robe. But he would not settle down. Continually he whimpered and clawed and struggled to get out. And, once out and bitten by the cold, with equal insistence he whimpered and clawed to get back. His unceasing plaint and movement was anything but sedative to my jangled nerves. In the first place I was uninterested in the brute. He meant nothing to me. I did not know him. Time and again, as I drearily waited, I was on the verge of giving him to the driver. Once, when two little girls-evidently the wharfinger's daughters-went by, my hand reached out to the door to open it so that I might call to them and present them with the puling little wretch.
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Autorenporträt
John Griffith Chaney (nascido em São Francisco, no 12 de janeiro de 1876 na Califórnia, morreu a 22 de novembro de 1916 no seu Beauty Ranch), autor, jornalista e ativista social norte-americano com referências marxistas, pioneiro da sua era, fez então parte do novo mundo das revistas comerciais de ficção, tendo sido um dos primeiros romancistas a obter celebridade mundial através das suas histórias, além de uma grande fortuna. Jack London (seu pseudónimo), é um dos mais importantes autores da literatura norte-americana do fim do século XIX, princípio do século XX. Escreveu centenas de contos, entre eles alguns visionários e magistrais que determinaram os caminhos da literatura ocidental, bem como magníficos romances.Apesar da jovem idade em que faleceu, Jack London deixou-nos uma extensa obra literária. A sua vida focou-se na sobrevivência - começou a trabalhar ainda em criança - e no sonho vir a ser escritor e viver da sua escrita. Para o conseguir London abraçou os mais diversos desafios, foi lutador de boxe, marinheiro e garimpeiro, e foi após a sua viagem durante a Febre do Ouro no Klondike que Jack London se decidiu definitivamente a tornar-se escritor, e foi na sua época o primeiro a lograr a fama mundial.