Рассказы Южных морей

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Л 76

ISBN 978-5-9925-0730-0

Лондон Дж.
Л 76 
Рассказы Южных морей: Книга для чтения 
на английском языке. — СПб.: КАРО, 2012. — 
224 с. — (Серия “Classical Literature”)

ISBN 978-5-9925-0730-0.

«Визитной карточкой» знаменитого американского 
писателя Джека Лондона (1876–1916), конечно же, являются его рассказы о суровых, мужественных золотоискателях, но предлагаемые вниманию читателей «Рассказы 
Южных морей» — не менее захватывающие истории о мужестве, доблести и о любви.
В предлагаемой вниманию читателей книге представлен неадаптированный текст рассказов, снабженный комментариями и словарем.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2012

Джек Лондон

РАССКАЗЫ ЮЖНЫХ МОРЕЙ

SOUTH SEA TALES

Ответственный редактор О. П. Панайотти
Технический редактор Я. В. Попова
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Иллюстрация на обложке О. В. Маркиной

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ОБ АВТОРЕ

Знаменитый американский писатель Джек Лондон 
родился 12 января 1876 года в Сан-Франциско. Родители 
разошлись до рождения мальчика. Позже его мать Флора 
Чейни вышла замуж повторно за овдовевшего фермера 
Джона Лондона. Денег в семье было мало, и Джеку, не 
доучившись в школе, пришлось с ранних лет зарабатывать себе на жизнь. Чем только он не занимался — продавал газеты, трудился на джутовой и консервной фабриках, зарабатывал в качестве «устричного пирата» — 
нелегального сборщика устриц в бухте Сан-Франциско, 
матроса, позже охотился на морских котиков в Тихом 
океане у берегов Японии, побывал на Аляске в качестве 
золотоискателя, был гладильщиком и кочегаром. Весь 
этот огромный жизненный опыт позднее нашел отражение в его литературном творчестве.
Джек Лондон — человек, сделавший себя сам. Не получив систематического образования, он с детства очень 
много читал — как художественную литературу, так и 
философские и социологические труды. Самостоятельно 
подготовился и поступил в Калифорнийский университет, но из-за отсутствия средств вынужден был оставить учебу после третьего семестра. Умелец, моряк, впоследствии фермер, познавший тяжесть физического труда, Лондон всю жизнь жадно поглощал знания и уже в 

ОБ АВТОРЕ

ранние годы загорелся мечтой стать писателем, благо ему 
было что сказать читателям.
Он был очень плодовит, работал по 15–17 часов в день. 
Из-под его пера вышло более 200 рассказов, первый из 
них, «За тех, кто в пути» увидел свет в 1899 году, после 
возвращения Лондона с Клондайка. Сборники рассказов 
«Сын волка», «Бог его отцов», «Дети мороза» и др., героями которых стали волевые, мужественные люди, осуждающие трусов и предателей, принесли ему широчайшую 
известность.
Дальнейшая литературная карьера Джека Лондона сложилась удачно, он получал безумные по тем временам гонорары — до пятидесяти тысяч долларов за книгу. Однако 
это не помешало ему продолжать писать в «социалистическом» духе, обличая социальную несправедливость.
Джек Лондон рано ушел из жизни — ему было всего 
сорок лет, отравившись прописанным ему морфием (он 
страдал тяжелым почечным заболеванием). Некоторые 
исследователи полагают, что это было самоубийство, что, 
впрочем, ничем не подтверждено, так как он не оставил 
предсмертной записки. Но, безусловно, мысли о самоубийстве у него были — достаточно вспомнить Мартина 
Идена, альтер эго писателя. Его герой сознательно покончил с собой, разочаровавшись в ценностях своего собственного круга и буржуазного мира, в котором, даже 
разбогатев и прославившись, он не смог жить.

* * *
Предлагаемый вниманию читателей сборник «Рас сказы Южных морей», вышедший в свет в 1911 году, — это 
захватывающие истории о человеческом мужестве, стойкости и, конечно же, любви.

THE HOUSE 
OF MAPUHI

Despite the heavy clumsiness of her lines, the Aorai 
handled easily in the light breeze, and her captain ran her 
well in before he hove to just outside the suck of the surf. 
Th e atoll of Hikueru lay low on the water, a circle of 
pounded coral sand a hundred yards wide, twenty miles 
in circumference, and from three to fi ve feet above highwater mark. On the bottom of the huge and glassy lagoon 
was much pearl shell, and from the deck of the schooner, 
across the slender ring of the atoll, the divers could be 
seen at work. But the lagoon had no entrance for even 
a trading schooner. With a favoring breeze cutters could 
win in through the tortuous and shallow channel, but the 
schooners lay off  and on outside and sent in their small 
boats.
Th e Aorai swung out a boat smartly, into which sprang 
half a dozen brown-skinned sailors clad only in scarlet 
loincloths. Th ey took the oars, while in the stern sheets, at 
the steering sweep, stood a young man garbed in the tropic 
white that marks the European. The golden strain of 
Polynesia betrayed itself in the sun-gilt of his fair skin and 

SOUTH SEA TALES

6

cast up golden sheens and lights through the glimmering 
blue of his eyes. Raoul he was, Alexandre Raoul, youngest 
son of Marie Raoul, the wealthy quarter-caste, who owned 
and managed half a dozen trading schooners similar to 
the Aorai. Across an eddy just outside the entrance, and 
in and through and over a boiling tide-rip1, the boat fought 
its way to the mirrored calm of the lagoon. Young Raoul 
leaped out upon the white sand and shook hands with a 
tall native. Th e man’s chest and shoulders were magnifi cent, 
but the stump of a right arm, beyond the fl esh of which 
the age-whitened bone projected several inches, attested 
the encounter with a shark2 that had put an end to his 
diving days and made him a fawner and an intriguer for 
small favors.
“Have you heard, Alec?” were his fi rst words. “Mapuhi 
has found a pearl — such a pearl. Never was there one like 
it ever fi shed up in Hikueru, nor in all the Paumotus, nor 
in all the world. Buy it from him. He has it now. And 
remember that I told you fi rst. He is a fool and you can 
get it cheap. Have you any tobacco?”
Straight up the beach to a shack under a pandanus tree 
Raoul headed. He was his mother’s supercargo, and his 
business was to comb all the Paumotus for the wealth of 
copra, shell, and pearls that they yielded up.
He was a young supercargo, it was his second voyage 
in such capacity, and he suff ered much secret worry from 
his lack of experience in pricing pearls. But when Mapuhi 

1 over a boiling tide-rip — (разг.) сквозь (через) буруны 
прилива
2 attested the encounter with a shark — (разг.) свидетельствовало о его встрече с акулой

THE HOUSE OF MAPUHI 

exposed the pearl to his sight he managed to suppress the 
startle it gave him, and to maintain a careless, commercial 
expression on his face. For the pearl had struck him 
a blow. It was large as a pigeon egg, a perfect sphere, of 
a whiteness that refl ected opalescent lights from all colors 
about it. It was alive. Never had he seen anything like it. 
When Mapuhi dropped it into his hand he was surprised 
by the weight of it. Th at showed that it was a good pearl. 
He examined it closely, through a pocket magnifying glass. 
It was without fl aw or blemish. Th e purity of it seemed 
almost to melt into the atmosphere out of his hand. In the 
shade it was soft ly luminous, gleaming like a tender moon. 
So translucently white was it, that when he dropped it into 
a glass of water he had diffi  culty in fi nding it. So straight 
and swift ly had it sunk to the bottom that he knew its 
weight was excellent.
“Well, what do you want for it?” he asked, with a fi ne 
assumption of nonchalance.
“I want — ” Mapuhi began, and behind him, framing 
his own dark face, the dark faces of two women and a girl 
nodded concurrence in what he wanted. Th eir heads were 
bent forward, they were animated by a suppressed 
eagerness, their eyes fl ashed avariciously.
“I want a house,” Mapuhi went on. “It must have a roof 
of galvanized iron and an octagon-drop-clock1. It must be 
six fathoms long with a porch all around. A big room must 
be in the centre, with a round table in the middle of it and 
the octagon-drop-clock on the wall. Th ere must be four 
bedrooms, two on each side of the big room, and in each 

1 octagon-drop-clock — (разг.) часы с маятником

SOUTH SEA TALES

8

bedroom must be an iron bed, two chairs, and a washstand. 
And back of the house must be a kitchen, a good kitchen, 
with pots and pans and a stove. And you must build the 
house on my island, which is Fakarava.”
“Is that all?” Raoul asked incredulously.
“Th ere must be a sewing machine,” spoke up Tefara, 
Mapuhi’s wife.
“Not forgetting the octagon-drop-clock,” added Nauri, 
Mapuhi’s mother.
“Yes, that is all,” said Mapuhi.
Young Raoul laughed. He laughed long and heartily. 
But while he laughed he secretly performed problems in 
mental arithmetic. He had never built a house in his life, 
and his notions concerning house-building were hazy. 
While he laughed, he calculated the cost of the voyage 
to Tahiti for materials, of the materials themselves, of 
the voyage back again to Fakarava, and the cost of landing 
the materials and of building the house. It would come 
to four thousand French dollars, allowing a margin for 
safety — four thousand French dollars were equivalent 
to twenty thousand francs. It was impossible. How was 
he to know the value of such a pearl? Twenty thousand 
francs was a lot of money — and of his mother’s money 
at that1.
“Mapuhi,” he said, “you are a big fool. Set a money 
price.2”
But Mapuhi shook his head, and the three heads 
behind him shook with his.

1 at that — (разг.) раз уж на то пошло
2 Set a money price. — (разг.) Назначьте цену.

THE HOUSE OF MAPUHI 

9

“I want the house,” he said. “It must be six fathoms 
long with a porch all around — ”
“Yes, yes,” Raoul interrupted. “I know all about your 
house, but it won’t do. I’ll give you a thousand Chili 
dollars.”
Th e four heads chorused a silent negative.
“And a hundred Chili dollars in trade.”
“I want the house,” Mapuhi began.
“What good will the house do you?” Raoul demanded. 
“Th e fi rst hurricane that comes along will wash it away. 
You ought to know.”
“Captain Raff y says it looks like a hurricane right 
now.”
“Not on Fakarava,” said Mapuhi. “Th e land is much 
higher there. On this island, yes. Any hurricane can sweep 
Hikueru. I will have the house on Fakarava. It must be six 
fathoms long with a porch all around — ”
And Raoul listened again to the tale of the house. 
Several hours he spent in the endeavor to hammer the 
house obsession out of Mapuhi’s mind; but Mapuhi’s 
mother and wife, and Ngakura, Mapuhi’s daughter, 
bolstered him in his resolve for the house. Th rough the 
open doorway, while he listened for the twentieth time to 
the detailed description of the house that was wanted, 
Raoul saw his schooner’s second boat draw up on the 
beach. Th e sailors rested on the oars, advertising haste to 
be gone. The first mate1 of the Aorai sprang ashore, 
exchanged a word with the one-armed native, then hurried 
toward Raoul. Th e day grew suddenly dark, as a squall 

1 Th e fi rst mate — (мор.) Помощник капитана

SOUTH SEA TALES

10

obscured the face of the sun. Across the lagoon Raoul could 
see approaching the ominous line of the puff  of wind.
“Captain Raff y says you’ve got to get to hell outa here,” 
was the mate’s greeting. “If there’s any shell, we’ve got to 
run the risk of picking it up later on — so he says. Th e 
barometer’s dropped to twenty-nine-seventy.”
Th e gust of wind struck the pandanus tree overhead 
and tore through the palms beyond, fl inging half a dozen 
ripe cocoanuts with heavy thuds to the ground. Th en came 
the rain out of the distance, advancing with the roar of 
a gale of wind and causing the water of the lagoon to smoke 
in driven windrows. Th e sharp rattle of the fi rst drops was 
on the leaves when Raoul sprang to his feet.
“A thousand Chili dollars, cash down1, Mapuhi,” he 
said. “And two hundred Chili dollars in trade.”
“I want a house — ” the other began.
“Mapuhi!” Raoul yelled, in order to make himself 
heard. “You are a fool!”
He fl ung out of the house, and, side by side with the 
mate, fought his way down the beach toward the boat. Th ey 
could not see the boat. Th e tropic rain sheeted about them 
so that they could see only the beach under their feet and 
the spiteful little waves from the lagoon that snapped and 
bit at the sand. A fi gure appeared through the deluge. It was 
Huru-Huru, the man with the one arm.
“Did you get the pearl?” he yelled in Raoul’s ear.
“Mapuhi is a fool!” was the answering yell, and the 
next moment they were lost to each other in the descending 
water.

1 cash down — (разг.) платите наличными; деньги на бочку