Chapter XIII--The Logic of Youth

by Jack London

　　"I wish I knew whether you are merely headstrong, or whether youreally intend to be a Solomon planter," Sheldon said in themorning, at breakfast.

　　"I wish you were more adaptable," Joan retorted. "You have morepreconceived notions than any man I ever met. Why in the name ofcommon sense, in the name of . . . fair play, can't you get it intoyour head that I am different from the women you have known, andtreat me accordingly? You surely ought to know I am different. Isailed my own schooner here--skipper, if you please. I came hereto make my living. You know that; I've told you often enough. Itwas Dad's plan, and I'm carrying it out, just as you are trying tocarry out your Hughie's plan. Dad started to sail and sail untilhe could find the proper islands for planting. He died, and Isailed and sailed until I arrived here. Well,"--she shrugged hershoulders--"the schooner is at the bottom of the sea. I can't sailany farther, therefore I remain here. And a planter I shallcertainly be."

　　"You see--" he began.

　　"I haven't got to the point," she interrupted. "Looking back on myconduct from the moment I first set foot on your beach, I can seeno false pretence that I have made about myself or my intentions.I was my natural self to you from the first. I told you my plans;and yet you sit there and calmly tell me that you don't knowwhether I really intend to become a planter, or whether it is allobstinacy and pretence. Now let me assure you, for the last time,that I really and truly shall become a planter, thanks to you, orin spite of you. Do you want me for a partner?"

　　"But do you realize that I would be looked upon as the most foolishjackanapes in the South Seas if I took a young girl like you inwith me here on Berande?" he asked.

　　"No; decidedly not. But there you are again, worrying about whatidiots and the generally evil-minded will think of you. I shouldhave thought you had learned self-reliance on Berande, instead ofneeding to lean upon the moral support of every whisky-guzzlingworthless South Sea vagabond."

　　He smiled, and said, -

　　"Yes, that is the worst of it. You are unanswerable. Yours is thelogic of youth, and no man can answer that. The facts of life can,but they have no place in the logic of youth. Youth must try tolive according to its logic. That is the only way to learnbetter."

　　"There is no harm in trying?" she interjected.

　　"But there is. That is the very point. The facts always smashyouth's logic, and they usually smash youth's heart, too. It'slike platonic friendships and . . . and all such things; they areall right in theory, but they won't work in practice. I used tobelieve in such things once. That is why I am here in the Solomonsat present."

　　Joan was impatient. He saw that she could not understand. Lifewas too clearly simple to her. It was only the youth who wasarguing with him, the youth with youth's pure-minded and invinciblereasoning. Hers was only the boy's soul in a woman's body. Helooked at her flushed, eager face, at the great ropes of haircoiled on the small head, at the rounded lines of the figureshowing plainly through the home-made gown, and at the eyes--boy'seyes, under cool, level brows--and he wondered why a being that wasso much beautiful woman should be no woman at all. Why in thedeuce was she not carroty-haired, or cross-eyed, or hare-lipped?

　　"Suppose we do become partners on Berande," he said, at the sametime experiencing a feeling of fright at the prospect that wastangled with a contradictory feeling of charm, "either I'll fall inlove with you, or you with me. Propinquity is dangerous, you know.In fact, it is propinquity that usually gives the facer to thelogic of youth."

　　"If you think I came to the Solomons to get married--" she beganwrathfully. "Well, there are better men in Hawaii, that's all.Really, you know, the way you harp on that one string would lead anunprejudiced listener to conclude that you are prurient-minded--"

　　She stopped, appalled. His face had gone red and white with suchabruptness as to startle her. He was patently very angry. Shesipped the last of her coffee, and arose, saying, -

　　"I'll wait until you are in a better temper before taking up thediscussion again. That is what's the matter with you. You getangry too easily. Will you come swimming? The tide is justright."

　　"If she were a man I'd bundle her off the plantation root and crop,whale-boat, Tahitian sailors, sovereigns, and all," he muttered tohimself after she had left the room.

　　But that was the trouble. She was not a man, and where would shego, and what would happen to her?

　　He got to his feet, lighted a cigarette, and her Stetson hat,hanging on the wall over her revolver-belt, caught his eye. Thatwas the devil of it, too. He did not want her to go. After all,she had not grown up yet. That was why her logic hurt. It wasonly the logic of youth, but it could hurt damnably at times. Atany rate, he would resolve upon one thing: never again would helose his temper with her. She was a child; he must remember that.He sighed heavily. But why in reasonableness had such a child beenincorporated in such a woman's form?

　　And as he continued to stare at her hat and think, the hurt he hadreceived passed away, and he found himself cudgelling his brainsfor some way out of the muddle--for some method by which she couldremain on Berande. A chaperone! Why not? He could send to Sydneyon the first steamer for one. He could -

　　Her trilling laughter smote upon his reverie, and he stepped to thescreen-door, through which he could see her running down the pathto the beach. At her heels ran two of her sailors, Papehara andMahameme, in scarlet lava-lavas, with naked sheath-knives gleamingin their belts. It was another sample of her wilfulness. Despiteentreaties and commands, and warnings of the danger from sharks,she persisted in swimming at any and all times, and by specialpreference, it seemed to him, immediately after eating.

　　He watched her take the water, diving cleanly, like a boy, from theend of the little pier; and he watched her strike out with singleoverhand stroke, her henchmen swimming a dozen feet on either side.He did not have much faith in their ability to beat off a hungryman-eater, though he did believe, implicitly, that their liveswould go bravely before hers in case of an attack.

　　Straight out they swam, their heads growing smaller and smaller.There was a slight, restless heave to the sea, and soon the threeheads were disappearing behind it with greater frequency. Hestrained his eyes to keep them in sight, and finally fetched thetelescope on to the veranda. A squall was making over from thedirection of Florida; but then, she and her men laughed at squallsand the white choppy sea at such times. She certainly could swim,he had long since concluded. That came of her training in Hawaii.But sharks were sharks, and he had known of more than one goodswimmer drowned in a tide-rip.

　　The squall blackened the sky, beat the ocean white where he hadlast seen the three heads, and then blotted out sea and sky andeverything with its deluge of rain. It passed on, and Berandeemerged in the bright sunshine as the three swimmers emerged fromthe sea. Sheldon slipped inside with the telescope, and throughthe screen-door watched her run up the path, shaking down her hairas she ran, to the fresh-water shower under the house.

　　On the veranda that afternoon he broached the proposition of achaperone as delicately as he could, explaining the necessity atBerande for such a body, a housekeeper to run the boys and thestoreroom, and perform divers other useful functions. When he hadfinished, he waited anxiously for what Joan would say.

　　"Then you don't like the way I've been managing the house?" was herfirst objection. And next, brushing his attempted explanationsaside, "One of two things would happen. Either I should cancel ourpartnership agreement and go away, leaving you to get anotherchaperone to chaperone your chaperone; or else I'd take the old henout in the whale-boat and drown her. Do you imagine for one momentthat I sailed my schooner down here to this raw edge of the earthin order to put myself under a chaperone?"

　　"But really . . . er . . . you know a chaperone is a necessaryevil," he objected.

　　"We've got along very nicely so far without one. Did I have one onthe Miele? And yet I was the only woman on board. There are onlythree things I am afraid of--bumble-bees, scarlet fever, andchaperones. Ugh! the clucking, evil-minded monsters, finding wrongin everything, seeing sin in the most innocent actions, andsuggesting sin--yes, causing sin--by their diseased imaginings."

　　"Phew!" Sheldon leaned back from the table in mock fear.

　　"You needn't worry about your bread and butter," he ventured. "Ifyou fail at planting, you would be sure to succeed as a writer--novels with a purpose, you know."

　　"I didn't think there were persons in the Solomons who needed suchbooks," she retaliated. "But you are certainly one--you and yourcustodians of virtue."

　　He winced, but Joan rattled on with the platitudinous originalityof youth.

　　"As if anything good were worth while when it has to be guarded andput in leg-irons and handcuffs in order to keep it good. Yourdesire for a chaperone as much as implies that I am that sort ofcreature. I prefer to be good because it is good to be good,rather than because I can't be bad because some argus-eyed oldfrump won't let me have a chance to be bad."

　　"But it--it is not that," he put in. "It is what others willthink."

　　"Let them think, the nasty-minded wretches! It is because men likeyou are afraid of the nasty-minded that you allow their opinions torule you."

　　"I am afraid you are a female Shelley," he replied; "and as such,you really drive me to become your partner in order to protectyou."

　　"If you take me as a partner in order to protect me . . . I . . . Ishan't be your partner, that's all. You'll drive me into buyingPari-Sulay yet."

　　"All the more reason--" he attempted.

　　"Do you know what I'll do?" she demanded. "I'll find some man inthe Solomons who won't want to protect me."

　　Sheldon could not conceal the shock her words gave him.

　　"You don't mean that, you know," he pleaded.

　　"I do; I really do. I am sick and tired of this protection dodge.Don't forget for a moment that I am perfectly able to take care ofmyself. Besides, I have eight of the best protectors in the world--my sailors."

　　"You should have lived a thousand years ago," he laughed, "or athousand years hence. You are very primitive, and equally super-modern. The twentieth century is no place for you."

　　"But the Solomon Islands are. You were living like a savage when Icame along and found you--eating nothing but tinned meat and sconesthat would have ruined the digestion of a camel. Anyway, I'veremedied that; and since we are to be partners, it will stayremedied. You won't die of malnutrition, be sure of that."

　　"If we enter into partnership," he announced, "it must bethoroughly understood that you are not allowed to run the schooner.You can go down to Sydney and buy her, but a skipper we must have--"

　　"At so much additional expense, and most likely a whisky-drinking,irresponsible, and incapable man to boot. Besides, I'd have thebusiness more at heart than any man we could hire. As forcapability, I tell you I can sail all around the average brokencaptain or promoted able seaman you find in the South Seas. Andyou know I am a navigator."

　　"But being my partner," he said coolly, "makes you none the less alady."

　　"Thank you for telling me that my contemplated conduct isunladylike."

　　She arose, tears of anger and mortification in her eyes, and wentover to the phonograph.

　　"I wonder if all men are as ridiculous as you?" she said.

　　He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Discussion was useless--hehad learned that; and he was resolved to keep his temper. Andbefore the day was out she capitulated. She was to go to Sydney onthe first steamer, purchase the schooner, and sail back with anisland skipper on board. And then she inveigled Sheldon intoagreeing that she could take occasional cruises in the islands,though he was adamant when it came to a recruiting trip on Malaita.That was the one thing barred.

　　And after it was all over, and a terse and business-like agreement(by her urging) drawn up and signed, Sheldon paced up and down fora full hour, meditating upon how many different kinds of a fool hehad made of himself. It was an impossible situation, and yet nomore impossible than the previous one, and no more impossible thanthe one that would have obtained had she gone off on her own andbought Pari-Sulay. He had never seen a more independent woman whostood more in need of a protector than this boy-minded girl who hadlanded on his beach with eight picturesque savages, a long-barrelled revolver, a bag of gold, and a gaudy merchandise ofimagined romance and adventure.

　　He had never read of anything to compare with it. The fictionists,as usual, were exceeded by fact. The whole thing was toopreposterous to be true. He gnawed his moustache and smokedcigarette after cigarette. Satan, back from a prowl around thecompound, ran up to him and touched his hand with a cold, dampnose. Sheldon caressed the animal's ears, then threw himself intoa chair and laughed heartily. What would the Commissioner of theSolomons think? What would his people at home think? And in theone breath he was glad that the partnership had been effected andsorry that Joan Lackland had ever come to the Solomons. Then hewent inside and looked at himself in a hand-mirror. He studied thereflection long and thoughtfully and wonderingly.