Jack London, The Cruise of the Snark annotated manuscript and signed check

Lot consists of 3pp 1st revision typed manuscript of The Cruise of the Snark with 25+ handwritten edits/words in Jack London's hand; along with a signed check dating from the era of the Snark's construction. Besides the value of these pages to literary enthusiasts, London scholars will also appreciate the subject matter of the manuscript since it anticipates London's death in 1916. London describes his treatment of the tropical disease yaws with mercury compounds, which modern physicians attribute to London's later kidney failure.

In the spring of 1907, Jack London (1876-1916), accompanied by his wife Charmian (1871-1955) and a small crew, set out for a modern maritime adventure aboard the Snark, their 45' long custom built sailboat. Over the next 2 years, the Londons would sail west and south across the Pacific Ocean, exploring Hawaii, the Solomon Islands, Fiji, Tahiti, Australia, and other tropical locales. London later recounted his travel experiences in a non-fiction illustrated account called The Cruise of the Snark, published by The Macmillan Company in New York in 1911.

These typed manuscript galleys correspond to pages 314-320 of London's final 1st edition of The Cruise of the Snark. In this excerpt from Chapter XVII: "The Amateur M.D.", London writes about home remedies for horrific diseases contracted in the Solomon Islands. The excerpt describes London's outbreak of yaws, a bacterial infection resulting in ulcers, joint pain, and fatigue, and his self-prescribed treatment of applying corrosive sublimate, or mercury chloride, to the open sores. In a recent article entitled “Jack London’s ‘chronic interstitial nephritis’: A historical differential diagnosis” (Pharos Medical Journal, Winter 2008), Drs. Andrew S. Bomback and Philip J. Klemmer speculated that London's death ten years after the Snark's voyage was probably caused in large part to his usage of mercury compounds as an alternative to antibiotics. The two doctors suggested that London's kidney problems were partly caused by mercury poisoning.

The galley proofs are oversized, measuring 9.25" x 12" on average overall, and have generously sized margins to accommodate handwritten author's edits. The pages are in very good to near fine condition with expected wear including paper folds, isolated light soiling, chipped edges, and a few minor closed tears. The manuscripts dates circa spring 1911.

London's edits throughout the manuscript are in pencil and blue pen. On the first page, London has deleted the word "up" from the first paragraph, and replaced the word "laid" with "made" in the following paragraph. On page two, London has removed the words "such" and "the" from the middle paragraphs. London has corrected the spelling of "coincidences"on the last page. 

London also hand-inscribed two black and white photographs that would become Illustration 113: "A War Canoe," and Illustration 114: "Visitors coming alongside, Meringe Lagoon, Ysabel, Solomon Islands." The author drew arrows pointing to text blocks where he wished corresponding illustrations to appear. Other possibly publisher's edits in red are found throughout.

The manuscript pages correspond to the following published text found in The Cruise of the Snark. Areas affected by London's edits are in bold.

"--with a vile skin disease.  The Snark was too small and too much of a family party to permit retaining him on board; but perforce, until we could reach land and discharge him, it was up to me to doctor him.  I read up the books and proceeded to treat him, taking care afterwards always to use a thorough antiseptic wash.  When we reached Tutuila, far from getting rid of him, the port doctor declared a quarantine against him and refused to allow him ashore.  But at Apia, Samoa, I managed to ship him off on a steamer to New Zealand.  Here at Apia my ankles were badly bitten by mosquitoes, and I confess to having scratched the bites—as I had a thousand times before.  By the time I reached the island of Savaii, a small sore had developed on the hollow of my instep.  I thought it was due to chafe and to acid fumes from the hot lava over which I tramped.  An application of salve would cure it—so I thought.  The salve did heal it over, whereupon an astonishing inflammation set in, the new skin came off, and a larger sore was exposed.  This was repeated many times.  Each time new skin formed, an inflammation followed, and the circumference of the sore increased.  I was puzzled and frightened.  All my life my skin had been famous for its healing powers, yet here was something that would not heal.  Instead, it was daily eating up more skin, while it had eaten down clear through the skin and was eating up the muscle itself.

By this time the Snark was at sea on her way to Fiji.  I remembered the French sailor, and for the first time became seriously alarmed.  Four other similar sores had appeared—or ulcers, rather, and the pain of them kept me awake at night.  All my plans were made to lay up the Snark in Fiji and get away on the first steamer to Australia and professional M.D.’s.  In the meantime, in my amateur M.D. way, I did my best.  I read through all the medical works on board.  Not a line nor a word could I find descriptive of my affliction.  I brought common horse-sense to bear on the problem.  Here were malignant and excessively active ulcers that were eating me up.  There was an organic and corroding poison at work.  Two things I concluded must be done.  First, some agent must be found to destroy the poison.  Secondly, the ulcers could not possibly heal from the outside in; they must heal from the inside out.  I decided to fight the poison with corrosive sublimate.  The very name of it struck me as vicious.  Talk of fighting fire with fire!  I was being consumed by a corrosive poison, and it appealed to my fancy to fight it with another corrosive poison.  After several days I alternated dressings of corrosive sublimate with dressings of peroxide of hydrogen.  And behold, by the time we reached Fiji four of the five ulcers were healed, while the remaining one was no bigger than a pea.

I now felt fully qualified to treat yaws.  Likewise I had a wholesome respect for them.  Not so the rest of the crew of the Snark.  In their case, seeing was not believing.  One and all, they had seen my dreadful predicament; and all of them, I am convinced, had a subconscious certitude that their own superb constitutions and glorious personalities would never allow lodgment of so vile a poison in their carcasses as my anæmic constitution and mediocre personality had allowed to lodge in mine.  At Port Resolution, in the New Hebrides, Martin elected to walk barefooted in the bush and returned on board with many cuts and abrasions, especially on his shins.

“You’d better be careful,” I warned him.  “I’ll mix up some corrosive sublimate for you to wash those cuts with.  An ounce of prevention, you know.”

But Martin smiled a superior smile.  Though he did not say so.  I nevertheless was given to understand that he was not as other men (I was the only man he could possibly have had reference to), and that in a couple of days his cuts would be healed.  He also read me a dissertation upon the peculiar purity of his blood and his remarkable healing powers.  I felt quite humble when he was done with me.  Evidently I was different from other men in so far as purity of blood was concerned.

Nakata, the cabin-boy, while ironing one day, mistook the calf of his leg for the ironing-block and accumulated a burn three inches in length and half an inch wide.  He, too, smiled the superior smile when I offered him corrosive sublimate and reminded him of my own cruel experience.  I was given to understand, with all due suavity and courtesy, that no matter what was the matter with my blood, his number-one, Japanese, Port-Arthur blood was all right and scornful of the festive microbe.

Wada, the cook, took part in a disastrous landing of the launch, when he had to leap overboard and fend the launch off the beach in a smashing surf.  By means of shells and coral he cut his legs and feet up beautifully.  I offered him the corrosive sublimate bottle.  Once again I suffered the superior smile and was given to understand that his blood was the same blood that had licked Russia and was going to lick the United States some day, and that if his blood wasn’t able to cure a few trifling cuts, he’d commit hari-kari in sheer disgrace.

From all of which I concluded that an amateur M.D. is without honour on his own vessel, even if he has cured himself.  The rest of the crew had begun to look upon me as a sort of mild mono-maniac on the question of sores and sublimate.  Just because my blood was impure was no reason that I should think everybody else’s was.  I made no more overtures.  Time and microbes were with me, and all I had to do was wait.

“I think there’s some dirt in these cuts,” Martin said tentatively, after several days.  “I’ll wash them out and then they’ll be all right,” he added, after I had refused to rise to the bait.

Two more days passed, but the cuts did not pass, and I caught Martin soaking his feet and legs in a pail of hot water.

“Nothing like hot water,” he proclaimed enthusiastically.  “It beats all the dope the doctors ever put up.  These sores will be all right in the morning.”

But in the morning he wore a troubled look, and I knew that the hour of my triumph approached.

“I think I will try some of that medicine,” he announced later on in the day.  “Not that I think it’ll do much good,” he qualified, “but I’ll just give it a try anyway.”

Next came the proud blood of Japan to beg medicine for its illustrious sores, while I heaped coals of fire on all their houses by explaining in minute and sympathetic detail the treatment that should be given.  Nakata followed instructions implicitly, and day by day his sores grew smaller.  Wada was apathetic, and cured less readily.  But Martin still doubted, and because he did not cure immediately, he developed the theory that while doctor’s dope was all right, it did not follow that the same kind of dope was efficacious with everybody.  As for himself, corrosive sublimate had no effect.  Besides, how did I know that it was the right stuff?  I had had no experience.  Just because I happened to get well while using it was not proof that it had played any part in the cure.  There were such things as coincidences.  Without doubt there was a dope that would cure the sores, and when he ran across a real doctor he would find what that dope was and get some of it.

About this time we arrived in the Solomon Islands.  No physician would ever recommend the group for invalids or sanitoriums.  I spent but little time there ere I really and for the first time in my life comprehended how frail and unstable is human tissue.  Our first anchorage was Port Mary, on the island of Santa Anna.  The one lone white man, a trader, came alongside.  Tom Butler was his name, and he was a beautiful example of what the Solomons can do to a strong man.  He lay in his whale-boat with the helplessness of a--"

In addition to the hand-corrected manuscript is an unnumbered check inscribed overall and signed “Jack London” on the payee line. Issued from the Central Bank of Oakland, California on July 3, 1905 in the amount of $26.50 payable to "F.G. Nagle.” The plain cream check is stamped in purple, maroon, and blue recto and verso, and bears a perforation at center. In very good to near fine condition, expected light folds. Check measures 6.5" x 2.75".

Jack London grew up in Oakland, California. He attended elementary school through high school there, and studied at a local waterfront bar named Heinold's First and Last Saloon; the proprietor later lent him tuition money to Berkeley.

Jack London wrote dozens of poems, short stories, essays, and novels over a prolific career curtailed by chronic ill-health. With income generated from adventure classics like Call of the Wild (1903) and White Fang (1906), London was able to purchase a ranch and outfit the Snark.

This item comes with a Certificate from John Reznikoff, a premier authenticator for both major 3rd party authentication services, PSA and JSA (James Spence Authentications), as well as numerous auction houses.

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