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The House of Pride and Other Tales of Hawaii
by Jack London
Contents：
The House of Pride
Koolau the Leper
Good…bye； Jack
Aloha Oe
Chun Ah Chun
The Sheriff of Kona
Jack London
THE HOUSE OF PRIDE
Percival Ford wondered why he had come。 He did not dance。 He did
not care much for army people。 Yet he knew them allgliding and
revolving there on the broad lanai of the Seaside； the officers in
their fresh…starched uniforms of white； the civilians in white and
black； and the women bare of shoulders and arms。 After two years in
Honolulu the Twentieth was departing to its new station in Alaska；
and Percival Ford； as one of the big men of the Islands； could not
help knowing the officers and their women。
But between knowing and liking was a vast gulf。 The army women
frightened him just a little。 They were in ways quite different
from the women he liked bestthe elderly women； the spinsters and
the bespectacled maidens； and the very serious women of all ages
whom he met on church and library and kindergarten committees； who
came meekly to him for contributions and advice。 He ruled those
women by virtue of his superior mentality； his great wealth； and the
high place he occupied in the commercial baronage of Hawaii。 And he
was not afraid of them in the least。 Sex； with them； was not
obtrusive。 Yes； that was it。 There was in them something else； or
more； than the assertive grossness of life。 He was fastidious； he
acknowledged that to himself； and these army women； with their bare
shoulders and naked arms； their straight…looking eyes； their
vitality and challenging femaleness； jarred upon his sensibilities。
Nor did he get on better with the army men； who took life lightly；
drinking and smoking and swearing their way through life and
asserting the essential grossness of flesh no less shamelessly than
their women。 He was always uncomfortable in the company of the army
men。 They seemed uncomfortable； too。 And he felt； always； that
they were laughing at him up their sleeves； or pitying him； or
tolerating him。 Then； too； they seemed； by mere contiguity； to
emphasize a lack in him； to call attention to that in them which he
did not possess and which he thanked God he did not possess。 Faugh！
They were like their women！
In fact； Percival Ford was no more a woman's man than he was a man's
man。 A glance at him told the reason。 He had a good constitution；
never was on intimate terms with sickness； nor even mild disorders；
but he lacked vitality。 His was a negative organism。 No blood with
a ferment in it could have nourished and shaped that long and narrow
face； those thin lips； lean cheeks； and the small； sharp eyes。 The
thatch of hair； dust…coloured； straight and sparse； advertised the
niggard soil； as did the nose； thin； delicately modelled； and just
hinting the suggestion of a beak。 His meagre blood had denied him
much of life； and permitted him to be an extremist in one thing
only； which thing was righteousness。 Over right conduct he pondered
and agonized； and that he should do right was as necessary to his
nature as loving and being loved were necessary to commoner clay。
He was sitting under the algaroba trees between the lanai and the
beach。 His eyes wandered over the dancers and he turned his head
away and gazed seaward across the mellow…sounding surf to the
Southern Cross burning low on the horizon。 He was irritated by the
bare shoulders and arms of the women。 If he had a daughter he would
never permit it； never。 But his hypothesis was the sheerest
abstraction。 The thought process had been accompanied by no inner
vision of that daughter。 He did not see a daughter with arms and
shoulders。 Instead； he smiled at the remote contingency of
marriage。 He was thirty…five； and； having had no personal
experience of love； he looked upon it； not as mythical； but as
bestial。 Anybody could marry。 The Japanese and Chinese coolies；
toiling on the sugar plantations and in the rice…fields； married。
They invariably married at the first opportunity。 It was because
they were so low in the scale of life。 There was nothing else for
them to do。 They were like the army men and women。 But for him
there were other and higher things。 He was different from them
from all of them。 He was proud of how he happened to be。 He had
come of no petty love…match。 He had come of lofty conception of
duty and of devotion to a cause。 His father had not married for
love。 Love was a madness that had never perturbed Isaac Ford。 When
he answered the call to go to the heathen with the message of life；
he had had no thought and no desire for marriage。 In this they were
alike； his father and he。 But the Board of Missions was economical。
With New England thrift it weighed and measured and decided that
married missionaries were less expensive per capita and more
efficacious。 So the Board commanded Isaac Ford to marry。
Furthermore； it furnished him with a wife； another zealous soul with
no thought of marriage； intent only on doing the Lord's work among
the heathen。 They saw each other for the first time in Boston。 The
Board brought them together； arranged everything； and by the end of
the week they were married and started on the long voyage around the
Horn。
Percival Ford was proud that he had come of such a union。 He had
been born high； and he thought of himself as a spiritual aristocrat。
And he was proud of his father。 It was a passion with him。 The
erect； austere figure of Isaac Ford had burned itself upon his
pride。 On his desk was a miniature of that soldier of the Lord。 In
his bedroom hung the portrait of Isaac Ford； painted at the time
when he had served under the Monarchy as prime minister。 Not that
Isaac Ford had coveted place and worldly wealth； but that； as prime
minister； and； later； as banker； he had been of greater service to
the missionary cause。 The German crowd； and the English crowd； and
all the rest of the trading crowd； had sneered at Isaac Ford as a
commercial soul…saver； but he； his son； knew different。 When the
natives； emerging abruptly from their feudal system； with no
conception of the nature and significance of property in land； were
letting their broad acres slip through their fingers； it was Isaac
Ford who had stepped in between the trading crowd and its prey and
taken possession of fat； vast holdings。 Small wonder the trading
crowd did not like his memory。 But he had never looked upon his
enormous wealth as his own。 He had considered himself God's
steward。 Out of the revenues he had built schools； and hospitals；
and churches。 Nor was it his fault that sugar； after the slump； had
paid forty per cent； that the bank he founded had prospered into a
railroad； and that； among other things； fifty thousand acres of Oahu
pasture land； which he had bought for a dollar an acre； grew eight
tons of sugar to the acre every eighteen months。 No； in all truth；
Isaac Ford was an heroic figure； fit； so Percival Ford thought
privately； to stand beside the statue of Kamehameha I。 in front of
the Judiciary Building。 Isaac Ford was gone； but he； his son；
carried on the good work at least as inflexibly if not as
masterfully。
He turned his eyes back to the lanai。 What was the difference； he
asked himself； between the shameless； grass…girdled hula dances and
the decollete dances of the women of his own race？ Was there an
essential difference？ or was it a matter of degree？
As he pondered the problem a hand rested on his shoulder。
〃Hello； Ford； what are you doing here？ Isn't this a bit festive？〃
〃I try to be lenient； Dr。 Kennedy； even as I look on；〃 Percival Ford
answered gravely。 〃Won't you sit down？〃
Dr。 Kennedy sat down； clapping his palms sharply。 A white…clad
Japanese servant answered swiftly。
Scotch and soda was Kennedy's order； then； turning to the other； he
said：…
〃Of course； I don't ask you。〃
〃But I will take something；〃 Ford said firmly。 The doctor's eyes
showed surprise； and the servant waited。 〃Boy； a lemonade； please。〃
The doctor laughed at it heartily； as a joke on himself； and glanced
at the musicians under the hau tree。
〃Why； it's the Aloha Orchestra；〃 he said。 〃I thought they were with
the Hawaiian Hotel on Tuesday nights。 Some rumpus； I guess。〃
His eyes paused for a moment； and dwelt upon the one who was playing
a guitar and singing a Hawaiian song to the accompaniment of all the
instruments。
His face became grave as he looked at the singer； and it was still
grave as he turned it to his companion。
〃Look here； Ford； isn't it time you let up on Joe Garland？ I
understand you are in opposition to the Promotion Committee's
sending him to the States on this su