Michael, an Irish terrier bred in the Solomon Islands, serves as a nigger-chaser on a ship used for recruiting native labour. When his owner, Captain Kellar, accidentally forgets him on the beach, he befriends Dag Daughtry, a steward from another schooner. Along with his new master, Michael starts his journey around the world.

Michael’s life seems perfectly happy until Daughtry is diagnosed with leprosy and sent to the pest house. The dog falls into the hands of Harry Del Mar and after some time is given to Harris Collins, a well-known animal trainer.

What's so bad about that, right? Surely animal trainers love their companions?

Think again. Sticks, whips, clubs, starvation, spiked collars, spiked saddles, electrified cages - these are the methods by which animals are trained to perform on call. Not love, but fear is the motivation.

London obviously loved dogs. I don't think any other writer understood them quite like he did. He doesn't anthropomorphize them as such, just tries to consider them on their own terms, but very much within the context of their relations with humans.

'Whatever the human soul may be—informing spirit, identity, personality, consciousness—that intangible thing Michael certainly possessed. His soul, differing only in degree, partook of the same attributes as the human soul.'' ( )