Tom Finch's Monkey.

by John C. Hutcheson.

CHAPTER ONE.

AND HOW HE DINED WITH THE ADMIRAL.

We were cruising off Callao on the Pacific station when it all happened, and I daresay there are a good many others who will recollect all about it as well as myself. But to explain the matter properly I must go back a little in my dates; for, instead of Callao at the commencement of my yarn, you must read Calabar.

You see, I was in the _Porpoise_ at the time, a small old-fashioned, paddle-wheel steamer that had been ordered across from the West Coast of Africa by "my lords" of the Admiralty to reinforce our squadron in South American waters on account of a war breaking out between Chili and Peru.

Being a "sub" on board of her, and consequently subject to the authorities that be, when the _Porpoise_ was obliged to abandon the fragrant mangrove swamps at the mouth of the Congo river, where we had been enjoying ourselves for over a twelvemonth amidst the delights of a deadly miasma that brought on perpetual low fever, and as constant a consumption of quinine and bottled beer to counteract its effects, I was of course forced to accompany her across the Atlantic and round the Horn to her allotted destination.

Thence "this plain unvarnished tale," which is as clear as mud in a ditch, although you needn't believe it if you don't like--there is no compulsion required to make hungry people eat roast mutton!

Tom Finch, the lieutenant in command of the _Porpoise_, who had got his promotion through the death vacancy of his senior at Cape Coast Castle-- he was just ahead of me on the roster, luckily for him--was one of the jolliest fellows I ever sailed with or under, since I entered the service; and I'm sure I've known a few "swabs" in my time!

Unlike some junior officers I could name, when suddenly intrusted with the reins of power, there was nothing of the martinet about Tom, even on the first day he a.s.sumed his new rank, when a little extra pomposity might have been excusable. But no, he gave himself no airs or graces whatever.

He was the same Tom Finch who had chaffed and larked and talked confidence with me in the gunroom, now that he trod the quarter-deck "in all his war paint," as I told him somewhat impudently, the "skipper" of HMS _Porpoise_, "paddle sloop, 6 guns," as she was described in the _Navy List_--the same unaffected, jovial, good-natured sailor whom everybody liked, men and messmates alike. His only weakness was a love for practical joking, which he would carry out sometimes, perhaps, to a rather ticklish extent--for his own good, that is, as he never knowingly did anyone else an injury by it.

"What will you do with your monkey?" I said, when the mail brought in our orders from the commodore on the West Coast for us to sail for Monte Video at once, and there await our further instructions--which would be sent on from England; "what will you do with him when we go?"

"Take him with me of course," answered Tom; "why shouldn't I?"

"Well, I don't see any reason against it certainly," I replied; "now that you are captain of the ship, and can do as you please without asking anybody's leave."

"Poor Griffin," said Tom, "he _did_ object to Jocko's society; that was the reason I always used to keep the dear fellow ash.o.r.e; however, as you say, Gerald, I am my own master and can do as I like now. You don't think the crew dislike my monkey, do you?" he added eagerly.

He was such a kind-hearted obliging chap, that if he thought that even the loblolly boy objected to the presence of Jocko on board, he would have banished him from the ship for ever, especially from the very fact of his being the commander and having no one to dispute his authority.

"Oh dear, no, certainly not," I replied at once, with "effusion," as the French say in their idiom. "The men like him better than you do, if that is possible; and I don't know what they would do without him, I only thought the change of climate might be deleterious to his health, that's all!"

"Deleterious indeed, Gerald! wherever did you pick up such a fine word?

I suppose you have been interviewing old Jalap about your liver, eh, you hypochondriacal young donkey! Why, Monte Video is a regular paradise for the monkey tribe, and Jocko will be in his element there!"

"But I don't suppose we'll stop there, Tom; didn't you say that you thought it probable that we would have to go round Cape Horn and join the squadron at Callao?"

I may here explain that while on the quarter-deck, I invariably addressed Tom Finch as "Sir," for was he not my commanding officer?

But, while below, or when off duty, he insisted on my retaining my old custom of calling him by his Christian name, the same as when we were together in the gunroom, and he only a "sub."

"And if we _do_ go round the Horn, what then, Mr Sub-lieutenant Follett?" said he.

"Won't Jocko find it cold: you know it's winter time there now?"

"And can't I have him clothed like a Christian, stupid, and keep him by the fire, or in the cook's cabin, where he will be so warm, that he'll fancy himself in his native clime?"

"Oh, yes," said I, "I quite forgot that his dearest friend next to you was Pompey!" alluding to the ship's cook, a sable African, who came very probably from the same locality as the monkey; the two being very much alike, not only in the colour of their complexions, but in their features and facial development.

"Yes," said Tom reflectively, "Pompey will take care he doesn't freeze.

He could not be fonder of him than his own brother would be; he might, indeed, _be_ his relative, if Darwin's theory should prove to be true!

However, I must see about getting Jocko rigged out properly in a decent sailor's suit so that he may get accustomed to the clothing before we come to the cold lat.i.tudes. I daresay my marine, who is a smart fellow, can manage to cut down a guernsey frock and a pair of canvas or serge trousers to fit the brute: I will give an order on the paymaster for them at once and Smith can set to work on them without delay;" and he bustled out of his cabin to carry his intentions into effect.

Not being intimately acquainted with even the rudimentary elements of natural history, I cannot say to what order or genus of the monkey family Jocko belonged; but, roughly speaking, I think he was a specimen of chimpanzee or small gorilla, as he had no tail, and when he walked erect, which was his favourite position, he looked uncommonly like the "superior animal."

Tom Finch had shot the monkey's mother in the bush when on a hunting excursion up the interior of the country, which he indulged in on first coming to the coast; and having captured and nursed the youngster with the utmost solicitude, Jocko repaid his master's attention by learning so many tricks and imitating the deportment, of those with whom he was brought in contact so carefully, that he was now, at the time of which I speak, such a thoroughly educated and well-bred monkey as to be "um purfit genelman," as Pompey, the cook, said--one "fit to shine in any circle," especially on ship-board, where he was an endless source of amus.e.m.e.nt to us all, from the lieutenant-commander down to the loblolly boy aforesaid.

Pursuant to Tom Finch's directions and the exertions of his marine servant Smith, before we left the mouth of the Congo our friend Jocko was decorously habited in a smart seafaring costume; and, long ere we had crossed the Atlantic and arrived at Monte Video, the intelligent animal had got so habituated to his new rig that the difficulty would have been to persuade him to go about once more in his former unclothed state--and yet some sceptics say that monkeys aren't human! You should only have seen him walking up and down the quarter-deck, or on the bridge by Tom's side, he looked for all the world like a juvenile "reefer!"

It was in the cabin, however, that Jocko's acquirements came out in the strongest relief. Tom had taught him to sit at table and use a spoon or fork in helping himself from his plate as naturally as possible; and, as for drinking, you should only have seen him pour out a tumbler of bottled stout, for which he had an inordinate relish, and tossing it down his throat, give a sigh of the deepest satisfaction when he had finished it, when, replacing his gla.s.s on the table, he would lean back in his chair as if overcome by the exertion.

Before he had been clothed in sailor fashion, Jocko used to be very fond of skylarking with the men forward, stealing their mess utensils and scampering up and down the rigging to evade pursuit when his mischievousness had been found out; but, after that period, he seemed to become possessed of a wonderful amount of dignity which made him give up his wild frolicsomeness, and leave off his previous habits, for he never went to the forecastle again, but restricted himself to the officers'

quarters aft. This he did, too, in spite of the coaxings of the crew, who were very fond of him, and the fact of Tom often kicking him out of his cabin, where he would take possession of his sofa whenever he had the chance, wrapping himself in Tom's boat-cloak and reclining gracefully on the cushions. One of Jocko's chief amus.e.m.e.nts also was in watching the machinery when in motion; and he would spend hours in looking down at it through the engine-room hatch.

Once, when the skylight was up, he had a narrow squeak for his life; for, carried away by his excitement, in trying to put his hands--paws I should say--on the revolving shaft, he tumbled through; and, but for the chief engineer seeing him in time and stopping the engines, which were just then going slow, poor Jocko would have come to grief.

This accident, however, never broke him of the habit of inspecting the machinery. It had a sort of weird attraction for him which he could not resist. Possibly, he might have been a sort of incubating Watt or Brunel, who knows? But, alas, he never became sufficiently developed or "evolved" from his quadrumanous condition to answer the question in person, as the engines which were his hobby in the end compa.s.sed his untimely death!

Those paddle-wheel steamers that were built for the navy some forty years ago, although designed for capturing Cuban slavers, were certainly not remarkable for their speed, and the _Porpoise_ was no exception to her cla.s.s; so, what with her naturally slow rate of progression through the water, and the strict Admiralty circular limiting the consumption of coal even on special service like ours, we did not make a very rapid pa.s.sage across the south Atlantic to Monte Video. This place is charmingly situated on the estuary of the Rio de la Plata, and very appropriately named; for it can be seen far away off, for miles at sea, and itself commands magnificent views of its own beautiful harbour and the surrounding inland scenery.

Here despatches awaited us, as Tom Finch had previously been informed at Cape Coast Castle would be the case, ordering the _Porpoise_ to proceed immediately to the Pacific and join the admiral on that station at Callao; and, accordingly, after one of the briefest of stays at a port which I have always longed since to have a more extended acquaintanceship with, we up anchor and paddled away to our a.s.signed rendezvous--not by way of the "Horn," which we did not go round, as I had imagined we would, for it was far too stormy; but, through the Straits of Magellan, which are easy enough of pa.s.sage to a steamer, independent almost of winds and currents, although somewhat perilous to sailing vessels, especially during the winter months.

Jocko seemed to feel the cold as soon as we began to run down towards Terra del Fuego, and had some additional garments placed round him; but true to what he evidently thought was his new and proper position, he would not take up his quarters with his "old friend and brother,"

Pompey, in the cook's caboose, preferring to shiver in Tom's cabin till he almost turned blue.

"Bress dat Ma.s.sa Jocko!" Pompey would say after a vain attempt to coax him to share his hospitality. "I can't make he out nohow! Guess he tinks himself buckra ossifer and bery fine genelman, now de captin take um into cabin, sure; but, he no rale genelman to turn up nose at um ole frens! No, sah, I no spik to him no more!" and the negro cook would retire with ill-suppressed anger, which was all the more amusing to us from its having been occasioned by a monkey!

On our getting round into the Pacific, and sighting the coast towards Valparaiso, where we had to stop and coal once more, the _Porpoise_ not having much storage room in her old bunkers, Jocko got more on friendly terms with the thermometer, making faces and jabbering away in his lingo, which unfortunately no one but himself could understand, just as if he were still in his native clime on the African continent.

Occasionally, too, as if his spirits carried him away on his restoration to warmer lat.i.tudes, he would indulge in one of his old skylarking bouts with the crew, and even made advances to Pompey in his caboose, which that worthy, in spite of his indignation at the manner in which he had been treated by Jocko when he a.s.sumed the dignity of the _toga virilis_, was only too glad to welcome and reciprocate; but, after one of these unusual unbendings, the monkey grew even more dignified and inapproachable than before, except to Tom and myself, who could do anything with him, and he then confined himself exclusively to the cabin and quarter-deck.

At Valparaiso we got further despatches hurrying us up to the Peruvian coast, where the admiral much wanted to use us as a despatch vessel; so, taking in as much coal as our old tub, the _Porpoise_, could cram into her, we started for Callao, steaming hard day and night all this time-- but it took us no less than ten days to reach our port at last.

The admiral's ship was in the offing as we entered the harbour; and, without the slightest warning or time for preparation after we had made our muster, the old gentleman signalled, much to Tom's discomposure, that he was coming on board of us for inspection at once.

"A pretty kettle of fish!" exclaimed Tom; "just as if he couldn't give a fellow time to paint up a bit and look tidy after sweltering all the pitch off her for eighteen months on the coast, and scuttling across the Atlantic as if the deuce were after us, and not a day allowed us to overhaul and make the old ship look presentable--why, it's too bad!"

"You needn't grumble, sir," said I--we were both on the quarter-deck now, and the _friend_ had, of course, to yield to the _office_--"I'm sure the admiral won't be able to find much fault with the _Porpoise_, even if he were predetermined to do so, as she's in apple-pie order!"

And so she was; while her crew, who almost worshipped Tom and would have followed him to a man anywhere, were in the highest state of discipline and health, the African fever having disappeared almost as soon as we lost sight of the pestilential West Coast and got into blue water.

"Do you think so, Follett?" he said more calmly.

"Certainly," I answered, "I would back her against any other vessel on the station for being in the highest state of efficiency."

"I'm glad you think so, Gerald," he said to me aside, so that the middies who went to man the side ropes for the admiral at the gangway could not hear him. "You know these big guns are always sharp on a fellow who holds a first command; and, as I have no interest to back me up at the Admiralty board, I don't want a bad report to go in against me, and a black mark be set before my name for ever!"

"Don't you fear, Tom," said I cheerfully, "you'll pa.s.s muster with flying colours!"