The red book of animal stories/The Games of Orang-Outangs, and Kees the Baboon

THE GAMES OF ORANG-OUTANGS, AND KEES THE BABOON

The first Europeans who visited some of the large islands lying close to the Equator—Borneo, Sumatra, and several more—were astonished at finding the woods full of a huge creature which they took for some time to be a man. It was very shy, and disappeared into the thick, dark depths of the forest directly it caught sight of a human being, so it was not very easy to make out exactly what it was like. However, the white men were curious, and also persevering, and at length they were rewarded by seeing one of the largest kind pass by, while they were peeping from behind a bush. No, it certainly was not a man, not even a savage; but how very like one! To begin with, the animal as often as not walked on two legs, and had no tail, while the palms of its hands and the soles of its feet were hairless. The arms were immensely long, and could be used as legs, and the height of a full-grown specimen was sometimes as much as eight feet. This is the animal now known as the Orang-outang.

The whole tribe are wonderfully quick in then: motions, and when they are put on board ship can swing themselves about the ropes and rigging in a way that surprises even a skilful sailor. They are affectionate and good-natured, and very intelligent, being, able to copy the actions of their masters so closely that, at a little distance, you could not tell which was which. A small orang-outang was brought over to Holland in 1776, but died when it was seven months old, most likely finding the climate too cold for it. Her appetite was very good, and she was seldom known to refuse anything offered to her; but her favourite food was carrots, parsley, and strawberries. Still, she would accept meat, fish and eggs, which she ate very neatly, and was very fond of wine, particularly of Malaga, sometimes drinking a whole bottle at a sitting. During the voyage this clever little lady would make her own bed as well as any housemaid, first shaking up the hay and then getting it all smooth before arranging the bed clothes.

Another of the tribe which was brought from Borneo about forty years later, seems to have been stronger, and to have had a longer life. His captors did not know anything about orang-outangs, and instead of leaving him loose on board the ship, where he would have been perfectly happy, they cooped him up in a cage. However, like other prisoners, he managed by cunning and perseverance, to break through his bars, and ran joyfully up to the top to the mast-head, but by-and-by hunger brought him down, and he was chained up to a strong stake. But one is not a monkey for nothing, and the knot which fastened the chain to the staple was soon undone, and flinging the chain round his shoulder, and taking the end in his mouth, he was off again to his place of refuge.

At last they decided that he had better be left alone, and then there was no end to the games he had with the sailors. None of them could run up the rigging as far as he, or if by good luck or a trick one of them did catch him up, it was nothing for him to fling himself across to a rope hanging thirty feet away; and let the sailors shake the rope as hard as they could his wrists never gave way.

Voyages in those days were very slow, and there was plenty of time to play. Besides, the ships often waited some time at the various ports to take in fresh provisions, and how thankful everybody must have been to get on shore again! The first place that this particular ship put into on its way home was Java, where the orang-outang took up its quarters in a huge tamarind tree. There he at once proceeded to make a comfortable nest for himself by plaiting twigs together, and then twisted in leaves to make it soft. Here he would sit all day long, with his head just peeping out, and if any one passed by with fruit in his hands our friend always went down at once to beg for a bit. At sunset, which comes at six o'clock on the Equator, he punctually went to his own quarters, and at six next morning, when the sun rose, he knocked at the door of his master's hut to ask for breakfast.

Being accustomed to sleep on top of a tree, the moment he was left to himself on board ship he looked about for a place high enough to please him, and of course nothing short of the mast-head would do. Having decided on his bedroom, the next thing was a bedstead and coverings, and for this purpose he got hold of a sail, which he was very careful to spread perfectly smooth, and in this sort of hammock he lay down, drawing the upper part of the sail over his body. Sometimes it happened that all the sails were in use, and then the clever creature would either take the blankets from one of the sailor's hammocks or steal one of their jackets. When the ship got as far south as the Cape of Good Hope the poor thing began to feel very cold, and when he woke in the morning would fling himself shivering into the arms of the sailors, and stay there till he got warm again.

It seems odd to find a monkey drinking tea and coffee, and indeed preferring them to any kind of liquid; but during the voyage, if he could get hold of them, he would take nothing else. This taste, however, died away as soon as he came on shore, for in London he showed a decided liking for beer and milk, though, at a pinch, he would accept wine, or even brandy.

All the long months at sea his master amused himself

ORANG-OUTANGS EATING OYSTERS ON THE SEA-SHORE

by trying to play tricks on the monkey, with a view to discovering how much sense and cleverness he had. To test this his captor would put some fruit in his pocket, and climb up to the mast-head as if to take observations. But anyone who attempts to match himself with a monkey is sure to get the worst of it. As if by instinct, up came the orang-outang, and grasping the ropes with the long toes of one of his feet, he would hold fast his master's legs with the other, and with one of his hands, while the other hand was searching in every pocket. On other occasions he would drop on his master from a height, which must have been very dangerous, or meet him at the bottom, from which there was no escape. Once the man really seemed too clever for the animal, and that was when he tied an orange to the end of a rope, and jerked it up and down, out of the creature's reach. After clutching at it repeatedly without success, the orang-outang pretended complete indifference, and, turning his back, climbed slowly up the rigging. Then he suddenly turned, and springing forward, seized the rope. When this failed, he lost his temper and shrieked with rage, and at length dashing at the man who held the rope, he held his arms tightly, till the coveted treasure was hauled up.

The boatswajn was his chief friend on board, and they used to 'mess' together, although neither gratitude nor good manners hindered the guest from sometimes stealing his host's grog and biscuit. After dinner he left the table and sat at the door of his cabin, like a Frenchman on the boulevards enjoying the coffee.

Towards some little monkeys that came on board at Java the orang-outang gave himself great airs—at least as long as any of the sailors were by. Indeed, it was generally thought that he felt a great hatred towards them, especially after he had been one day caught (just in time) in the act of throwing a cage, with three of them in it, overboard. But that was most likely because he could not get hold of some food that had been given them. If he could get the cabin boys to play with he was perfectly happy, but if not (and nobody was looking on) he would put up with the little monkeys, though the games on his side were rather half-hearted. The little fellows, on their part, were much flattered at his notice, and whenever they were let out at once went to wherever their big cousin might be.

In general the orang-outang took all the strange sights and sounds that met him in his new life very coolly, but eight big turtles that were taken in off the Island of Ascension were too much for his courage. As soon as he caught a glimpse of them he tore up to the highest part of the rigging, uttering a squeak of fear, and though at length his curiosity brought him down low enough to catch a peep of them, nothing would persuade him to come quite close. The only other time that he showed any of the same sort of fear was when he saw white men naked (which was quite new to him) bathing in the sea.

Many are the stories of pet monkeys, both orang-outangs and other kinds—putting their masters to shame by sitting over their heads in church, while they were preaching, and imitating every movement, till the congregation was nearly beside itself with laughter. But perhaps no anecdote ever told about the species shows so much intelligence as one related by an Italian traveller of some orang-outangs who had had no intercourse with man. When tired of the mountain fruits, or there were no more to be had, they would come down to the sea-shore in search of shell-fish and particularly of oysters. Though apparently reckless in many ways, the monkey tribe have really a good deal of caution, and if, as often happened, the oyster shells were a little open, they were afraid of putting in their fingers lest the shell should suddenly close, as with a spring. To prevent this, the orang-outangs kept the two halves open by means of a stone, so that they could enjoy their oyster to their

THE ORANG DETERMINES TO THROW THE RIVAL MONKEYS OVERBOARD

hearts' content without expecting to be held in a vice at every moment.

Seventy or eighty years ago, the mountain ranges of Cape Colony were infested by swarms of dog-faced baboons, which came, like locusts, to eat and carry away all the ripe fruit from the gardens and orchards. They are very quick, very impudent, and very cunning, and when they lay their plans to rob a garden, they tell off some of the band as sentinels, who give instant warning at the approach of danger. If they are left undisturbed they will not only make an excellent dinner, but will stuff the pouches they have in their cheeks with fruit, to be eaten quietly when they get home.

A traveller by the name of Le Vaillant, who was exploring in South Africa, captured a dog-faced baboon which he called Kees. The two soon became very fond of each other, and were constant companions, for the ape was quick at seeing (or smelling) the presence of wild beasts when the dogs were quite unable to detect them. Le Vaillant turned his greediness and curiosity to account, and never allowed any of his followers to eat strange fruits or plants till Kees had first eaten them, as no ape can bear to pass by food, especially food of a kind he has never seen before. When he threw the fruit away, after merely tasting it, they knew that it was better left alone. Even out hunting, Kees' appetite proved too much for him. He would climb up trees in the hope of finding gum, and dive into hidden places in the rocks where experience had taught him that honey was sometimes to be got. If he could discover neither gum nor honey, he would search for roots, which were the next best thing. There was one in particular which his master enjoyed nearly as much as he did, and when Kees' sharp eyes beheld the leaves, he made all the haste he could to keep it all to himself. First, of course, he had to pull it out of the ground, and that was not so easy, He did not use his hands—this would have taken too long, and besides, the earth was often very hard; but he grasped the plant firmly with his teeth, set his feet tight, and threw back his head with a jerk. If this failed to extract the root, he would then fix his teeth in the stem closer to the ground, and turn head over heels. This was too much for the root, which always came out directly.

Having once got possession of his prize, the nest thing was to eat it. He would look carefully round to see where his master was, and would gobble it up more or less fast, according to the distance Le Vaillant was from him, never moving his eyes from the explorer's feet all the while. If, however, his master came on him unexpectedly, he would hastily try to hide the root and pretend that he knew nothing about it; but a light box on the ear soon obliged him to share the morsel with his friend.

In the course of a long day's hunting, Kees, much as he enjoyed the expedition, often got very tired, and used to ride one of the dogs, who, being very good-natured, would carry him for whole hours at a time. As a rule, none of the dogs hated him; indeed he kept them all in order, and if any of them attempted to interfere with him when he was eating, he would adopt the method of his master, and send the intruder away with a box on the ear.

But the biggest and strongest dog of the pack was less good-natured than the rest, and whether from pride or laziness, very much objected to act the part of a beast of burden. So when Kees took it in his head to jump on him, he merely stood still and let all the others get well in front of him. Kees could not endure to remain behind anybody, and thumped the dog and pulled his ears to make him go on. But neither thumps nor pulls produced any effect; the dog would not stir. At last, seeing there was no help for it, Kees got down, and both he and the dog raced as fast as they could to join the rest; the dog taking care, however, to keep behind, so that he might run no risk of finding Kees again on his back.

Kees was horribly afraid of snakes, as many human beings are, who have not the least dread of wild animals.

LE VAILLANT AND KEES OUT HUNTING

But even snakes did not fill him with such terror as his own relations—nobody could guess why. At the mere sight of an ape he would scream with fear, and, trembling all over, would creep between the legs of one of the men. After such a shock it was a long while before he was himself again. Being an ape, Kees was of course a terrible thief, and very clever he was at stealing. It was difficult to know how to keep things out of his way, and punishment only made him more cunning. As for hanging up a basket containing milk or any kind of food for which Master Kees had a fancy, it was no good at all! One day, his master had boiled some beans for dinner, and had just put them on his plate, when his attention was attracted by the note of a strange bird just outside his tent. Le Vaillant jumped up, seized his gun and rushed off in search of the bird, which he secured in a few minutes. When he came back to his dinner neither beans nor Kees were to be seen. Of course, Le Vaillant knew what had become of both; but he expected that Kees would appear at tea-time, as he always did when he had been stealing, and seat himself in his usual place with the most innocent face in the world. However, this particular evening nothing was heard of him, and when another whole day passed and no Kees, his master grew very anxious. At last, on the third day, a man, who had been sent to fetch water from the river, reported that he had caught a glimpse of Kees, but that directly the baboon had seen him he had hidden himself in the bushes. On this Le Vaillant called his dogs and went straight to the place where the truant had been hiding, but for a long while could find no trace of the creature. At length he heard a cry—just the sound of reproach that Kees always made when he had been left behind on a hunting expedition, but the animal himself was not visible. His master, in despair, was almost giving up the search, when he suddenly spied the baboon sitting overhead among the thick branches of a tree. Le Vaillant called to him in his friendliest tones, but Kees thought it was only a trap, and would not stir, though he made no attempt to move when his master climbed up after him and coaxed him to come down. When they reached the tent it was quite plain that he remembered his fault, and expected to be punished; but Le Vaillant was too glad to get his pet back to take any further notice. Besides, what would have been the use?

In spite of his penitence—or the shame of having been found out—Kees went on stealing as badly as ever. At least every article of food that disappeared—especially eggs—was always said to have been taken by him, and Le Vaillant determined to discover how far the charge was true. So one day he hid himself near where the hen was kept and waited till her loud cackling told all whom it might concern that she had laid an egg. Kees, who had been sitting patiently on a cart, at once jumped down and ran towards the egg, when his master strolled carelessly towards him. In an instant he stopped, assumed his most innocent air, and balanced himself on his hind legs, as if he had merely come out to see the sun rise. His master pretended not to be aware of the meaning of all this, and turned his back on the bush where the egg lay. Of course the baboon seized it with a bound, and, when Le Vaillant looked round, he was in the very act of swallowing the coveted treasure.

A good whipping followed, but that did not save the eggs, so Le Vaillant hit upon another plan. He shut Kees carefully up for a few mornings, while he trained one of the dogs to find the egg and bring it to him without breaking it. Then Kees was let out and Le Vaillant watched with some curiosity to see what would happen. What did happen was this. As soon as the hen began to cackle both ape and dog ran a race to the nest. Each tried to reach the egg first, and in general it was Kees who was the lucky one. If the dog managed to pick it up he brought it straight to his master and laid it in his hand, Kees all the while following, muttering and making faces at him, though he seemed pleased that the dog did not wish to eat the egg himself. If Kees was the victor he bolted with it up the nearest tree, where he ate it in peace, pelting his enemy with the broken shells. Then the dog would return to his master with his tail between his legs.

This was the bad side of Kees; but he had a great many very good qualities. He was an early riser, and when he was up himself he woke the dogs, who held him in great awe, and signed to them to take up their different positions about the tent, which they did without a moment's delay. Then he was devoted to his master, who gives many instances of his loyalty and affection. One day, an officer in fun pretended to strike Le Vaillant, and Kees at the sight became so violent he could hardly be restrained or pacified. The officer, who had not expected the action would make such a deep impression, tried to appease him by offers of fruit, but quite in vain. Never again would the faithful creature have anything to do with the man, and if he caught sight of him ever so far off he would cry and grind his teeth and prepare to fly at him; so that at last, during the officer's stay in the camp, it was necessary to chain him down.

Many, too, were the hardships shared by the pair of friends out hunting, and here, again, Kees' fidelity never failed. The man might sink to the ground worn out with heat and fatigue, parched with thirst, and fainting with hunger, but the monkey never left his side. If there was anywhere within reasonable distance a root or tree that would give them a little relief, Kees would scent it out. Sometimes when found it would have no stalk, so the root could not be extracted in the usual way. Then Kees began to scratch up the hard-baked earth with his claws —a painful as well as a slow process—and it was lucky that his master had a hunting-knife with which to come to the rescue. How they would both enjoy that root, when, after so many struggles, they got it at last!

How surprised a traveller would be if, in the course of his wanderings, he happened to come upon a flock of goats with a baboon for their guardian! Yet this strange sight might have been met with in the land of the Namaquas, about seventy years ago. His master had caught him when a baby, and carefully trained him up to this duty, which he fulfilled as well as any Scotch sheep dog that ever lived. Every morning the baboon drove his charges out to the fields for pasture, and every evening be brought them safe back again, riding always on the

THE BABOON WHO LOOKED AFTER THE GOATS

back of the last, so that he might keep an eye on any stragglers. For wages, he was given the milk of one goat, and he was most particular in keeping to his part of the bargain, and in guarding the others from the hot and thirsty children, who would have been glad of a drink. In the evening his master would give him a little meat for supper.

But the poor fellow was not long left in peace to perform his task. One day, when he was sleeping in the low branches of a tree, he was seen by a leopard, who happened to be wanting a dinner, and after creeping stealthily up, with one bound he landed on the baboon's neck, and there was an end of him.

The Narnaquas used to complain that it was difficult to keep a child, for the baboons were sure to steal it, perhaps in revenge for some teasing on the part of the children.

One evening, some little Narnaquas were sent out with bows and arrows to play in the woods just outside the village. When it grew dark they all came home again, and it was not until they were close to the huts that they missed the youngest of the party, a boy of five or six, who, being very tired, had lingered behind the rest. Seeing he was alone, a crowd of chattering baboons came swiftly down from their perches in the trees, and seizing the boy in their long arms, carried him off to the mountains.

Next day the whole village turned out as soon as it was light in search of the child, but neither boy nor baboons could be seen anywhere.

For a whole year the parents gave up the boy for lost, when one night a man from another tribe came riding through the village, and mentioned, during the course of conversation, that a long way off he had noticed the trail of baboons, and in the midst the footprints of a child. The villagers set out directly on hearing this news, and when they reached the place described by the hunter, they saw the little boy seated on a high rock, with a big baboon beside him. At the sight of the men the baboon caught up the boy and tried to make off with him, but after a hard chase he was at length surrounded, and forced to give up the child. Far from being pleased at his release from captivity, the boy, who had become quite wild, fought and cried, and even tried to get back to his long-armed friends. He had forgotten, too, how to talk, and it took him some time to pick up his own language again. When at last he had settled down to his old life, the child said that the baboons had been very kind to him, and that seeing he did not like their own favourite food of scorpions and spiders, had given him roots and gum and wild grapes, while, when they came to a spring, they never thought of drinking till he had had his fill. No wonder he missed the good manners of the baboons when he came back to his native Namaquas.