Although every kindness was shown to him by the officers and crew, and sweetmeats and other niceties were given to him by them by way of bribes, to engage his confidence and good opinion, yet he would not permit himself to be taken in the arms, or caressed familiarly by any person on board during the voyage, except by the commander, the third officer, and myself; but with any of the children he would readily gambol. It was a strange fact, that he in particular avoided all those who wore large bushy whiskers.
It was ludicrous to behold the terrified looks of the animal, if his finger was taken towards a cup of hot tea, as if to ascertain the temperature; and his attempt at remonstrating on the impropriety of such conduct, together with his half-suppressed screams, were very diverting.
Among other amusements, he would frequently hang from a rope by one arm; and, when in a frolicsome humour, frisk about, with his eyes shut, giving him the appearance of a person hanging, and in the agonies of death.
When we spoke a ship at sea, his curiosity seemed to be much excited by the novel object near us, for he would invariably mount up the rigging, at a height sufficient to command a good view of the stranger, and sometimes take up his position on the peak haulyards, just under the flag, a signal, difficult no doubt for the stranger to comprehend; there he would remain gazing wistfully after the departing stranger, until he was out of sight—“give one parting, lingering look,” and then come down on the deck again, and resume the sports from which the stranger’s appearance had disturbed him.
When strangers came on board he approached them with caution, and at such a distance, as he considered consistent with his ideas of safety. To the ladies he did not evince any partiality; we had none on board by which we could judge whether a few days or weeks of their powerful fascinations would have any effect on him. The only lady who had honoured him with her notice was one who came on board from a ship we spoke at sea; he evinced, however, no partiality to the gentle sex, and would not permit her to caress him: whether it was the bonnet, which was of the calibre of 1828, or other portions of the lady’s dress, that excited his indignation, I cannot say, as the animal could not communicate his opinions; whatever the cause might have been, he was evidently not eager to become acquainted with her, but would show a disposition to bite if she attempted to caress him. As she appeared at first timid of approaching him, this show of warfare may have been occasioned by it, and in some degree have made the cunning brute keep up the feeling. I was acquainted with a lady in Ceylon, who, having been bitten by a cockatoo, always evinced great terror at the approach of one which was kept by her Ayah, or lady’s-maid, in the house: the bird appeared aware of it, for, when he saw the lady approach, he would flap his wings, elevate his crest, shriek out, and at the same time pretend to pursue her, at which she ran away quite terrified.
When the poor animal lay on the bed of sickness, from dysentery, produced by the cold, there was as much inquiry after his health, by the officers and crew, as if he had been of “human form divine,” for he was a universal favourite on board; and there was much regret when he died—all his gambols and playful antics ceasing for ever. His skin, properly stuffed and preserved in its natural erect attitude, was kept to be consigned, on our arrival in England, to one of the glass-cases in the British Museum, where he was eventually deposited.[57]
His death occurred as follows:—On the 19th of March, 1831, we had reached the latitude 45° 41′ north, and longitude 24° 40′ west. The animal seemed (although clothed in flannel, and kept in my cabin) to suffer much from cold, and was attacked by dysentery. He would prefer going on the deck, in the cold air, with the persons to whom he was attached, to remaining in the warm cabin with those whom he did not regard. On the 24th he became much worse, his appetite gone, and he had a dislike of being moved; the discharge from the bowels was bilious, mixed with blood and mucus, sometimes entirely of blood and mucus, with a putrescent odour. The breath had a sickly smell, mouth clammy, eyes dull and suffused; he drank a little water occasionally, and sometimes a little tea. I gave the usual remedies of calomel and opium, as if I was treating dysentery in a human being, and although I was obliged to put the medicine down his throat myself, the animal made no resistance; and on a renewal of the doses, did not attempt to prevent it, as if aware that it was intended for his benefit. He generally remained with his head hanging on the breast, and limbs huddled together; he would, however, when yawning, inflate the pouch as usual.
On the 29th we were detained in the “chops of the channel,” by prevailing easterly winds; and he daily sank until the 31st of March, when he died, in latitude 48° 36′ north, longitude 9° 1′ west.
On examination of the body soon after death, the thoracic viscera were found perfectly healthy, and differing from the orang-utan,[58] in being subdivided on each side, the right lung having three, and the left two lobes, as in the human subject. The lungs were perfectly free from tubercles; the spleen was healthy, of small size, and lobulated at one extremity; the liver was large and healthy; the difference in size between that organ and the spleen was considerable, in comparison with the relative proportions of those organs in the human subject. Mr. Owen does not remark, in the dissection of the orang-utan, whether this difference of size in the two organs exists also in that animal; the gall-bladder contained a small quantity of dark, thick, and viscid bile; several of the mesenteric glands were enlarged, some being of a white, others of a dark colour.