The monkey wrinkled its forehead, and its restless eyes ran over one after the other of the group as the sailors gathered round, who now began laughing.
“Well, he’s a handsome chap at all events,” said Bill, putting out his hand to pat the monkey on the head.
“Don’t touch him, lad,” growled Dick, by way of caution; “he bites.”
“Get out,” said Bill. “Now then, old man, how are you?”
“Chick—chack—squitter—witter—chack,” cried the monkey, snapping at the sailor’s hand and giving it a sharp nip.
“There, I told you so,” said Dick.
“Hallo, what have you got there, Dick?” said Bob Roberts, coming up, attracted by the laughing.
“Native gentleman, sir, I bought for four dollars,” said Dick, seriously. “He’s a rar-jah I think, only he hadn’t time to get his toggery and his kris afore he come aboard.”
“Didn’t know the native gentlemen had tails,” said Bob, smiling. “Hallo, old chap, how are you? Have a bite?”
He held out half a biscuit that he happened to have in his jacket pocket, and the monkey looked at him curiously, as it held out one long thin black hand, flinchingly, as if expecting to be teased.