“Yes, sir; chimpanzee, sir.”
“How dare you bring a monkey on board, sir?”
“Only a natural history specimen, sir; and I thought—”
“Oh, there you are, Staples,” said the captain, coming up. “Look, I think this is right at last;” and he handed the letter to his second in command.
“Looks correct, sir,” said the lieutenant, after reading the letter. “Shall you act upon it?”
“Act upon it, man! Of course.”
The monkey was forgotten. The boatswain’s pipe rang out, the men came tumbling up, and as fast as it could be achieved, the anchor was raised, sail after sail hoisted, and an hour after, with every scrap of canvas that could be set, the Nautilus was slowly gliding along right out to sea, with the palm and mangrove-lined shore slowly fading into the haze, while the men collected together in knots and discussed the possibility of catching a slaver that night.
“What’s it to be, Van,” said Bob Howlett, “fun or flam?”
“Tell you to-morrow morning,” was the reply. “I say, I’ve fed the chim’, and he’s asleep.”
“Wish I was too,” said Bob Howlett, “Oh, I say, ain’t it hot?”