After every meal Jacko used to collect tit-bits and stuff them into his jowl till his cheek stuck out, then he went at once in search of pussy and fed him. The action was almost human. Indeed it might have been called more so, for the "lower animals", as we are all too fond of calling them, often exhibit more kindness to each other than mankind does to any of them.
There was something quite out of the common about Jacko in many ways. He really had less mischief in his mental composition than monkeys generally. Hurricane Bob and Oscar used to be washed regularly once a week. The gun-room steward, superintended by Creggan himself, used to perform this operation. After the rubbing and rinsing with warm water and soap, they were always deluged with pailfuls of clear, soft water, and after they were dried down with half a dozen towels—the dogs' own property—they were combed and brushed.
Then ensued a wild scamper round and round the Osprey's decks, that made everyone laugh who saw it.
Admiral Jacko used to squat on top of the capstan while the doggies were being washed, and from the long, doleful face he wore, it was evident he pitied them. But as soon as the scamper up and down the decks after belaying-pins that the men threw to them was over, both dogs went and lay down on the quarter-deck in the sunshine. And now Jacko considered that his duties had commenced. He would leap solemnly down from the top of the capstan, Creggan would hand him the comb, then off he went to his friends the dogs. No peasant woman in Normandy could have combed her boy's hair more carefully than did Jacko go over Hurricane Bob's coat first, and then honest Oscar's, with finger-nails and brush. Well, if he did catch an errant flea it was executed on the spot; but the earnestness with which Jacko did the work, and the exceeding gravity of his face while at it, would have drawn laughter from a California mule.
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I myself have never yet seen a more active middy on board a British man-o'-war than the Ugly Duckling was. No part of the ship's rigging was inaccessible to him. He would climb to the main-truck and wave his cap to those below.
One day, however, he attempted a feat that, although he had often performed it in harbour, was undoubtedly dangerous at sea, even on the calmest day. The sea all around that forenoon was as still and quiet as the grave, and the Osprey was on an even keel. They were now nearing the north coast of South America, and though steam was up, and the ship churning up a long wake of froth that trailed for miles in the rear, it made no other motion save vibration. Well, Jacko and the Ugly Duckling had been having fine fun that forenoon, much to the delight of those below. Up aloft they went, to top after top, and down again to deck by a back-stay. Hand over hand up that back-stay again, and so on, seeming to have no tire in them. But at last, to the horror, it must be said, of the officers on the quarter-deck, the Ugly Duckling slowly drew himself up to the top of the gilded truck, and then slowly and cautiously stood up.
There was no laughing now among those below, all were mute with fears for the poor boy's fate. This daring middy balanced himself first on one foot and then on the other, and then—will it be believed?—he took from his jacket pocket a tiny ebony fife, at playing which he was a great adept, and commenced to pipe The Girl I left behind me.
He never finished the tune, however.
Something had suddenly unnerved him, and well he knew that to fall deckwards would be death. He was seen, therefore, to suddenly crouch, and putting his hands in swimming fashion above his head, to spring into the air. He came down like a flash, and sunk far into the water, many yards on the port side of the ship.