“A shipwrecked youth, whose life has been in danger during the past three months.”
“One would say you were more ape than human,” the captain replied with a smile.
“And so I have been; but now the time has come when I can assume my proper place among human beings. This hide is not mine.”
“Which is lucky for you,” one of the officers added, and several laughed heartily, “otherwise we might think it a deed of charity to finish skinning you.”
Then Captain Seaworth, looking at the chimpanzees as if he recognized them, asked:
“How comes it that you have adopted two of my former pets as your servants?”
“These are animals which I once owned and trained, and afterward sold to you, captain,” Philip said laughingly; and the gentleman, looking up quickly, repeated:
“You sold them to me?”
“Yes. I am, or at least I was, Philip Garland, dealer in wild animals, and sold you these chimpanzees, together with a baboon which I wish had been killed years ago.”
It is needless to describe the astonishment caused by these words. In this youth, only partially covered with the tattered skin of an ape, and with matted and disheveled hair, the officers of the Reynard began to distinguish some familiar features, and a moment later Philip was overwhelmed with questions.