CHAPTER XXIII.
CAPTURE OF A YOUNG GORILLA—I CALL HIM "FIGHTING JOE"—HIS STRENGTH AND BAD TEMPER—HE PROVES UNTAMEABLE—JOE ESCAPES—RE-CAPTURED—ESCAPES AGAIN—UNPLEASANT TO HANDLE—DEATH OF "FIGHTING JOE."
I remember well the day when I first possessed a live gorilla. Yes, a gorilla that could roar; a young gorilla alive! He was captured not far from Cape St. Catherine, and dragged into Washington.
My hunters were five in number, and were walking very silently through the forest, when suddenly the silence was broken by the cry of a young gorilla for its mother. Everything was still. It was about noon, and they immediately determined to follow the cry.
Soon they heard the cry again. Gun in hand, the brave fellows crept noiselessly towards a clump of wood where the baby gorilla evidently was. They knew the mother would be near; and there was a likelihood that they might encounter the male also, which they dread more than they do the mother. But they determined to risk everything, and, if possible, to take the young one alive, knowing how pleased I should be, for I had been long trying to capture a young gorilla.
Presently they perceived the bush moving; and crawling a little farther on, in dead silence, scarcely breathing with excitement, they beheld what had seldom been seen even by negroes. A young gorilla was seated on the ground, as the picture shows you, eating some berries, which grew close to the earth. A few feet farther on sat the mother, also eating of the same fruit.
Instantly they made ready to fire; and none too soon, for the old female saw them as they raised their guns, and they had to pull triggers without delay. Happily, they wounded her mortally.
She fell on her face, the blood gushing from the wounds. The young one, hearing the noise of the guns, ran to his mother and clung to her, hiding his face and embracing her body. The hunters immediately rushed towards the two, hallooing with joy. How much I wished that I had been with them, and been so fortunate as to assist in the capture of a live gorilla!
Their shouts roused the little one, who, by this time, was covered with blood coming from his mother's wounds. He instantly let go of his mother and ran to a small tree, which he climbed with great agility. There he sat and roared at them savagely. They were now perplexed how to get at him. What was to be done? No one cared to run the chance of being bitten by this savage little beast. They did not want to shoot him, for they knew I should never forgive them for doing so. He would not come down the tree, and they did not care to climb it after him. At last they cut down the tree, and, as it fell, they dexterously threw a cloth over the head of the young monster, and thus gained time to secure it while it was blinded. With all these precautions, one of the men received a severe bite on the hand, and another had a piece taken out of his leg.