Apes and Monkeys: Their Life and Language

by R. L. Garner

From the trading post to the Rembo was a journey of five days on foot. Along the way were a few straggling villages; but most of the route lay through a wild and desolate forest, traversed by low, broad marshes, through which wind shallow sloughs of filthy, greenish water, seeking its way among bending roots and fallen leaves. From the foul bosom of these marshes rise the effluvia of decaying plants, breeding pestilence and death. Here and there across the dreary tracts is found the trail of elephants, where the great beasts have broken their tortuous way through the dense barriers of bush and vine. These trails serve as roads for the native traveler and afford the only way of crossing these otherwise trackless jungles. The only means of passing the dismal swamps is to wade through the thin, slimy mud, often more than knee-deep, and sometimes extending many hundred feet in width. The traveler is intercepted at almost every step by the tangled roots of mangrove trees under foot or clusters of vines hanging from the boughs overhead.

Such was the route we came. But Aaron did not realize how severe was the task of his carrier in trudging his way through such places, and the little rogue often added to the labor by seizing hold of limbs or vines that hung within his reach in passing. Thus he retarded the progress of the boy, who strongly protested against the ape’s amusing himself in this manner. The latter seemed to know of no reason why he should not do so, and the former did not deign to give one. So the quarrel went on until we reached the river; but by that time each of them had imbibed a hatred for the other that nothing in the future ever allayed. Neither of them ever forgot it while they were associated, and both of them evinced their aversion on all occasions. The boy gave vent to his dislike by making ugly faces at the ape, and the latter showed his resentment by screaming and trying to bite him. Aaron refused to eat any food given him by the boy, and the boy would not give him a morsel except when required to do so. At times the feud became ridiculous. It ended only with their final separation. The last time I ever saw the boy, I asked him if he wanted to go with me to my country to take care of Aaron; but he shook his head and said: “He’s a bad man.” This was the only person for whom I ever knew Aaron to conceive a deep and bitter dislike, but the boy he hated with his whole heart.

On my return to Ferran Vaz, where I had left Moses, I found him in a feeble state of health, as related elsewhere. When Aaron was set down before him, he merely gave the little stranger a casual glance, but held out his long, lean arms for me to take him in mine. His wish was gratified, and I indulged him in a long stroll. When we returned I set him down by the side of his new friend, who evinced every sign of pleasure and interest. He was like a small boy when there is a new baby in the house. He cuddled up close to Moses and made many overtures to become friends; but, while the latter did not repel them, he treated them with indifference. Aaron tried in many ways to attract the attention of Moses, or to elicit from him some sign of approval, but it was in vain.

No doubt Moses’ manners were due to his sickness, and Aaron seemed to realize it. He sat for a long time holding a banana in his hand and looking with evident concern into the face of his little sick cousin. At length he lifted the fruit to the lips of the invalid and uttered a low sound; but the kindness was not accepted. The act was purely one of his own volition, to which he was not prompted by any suggestion from others. Every look and motion indicated a desire to relieve or comfort his friend. His manner was gentle and humane, and his face was an image of pity.

Failing to get any sign of attention from Moses, Aaron moved up closer to his side and put his arms around him in the manner that is shown in the picture of him with Elisheba. During the days that followed, he sat hour after hour in the same attitude, and refused to allow any one except myself to touch his patient; but on my approach he always resigned him to me, while he watched with interest to see what I did for him.

Among other things, I gave Moses twice a day a tabloid of quinine and iron. This was dissolved in a little water and given to him in a small tin cup kept for the purpose. When not in use, the cup was hung upon a tall post. Aaron soon learned to know the use of it, and whenever I went to Moses, Aaron would climb up the post and bring me the cup to administer the medicine. It is not to be inferred that he knew anything about the nature or effect of the medicine, but he knew the use, and the only use, to which that cup was put.

Aaron displayed a marked interest during the act of administering the dose, and seemed to realize that it was intended for the good of the patient. He would sit close up to one side of the sick one and watch every movement of his face, as if to see what effect was being produced, while the changing expressions of his own visage plainly showed that he was not indifferent to the actions of the patient.

While I was present with the sick one, Aaron appeared to feel a certain sense of relief from the care of him, and frequently went climbing about as if to rest and recreate himself by a change of routine. Whenever I took Moses for a walk, or sat with him on my lap, his little nurse was perfectly content; but the instant they were left alone, Aaron would again fold him in his arms, as if he felt it a duty to do so.

It was only natural that Moses, in such a state of health, should be cross and peevish at times, as human beings in a like condition are; but I never once saw Aaron resent anything Moses did, or display the least ill-temper towards him. On the contrary, his conduct was so patient and forbearing that it was hard to forego the belief that it was prompted by the same motives of kindness and sympathy that move the human heart to deeds of tenderness and mercy. At night, when they were put to rest, they lay cuddled up in each other’s arms, and in the morning they were always found in the same close embrace.

But on the morning Moses died the conduct of Aaron was unlike anything I had observed before. When I approached their snug little house and drew aside the curtain, I found him sitting in one corner of the cage. His face wore a look of concern, as if he were aware that something awful had occurred. When I opened the door he neither moved nor uttered any sound. I do not know whether or not apes have any name for death, but they surely know what it is.