At the end of forty-two long days at sea we arrived at Liverpool. It was near the end of autumn. The weather was cold and foggy. Elisheba was failing in health, as I feared she would do, having come from the warm, humid climate along the equator, and, at the same time, having undergone a change of food.
On arriving at the end of our long and arduous voyage, I secured quarters for the apes and quickly had them stowed away in a warm, sunny cage. Elisheba began to recover from the fatigue and worry of the journey, and for a while was more cheerful than she had been at any time since I had known her. Her appetite returned, the symptoms of fever passed away, and she seemed benefited rather than injured by the voyage. Aaron was in the best of health and had shown no signs of any evil results from the trip.
On reaching the landing-stage in Liverpool, some friends who met us there expressed a desire to see the apes, and for that purpose I opened their cage in the waiting-room. When they beheld the throng of huge figures with white faces, long skirts, and big coats, they were almost frantic with fear. They had never before seen anything like it, and they crouched back in the corner of the cage, clinging to each other and screaming in terror. When they saw me standing by them, they rushed to me, seized me by the legs, and climbed up to my arms. Finding they were safe here, they stared for a moment, as if amazed at the crowd; then Elisheba buried her face under my chin and refused to look at any one. They were both trembling with fright, and I could scarcely get them into their cage again; but after they were installed in their quarters with Dr. Cross, who was to have charge of them, they became reconciled to the sight of strangers in such costumes. In their own country they had never seen anything like it, for the natives, to whom they were accustomed, wear, as a rule, no clothing except a small piece of cloth tied round the waist, and the few white men they had seen were mostly dressed in white; but here was a great crowd of creatures in skirts and overcoats, and I have no doubt that to them it was a startling sight when seen for the first time.
During the first two weeks after arriving at Liverpool, Elisheba improved in health and temper, until she was not like the same creature; but about the end of that time she contracted a severe cold. A deep, dry cough, attended by pains in the chest and sides, together with a piping hoarseness, betrayed the nature of her disease and gave just cause for apprehension. During frequent paroxysms of coughing she pressed her hands upon her breast or side, to arrest the shock and thus lessen the pain it caused. When quiet, she sat holding her hands on her throat, her head bowed down and her eyes drooping or closed. Day by day the serpent of disease drew his deadly coils closer and closer about her wasting form; but she bore it with a patience worthy of a human being.
ELISHEBA AND AARON
(From a Photograph.)
The sympathy and forbearance of Aaron were again called into action, and the demand was not in vain. Hour after hour he sat holding her locked in his arms, as he is seen in the portrait given herewith. He was not posing for a picture, nor was he aware how deeply his manners touched the human heart. Even the brawny men who work about the place paused to watch him in his tender offices to her, and his staid keeper was moved to pity by his kindness and his patience. For days she lingered on the verge of death. She became too feeble to sit up; but as she lay on her bed of straw, he sat by her side, resting his folded arms upon her and refusing to allow any one to touch her. His look of deep concern showed that he felt the gravity of her case in a degree that bordered on grief. He was grave and silent, as if he foresaw the sad end that was near at hand. My frequent visits were a source of comfort to him, and he evinced a pleasure in my coming that bespoke his confidence in me and his faith in my ability to relieve his suffering companion; but, alas! she was beyond the aid of human skill.
On the morning of her decease I found him sitting by her as usual. At my approach he quietly rose to his feet and advanced to the front of the cage. Opening the door, I put my arm in and caressed him. He looked into my face and then at the prostrate form of his mate. The last dim sparks of life were not yet gone out, as the slight motion of the breast betrayed; but the limbs were cold and limp. While I leaned over to examine more closely, he crouched down by her side and watched with deep concern to see the result. I laid my hand upon her heart to ascertain if the last hope was gone; he looked at me, and then placed his own hand by the side of mine, and held it there as if he knew the purport of the act. Of course to him this had no real meaning, but it was an index to the desire which prompted it. He seemed to think that anything that I did would be good for her, and his purpose, doubtless, was to aid me. When I removed my hand, he removed his; when I returned mine, he did the same; and to the last he gave evidence of his faith in my friendship and good intentions. His ready approval of anything I did showed that he had a vague idea of my purpose.
At length the breast grew still, and the feeble beating of the heart ceased. The lips were parted, and the dim eyes were halfway closed; but he sat by as if she were asleep. The sturdy keeper came to remove the body from the cage; but Aaron clung to it and refused to allow him to touch it. I took the little mourner in my arms, but he watched the keeper jealously and did not want him to remove or disturb the body. It was laid on a bunch of straw in front of the cage, and he was returned to his place; but he clung to me so firmly that it was difficult to release his hold. He cried in a piteous tone and fretted and worried, as if he fully realized the worst. The body was then removed from view, but poor little Aaron was not consoled. How I pitied him! How I wished that he was again in his native land, where he might find friends of his own race!
After this he grew more attached to me than ever. When I went to visit him he was happy and cheerful in my presence; but the keeper said that while I was away he was often gloomy and morose. As long as he could see me or hear my voice, he would fret and cry for me to come to him. When I had left him, he would scream as long as he had any hope of inducing me to return.