Mr. Donald MacAlsh, gold-miner from Silver Creek, California, happening
to be in San Francisco, read one morning the following paragraph in the
_San Francisco Herald_:--
'Curious Tale of The Sea.--Captain J. E. Dawkins of the _Mermaid_,
which has just arrived in this port from Liverpool, reports a
singular occurrence. About ten days' out from home the look-out
observed what he took to be a great sea-serpent, but which, on
further inspection, turned out to be a quantity of wreckage. On
approaching the spot the figure of a boy was distinctly observed
clinging to the broken portion of a mast, and obviously still alive.
A small boat was instantly lowered, the ship's crew meantime making
signals to the boy to inform him that he was being rescued. After a
suspense of some half-hour the boat returned with the extraordinary
intelligence that the figure seen was not that of a boy, but of a
monkey. Search among the wreckage for human remains proved
unavailing, and it is feared that a serious catastrophe has
occurred. The only clue to the nationality of the vessel, which, it
is only too plain, has met with a disastrous fate, are the letters
"vorni" on a portion of what had evidently formed the bow of one of
the life-boats. Possibly these letters are part of "Livorni," the
Italian word for Leghorn, and the list of recent sailings from that
port is now being scrutinised with some anxiety.'
[Illustration: THE MONKEY'S RESCUE]
Now what interested Donald--'Big Donald,' he was always called--in this
story was not the monkey, but the arrival of the _Mermaid_. For the
Captain was a friend of his, and was bringing him some tools from home
in this very ship. Though 'Big Donald' was now a gold-miner, he came out
from Scotland when quite a lad. His father was a small farmer in Skye,
and, dying early, the family emigrated to America. As it was to get
these tools that Donald came in to San Francisco he soon found his way
to the harbour, and, finding out the _Mermaid_, walked on board. No one
was visible on deck, so Donald sat down on a coil of rope to wait. He
had not been there three minutes when a matted head and two very
brilliant eyes suddenly shot up the companion, and a full-grown monkey
sprang in front of him and stared into his face. Donald, much startled
by this apparition, called out in a loud voice for the creature to go
away; but the moment the words were spoken the monkey sprang on his back
and clasped its long hairy arms about his neck. The miner shook it off
in terror and tried to run ashore, but the monkey followed, frisking and
gambolling round him, and chasing him all over the quay. Donald soon
discovered, however, that the monkey meant no harm, and a few days later
an explanation of this sudden outburst of interest in a stranger--the
Captain told Donald that the monkey had never been known to behave like
this before--broke in upon the miner's mind. He remembered that when he
suddenly spoke to the monkey he had called to it _in Gaelic_. Under the
impulse of a sudden fear, I suppose, the language of his boyhood had
started to his lips, and the words came out unconsciously '_Imich air
falbh_,' which means 'Go away.' What made Donald remember the
circumstance was this, that whenever afterwards he used the Highland
tongue the monkey manifested peculiar signs of joy. The only way the
miner could account for this singular fact was to suppose that somehow
or other this monkey had once belonged to some one who used the Gaelic
language--a suggestion, however, which people generally laughed at. The
miner always maintained, nevertheless, that the monkey really knew
Gaelic, and he seldom spoke to it in any other language. Of course,
people said this was simply to show off that he knew two languages.
I do not know whether the miner bought the monkey, or whether the
Captain gave it to him, or whether it ran away, but it is certain that
from this hour it belonged to Donald. When he left the ship with his
tools, the monkey followed, trotting after him like a dog all the way
till he reached his lodgings. The miner then went into the house and
shut the door, leaving the monkey outside. In ten minutes it seemed as
if all the boys in San Francisco had gathered in that street. They
formed a crowd round the door which almost stopped the traffic; and when
the policeman shortly appeared he was rather disgusted to find that it
was only a monkey performing gymnastic exercises on a door-knocker.
Roughly ringing the bell, he ordered Donald to take in his monkey.
Donald replied meekly that he was not responsible for the monkey, but
the officer said he would be summoned for 'obstructing the thoroughfare
and causing a breach of the peace' if he did not take in his guest at
once. So Donald had to submit, for he saw there would be no rest in San
Francisco till this wayward creature had its will and was safe inside.
That night Donald had a serious talk with the monkey as it sat upright
in its chair at supper. He told it that if it would behave itself he
would take it up to the Rocky Mountains to the gold diggings. The monkey
seemed to understand, for it put down a lump of cheese it was about to
eat, skipped off its chair, and nestled against Big Donald's side. Only
one other thing happened that night: Donald gave the monkey its name. He
called it 'Gum'--because it stuck to him.
[Illustration: A MONKEY PERFORMING GYMNASTIC EXERCISES]