The Kemp was named after Isaac Taylor’s agent at Port Elizabeth. The
captains of most all sailing vessels were allowed to do a little
speculating on the side, and often picked up quite a little pocket
money by their various investments. So at Port Elizabeth I had
purchased as a bit of speculation one ostrich, one tiger, and a large
baboon, a regular man eater and a most vicious animal. I am very fond
of all kinds of animals and, strange to say, this baboon took a fancy
to me and was quite docile when I was with him. We were homeward bound
and were getting into the S. E. trade winds, so we were obliged to
chain the baboon down on the main hatch. We put him in a large pen that
had been formerly occupied by the pigs and fowl, and strengthened it
by placing large iron bars along the sides. A hole was bored in the
bottom of the house and the chain mast fast to a ring-bolt and hauled
in, which allowed him to just place his arms or forepaws on the edge of
the pen. All the sailors were warned to keep away from him, for if they
were hurt it was at their own risk. One of the sailors, a big Swede by
the name of Swinson, seemed to take delight in getting big Jocko angry,
and stirred him up whenever he went past the cage. The baboon would
scream, froth at the mouth and bend the bars of the cage in his efforts
to get at the sailor. I had cautioned Swinson to keep away and let him
alone or he would get hurt, but he only laughed. The after part of the
forward house had a main entrance to the starboard and port watches,
which was about four feet from the main hatch-house, where big Jocko’s
quarters were. One fine day at noon-time eight bells were struck and
the starboard watch was relieved. Our big Swede thought he would have
some fun with the baboon, so he picked up the deck broom and poked it
through the cage, handle first. The baboon immediately hauled it in
very quickly, but the sailor held fast to the broom instead of letting
go, and was drawn rapidly towards the cage.
At that time I was on the quarter-deck, saw Swinson go towards the
cage with the broom, and shouted for him to drop it and go about his
business. But now there came a horrible scream from both man and beast.
The baboon had fastened both of his big tusks in the sailor’s throat,
and they were locked tight. The crew were now all on deck and things
were in a general hubbub. I ran forward, got hold of the baboon’s tail,
and commenced to twist it up, but as his teeth were locked over and
under it did no good. We then put an iron belaying pin in his mouth,
cut the skin clear in the man’s throat, and in this manner separated
the pair. By this time the deck was covered with blood, Swinson was
black in the face, and the baboon was about winded, as the pressure of
the bars against his own throat had prevented his breathing somewhat.
Swinson was now unconscious and we thought him dead, but as we carried
him aft he showed some signs of life. His throat was now one mass of
clotted blood and was a horrible sight. My knowledge of anatomy was
slight, and this was one of my worst experiences in the surgical line
aboard ship. We carried a medicine chest, a text book on medicine
and one well illustrated book on surgery. The case was supplied with
bandages, needles, silk thread and a variety of splints. The mate
opened the book of surgery to a place which showed the anatomy of the
neck, and we went to work to fix poor Swinson up the best we could.
We washed and cleansed the wound and by using plenty of pressure
succeeded in checking the constant oozing of blood. I put in some
thirty stitches, which made the wound a little more presentable, but
it still looked very nasty. We detailed one of the men to stand by the
sailor and keep constant pressure over the bleeding places and to give
him all the care he could. The man’s neck swelled something horrible
and we thought sure he would die, but in three weeks’ time he was all
right again and on duty. You may be sure he always gave Jocko a wide
berth after that, and the baboon never forgot him, either, for he
always made the most horrible noises and sounds whenever he saw the
sailor. The only thanks we got for looking after Swinson’s wounds was a
threat to sue both the ship’s owners and myself. Proper entries signed
by witnesses of the affair had been made in the log-book, so I did not
worry, and we never heard anything of the affair after we got ashore.
When we arrived below Boston Light a Captain Cates, who was master of
the tug that took us up the harbor, had with him a magnificent bulldog
that he thought would be more than a match for anything in the animal
line, even a baboon, such was his fierceness and ability to fight.
I told him he had better keep the dog away from the baboon, but he
laughed and thought his dog could take care of himself. The baboon was
chained forward under the top-gallant forecastle, and when Mr. Bulldog
saw him he made a rush for him. It was the last rush the poor dog ever
made; he was so badly used up before we got him away that he died soon
after from the effects of his fight with the baboon.
An agent for a circus, a Mr. Thompson, bought the baboon from me for
$300, so I was well paid for all the trouble he gave me on the trip. We
had no trouble with the other animals, and sold them for good prices to
representatives zoological gardens. This incident is related to show
some of the varied experiences in a sailor’s life and how strongly they
are fixed in one’s mind even many years after.