Jacko the Ship's Monkey

[…] Ably asleep. By and by, the cook came and lighted the fire, and not knowing there was a stranger on the premises, he shut the oven door. When the fire grew brisk, a most extraordinary noise emanated from the oven; when the door was opened by the sentry, who thought his sable majesty was in it, out jumped Jacko, grinning and chattering at a tremendous rate, no doubt feeling unpleasantly hot. He never tried that sleeping apartment again.

After a time he hit upon another and safer way of keeping himself warm at night. He discovered that by standing on the top rail of the sheep pens he could reach the fowl coops which were hung to the beams above them. Up he went, and watched till a fowl put its head out between the bars. Jacko at once made a grab, and pulled the unfortunate fowl out by the neck. Finding the fowl was warm, he dragged his kennel back to his place before the fire, taking his game with him, and there he slept all night, with the bird in his arms, like a baby. Next morning, when the fire was lighted, out he came with his living blanket. He allowed the fowl to walk about, but the moment it showed signs of going out of reach of his arm he pulled it back again, and gave it a fresh start, and so on, till the fowl was returned to the coop. After that Jacko often took a fowl to bed with him, and, strange to say, he never did them any harm, though the process of being dragged through the bars could not have been pleasant for the victim.

The officers used to smoke near the galley, and Jacko was very fond of getting inside our monkey-jackets in cold weather. He was very fond of smoking, too, but we could not teach him to draw the smoke. We used to put the stem of a pipe in his mouth and blow down the bowl, and he would smack his lips over the smoke. I am sorry to say he now and then got drunk when the grog was being served out. He was very amusing when in that state, but I think the poor fellow had a bad headache afterward.

On the whole, he was a good-tempered animal, but he had a great dislike to some of the boys, who, no doubt, had given him a sly blow now and then. By way of revenge, Jacko used to look out under the ladder when the boys were bringing down their hammocks in the evening, and suddenly pounce upon one of the hammocks. The unlucky owner, knowing that Jacko could bite, as a rule would drop the hammock, and thereupon Jacko would sit on it, and grin and chatter and jump till he was tired, when he would give up possession without further trouble.

Of course, now and then he got loose, and then there was a grand hunt. One day he disappeared for some time, and no one knew where he was, as he kept quite quiet, which was not usually the case. At last one of the clerks went into the office, which was under the poop, and no sooner did he open the door than he saw Master Jacko going out of the window, which had been left open, and by which he had got in. He had been making up the ship's books in his own fashion. The ink was splashed about all over the place, and Jacko himself was nearly as black as an Ethiopian serenader. He did not go empty handed, however, for he took the Articles of War in his hand, and, of course, took to the rigging. "Boys, catch monkey" was the boatswain's mate's cry; but before he was captured the Articles of War were torn to shreds. Fortunately for the discipline of the ship, there were other copies on board.

I believe poor Jacko was at last killed in the attack on Sebastopol; but I left the ship, so I cannot be sure about his end. — Land and Water.