The apes did not appear to be afraid of the gun—probably because they were not accustomed to be shot at. They would cluster around a hunting-party, and grin and chatter like so many old negroes, one sometimes sees on the coast of Africa. One of the midshipmen having shot one, described the death of the old gentleman to me, and said that he felt almost as if he had killed his old ‘uncle’ on his father's plantation. The wounded creature—whatever it may be, man or animal— threw its arms over the wound, and moaned as plaintively and intelligibly as if it had been gifted with the power of speech, and were upbraiding its slayer. During our stay I made the acquaintance—through my opera-glass—of several of these lampoons upon human nature. A gang of apes, old and young, came down to the beach regularly every morning, to look at the ship. The old men and women would seat themselves in rows, and gaze at us, sometimes for an hour, without changing their places or attitudes—seeming to be absorbed in wonder. I became quite familiar with some of their countenances. The young people did not appear to be so strongly impressed. They would walk about the beach in twos and threes—making love, most likely, and settling future family arrangements. The children, meanwhile, would be romping around the old people, screaming and barking in very delight. If a boat approached them, the old people would give a peculiar whistle, when the younger members of the tribe would betake themselves at once to the cover of the adjoining jungle.
A hunting party, landing here one morning, shot one of these old apes. The rest scampered off, and were seen no more that day. The next morning, upon turning my operaglass upon the beach, I saw the monkeys as usual, but they were broken into squads, and moving about in some disorder, instead of being seated as usual. I could plainly see some of them at work. Some appeared to be digging in the sand, and others to be bringing twigs and leaves of trees, and such of the
