the weapons of the sailors.

The ape, however, proved no easy victim to the superior numbers that seemed fated to overwhelm him.  Rising from the sailor who had precipitated the battle he shook his giant shoulders, freeing himself from two of the men that were clinging to his back, and with mighty blows of his open palms felled one after another of his attackers, leaping hither and thither with the agility of a small monkey.

The fight had been witnessed by the captain and mate who were just landing from the Marjorie W., and Paulvitch saw these two now running forward with drawn revolvers while the two sailors who had brought them ashore trailed at their heels.  The ape stood looking about him at the havoc he had wrought, but whether he was awaiting a renewal of the attack or was deliberating which of his foes he should exterminate first Paulvitch could not guess.  What he could guess, however, was that the moment the two officers came within firing distance of the beast they would put an end to him in short order unless something were done and done quickly to prevent.  The ape had made no move to attack the Russian but even so the man was none too sure of what might happen were he to interfere with the savage beast, now thoroughly aroused to bestial rage, and with the smell of new spilled blood fresh in its nostrils.  For an instant he hesitated, and then again there rose before him the dreams of affluence which this great anthropoid would doubtless turn to realities once Paulvitch had landed him safely in some great metropolis like London.

The captain was shouting to him now to stand aside that he might have a shot at the animal; but instead Paulvitch shuffled to the ape’s side, and though the man’s hair quivered at its roots he mastered his fear and laid hold of the ape’s arm.

“Come!” he commanded, and tugged to pull the beast from among the sailors, many of whom were now sitting up in wide eyed fright or crawling away from their conqueror upon hands and knees.

Slowly the ape permitted itself to be led to one side, nor did it show the slightest indication of a desire to harm the Russian.  The captain came to a halt a few paces from the odd pair.

“Get aside, Sabrov!” he commanded.  “I’ll put that brute where he won’t chew up any more able seamen.”

“It wasn’t his fault, captain,” pleaded Paulvitch.  “Please don’t shoot him.  The men started it—they attacked him first.  You see, he’s perfectly gentle—and he’s mine—he’s mine—he’s mine!  I won’t let you kill him,” he concluded, as his half-wrecked mentality pictured anew the pleasure that money would buy in London—money that he could not hope to possess without some such windfall as the ape represented.

The captain lowered his weapon.  “The men started it, did they?” he repeated.  “How about that?” and he turned toward the sailors who had by this time picked themselves from the ground, none of them much the worse for his experience except the fellow who had been the cause of it, and who would doubtless nurse a sore shoulder for a week or so.

“Simpson done it,” said one of the men.  “He stuck a pin into the monk from behind, and the monk got him —which served him bloomin’ well right—an’ he got the rest of us, too, for which I can’t blame him, since we all jumped him to once.”

The captain looked at Simpson, who sheepishly admitted the truth of the allegation, then he stepped over to the ape as though to discover for himself the sort of temper the beast possessed, but it was noticeable that he kept his revolver cocked and leveled as he did so.  However, he spoke soothingly to the animal who squatted at the Russian’s side looking first at one and then another of the sailors.  As the captain approached him the ape half rose and waddled forward to meet him.  Upon his countenance was the same strange, searching expression that had marked his scrutiny of each of the sailors he had first encountered.  He came quite close to the officer and laid a paw upon one of the man’s shoulders, studying his face intently for a long moment, then came the expression of disappointment accompanied by what was almost a human sigh, as he turned away to peer in the same curious fashion into the faces of the mate and the two sailors who had arrived with the officers. In each instance he sighed and passed on, returning at length to Paulvitch’s side, where he squatted down once more; thereafter evincing little or no interest in any of the other men, and apparently forgetful of his recent battle with them.

When the party returned aboard the Marjorie W., Paulvitch was accompanied by the ape, who seemed anxious to follow him.  The captain interposed no obstacles to the arrangement, and so the great anthropoid was tacitly admitted to membership in the ship’s company.  Once aboard he examined each new face minutely, evincing the same disappointment in each instance that had marked his scrutiny of the others.  The officers and scientists aboard often discussed the beast, but they were unable to account satisfactorily for the strange ceremony with which he greeted each new face.  Had he been discovered upon the mainland, or any other place than the almost unknown island that had been his home, they would have concluded that he had formerly been a pet of man; but that theory was not tenable in the face of the isolation of his uninhabited island.  He seemed continually to be searching for someone, and during the first days of the return voyage from the island he was often discovered nosing about in various parts of the ship; but after he had seen and examined each face of the ship’s company, and explored every corner of the vessel he lapsed into utter indifference of all about him.  Even the Russian elicited only casual interest when he brought him food.  At other times the ape appeared merely to tolerate him. He never showed affection for him, or for anyone else upon the Marjorie W., nor did he at any time evince any indication of the savage temper that had marked his resentment of the attack of the sailors upon him at the time that he had come among them.

Most of his time was spent in the eye of the ship scanning the horizon ahead, as though he were endowed with sufficient reason to know that the vessel was bound for some port where there would be other human beings to undergo his searching scrutiny.  All in all, Ajax, as he had been dubbed, was considered the most remarkable and intelligent ape that any one aboard the Marjorie W. ever had seen.  Nor was his intelligence the only remarkable attribute he owned.  His stature and physique were, for an ape, awe inspiring. That he was old was quite evident, but if his age had impaired his physical or mental powers in the slightest it was not apparent.

And so at length the Marjorie W. came to England, and there the officers and the scientists, filled with compassion for the pitiful wreck of a man they had rescued from the jungles, furnished Paulvitch with funds and bid him and his Ajax Godspeed.

Upon the dock and all through the journey to London the Russian had his hands full with Ajax.  Each new face of the thousands that came within the anthropoid’s ken must be carefully scrutinized, much to the horror of many of his victims; but at last, failing, apparently, to discover whom he sought, the great ape relapsed into morbid indifference, only occasionally evincing interest in a passing face.

In London, Paulvitch went directly with his prize to a certain famous animal trainer.  This man was much impressed with Ajax with the result that he agreed to train him for a lion’s share of the profits of exhibiting him, and in the meantime to provide for the keep of both the ape and his owner.

And so came Ajax to London, and there was forged another link in the chain of strange circumstances that were to affect the lives of many people.

Chapter 2

 Mr. Harold Moore was a bilious-countenanced, studious young man.  He took himself very seriously, and life, and his work, which latter was the tutoring of the young son of a British nobleman.  He felt that his charge was not making the progress that his parents had a right to expect, and he was now conscientiously explaining this fact to the boy’s mother.

“It’s not that he isn’t bright,” he was saying; “if that were true I should have hopes of succeeding, for then I might bring to bear all my energies in overcoming his obtuseness; but the trouble is that he is exceptionally intelligent, and learns so quickly that I can find no fault in the matter of the preparation of his lessons. What concerns me, however, is that fact that he evidently takes no interest whatever in the subjects we are studying.  He merely accomplishes each lesson as a task to be rid of as quickly as possible and I am sure that no lesson ever again enters his mind until the hours of study and recitation once more arrive.  His sole interests seem to be feats of physical prowess and the reading of everything that he can get hold of relative to savage beasts and the lives and customs of uncivilized peoples; but particularly do stories of animals appeal to him.  He will sit for hours together poring over the work of some African explorer, and upon two occasions I have found him setting up in bed at night reading Carl Hagenbeck’s book on men and beasts.”

The boy’s mother tapped her foot nervously upon the hearth rug.

“You discourage this, of course?” she ventured.

Mr. Moore shuffled embarrassedly.

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