Tom Finchs Monkey, and how he dined with the Admiral | Page 5

you see for yourself, he's a very harmless sort of fellow, and--"
"Hush!" said the admiral, apparently shocked at Tom's speaking out in such an off-hand way his opinion of the foreign gentleman, as he took Jocko to be.
"Oh, bless you," went on Tom, forgetting for the moment to whom he was speaking--"he cannot understand a word of English, and I can't make out a single word of his Chilian Spanish--but he's very polite."
"So I see," replied the admiral affably, as master Jocko made another obeisance at this juncture; "pray ask him to accompany you on board the flagship with me to dinner. Tell him I shall feel honoured by his company, as indeed I shall be by yours."
To say he was thunderstruck at the admiral's request would not convey the slightest idea of Tom's mental condition when he found himself in such a dilemma. He could have bitten off his tongue for its having got him into such a scrape, by telling the fib about the monkey in the first instance; but it was too late now, for the admiral had turned to leave the cabin, and the marine was at the door, besides others, who would hear any explanation he might make.
Tom determined, therefore, with a courage that was almost heroic, to carry the thing through to the bitter end--giving me a pathetic wink to instruct everybody to "keep the thing dark" on board--for none knew about Jocko excepting our ship's company.
Furtively shoving the fez down over the monkey's head, so that it almost concealed its features, he threw the boat-cloak that rested on the sofa around him; and, taking hold of his paw, marched in the admiral's wake to the gangway, and thence down into the chief's barge alongside, where the admiral and he and Jocko took their seats in state in the stern- sheets and were rowed off to the flagship--our crew manning the rigging as they left and giving three hearty cheers!
"I like to see that proof of affection in your men," said the admiral, as he witnessed this unofficial performance. "They are proud of their commander, and, I am sure, you have a crew to be proud of!"
Tom bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment. He knew well enough what had occasioned the enthusiasm of the blue-jackets, and bit his lips to restrain his laughter, which so suffocated him that he felt he would burst if he had to keep it in much longer!
All he could do now was to brazen out the imposture, and he huddled the boat-cloak round Jocko so as to conceal his form.
"Poor Senor Carrambo is suffering fearfully from the ague," he said in explanation to the admiral of this little attention on his part--"I'm afraid he should not have ventured out of the cabin."
"A good glass of sherry will soon warm him," said the admiral smiling, "and I think I shall be able to offer him one."
"He's rather partial to bottled ale or stout," suggested Tom, "and he may possibly prefer that."
"Rather a queer taste for a Spaniard," said the admiral, as the barge reached the side of the flagship; "but I think I can also gratify on board my ship this predilection of Senor--"
"Carrambo," prompted Tom.
"Yes, Carrambo," added the admiral as he mounted the accommodation ladder of the flagship--Tom Finch with Jocko on his arm following in his wake, as before, amidst the mutual salutes of the admiral and the officers, to the state cabin of the chief.
Seated at the dinner-table, to which all were summoned with all proper ceremony to the exhilarating tune of the "Roast beef of old England," Jocko, who had a chair alongside of Tom, behaved with the utmost decorum.
He indeed appeared to eat little but bread, biscuit, tart, and fruit; but, beyond a grimace, which must have caused the admiral to reflect that of all the ugly persons he ever beheld in his life, this Chilian officer was certainly the ugliest, nothing particularly happened, and the dinner passed off without an exposure.
Tom, the admiral observed, frequently helped "the generalissimo's aide- de-camp," especially in pouring out his wine, which he limited in a marked degree; but the jocular lieutenant-commander passed this off by saying that his distinguished friend--whom he exchanged a word with occasionally, of some outlandish language, a mixture of Spanish and High Dutch, with a sprinkling of the Chinese tongue--was in the most feeble health and acting under the doctor's directions regarding his diet:-- that was the reason also, he explained, of his remaining cloaked and with his head-covering on at the admiral's table, for which he craved a thousand pardons!
After dinner, Tom would have given worlds to have beaten a retreat to his own ship, as several officers came into the saloon while coffee was handed round, and he dreaded each moment that