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."