All this was innocent, however, compared to the tricks which the blue-jackets taught him to play upon the jolly marines.  How they set about this laudable piece of instruction, I know not; but the antipathy which they established in Jacko’s breast against the red coats was something far beyond ordinary prejudice, and in its consequences partook more of the interminable war between cat and dog.  At first he merely chattered, or grinned contemptuously at them; or, at worst, snapped at their heels, soiled their fine pipe-clayed trousers, or pulled the cartridges out of their cartouch-boxes, and scattered the powder over the decks; feats for which his rump was sure to smart under the ratan of the indignant sergeant, to whom the “party” made their complaint.  Upon these occasions the sailors laughed so heartily at their friend Jacko, as he placed his hands behind him, and, in an agony of rage and pain, rubbed the seat of honour tingling under the sergeant’s chastisement, that if he could only have reasoned the matter, he would soon have distrusted this offensive but not defensive alliance with the Johnnies against the Jollies.  Sometimes, indeed, he appeared to be quite sensible of his absurd position, caned by his enemy, and ridiculed by his friends, in whose cause he was suffering.  On these occasions, he often made a run, open-mouthed, at the sailors; in return for which mutinous proceeding he was sure to get a smart rap over the nose from his own party, which more than counterpoised the anguish at the other extremity of his person, giving ludicrous occupation to both his hands, and redoubling the shouts of laughter at his expense.  In short, poor St. Jago literally got what is currently called monkey’s allowance, viz. “more kicks than halfpence.”

In process of time, as Mr. Monkey, by dint of that bitter monitor, experience, gained higher knowledge in the art of marine warfare and ship diplomacy, he became much more formidable in his attacks on the “corps,” and generally contrived to keep himself well beyond the reach of the sergeant’s merciless ratan.  One of the favourite pranks of the sailors was to place him near the break of the forecastle, with a handspike, taken from the bow-chaser gun, in his paws.  It was quite as much as he could carry, and far more than he could use as a missile against the royals; but he was soon instructed in a method of employing it, which always grievously annoyed the enemy.  Theoretically, I presume poor Jacko knew no more of the laws of gravitation, than his friends, the seamen, did of centrifugal action, when swinging round the hand-lead to gain soundings, by pitching it far forward into the water; but both the monkey and his wicked associates knew very well, that if a handspike were held across the top of the forecastle ladder, and let go when a person was about half-way down it, the heels of the said individual would be sure to bring up, or stop the bar.  The unhappy marine, therefore, who happened to be descending the