om, Colorado!"

And, much to the disgust of Rento, he fell upon John's neck, and shed,
or appeared to shed, a few tears, with great parade of silk
handkerchief. He then advanced to where the Skipper was smoking his
cigar in the stern, and informed him, with a low bow, that he and
Colorado were one soul, which the Skipper said he was delighted to hear,
adding that he recommended the one soul to set the two bodies to work
cleaning the brasses.

Franci liked to clean the brasses, because he could see his face in
them, and make eyes at himself as he went along; accordingly he turned
three back-somersaults, a sign of high good-humour with him, and
returned to his new friend.

"Have you noticed, Colorado," he inquired, "the contour of my leg? Did
you observe it now, quivering in the air?"

John nodded appreciation, and wondered how old Franci was.

"To possess beauty," said the latter, gravely, "is a responsibility, my
friend. It is a burden, my soul! Franci has shed tears over it, the
tears of a poet. You have read of Apollo, at least you have heard of
him, the god of poetry, of music, of grace? yes? Behold him, Colorado!
He lives before you, in the form of Franci. Come on, that we clean
together the brasses!"

As for the monkeys, they at once adopted John as their companion and
their lawful prey. They climbed over him, they tried to get into his
pockets, they nestled in his arms, they challenged him to races among
the yards. The Skipper was their king, Franci was their model, the ideal
toward which they vainly aspired. Rento, good, homely Rento, was the
person who fed them, and with whom they could take any liberties, with
no danger of a beating; but the new-comer, the boy John, was simply
another monkey like themselves. Dressed up, it was true, like men, but
in no other way resembling them more than another, more than themselves.
Let him come and play, then, and put on no airs. These were the
sentiments of Jack and Jim, and John responded to them with hearty
good-will.

The Skipper sat smoking, and watched with a quiet smile the gambols of
the three young creatures, as they sped here and there about the
rigging, chattering, laughing, shrieking with glee.

"Laugh, my son!" he said to himself, between the puffs of his cigar.
"Laugh and play, my little son! Far too little laughter has been in thy
life so far; here thou shalt be as gay as the sun is bright on the
Bahamas. Of what use to be a sailor, if not to rejoice