How Doc Acquired a Chimpanzee Named Lincoln
BY SAMUEL R. GEORGE I SEPTEMBER 1, 2009
The machine needed a pilot who possessed all four limbs. However, the men at this encampment were all veterans of the War Between the States; therefore very few could present more than three. But those very few absolutely refused to go flying in the infernal contraption. It might go tumbling down the mountainside. Not that they doubted it could fly, it was just too unnatural a thing to trust.
Old Doc looked over the scruffy crew and chuckled to himself. They were good boys, if a little crazy. He had known most of them since the war; had removed quite a few of their missing limbs, as a matter of fact. These fellows hadn't changed much since those days; they seemed to miss the war. They relived it every day, whereas Doc seldom thought about it, though involuntarily, war images would creep into his thoughts early in the morning before he had his coffee. At these moments, long dead soldiers would pass through his mind. He saluted them all, even the Yankees, even the deserters. The men at this camp, with the exception of Cooper, had retained that one brief moment of American history, the early 1860's. Cooper, the only Yankee there, wore a straw hat and overalls. The Southerners, although not exactly in uniform, all wore at least one garment from the old Confederacy. Many still had their ageing grey caps. Doc didn't want to live up here with them, but he liked to visit occasionally; they were a refreshing change of pace.
Cooper had explained to Doc that the invention was actually a glider; a true flying machine would have to have its own propulsion. Doc was afraid that they might try to cajole him into flying the craft. But no, they had trained a chimpanzee for that.
"I'll be damned," said Doc, truly impressed. "You mean to tell me that a monkey has already flown this device?"
"That's right, Doc," Cooper replied. "Lincoln has an excellent grasp of the controls, and has made dozens of successful landings." He frowned. "He wrecked it last week, but we repaired the machine, and he knows his mistake now. He had pulled back just a little too early. If he'd stalled her just two feet off the ground instead of ten, everything would have been dandy. Instead he fell like a rock."
"I see," said Doc. "But how did you communicate that to him?"
"That was Stumpy's doing. Old Stump had John play his fiddle for 'Pull!' or Julius strum his banjo for 'Push!' Once Lincoln understood this, we pulled him around till he had the hang of it. He doesn't need them now, but they stand by with their instruments just in case."
"You fellows seem to have it all worked out," Doc said.
"This morning we gave her an entire new canvas, the glider is better than ever, Lincoln will not even put a strain on it. But we towed him over level ground. He hasn't yet taken it over the cliff, which is what we hope to accomplish today."
Doc looked forward to the demonstration, but he tried to stay out of the ensuing argument. Cooper wanted to wait a few hours for the glue to dry, but the rest of the boys wanted to do it right away. And just like Doc figured, they tried to bring him into it. "Come on, Cooper. Doc ain't never seen the thing fly."
"That's right, Yankee. Is that any way to treat our guest?"
Cooper was outvoted, and they summoned the monkey. He came running from one of the small houses nearby and raced to the machine, bumping into Doc on the way. Old Doc was amused at the furry homunculus, who wore Cooper's old Union cap, pinned in the back so it would stay on. Lincoln, clasping an unlit cigar in his mouth, hopped into the cockpit, and the boys hitched the machine to the horse.
"Just beyond the cliff, there are updrafts from the warm Chinooks coming off the Rockies," Cooper explained. "Lincoln ought to be able to use those drafts to gain the altitude he'll likely lose in his turn."
They towed the craft to the edge of the cliff and released it. Over the horse it went and sailed smoothly out into open air. Doc, amazed, shouted "Yes! Well, I'll be damned! This is the god damndest thing I've ever seen." He watched in awe as Lincoln took the machine out about 100 feet, and made a graceful turn of 180 degrees. "Isn't he a little low?" Doc asked.
"Yes," replied Cooper. "But he's gaining slowly; you can see the excitement in his face with every foot he gains. Look at that, Doc, he's level with us now, and he's still coming up."
"I'll be damned," Doc shouted. "He's definitely above the cliff now". Without taking his eyes off the spectacle, Doc asked Cooper: "How do you motivate him? Do you give him a banana when he lands?"
"No." Cooper answered. "We give him a match so he can light his cigar. We can't trust him with his own matches."
"By God!" said Doc. "This deserves a cigar." He pulled one of his own from his vest and searched his pockets for a match.
Lincoln had piloted the craft into the perfect position, and had but to fly straight in fifty feet for an easy landing. He looked excited, and in control of the situation. The men started to cheer, scream and dance all about. Lincoln himself seemed to emit his own version of the Rebel yell. "I don't see how anything could go wrong now," Cooper said with a grin.
"Where the devil are my matches?" Doc mumbled, still patting his shirt and vest.
An expression of horror came over Cooper's face. "Lincoln's got them," he said. "He's an expert pickpocket. If he strikes that match..."
But he didn't get a chance to say what might happen. Just then, the monkey in the gliding machine struck a match and put it up to his cigar. As the fumes from the glue ignited, there was a loud "Poof!" as when a lit candle is touched to a pool of kerosene. The glider burst into flames, collapsed, and fell to the ground. Doc listened as Lincoln screamed like the damned in hell on his descent.
Everyone stood there speechless. Then they milled about like soldiers after a battle when there was nothing more to do. But it didn't take them long to start drinking. Doc decided to take his leave, not wanting to be around when the boys became inebriated.
As soon as Old Doc was out of sight, Lincoln came limping up the trail to the veterans' camp. His Union cap was smoking, and he still held the blasted cigar between his lips. Harris was the first to spot him. "Well would you look at that," he said, pointing to Lincoln." That god damned flea-bitten varmint's still alive." The others turned to look.
"And you got the nerve to come back here," offered Caulfield. "Why, we was gonna take the world by storm, and you went and wrecked the goose that lays the golden eggs."
"You got no self discipline," Sergeant Boudreaux shouted from his wheelchair, a cigar in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other.
A few of the old soldiers wanted to shoot the enemy on sight, but Cooper wouldn't let them. Still, the monkey received a few kicks and cuffs, and a barrage of curses and insults. He might not have understood all the words, but even a monkey could sense the hostility in their voices. Maybe if Lincoln had remained out of sight until they sobered up, all would have been forgiven. Indeed, as soon as he started to walk away, most of the men felt ashamed of themselves. A few even tried to call him back for a peace offering. But Lincoln must have been more downhearted than even the most repentant of his detractors. Dejection must have turned to anger and then to stealth; because he snuck into a few windows and was soon hurrying along the road with a satchel in hand. He caught up with Doc and screeched his approach.
Doc pulled up on the reins and stopped. He took a long look at the comic, tragic, slightly singed creature that stood before him. "I thought you had joined Darwin by now," he said. Lincoln cocked his head, confused. "It means I thought you were dead; it's a joke son. What you got there in that satchel?" To Doc's surprise, Lincoln opened it up for inspection: rings, watches, and cigars. "You're a thief," Doc declared, though not too harshly. Lincoln pulled the stolen box of matches from the bag and returned them to Doc . Then he offered the whole bag, and Doc took it. "Those boys give you a rough time?" Doc asked, pointing in the direction of the camp. Lincoln hollered and yelled, jumped up and down. "I'll take that as a 'Yes,'" Doc said. "Don't you think you ought to go back?" Doc pointed once again to the camp, and once again the monkey screamed and gesticulated in protest. "I'll take that as a 'No.'"
Lincoln calmed down. The breeze whispered softly in the trees. The chimpanzee's brown, soulful eyes seemed to hold as much emotion as any human's. But they suddenly filled with fear, and he scurried up a tree. A few seconds later, Doc understood why. He heard a horse coming up. It was Cooper.
"Doc, I'm glad to see you. Have you seen Lincoln?"
Before he could answer, the chimp dropped to the ground. He approached Cooper with good will, and friendship, but the monkey refused to return to the camp. "I can't just leave you here, partner," Cooper said.
Lincoln appealed to Doc. Doc handed the satchel to the monkey. He took it, but stayed there with those pleading eyes. "You know what you have to do," Doc told him. Lincoln brought it over and handed it to Cooper, who looked inside, shook his head. Then Lincoln returned to Doc. He had made up his mind; it was up to Doc now.
After a moment's hesitation, Doc looked sternly at the monkey. "If you come with me," he said seriously, "I will be absolute master and commander. Understood?"
Somehow Lincoln did seem to understand. The monkey stood at attention and saluted. Doc invited up into the buggy.
Cooper watched them leave. He saw Doc give Lincoln a cigar, and strike a match. He remained there watching until they were completely out of sight, then he turned around and rode back alone toward the camp.
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