It was during this voyage, too, that Mark Baldwin, the big pitcher of the Chicagos, had an adventure with a big Indian monkey that the engineer of the steamer had purchased in Ceylon that might have proved serious. This monkey was a big, powerful brute, and as ugly-looking a specimen of his family as I ever set my eyes on. He was generally fastened by means of a strap around his waist and a rope some five or six feet long, in the engine-room, but one morning Mark, without the engineer's knowledge, unfastened him and took him on deck. The sight of the ocean and his strange surroundings frightened him badly, and after Mark pulled him about the deck a while he took him down stairs and treated him to beer and pretzels, then brought him back to the deck and gave him some more exercise. Becoming tired of the sport at last Mark took him back to the engine-room. The iron grating around the first cylinder enabled the monkey to get his head on a level with Mark's as he descended the stair and Mr. Monk flew at his throat with a shriek of rage. Mark luckily had his eye on the brute and protected his throat, but fell backwards with the animal on top of him, receiving a painful bite on the leg. The monkey then bounded over to his corner, where he glared at Mark, his grey whiskers standing out stiff with rage. After satisfying himself as to the extent of his injuries, the big pitcher again went for the monk, but the latter jumped from the grating to the piston-rod of the engine, and at every revolution of the screw he would go down into the hold and then come up again, shaking his fist at Mark at every ascent, and chattering like a magpie. This sight was so comical that the big pitcher roared with laughter, and though he laid for a chance to get even with Mr. Monk the rest the voyage the latter was never to be caught napping, and kept himself out of danger. Into the waters of the Arabian Sea, blue as indigo, we steamed on the morning of February 1st, and soon after daybreak the next morning the volcanic group of islands off the African coast were in plain sight from the steamer's deck. Two hours later we passed the great headland of Guardafui, on the northeast corner of Africa, a sentinel of rock that guards the coast and that rises from the waves that are lashed to foam about its base in solitary grandeur. The following afternoon we came in sight of the Arabian coast, some forty miles distant, and later the great rocky bluffs that protect Aden from the gulf winds were plainly discernible. It was nearly supper time when we landed and we had but barely time for a glance through the shops and bazaars, when we were again compelled to board the steamer, which left at nine o'clock for Suez.