‘Dead hand gone, sir,’ exclaimed the cockney head steward. ‘What is left of the lot?’ inquired Keeling. ‘The hape, sir; and the two little chaps that was rescued with their tails half ate up, as is supposed by themselves,’ responded the steward. Mr. Johnson burst out a-laughing. ‘Tails eaten up!’ cried Mrs. Bannister, poising a pair of gold glasses upon her Roman nose as she addressed the captain. ‘Are there any sharks here?’ ‘I should say not, madam,’ answered the skipper. ‘It is a trick monkeys fall into of biting their own tails, as human beings gnaw their finger-nails.’ ‘And when they have consumed their tails, Captain Keeling,’ said Mrs. Hudson, in a rather vulgar voice, ‘do they go on with the rest of themselves?’ ‘I believe they are only hindered, madam,’ said Keeling, with a grave face, ‘by discovering themselves, after a given limit, somewhat inaccessible.’ ‘I dislike monkeys,’ said Mrs. Joliffe to Mr. Saunders; ‘but I should imagine that natural philosophers would find their habits and tastes very interesting subjects for study.’ The little chap moved uneasily in his chair, with a half-glance up and down, to see if anybody smiled. ‘The monkey eating his tail,’ exclaimed Mr. Emmett, ‘is to my mind a very beautiful symbol.’ ‘Of what?’ inquired Mr. Hodder. ‘Of a dissipated young man devouring the fortune left him,’ answered Mr. Emmett. ‘Very true; very good, indeed!’ cried Mr. Adams, the lawyer, with a laugh. The death of the monkeys extinguished the scheme of purchasing them. The one-eyed ape was not to be thought of; and now it was known that the tails of the other survivors were merely stumps, the subject was very unanimously dropped, and the three poor beasts left for the sailors to do what they pleased with. As an incident, the matter might have served for the day, so dull is life on shipboard with nothing to look forward to but mealtime. But something else was to happen that evening.