The Educated Ape & other Wonders of the Worlds Read Online Free Page A

portly chef
that this being was not human. The chef stepped forwards and lifted him
carefully, setting him back in his seat. A face looked up, a hairy face, small
eyes blinked and a broad mouth opened and closed.
    ‘A
monkey,’ whispered the portly chef ‘A monkey pilots this craft.’
    The
monkey butler took a step forward. Then took another one back.
    ‘There
is nothing to be afraid of,’ said the chef, and he stroked the pilot’s head.
This remark might well have been addressed to both monkeys. The one in the seat
made coughing sounds, while the other looked somewhat upset.
    The
monkey pilot gazed up at the portly chef The monkey pilot was old, his hair
grey, the skin of his face and his hands lined with age. He opened his mouth
and raised a withered palm.
    ‘You
are thirsty,’ said the chef ‘Jack, fetch water, if you will.’
    ‘I’m
not your servant,’ said the bootboy.
    ‘Then
let me put it another way. Fetch water now or I will box you brutally about the
ears.’
    ‘Your
word is my command, guv’nor,’ said the willing lad. ‘Though if you’ll take my
advice when it’s offered, you’d best ‘ave it out of ‘ere afore the ‘ole thing
goes up in a ruddy big bang.’
    ‘Water!’
ordered the portly chef.
    The
bootboy left at the trot.
    ‘I
think there is truth in his words, though,’ said the chef to the monkey pilot.
‘We’d best get you out of here. Have no fear, for I will carry you.
    The
aged monkey shook his aged head and coughed a little, and then, ‘I cannot leave
the ship,’ he said.
    The
chef jumped back a pace in amazement.
    ‘There
is something you must have,’ croaked the monkey.
    ‘You
speak.’ The chefs befuddled head was fiercely shaking now.
    ‘No
time to explain. You must take the letter.’
    ‘The
letter?’ The chef stilled his shaking head and gaped at the monkey pilot.
    ‘It
will explain everything. You must not open it. Just take it to the address
written upon it.’
    ‘Where
is this letter?’ asked the chef.
    ‘Here.’
And the monkey pilot gestured to his heart. The chef leaned down, unzipped the
silver suit and drew out an envelope. He glanced at the name upon it. That name
was Ernest Rutherford. The monkey butler peered towards the pilot.
    The
pilot glimpsed the butler. And the pilot smiled. ‘So young,’ he whispered. ‘Ah,
so long ago. ‘What was that?’ asked the chef But now a noisy kerfuffle was to
be heard.
    ‘Out
of my way, you foolish boy,’ called the voice of Lord Brentford.
    ‘Hide
the envelope,’ whispered the pilot. But the portly chef was already doing so.
‘Now go, my friend, just go.’
    ‘Your
friend?’
    Lord
Brentford burst into the cockpit. He clutched his double-action twelve-bore
fowling piece and this he waved about in a furious fashion.
    ‘What
the devil?’ cried his lordship. ‘I gave you no permission to—’
    ‘The
pilot is injured,’ said the chef ‘He needs medical assistance.’
    ‘Medical
assistance?’ His lordship was fuming once more. ‘Crashes a damned
spaceship into me ancient pile. Ruins me party—’
    ‘He
needs our help,’ said the chef.
    ‘Get
out!’ roared his lordship. ‘I shall deal with this.’
    ‘Treat
him gently—’
    ‘Will
you get out! Do something useful — fetch me a brandy. Out now, you, and
take me butler, too.’
    The
chef took the monkey butler by a hairy hand. The monkey butler gazed towards
the simian space pilot and his other hand reached out to touch the ancient ape.
    ‘Best
not,’ said the chef And, ‘You will be all right,’ he told the pilot. ‘Farewell
for now.
    ‘Farewell
for now?’ roared and fumed Lord Brentford. ‘Out!’
    The
chef led the monkey butler from the spaceship. The party folk were creeping
back, peeping from behind trees, whispering to one another.
    The
monkey butler tugged at the hand of the chef ‘What is it?’ the chef asked. ‘You
want to go back?’ A look of alarm was on the face of the monkey. And before the
chef could say another