Lord Morgan's Cannon

by J. M. Walker

  The leopard saw him. Knowing the human’s movements, the cat tracked his run, plotting how many bounds it would take before he could jump upon his back and break his fragile, human neck.

  “Leave him,” said the jaguar. “He’s not worth it.”

  The leopard snorted. But he didn’t bolt. He walked towards the paying audience ahead. He’d done this a hundred times before, except this time there was no Ring Master or whip to control him.

  “Remember, the plan is to escape. For us all to escape,” whispered Edward in his ear.

  The humans on the bandstand spread across its concrete base, but the King’s bodyguard shouted and they came back together. In the excitement, Doris trumpeted loudly and Bear stood tall upon his hind legs to get a better view of the commotion. The humans standing behind their chairs swirled like a herd of frightened zebra. They ebbed and flowed, looking for a collective escape, but no individual was willing to break and expose themselves like the administrator.

  The two big cats strode into the arena. They separated slightly, the leopard panting at the seated crowd, the jaguar at the King and his escorts.

  “Should these animals be here?” shouted the King’s private secretary, hoping someone from the zoo would answer.

  The leopard and jaguar’s whiskers moved, sensing his apprehension.

  “Your Majesty!” came a shout from the crowd. “Please excuse the surprise. The animals are mine and yes, they are supposed to be here. Please don’t be afraid!”

  Lord Morgan took three paces on to the lawn. He grabbed at his own lapels and tugged, tightening his suit, steeling his body. The leopard was eyeing him, teeth showing, arthritic joints readying. Lord Morgan walked forward again.

  “What is he doing? What is he doing?” Bessie begged the others.

  Neither Bear nor Doris could answer. What is he doing? thought Edward.

  “The animals are mine and I have brought them here to entertain you,” said Lord Morgan, speaking directly to the King on the stage. “Let me show you?”

  Lord Morgan clicked his fingers and his terrier ran to his feet. The dog faced the leopard. But Tony didn’t growl, trusting his owner. He could read Lord Morgan’s posture and manner and knew his master wanted him by his ankles. But Tony did shift his weight forward and tense his claws.

  The leopard too poised himself, stretching out his neck, raising his tail. He couldn’t help himself. He hissed at the dog and behind Lord Morgan a lady screamed. Edward reacted first. He used all his imagination to predict what might happen next. He used all his intellect to work out how best to avoid the leopard trying to kill the dog, causing a human riot, trapping them all in the zoo. And he used all the bravery he had in his small primate body to jump from the cat, run across the lawn, up Lord Morgan’s trousers and on to his shoulder, where he calmly sat as he used to perch on the Ring Master just a week before.

  In that one movement, the man and monkey began to negotiate a contract that would define the rest of their lives.

  “You Sir, announce yourself!” demanded the King.

  “I am Lloyd Morgan, Professor of Psychology and Education at University College, Bristol.”

  “Lord Morgan?” asked the King.

  “No your Majesty. Lloyd Morgan. Conwy Lloyd Morgan. We met this morning to discuss the elevation of University College to a true university. We were seeking your royal approval.”

  Perplexed, the King whispered to his aides.

  “I was one of those professors that bored you so,” joked the scientist.

  Sitting inches from the human’s mouth, Edward heard him speak clearly. He jumped up and down, stamping on the human’s shoulder, knowing that all this time, he had misheard the human’s name. Lord Morgan was no more a Lord than his canon fired performing animals or giant balls of iron in a blaze of gunpowder and smoke.

  Lloyd Morgan raised his hand to Edward, the smell of his fingers reminding the monkey of the laboratory, its puzzles and cages. He didn’t strangle Edward. He tapped gently, encouraging the capuchin to sit, while the leopard, ten feet away, kept staring at his body.

  “But aren’t these zoo animals Sir?” asked the King.

  “No Your Majesty. They are animals from the circus.”

  “Then how are they yours?” asked the King.

  No one dared move. Instinctively, the humans knew not to run from a big cat, or to interrupt their monarch.

  “I acquired them from the circus,” said Lloyd Morgan, thinking on his feet. “I am an expert in animal behaviour, one of the world’s foremost authorities in animal intelligence. I acquired these animals from a circus in order to study them. What I discovered astounded me. I believe it will astound you too,” he said, as he swept an arm around the half circle of lawn, inviting his audience to participate. “Because these animals before you, the elephant of India, the giant anteater of South America, the tufted capuchin monkey of South America, the leopard of Africa and...”

  He paused, trying to work out the identity of the second big cat.

  “...the jaguar, which too heralds from south of Mexico. These animals have such intellect, such talent, that they are able to put on the greatest show I have ever seen.”

  At that precise moment, Bessie flapped past his face, dropping a dollop of white poo on his shirt. The King laughed and began to relax.

  “Will you let me show you?” Lloyd Morgan asked the King.

  His Highness nodded, raising a hand to silence his bodyguard.

  “Will you let me show you?” Lloyd Morgan whispered to the monkey on his shoulder.

  “No, we will show you,” answered the monkey, though the human didn’t understand.

  Edward ran down the man’s jacket and across the lawn to Bear. The anteater leaned down as Edward took his long scarred snout in his hands.

  “This is our way out,” said Edward quietly. “When the professor took me, he did these tests. I passed them all, in ways he didn’t think possible. So he got drunk and said I was special. He said I rather than him should present to the King of England. This is it! He’s offering his help in return for ours. We have to perform one last time.”

  Bear nodded. He could see no other way. He plodded across the grass and spoke to all the animals.

  “We have spent our lives in the service of humans. They are selfish, controlling. They see us as stupid creatures, only fit for their entertainment. That we know. But today we must be better than them. We must be selfless, we must stick together, help one another. We must even help this man and trust he will help us. We must put on a show. A show so stunning, these humans will never think of us as stupid again. Today we will out-think them and in doing so, secure our freedom.”

  Without realising it, Bear had stood to give his speech. Poised on his huge black tail, he had lifted his chin high in the air, and opened his front paws and sharp curved talons. The humans saw the giant anteater act this way, and were impressed.

  “Can you do that?” Bear asked the old leopard, who was still sizing up the fat on the professor’s thigh. “Can you work with us and put on a show?”

  “Let her join us and I will do as you ask,” said the cat, as he eyed his jaguar.

  Bear had never heard the leopard speak this way, calm and sure, without malice. He knew he could trust him.

  “Then let the show begin,” said Bear.

  Doris accepted the invitation. Standing on the sidelines, working up a sweat, she had been desperately recalling every routine she had ever been taught. She looked about for props, and gauged the weights of those men sitting nearest to her. Then it came to her. All the best shows started with a bang. So she lifted off her front legs, pulled her trunk back on to her head, and trumpeted, scaring all the animals still housed in their cages. Her great size cast a shadow across the lawn, plunging Lloyd Morgan into the dark. She land
ed her legs, shaking the foundations of the bandstand, weakening the knees of those upon it. She ran at Lloyd Morgan, as the gentlemen began to scream with the ladies. The professor of science, the foremost expert on animal intelligence in the world, sucked in what he hoped would not be his last breath. He awaited her onslaught, questioning almost four decades of research. He had been dealt a hand and he’d played his cards. It was time to discover how truly clever animals can be and if he might win or lose everything.

  Doris thundered towards the professor. Even the King choked, assuming she would run through the scientist and on through the rows of chairs and guests neatly arranged on the lawn behind. But Doris suddenly stopped three feet from the professor’s beating chest. Ears flapping, she straightened her trunk and wrapped it around Lloyd Morgan’s waist. She squeezed just enough to grip his body, which she hoisted high above her head.

  As Lloyd Morgan’s hat fell from his head and his watch from his pocket, a lady in the audience fainted. The professor started to chuckle. In all his career, he’d handled cats and dogs, rabbits and rodents, transporting them, confining them, testing them. He’d never been so close to such a large beast and never been the subject of the animal’s own experiment. As he was dangled in the air, his whole world view turned upside down along with his trousers.

  Edward then used Doris’s tail to climb up to her back. He held his head in his hands and dared not peek at the man being held ten feet off the ground. He feigned shock at Doris’s actions, but then he ran along Doris’s back as if trying to reach and save the human. A gentleman in the crowd broke ranks and cheered. So Edward turned back, covering his eyes. The gentleman booed. Edward ran to Doris’s head, and the man again cheered. Edward had begun to conduct the show.

  He ran down Doris’s trunk and turned to look the elephant in the eye. He pointed to the ground and Doris started lowering the professor, to more cheers. Edward then scratched his head. On cue, the leopard roared and opened his mouth, displaying the last of his teeth. The jaguar hadn’t seen the leopard act this way. But she copied him, yawning widely, her long, fresh canines glistening in the sun. Edward pointed at the cats and Doris trundled towards them. She held the professor above their jaws.

  Some in the crowd screamed while others booed. The humans didn’t know yet whether to be scared or entertained. The King felt both, his dull visit to Bristol becoming one of the most exhilarating engagements of his reign.

  Edward thought back to the Ring Master. How would he play the crowd? The monkey stood upon Doris and raised his little arms, inviting the audience to decide the professor’s fate.

  “Save him,” shouted a colleague of Lloyd Morgan’s, an elderly man who specialised in preserving ancient rocks.

  “Feed him to the cats,” shouted another professor, an expert in economics, exercising his understanding of supply and demand.

  Edward threw up his arms again, but this time he faced the King. At first the monarch didn’t know how to respond. But he remembered he was a King, and this is what Kings and Emperors used to do. So the human raised a hand and extended a thumb. He started to lower it and the crowd loudly groaned. The King flipped his hand and pointed his thumb at the clouds, to huge cheers. Edward patted Doris on the head and she backed away from the cats, lowering Lloyd Morgan gently to the ground, even standing him directly on to his buffed and shiny shoes.

  As the professor righted his dishevelled self, Doris moved towards the bandstand. As the King’s entourage withdrew, two men fell off the back of the stage. But the King stood firm by his lectern. Doris slowed as she approached and spun around her body. She raised her tail, as elephants and cows do before committing their breakfast to the ground in an enormous lump of manure. Without sullying the show, she sat her huge rear on to the edge of the bandstand and sighed, as if she had become a member of the King’s bodyguard.

  Her action drew a laugh from all who saw it. From atop Doris, Edward waved at Bear, who knew it was his turn. Being an anteater, a giant one at that, Bear had never been schooled in the finer arts of entertainment. Years of prodding, shouting and whipping had only managed to convince him to run in a circle. He was good at it though, so he set off in a clockwise direction. He selected a wide circumference and looped far beyond the seats and bandstand, passing the flamingoes and even the hippo pool as he circumvented the lawn. It was the first time he’d ever performed without his spectacles.

  The crowd and King clapped as he ran, so Bear spun upon his feet and repeated his trick, this time anti-clockwise, dizzying himself. But the applause didn’t grow, the humans expecting more from an animal which had evolved to do anything but run in circles.

  Tony the terrier realised Bear’s predicament. He ran after the anteater.

  “Now do what I do,” Tony said.

  The dog broke away and found a spot in front of the chairs. He lay on his belly. Bear matched him and Tony rolled on to his back. Bear did the same. Tony jumped up and ran to his master. He flipped on to his back again and Lloyd Morgan rubbed it. Bear went to the professor. Misjudging things he rolled his large frame on to the professor’s shoes, his spine connecting with the human’s shins. Lloyd Morgan roared with pain and joy. He patted the anteater’s warm chest, his very being becoming lighter each time he felt the beat of Bear’s heart.

  Tony spun on to his feet and offered his owner a paw, which Lloyd Morgan shook. Bear did too and the professor noticed the size of Bear’s talons.

  “There’s no way I’m shaking those,” Lloyd Morgan announced loudly to those watching, growing into his new role as a performer. “You’ll take my hand off.”

  “I’ll shake his hand,” suddenly shouted the King, above the furore.

  Bear had heard him. Without further instruction, he jogged across the grass to the foot of the bandstand. Doris winked at the anteater who sat back and offered up a paw, the long black hair dangling from his arm as he waited for the King to reciprocate.

  “My word, have you taught these exotic creatures to obey a King?” he shouted back to Lloyd Morgan, who looked as surprised as his monarch.

  The King knew he couldn’t reach the anteater from up on the bandstand. So he did the most unroyal thing. He passed his written speech and walking stick to his private secretary, removed his cap, hitched his trousers and clambered down until he sat alongside the Indian elephant. He leaned forward and Bear gently placed his paw into the King’s hand, making sure his pad met the King’s palm, his long talons passing safely by the King’s wrist.

  “Amazing,” whispered the King, as the two shook.

  The crowd had fallen into a deferential silence.

  “And what will you do boy?” the King then asked of the leopard, sitting quietly now on the lawn next to the jaguar. “You reign here,” the King reminded the cat.

  The leopard considered his life once last time. He thought about taking one of the elderly men in the front row, or a young plump woman, just to see how she might taste. He glimpsed Lloyd Morgan beside him. The leopard thought about wiping the smile off the human’s giddy, manicured face. He eyed Tony the terrier, but knew now the dog had good intentions. He respected any animal willing to fight for what it considered was right. Then the jaguar brushed up against the leopard’s body, necking him, licking his fur.

  “I will come with you. Wherever we are going, I will come with you,” she said.

  The leopard made his last big decision. He rose on to all fours. He stared the King square in the eye. He raised his tail and pushed his toes into the warm grass. A drop of saliva fell from his mouth. He pushed forward and slowly walked towards the King, who eyed the cat all the way. The leopard sat next to the giant anteater, the jaguar joining them. The old leopard offered his blotched, arthritic paw. The King saw the scars, where the leopard’s claws had been ripped out. He took the paw and shook it, bowing his head. The jaguar too lifted her paw and the King took it, planting
a kiss upon a rosette.

  “How wonderful. This is a fine institution, but if any man says that animals are better caged, then he’ll have me to answer to. And if not me, then God,” announced the King, chortling.

  He looked about for the zoo administrator, who was nowhere to be seen.

  “You have put on a great show for us. An astounding show of the animals’ wit and intelligence,” said the King. “But these animals can’t understand my words, and I will prove it. I command that little bird there to take my handkerchief from my pocket. I know it won’t do that.”

  The King had noticed Bessie all along. Her life as a show bird now reached its zenith. To the amazement of every human watching, she flew on to the King’s shoulder. She hopped along till she reached his tie. As the King stared down in shock, she climbed down his beard and popped on to his top pocket. She pulled out a white silk handkerchief embroidered with royal blue letters. Grasping it in her small beak, she flew from the King. Conducting the first ever royal air show, she looped up over his head. She flew through the bandstand and back over. Towing her white and blue banner, she whizzed past the hats of the cheering crowd, through Lloyd Morgan’s legs and across the nose of the leopard who raised a mocking paw to her, drawing yet more laughs. Each and every person attending noticed Bessie and became convinced she was the most special bird they had ever sighted.

  “You see, my King,” said Lloyd Morgan, approaching the bandstand. “Animals are more intelligent than we think. I have no doubt that in the decades to come, they will continue to surprise us with their insight and emotions.”

  “I don’t doubt you Sir,” answered the King. “And you have learned all this at your place of study?”

  Lloyd Morgan nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak his lie.

  “Then we shall accelerate the granting of a Royal Warrant. A university you shall have!”