Lord Morgan's Cannon

by MJ Walker

  The animals had followed the lady deep into the zoological gardens. Once upon her shoulder, Bessie became reluctant to leave, in case she scared the human, while Bear could see no reason not to follow the lady, given her presence had helped their entrance. Doris just carried on dancing, and soon she was leading the lady and the crowd of humans towards the bandstand, where Doris could see even more humans gathering about a broad circle of wooden chairs.

  The more Doris danced the louder the crowd cheered. Bessie could resist no longer. Despite the cries of the scavenging gulls she jumped from the lady’s shoulder. Flying down to her heels and up again, she alighted on the lady’s hat. Upside down, she flew on to Doris and hopped along her back, receiving the elephant’s praise.

  Behind Doris, Bear sat on his rear. He lacked the anatomy and energy to perform for too long, one of the reasons he’d never been chosen as a main act in Whyte and Wingate’s circus. Besides, Doris and Bessie had the humans in raptures and he still had a leopard to locate. As Doris performed and the sun shone down, the humans began to remove their hats and push up their sleeves. Bear tried to work out what to do next. As his mind wandered with thoughts of the missing monkey and cat, his eyelids closed, a doze welling up from within, the sleepy fog taking his mind. His long head nodded. He placed it upon the grass.

  “Wake up! You have to wake!”

  The giant anteater had momentarily succumbed before he was woken for the second time in his life by the slobbering gums of a dog. Tony the terrier buried his nose into Bear and pawed at his head.

  “All the humans are watching you!” said the dog.

  Every person was now seated. Rows of chairs formed a half circle, enclosing the lawn and bandstand behind. Hats had been replaced, sleeves rolled down and the ladies had put aside their parasols. Bear lifted his head. Even Doris and Bessie had stopped moving. All the humans and his two friends were now staring down a path that led to the bandstand. Suddenly all the humans stood and applauded. As they rose, Bear noticed Lord Morgan among their number, three seats along in the front row.

  A gaggle of smartly dressed men followed another down the path. The man in front, dressed in tweed and wearing a flat cap, strode up and on to the bandstand. He stood behind a lectern, grasping it with both hands.

  But he didn’t speak. He peered down upon the lawn, incredulous at the Indian elephant and giant anteater that stood unchained before him. The men bustled about the bandstand, whispering into each others’ ears. A thin man holding a ledger was grabbed by the arm and pushed to the front, so he stood just a foot to the side of the man in the cap. The thin man surveyed his zoo and all the humans in it. He coughed. He spluttered. Then he spoke.

  “Your Lords, ladies and gentleman. I most humbly present to you the King of England.”

  The thin man then affected such a deep bow that he almost toppled from the bandstand.

  The King smirked. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed a piece of paper, upon which he had written a speech. He again looked at Doris and Bear, who had turned to watch him also, becoming part of the audience. The King blinked at the animals. Unsure, he caught the eye of his private secretary.

  “You said we were seeing a talking myna bird?” he asked his aide.

  The private secretary shrugged. The King snapped open his sheet and began to read it out, projecting his voice above the shrieks and sounds of the zoo’s caged animals.

  He told his audience how wonderful it had been for him to visit the great city of Bristol, a beacon of trade and civility in the west. He made mention of having spent the morning in the company of various professors at University College. A row of suited men nodded back, including Lord Morgan, who was nervously clicking his fingers, trying to bring Tony the terrier to heel. The King joked about how tedious university professors could be, especially when they were lobbying to receive a Royal Warrant for their institution. The professors nodded again, though less vigorously than before.

  The King made reference to seeing that day animals from around his Empire, including a koala and kangaroo from Australia, a silverback gorilla from British East Africa and a pair of albatrosses returned from Ascension Island. The crowd politely applauded. By this time the zoo administrator had moved to the back of the bandstand, and was silently remonstrating with another man dressed in badly fitting attire.

  The King then deviated from his speech.

  “And of course our Indian elephant here,” he said, introducing Doris to the crowd as if they couldn’t see her. “What wonderful animals! I have never seen one so free as this. It’s enough to get the blue blood flowing,” he joked.

  Doris reacted, lowering herself on to one knee, and with Bessie twittering away between her ears, she doffed her massive head towards the King. The crowd spontaneously cheered as a huge smile spread across the King’s face.

  Suddenly a number of gentlemen and ladies jumped to their feet.

  “They love you Doris. They love you,” cried Bessie.

  But Bear could see otherwise. Positioned off to the side, Bear had a view down another crisp white path that led to the bandstand. As he heard the men and women gasp, the anteater could see three animals approaching.

  The old leopard led, his hips and shoulders swaying with each stride, his tongue hanging wet, his eyes fixed on the humans. On his back rode Edward the tufted capuchin, the monkey grasping a fold of spotted skin on the leopard’s neck as his legs dangled upon the cat’s muscles. Following the leopard, her head bobbing out from behind his tail, ambled the jaguar. While the leopard stared dead ahead, the jaguar kept flicking her yellow eyes all about, taking in the zoological gardens she had lived in but never seen.

  “There,” cried Edward, pointing ahead. “There is Doris!”

  The leopard heard the monkey. But he had become as interested in the humans in their suits and gowns, who were now jumping from the most expensive ringside seats in all Bristol.

  The King saw the leopard, recognising him. So too had the King’s bodyguard, who stepped up to his charge, placing a hand on his shoulder. The monarch gently removed the hand and quietly asked those around him:

  “Are these animals supposed to be here?”

  One man broke from the back of the bandstand. Dropping his ledger on the lawn, the administrator jumped down and ran, his moustache absorbing the sweat of his top lip as he stumbled across the grass like a baby giraffe.

  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 sui
t, 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 landed 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.