120 
APES AND MONKEYS. 
on the rock are determined by the direction of the wind. They prefer the ledges 
of the [to man] inaccessible, abrupt escarpment of the Mediterranean face; but 
cannot stand the cold damp Levanter wind which, as its name indicates, blows from 
the eastward, and compels them to resort to the western slopes on the town side of 
the rock. At the bottom of Charles V.’s wall, overhanging the Alameda Gardens, 
is a favourite spot. On the western side, the Monkeys’ Alameda, a small bushy 
plateau half-way down the precipice, is another choice resort, as is also Monkeys’ 
Cave, close to the sea. Of late years they have become sufficiently confident in 
their friend and protector, the signalmaster, frequently to enter the enclosure of the 
station, especially in the summer drought, when they come for water. In a letter 
to me, of the 3rd of May, Sergeant Brown [the signalmaster] says: ‘ The monkeys 
are sitting on the wall of the station as I write this—the first time this season that 
they have come up for water.’ 
“ Their food consists of grass (the young blades of which I have seen them 
eating with avidity), and of a variety of roots and bulbs; those of the yellow Cape 
oxalis being much sought after. The fruits of the palmetto— monkey-dates, as the 
Gibraltar urchins, who also much appreciate the little brown viscous clusters, call 
them—are greedily devoured when ripe. The signalmaster has never observed 
them take any food left in their way at the station but a few grapes, of which they 
seemed very fond. 
“ In Sergeant Brown’s letters I find several notes concerning these interesting 
animals, which may be here introduced. ‘In the spring of 1872, two were shot by 
a young officer, who had been but a short time in the garrison, and probably did 
not know that the monkeys were so strictly preserved. He replaced them with 
either two or three of the same kind from Barbary, but the rock monkeys killed 
them. Some years ago, when first stationed at Gibraltar, I saw a very large male 
monkey in captivity at the signal station. He had been captured in one of the 
ammunition boxes in the enclosure, baited with fruit. It had taken the united 
efforts of three artillerymen, who rushed upon him with their cloaks, to secure him. 
After a while he got reconciled to his fate, but from his position, chained to the 
wall and overlooking the eastern precipice, he was always scanning the cliffs in great 
apparent anxiety and fear, which was quite unmistakable when his late comrades 
appeared in sight. If he had rejoined them he would probably have been torn in 
pieces. In June 1874,’ says Sergeant Brown, ‘a fire broke out on a Sunday 
afternoon, and a strong south-west wind carried it up the slope of the cliff. . . . 
The monkeys seemed in great distress while the fire was raging, and a full-grown 
one was missed afterwards, but several births kept up the total. In the spring of 
1875 the troop consisted of six full-grown females and two large males, with several 
young ones. One of the males was very mangy, had a bowed back, and appeared 
very old; the other, a full-grown powerful monkey, I should judge to be nearly 
3 feet long in the body, and standing nearly 5 feet high when stretched up. 
He was lord of the tribe, kept it in order by chasing or biting any refractory 
member, and took the lead when shifting from one side of the rock to the other, 
which they usually did a few hours before the wind changed. I missed the large 
male on August 7th, 1875, and in the beginning of September he was found 
dead.’ The death of this monkey seems to have been a serious blow to the 
