There was the tree-crab from the Keeling Islands.

No sooner had it got a claw through its prison-box than my sea-jacket, hanging within reach, was torn to ribbons.

Encouraged by this success, it smashed the box open and escaped into my cabin, tearing up things generally, and finally threatening my life in the dark.

I had hoped to bring the creature home alive, but this did not prove feasible.

Next the goat devoured my straw hat, and so when I arrived in port I had nothing to wear ashore on my head.