Toby was a sheep of middling size, lightly built, finely limbed, as
agile as a deer, with dark intelligent gazelle-like eyes, and a small
pair of neatly curled horns, with the points protruding about an inch
from his forehead. His colour was white except on the face, which was
slightly darker.
As an old sailor I wish to say something of Toby’s history. I was
on board the good brig _Reliance_ of Arbroath, bound from Cork to
Galatz, on the left bank of the Danube. All went well with the little
ship until she reached the Grecian Archipelago, and here she was
detained by adverse winds and contrary currents, making the passage
through the islands both a dangerous and a difficult one. When the
mariners at length reached Tenedos, it was found that the current
from the Dardanelles was running out like a mill-stream, which made
it impossible to proceed; and accordingly the anchor was cast, the
jolly-boat was lowered, and the captain took the opportunity of going
on shore for fresh water, of which they were scarce. Having filled his
casks, it was only natural for a sailor to long to treat himself to
a mess of fresh meat as well as water. He accordingly strolled away
through the little town; but soon found that butchers were as yet
unknown in Tenedos. Presently, however, a man came up with a sheep,
which the captain at once purchased for five shillings. This was Toby,
with whom, his casks of water, and a large basket of ripe fruit, the
skipper returned to his vessel. There happened to be on board this
ship a large and rather useless half-bred Newfoundland. This dog was
the very first to receive the attentions of Master Toby, for no sooner
had he placed foot on the deck, than he ran full tilt at the poor
Newfoundland, hitting him square on the ribs and banishing almost every
bit of breath from his body. ‘Only a sheep,’ thought the dog, and flew
at Toby at once. But Toby was too nimble to be caught, and he planted
his blows with such force and precision, that at last the poor dog was
fain to take to his heels, howling with pain, and closely pursued by
Toby. The dog only escaped by getting out on to the bowsprit, where of
course Toby could not follow, but quietly lay down in a safe place to
wait and watch for him.
This first adventure shewed that Toby was no ordinary sheep. How he
had been trained to act an independent part no one could tell. His
education, certainly, had not been neglected. That same evening the
captain was strolling on the quarter-deck eating a bunch of grapes,
when Toby came up to him, and standing on one end, planted his
fore-feet on his shoulders, and looked into his face, as much as to
say: ‘I’ll have some of those, please.’
And he was not disappointed, for the captain amicably went shares
with Toby. Toby appeared so grateful for even little favours, and so
attached to his new master, that Captain Brown had not the heart to
kill him. He would rather, he thought, go without fresh meat all his
life. So Toby was installed as ship’s pet. Ill-fared it then with the
poor Newfoundland; he was so battered and cowed, that for dear life’s
sake he dared not leave his kennel even to take his food. It was
determined, therefore, to put an end to the poor fellow’s misery, and
he was accordingly shot. This may seem cruel, but it was kind in the
main.
Now there was on board the _Reliance_ an old Irish cook. One morning
soon after the arrival of Toby, Paddy, who had a round bald pate, be
it remembered, was bending down over a wooden platter cleaning the
vegetables for dinner, when Toby took the liberty of insinuating his
woolly nose to help himself. The cook naturally enough struck Toby
on the snout with the flat of the knife and went on with his work.
Toby backed astern at once; a blow he never could and never did
receive without taking vengeance. Besides, he imagined, no doubt, that
holding down his bald head as he did, the cook was desirous of trying
the strength of their respective skulls. When he had backed astern
sufficiently for his purpose, Toby gave a spring: the two heads came
into violent collision, and down rolled poor Paddy on the deck. Then
Toby coolly finished all the vegetables, and walked off as if nothing
had happened out of the usual.
Toby’s hatred of the whole canine race was invincible. One day when
the captain and his pet were taking their usual walk on the promenade,
there came on shore the skipper of a Falmouth ship, accompanied by
a very large formidable-looking dog. And the dog only resembled his
master, as you observe dogs usually do. As soon as he saw Toby he
commenced to set his dog upon him; but Toby had seen him coming and
was quite _en garde_; so a long and fierce battle ensued, in which
Toby was slightly wounded and the dog’s head was severely cut. Quite a
multitude had assembled to witness the fight, and the ships’ riggings
were alive with sailors. At one time the brutal owner of the dog,
seeing his pet getting worsted, attempted to assist him; but the
crowd would have pitched him neck and crop into the river, had he not
desisted. At last both dog and sheep were exhausted, and drew off, as
if by mutual consent. The dog seated himself close to the outer edge of
the platform, which was about three feet higher than the river’s bank,
and Toby went, as he was wont to do, and stood between his master’s
legs, resting his head fondly on the captain’s clasped hands, but never
took his eyes off the foe. Just then a dog on board one of the ships
happened to bark, and the Falmouth dog looked round. This was Toby’s
chance, and he did not miss it or his enemy either. He was upon him
like a bolt from a catapult. One furious blow knocked the dog off the
platform, next moment Toby had leaped on top of him, and was chasing
the yelling animal towards his own ship. There is no doubt Toby would
have crossed the plank and followed him on board, had not his feet
slipped and precipitated him into the river. A few minutes afterwards,
when Toby, dripping with wet, returned to the platform to look for his
master, he was greeted with ringing cheers; and many was the piastre
spent in treating our woolly friend to fruit. Toby was the hero of
Galatz from that hour; but the Falmouth dog never ventured on shore
again, and his master as seldom as possible.
On her downward voyage, when the vessel reached Sulina, at the mouth
of the river, it became necessary to lighten her in order to get her
over the bar. This took some time, and Toby’s master frequently had
to go on shore; but Toby himself was not permitted to accompany him,
on account of the filth and muddiness of the place. When the captain
wished to return he came down to the river-side and hailed the ship to
send a boat. And poor Toby was always on the watch for his master if no
one else was. He used to place his fore-feet on the bulwarks and bleat
loudly towards the shore, as much as to say: ‘I see you, master, and
you’ll have a boat in a brace of shakes.’ Then if no one was on deck,
Toby would at once proceed to rouse all hands fore and aft. If the mate
Mr Gilbert pretended to be asleep on a locker, he would fairly roll him
off on to the deck.
Toby was revengeful to a degree, and if any one struck him, he would
wait his chance, even if for days, to pay him out with interest in his
own coin. He was at first very jealous of two little pigs which were
bought as companions to him; but latterly he grew fond of them, and
as they soon got very fat, Toby used to roll them along the deck like
a couple of foot-balls. There were two parties on board that Toby did
not like, or rather that he liked to annoy whenever he got the chance,
namely the cook and the cat. He used to cheat the former and chase
the latter on every possible occasion. If his master took pussy and
sat down with him on his knee, Toby would at once commence to strike
it off with his head. Finding that she was so soft and yielding that
this did not hurt her, he would then lift his fore-foot and attempt to
strike her down with that; failing in that, he would bite viciously
at her; and if the captain laughed at him, then all Toby’s vengeance
would be wreaked on his master. But after a little scene like this,
the sheep would always come and coax for forgiveness. Our hero was
taught a great many tricks, among others to leap backward and forward
through a life-buoy. When his hay and fresh provisions went done, Toby
would eat pea-soup, invariably slobbering all his face in so doing,
and even pick a bone like a dog. He was likewise very fond of boiled
rice, and his drink was water, although he preferred porter and ale;
but while allowing him a reasonable quantity of beer, the captain never
encouraged him in the bad habit, the sailors had taught him, of chewing
tobacco.
It is supposed that some animals have a prescience of coming storms.
Toby used to go regularly to the bulwarks every night, and placing his
feet against them snuff all around him. If content, he would go and lie
down and fall fast asleep; but it was a sure sign of bad weather coming
before morning when Toby kept wandering by his master’s side and would
not go to rest.
One day Captain Brown was going up the steps of the Custom-house, when
he found that not only Toby but Toby’s two pigs were following close
at his heels. He turned round to drive them all back; but Toby never
thought for a moment that his master meant that _he_ should return.
‘It is these two awkward creatures of pigs,’ thought Toby, ‘that master
can’t bear the sight of.’
So Toby went to work at once, and first rolled one piggie down-stairs,
then went up and rolled the other piggie down-stairs; but the one
piggie always got to the top of the stair again by the time his
brother piggie was rolled down to the bottom. Thinking that as far as
appearances went, Toby had his work cut out for the next half-hour,
his master entered the Custom-house. But Toby and his friends soon
found some more congenial employment; and when Captain Brown returned,
he found them all together in an outer room, dancing about with the
remains of a new mat about their necks, which they had just succeeded
in tearing to pieces.
Their practical jokes cost the captain some money one way or another.
One day the three friends made a combined attack on a woman, who was
carrying a young pig in a sack; this little pig happened to squeak,
when Toby and his pigs went to the rescue. They tore the woman’s dress
to atoms and delivered the little pig. Toby was very much addicted to
describing the arc of a circle; that was all very good when it was
merely a fence he was flying over, but when it happened that a window
was in the centre of the arc, then it came rather hard on the captain’s
pocket.
In order to enable him to pick up a little after his long voyage,
Toby was sent to country lodgings at a farmer’s. But barely a week
had elapsed when the farmer sent him back again with his compliments,
saying that he would not keep him for his weight in gold. He led the
farmer’s sheep into all sorts of mischief that they had never dreamed
of before, and had defied the dogs, and half-killed one or two of them.
Toby returned like himself, for when he saw his master in the distance
he bleated aloud for joy, and flew towards him like a wild thing,
dragging the poor boy in the mud behind him.
Toby was taken on board a vessel which was carrying out emigrants to
New York, and was constantly employed all day in driving the steerage
passengers off the quarter-deck. He never hurt the children, however,
but contented himself by tumbling them along the deck and stealing
their bread and butter.
From New York Toby went to St Stephens. There a dog flew out and bit
Captain Brown in the leg. It was a dear bite, however, for the dog, for
Toby caught it in the act and hardly left life enough in it to crawl
away. At St Stephens Toby was shorn, the weather being oppressively
hot. No greater insult could have been offered him. His anger and
chagrin were quite ludicrous to witness. He examined himself a dozen
times, and every time he looked round and saw his naked back he tried
to run away from himself. But when his master, highly amused at his
antics, attempted to add insult to injury, by pointing his finger at
him and laughing him to scorn, Toby’s wrath knew no bounds, and he
attacked the captain on the spot. He managed, however, to elude the
blow, and Toby walked on shore in a pet. Whether it was that he was
ashamed of his ridiculous appearance, or of attempting to strike his
kind master in anger, cannot be known, but for three days and nights
Toby never appeared, and the captain was very wretched indeed. But when
he did return, he was so exceedingly penitent and so loving and coaxing
that he was forgiven on the spot.
When Toby arrived with his vessel in Queen’s Dock, Liverpool, on a
rainy morning, some nice fresh hay was brought on board. This was a
great treat for our pet, and after he had eaten his fill, he thought he
could not do better than sleep among it, which thought he immediately
transmuted to action, covering himself all up except the head.
By-and-by the owner of the ship came on board, and taking a survey of
things in general he spied Toby’s head.
‘Hollo!’ he said, ‘what’s that?’ striking Toby’s nose with his
umbrella. ‘Stuffed, isn’t it?’
Stuffed or not stuffed, there was a body behind it—as the owner soon
knew to his cost—and a spirit that never brooked a blow, for next
moment he found himself lying on his back with his legs waggling in the
air in the most expressive manner, while Toby stood triumphantly over
him waiting to repeat the dose if required.
The following anecdote shews Toby’s reasoning powers. He was standing
one day near the dockyard foreman’s house, when the dinner bell rang,
and just at the same time a servant came out with a piece of bread for
Toby. Every day after this, as soon as the same bell rang—‘That calls
me,’ said Toby to himself, and off he would trot to the foreman’s
door. If the door was not at once opened he used to knock with his
head; and he would knock and knock again until the servant, for
peace-sake, presented him with a slice of bread.
And now Toby’s tale draws near its close. The owner never forgave that
blow, and one day coming by chance across the following entry in the
ship’s books, ‘Tenedos—to one sheep, 5s.,’ he immediately claimed Toby
as his rightful property. It was all in vain that the captain begged
hard for his poor pet, and even offered ten times his nominal value
for him. The owner was deaf to all entreaties and obdurate. So the
two friends were parted. Toby was sent a long way into the country to
Carnoustie, in Forfarshire, to amuse some of the owner’s children, who
were at school there. But the sequel shews how very deeply and dearly
even a sheep can love a kind-hearted master. After the captain left
him, poor Toby refused all food and _died of grief in one week’s time_.
‘I have had many pets,’ says Captain Brown, ‘but only one Toby.’