_Concerning the Behaviour of Billy Topsail and His Dog in
the Water When the Never Give Up Went to the Bottom,
and Closing With an Apology and a Wag of the Tail_
IT chanced that Billy Topsail was a strong swimmer. He had learned to
swim where the water is cold--cold, often, as the icebergs stranded in
the harbour can make it. The water was bitter cold now; but he did not
fear it; nor did he doubt that he could accomplish the long swim which
lay before him. It was the unaccountable behaviour of the dog which
disturbed him--his failure in obedience, which could not be explained.
The dog was now within three yards, and excited past all reason.
"Back, sir!" Billy screamed. "Get back with you!"
Skipper was not deterred by the command. He did not so much as
hesitate. Billy raised his hand as if to strike him--a threatening
gesture which had sent Skipper home with his tail between his legs many
a time. But it had no effect now.
"Get back!" Billy screamed again.
It was plain that the dog was not to be bidden. Billy threw himself on
his back, supported himself with his hands and kicked at the dog with
his feet.
[Illustration: BILLY RAISED HIS HAND AS IF TO STRIKE HIM.]
Skipper was blinded by the splashing. He whined and held back. Then
blindly he came again. Billy moved slowly from him, head foremost,
still churning the water with his feet. But, swimming thus, he was
no match for the dog. With his head thrown back to escape the blows,
Skipper forged after him. He was struck in the jaws, in the throat,
and again in the jaws. But he pawed on, taking every blow without
complaint, and gaining inch by inch. Soon he was so close that the lad
could no longer move his feet freely. Then the dog chanced to catch one
foot with his paw, and forced it under. Billy could not beat him off.
No longer opposed, the dog crept up--paw over paw, forcing the boy's
body lower and lower. His object was clear to Billy. Skipper, frenzied
by terror, the boy thought, would try to save himself by climbing on
his shoulders.
"Skipper!" he cried. "You'll drown me! Get back!"
The futility of attempting to command obedience from a crazy dog
struck Billy Topsail with force. He must act otherwise, and that
quickly, if he were to escape. There seemed to be but one thing to do.
He took a long breath and let himself sink--down--down--as deep as he
dared. Down--down--until he retained breath sufficient but to strike to
the right and rise again.
The dog--as it was made known later--rose as high as he could force
himself, and looked about in every direction, with his mouth open and
his ears rigidly cocked. He gave two sharp barks, like sobs, and a
long, mournful whine. Then, as if acting upon sudden thought, he dived.
For a moment nothing was to be seen of either boy or dog. There was
nothing but a choppy sea in that place. Men who were watching thought
that both had followed the _Never Give Up_ to the bottom.
In the momentary respite under water Billy perceived that his situation
was desperate. He would rise, he was sure, but only to renew the
struggle. How long he could keep the dog off he could not tell. Until
the punts came down to his aid? He thought not.
He came to the surface prepared to dive again. But Skipper had
disappeared. An ejaculation of thanksgiving was yet on the boy's lips
when the dog's black head rose and moved swiftly towards him. Billy had
a start of ten yards--or something more.
He turned on his side and set off at top speed. There was no better
swimmer among the lads of the harbour. Was he a match for a powerful
Newfoundland dog? It was soon evident that he was not.
Skipper gained rapidly. Billy felt a paw strike his foot. He put more
strength into his strokes. Next the paw struck the calf of his leg.
The dog was upon him now--pawing his back. Billy could not sustain the
weight. To escape, that he might take up the fight in another way, he
dived again.
The dog was waiting when Billy came up--waiting eagerly, on the alert
to continue the chase.
"Skipper, old fellow--good old dog!" Billy called in a soothing voice.
"Steady, sir! Down, sir--back!"
The dog was not to be deceived. He came, by turns whining and gasping.
He was more excited, more determined, than ever. Billy waited for him.
The fight was to be face to face. The boy had determined to keep him
off with his hands until strength failed--to drown him if he could.
All love for the dog had gone out of his heart. The weeks of close and
merry companionship, of romps and rambles and sport, were forgotten.
Billy was fighting for life. So he waited without pity, hoping only
that his strength might last until he had conquered.
When the dog was within reach Billy struck him in the face. A snarl and
an angry snap were the result.
Rage seemed suddenly to possess the dog. He held back for a moment,
growling fiercely, and then attacked with a rush. Billy fought as best
he could, trying to clutch his enemy by the neck and to force his head
beneath the waves. The effort was vain; the dog eluded his grasp and
renewed the attack. In another moment he had laid his heavy paws on the
boy's shoulders.
The weight was too much for Billy. Down he went; freed himself, and
struggled to the surface, gasping for breath. It appeared to him now
that he had but a moment to live. He felt his self-possession going
from him--and at that moment his ears caught the sound of a voice.
"Put your arm----"
The voice seemed to come from far away. Before the sentence was
completed, the dog's paws were again on Billy's shoulders and the water
stopped the boy's hearing. What were they calling to him? The thought
that some helping hand was near inspired him. With this new courage to
aid, he dived for the third time. The voice was nearer--clearer--when
he came up, and he heard every word.
"Put your arm around his neck!" one man cried.
"Catch him by the scruff of the neck!" cried another.
Billy's self-possession returned. He would follow this direction.
Skipper swam anxiously to him. It may be that he wondered what this
new attitude meant. It may be that he hoped reason had returned to the
boy--that at last he would allow himself to be saved. Billy caught the
dog by the scruff of the neck when he was within arm's length. Skipper
wagged his tail and turned about.
There was a brief pause, during which the faithful old dog determined
upon the direction he would take. He espied the punts, which had borne
down with all speed. Towards them he swam, and there was something
of pride in his mighty strokes, something of exultation in his whine.
Billy struck out with his free hand, and soon boy and dog were pulled
over the side of the nearest punt.
Through it all, as Billy now knew, the dog had only wanted to save him.
* * * * *
That night Billy Topsail took Skipper aside for a long and confidential
talk. "Skipper," said he, "I beg your pardon. You see, I didn't know
what 'twas you wanted. I'm sorry I ever had a hard thought against you,
and I'm sorry I tried to drown you. When I thought you only wanted to
save yourself, 'twas Billy Topsail you were thinking of. When I thought
you wanted to climb atop of me, 'twas my collar you wanted to catch.
When I thought you wanted to bite me, 'twas a scolding you were giving
me for my foolishness. Skipper, b'y, honest, I beg your pardon. Next
time I'll know that all a Newfoundland dog wants is half a chance to
tow me ashore. And I'll give him a whole chance. But, Skipper, don't
you think you might have given me a chance to do something for myself?"
At which Skipper wagged his tail.