The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too
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Alfred Elwes >> The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too
"Your friend,
"FIDA."
A variety of feelings passed through my mind as I read these lines. But
they were all lost in my wonder at Fida's cleverness in being able to
read my face, as if it had been a book. I was grateful to her for the
good advice she gave me, and now felt ashamed for having been ashamed
before. The best way I thought to prove my thankfulness would be to act
openly and naturally as Fida had pointed out, for I could not help
confessing, as my eyes looked again and again over her note, that she was
quite right, and that I had acted like a very silly animal.
I was interrupted during my reflections by the bursting of rain upon the
house-roofs, and the stream which rose from the streets as the large
drops came faster and faster down. I went to the door to look for my old
friend, but not a dog was to be seen. I was surprised at the sight of the
sky where I had observed the clouds rising a little while before, for now
those same clouds looked like big rocks piled one above another, with
patches of light shining through great caverns.
As I stared eagerly down the street, torrents of water poured from above,
which, instead of diminishing, seemed to be growing more terrible every
moment. I had never seen so fearful a storm. It did not appear like mere
rain which was falling; the water came down in broad sheets, and changed
the road into a river. I got more and more anxious about old Nip. It was
getting dark, and I knew he was not strong. My hope was that he had
taken shelter somewhere; but I could not rest, for I was sure he would
try and get home, if only to quiet me. While running in and out in my
anxiety--the water having meanwhile risen above the sill of the door, and
poured into our little house, where it was already above my paws--I spied
a dark figure crawling along the street, and with great difficulty making
way against the beating of the storm. I at once rushed out, and swimming
rather than running towards the object, I found my poor friend almost
spent with fatigue, and scarcely able to move, having a heavy load to
carry besides his own old limbs, which were not fit to battle with such a
tempest. I caught up his package; and assisting him as well as I was
able, we at length got to our cottage, though we were forced to get upon
the bench that stood by the wall to keep our legs out of the water. The
rain had now become a perfect deluge. A stream of water went hissing down
the street, and rushed in and out of the houses as if they had been
baths.
When Nip recovered breath, he told me that terrible things were happening
in the parts of the city by the waterside. The river had swollen so much,
that some kennels had been carried away by the current, and it was
impossible to learn how many poor dogs had been drowned. This news made
me jump again from the bench where I had been sitting.
"What is it?" said Nip.
"I am going out, Nip," replied I. "I must not be idle here, when I can,
perhaps, be of use somewhere else."
"That is true," said Nip; "but, Job, strong as you are, the storm is
stronger."
"Yes, Nip," answered I; "but there are dogs weaker than myself who may
require such assistance as I can give them, and it is not a time for a
dog to sit with his tail curled round him, when there are
fellow-creatures who may want a helping paw. So good-bye, old friend; try
and go to sleep; you have done your duty as long as your strength let
you, it is now for me to do mine." Without waiting for a reply, I rushed
out at the door.
It did not need much exertion to get through our street or the next, or
the next after that, for as they all sloped downwards, the water more
than once took me off my legs, and carried me along. Sad as Nip's news
had been, I was not prepared for the terrible scene which met my eyes
when I got near the river. The houses at the lower part of the street I
had reached had been swept away by the torrent, and a crowd of shivering
dogs stood looking at the groaning river as it rolled past in great waves
as white as milk, in which black objects, either portions of some kennel
or articles of furniture, were floating. Every now and then, a howl would
break from a doggess in the crowd, as a dead body was seen tossed about
by the angry water; and the same dolorous cries might be heard from
different quarters, mixed up with the roar of the river.
While standing with a group of three or four, staring with astonishment
at the frightful scene, uncertain what to do, a howl was heard from
another direction, so piercing that it made many of us run to learn the
cause. The pale light showed us that the torrent had snapped the supports
of a house at some distance from the river's bank, but which the swollen
stream had now reached, and carried away at least half the building. By
some curious chance, the broken timbers had become fixed for the moment
in the boiling water, which, angry at the obstruction, was rushing round
or flying completely over them; and it was easy to see that in a very
short time the mass would be swept away. Upon the timbers thus exposed
were three little pups scarce two months old, yelping most dismally as
they crouched together, or crawled to the edge of their raft; while on
the floor of the ruin from which this side had been torn away, was their
poor mother, whose fearful howl had attracted us thither, and who was
running from side to side of the shattered hut as if she was frantic.
Great as the danger was, I could not bear to think the wretched mother
should see her little ones swallowed up by the stormy water, before her
very eyes, without a single attempt being made to save them. Although I
could scarcely hope even to reach them in safety, and in no case could
bring more than one of them to land at once, if I even got so far, I
resolved to make the trial. Better save one, I thought, than let all die.
Holding my breath, I launched into the current in the direction of the
raft, and soon found that I had not been wrong in calculating the
difficulties and dangers of the undertaking. It was not the water alone
which made the peril so great, though the eddies seemed at every moment
to be pulling me to the bottom, but there were so many things rushing
along with the stream as to threaten to crush me as they flew by; and had
they struck me, there is no doubt there would have been an end of my
adventures. Avoiding them all, though I know not how, I was getting near
the spot where the little pups were crying for their mother, when I felt
myself caught in an eddy and dragged beneath the water. Without losing
courage, but not allowing myself to breathe, I made a strong effort, and
at last, got my head above the surface again; but where was the raft?
Where were the helpless puppies? All had gone--not a trace was left to
tell where they had been--the river foamed over the spot that had held
them for a time, and was now rushing along as if boasting of its
strength.
Seeing my intentions thus defeated, I turned my head towards the shore,
resolving to swim to land. To my surprise, I found that I made no
progress. I put out all my strength--I fought with the water--I threw
myself forward--it was in vain--I could not move a paw's breadth against
the current. I turned to another point--I again used every exertion--all
was useless--I felt my tired limbs sink under me--I felt the stream
sweeping me away--my head turned round in the agony of that moment, and I
moaned aloud.
My strength was now gone--I could scarce move a paw to keep my head down
the river. A dark object came near--it was a large piece of timber,
probably a portion of some ruined building. Seizing it as well as my
weakness would permit me, I laid my paws over the floating wood, and,
dragging my body a little more out of the water, got some rest from my
terrible labours.
[Illustration: AFLOAT]
Where was I hurrying to? I knew not. Every familiar object must have been
long passed, but it was too obscure to make out anything except the angry
torrent. On, on I went, in darkness and in fear--yes, great fear, not of
death, but a fear caused by the strangeness of my position, and the
uncertainty before me; on, on, till the black shores seemed to fly from
each other, and the river to grow and grow until all land had
disappeared, and nothing but the water met my aching eyes. I closed them
to shut out the scene, and tried to forget my misery.
Had I slept? And what was the loud noise which startled me so that I had
nearly let go my hold? I roused myself--I looked around--I was tossing up
and down with a regular motion, but could see nothing clearly, I was no
longer carried forward so swiftly as before, but the dim light prevented
me making out the place I was now in.
Suddenly, a flash broke from the black clouds, and for a single moment
shed a blue light over everything. What a spectacle! All around, for
miles and miles and miles, was nothing but dancing water, like shining
hills with milky tops, but not a living creature beside myself to keep me
company, or say a kind word, or listen to me when I spoke, or pity me
when I moaned! Oh! who could tell what I then felt, what I feared, and
what I suffered! Alone! alone!
When I think, as I often do now, of that terrible scene, and figure to
myself my drenched body clinging to that piece of timber, I seem to feel
a strange pity for the miserable dog thus left, as it seemed, to die,
away from all his fellows, without a friendly howl raised, to show there
was a single being to regret his loss--and I cannot help at such times
murmuring to myself, as if it were some other animal, "Poor Job! poor
dog!"
I remember a dimness coming over my eyes after I had beheld that world of
water--I have a faint recollection of thinking of Fida--of poor Nip--of
the drowning puppies I had tried in vain, to save--of my passing through
the streets of Caneville with my meat-barrow, and wondering how I could
have been so foolish as to feel ashamed of doing so--and then--and
then--I remember nothing more.
PAINS AND PLEASURES.
When I again opened my eyes after the deep sleep which had fallen upon
me, morning was just breaking, and a grey light was in the sky and on the
clouds which dotted it all over.
As I looked round, you may well think, with hope and anxiety, still
nothing met my view but the great world of water, broken up into a
multitude of little hills. I now understood that I was on the sea, where
I had been borne by the rushing river; that sea of which I had often
read, but which I could form no idea about till this moment.
The sad thought struck me that I must stop there, tossed about by the
wind and beaten by the waves, until I should die of hunger, or that,
spent with fatigue, my limbs would refuse to sustain me longer, and I
should be devoured by some of the monsters of the deep, who are always on
the watch for prey.
Such reflections did not help to make my position more comfortable, and
it was painful enough in itself without them. It was certain, however,
that complaint or sorrow could be of no service, and might be just the
contrary, as the indulging in either would, probably, prevent my doing
what was necessary to try and save myself should an opportunity offer.
The grey light, in the meantime, had become warmer and warmer in its
tone, until the face of every cloud towards the east was tinged with
gold. While I was admiring the beautiful sight, for it was so beautiful
that it made me forget for a time my sad position, my eyes were caught
by the shining arch of the rising sun, as it sprang all of a sudden above
the surface of the sea. Oh! never shall I forget the view! Between me and
the brilliant orb lay a pathway of gold, which rose, and fell, and
glittered, and got at last so broad and dazzling, that my eyes could look
at it no longer. I knew it was but the sun's light upon the water, but it
looked so firm, that I could almost fancy I should be able to spring upon
it, and run on and on until I reached some friendly country. But alas!
there seemed little chance of such a thing happening as my ever reaching
land again.
As the sun got high up, and poured his rays on to the sea, I began to
feel a craving for food, and, though surrounded with water, yet the want
of some to drink. When the thirst came upon me, I at first lapped up a
few drops of the sea-water with avidity, but I soon found that it was not
fit to drink, and that the little I had taken only made my thirst the
greater. In the midst of my suffering, a poor bird came fluttering
heavily along, as if his wings were scarce able to support his weight.
Every little object was interesting to me just then, and as I sat upon my
piece of timber I looked up at the trembling creature, and began
comparing his fate with my own. "Ah, Job," I said, half-aloud, "you
thought, perhaps, that you were the only unhappy being in the world. Look
at that poor fowl; there he is, far away from land, from his home, from
his friends, perhaps his little ones (for many birds have large
families), with tired wings, and not a piece of ground as broad as his
own tail for him to rest upon. He must go on, fatigued though he may be,
for if he fall, nothing can prevent his death; the water will pour among
his feathers, clog his wings, and not only prevent him ever rising more
into the air, but pull him down until his life is gone. So, Job, badly
off as you are just now, there is another, as you see, whose fate is
worse; and who shall say that in other places, where your eye cannot
reach, there are not others yet so very, very miserable, that they would
willingly, oh! how willingly! change places with you, or with that poor
fluttering bird?"
This talk with myself quieted me for a time, and I felt a certain joy
when I saw the bird slowly descend, and having spied my uncomfortable
boat, perch heavily on the other end of it. He did not do so until he had
looked at me with evident alarm; and, worn out as he was, and his heart
beating as though it would burst through his yellow coat, he still kept
his eyes fixed upon me, ready to take wing and resume his journey,
wherever he might be going, at the least motion I should make.
Some time passed over in this way; myself in the middle, and Dicky at the
end of the beam. We did not say a word to each other; for, as I spoke no
other language but my own, and he seemed about as clever as myself, we
merely talked with our eyes.
A thought now came into my head. My thirst returned, and I felt very
hungry. What if I should suddenly dart on little Dicky, and make a meal
of him? I did not consider at the instant that, by so doing, I should be
acting a very base part, for Dicky had placed confidence in me; and
killing him for trusting to my honour, and eating him because he was poor
and unfortunate, would be neither a good return nor a kind action.
Luckily for Dicky, and even for myself, although he was not able to speak
foreign languages, he could read my meaning in my eyes; for when I turned
them slowly towards him, just to see my distance, he took alarm, and rose
into the air with a swiftness which I envied. I am sorry to say my only
thought at first was the having lost my dinner: but as I watched him
through the air, flying on and on, until he diminished to a misty speck,
and then disappeared, my better feelings came back to me and said, "Oh,
Job! I would not have believed this of you!" "But," replied my empty
stomach, "I am so hungry; without food, I shall fall in, and Job will
die." "Let Job die," said my better self again, in a cold, firm tone;
"let Job rather die, than do what he would live to feel ashamed of."
As the day wore on, I began to think that death only could relieve me;
and the thought was very, very painful. Nothing before and around but the
salt waves--nothing above but the blue sky and hot sun--not even a cloud
on which to rest my aching eyes. The want of water which I could drink
was now becoming terrible. When I thought of it, my head began to turn;
my brain seemed to be on fire; and the public basins of Caneville, where
only the lowest curs used to quench their thirst, danced before me to add
to my torture; for I thought, though I despised them once, how I could
give treasures of gold for one good draught at the worst of them just
then.
There is not a misfortune happens to us from which we may not derive good
if our hearts are not quite hardened, and our minds not totally
impenetrable. Great as my sufferings were during this incident of my
life, I learnt from it much that has been useful to me in after years.
But even if it had taught me no other truth than that we should despise
nothing which is good and wholesome, merely because it is ordinary, I
should not have passed through those sad hours in vain. We dogs are so
apt, when in prosperity, to pamper our appetites, and, commonly speaking,
to turn up our noses at simple food, that we require, from time to time,
to be reminded on how little canine life can be preserved. All have not
had the advantage of the lesson which I was blessed with; for it _was_ a
blessing; one that has so impressed itself on my memory, that sometimes
when I fancy I cannot eat anything that is put before me, because it is
too much done, or not done enough, or has some other real or supposed
defect, I say to myself, "Job, Job, what would you have given for a tiny
bit of the worst part of it when you were at sea?" And then I take it at
once, and find it excellent.
As the sun got lower, clouds, the same in shape that had welcomed him in
the morning, rose up from the sea as if to show their pleasure at his
return. He sunk into the midst of them and disappeared; and then the
clouds came up and covered all the sky. I suffered less in the cool
evening air, and found with pleasure that it was growing into a breeze.
My pleasure soon got greater still, for, with the wind, I felt some drops
of rain! The first fell upon my burning nose; but the idea of fresh water
was such a piece of good fortune, that I dared not give loose to my joy
until the drops began to fall thickly on and around me, and there was a
heavy shower. I could scarcely give my rough coat time to get thoroughly
wet before I began sucking at it. It was not nice at first, being mixed
with the salt spray by which I had been so often covered; but as the rain
still came down, the taste was fresher every moment, and soon got most
delicious. I seemed to recover strength as I licked my dripping breast
and shoulders; and though evening changed to dark night, and the rain was
followed by a strong wind, which got more and more fierce, and appeared
to drive me and my friendly log over the waves as if we had been bits of
straw, I felt no fear, but clung to the timber, and actually gave way to
hope.
I must have slept again, for daylight was once more in the sky when I
unclosed my eyes. Where was I now? My sight was dim, and though I could
see there was no longer darkness, I could make out nothing else. Was I
still on the rolling water? Surely not; for I felt no motion. I passed my
paw quickly across my eyes to brush away the mist which covered them. I
roused myself. The beam of wood was still beneath me, but my legs surely
touched the ground! My sight came back to me, and showed me, true, the
sea stretching on, on, on, in the distance, but showed me also that
_I_--oh, joy!--_I_ had reached the shore!
When my mind was able to believe the truth, I sprang on to the solid land
with a cry which rings in my ears even now. What though my weakness was
so great that I tumbled over on to the beach and filled my mouth with
sand? I could have licked every blade of grass, every stone, in my
ecstacy; and when forced to lie down from inability to stand upon my
legs, I drove my paws into the earth, and held up portions to my face, to
convince myself that I was indeed on shore. I did not trouble myself much
with questions as to how I got there. I did not puzzle my brain to
inquire whether the wind which had risen the evening before, and which I
felt driving me on so freely, had at length chased me to the land. All I
seemed to value was the fact that I was indeed _there_; and all I could
persuade myself to say or think was the single, blessed word, SAVED!
I must have lain some time upon the sand before I tried again to move,
for when I scrambled on to my legs the sun was high and hot--so hot, that
it had completely dried my coat, and made me wish for shelter. Dragging
myself with some trouble to a mound of earth, green and sparkling with
grass and flowers, I managed to get on top of it; and when I had
recovered from the effort, for I was very weak, looked about me with
curiosity to observe the place where I had been thrown.
The ground was level close to where I stood, but at a little distance it
rose into gentle grassy hills, with short bushes here and there; and just
peeping over them, were the tops of trees still farther off, with
mountains beyond, of curious forms and rich blue colour.
While considering this prospect, I suddenly observed an animal on one of
the hills coming towards me, and I lay down at full length on the grass
to examine who he might be. As he drew nearer, I was surprised at his
form and look (I afterwards learnt that he was called an ape), and
thought I had never beheld so queer a being. He had a stick in his right
hand, and a bundle in his left, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground as
he walked along.
When he was quite close, I rose again, to ask him where I could procure
food and water, of which I felt great want. The motion startled him; and
stepping back, he took his stick in both hands as if to protect himself.
The next moment he put it down, and coming up to me, to my surprise
addressed me in my own language, by inquiring how I came there. My
astonishment was so great at first that I could not reply; and when I did
speak, it was to ask him how it happened that he used my language. To
this he answered, that he had been a great traveller in his day, and
among other places had visited my city, where he had studied and been
treated kindly for a long time; that he loved dogs, and should be only
too happy now to return some of the favours he had received. This speech
opened my heart; but before he would let me say more, he untied his
bundle, and spread what it contained before me. As there were several
savoury morsels, you may believe I devoured them with great
appetite--indeed, I hope Master Ximio's opinion of me was not formed from
the greediness with which I ate up his provisions.
After I had refreshed myself at a spring of water, we sat down, and I
told him my story. He heard me patiently to the end, when, after a pause,
he exclaimed--
"Come, Job, come with me. A few days' rest will restore your strength,
and you can return to your own city. It is not a long journey over land;
and with stout limbs like those, you will soon be able to get back and
lick old Nip again."
I need not dwell upon this part of my story, although I could fill many
pages with the narration of Master Ximio's dwelling, and above all of his
kindness; he kept me two or three days at his house, and would have
detained me much longer, but, besides that I was anxious to return to
Nip, I felt certain pains in my limbs, which made me wish to get back to
Caneville, as I did not like the idea of troubling my good friend with
the care of a sick dog. He was so kind-hearted, however, and showed me
such attention, that I was afraid to say anything about my aches, lest he
should insist on keeping me. He seemed to think it was quite natural I
should desire to get home; and when he saw my impatience to depart, he
assisted to get me ready.
Having supplied me with everything I could want on my journey, and
pressed upon me many gifts besides, he led me by a little path through
the wood, until we came to the sea. "Along this shore," he said, "your
road lies. Follow the winding of the coast until you reach the mouth of a
broad river, the waters of which empty themselves into the sea. That
river is the same which runs through your city. Keep along its banks and
you will shortly arrive at Caneville, where I hope you may find
everything you wish--for I am sure you wish nothing that is unreasonable.
If pleasure awaits you there, do not, in the midst of it, forget Ximio.
If, against my hopes, you should find yourself unhappy, remember there is
a home always open to you here, and a friend who will do his best to
make you forget sorrow. Farewell!"
I was greatly moved at his words and the memory of his kindness. We
licked each other tenderly--murmured something, which meant a good deal
more than it expressed--and then we parted. I turned my head often as I
went, and each time beheld Ximio waving his hand in the air; at last a
dip in the ground hid him from my sight, and I continued my journey
alone.
It was fortunate I had been well furnished with provisions by my good
friend, for as I proceeded, I found the pains in my limbs so great that I
could scarce drag one leg after the other, and should probably have died
of hunger, as I had no strength left to procure food, and did not meet
with any more Ximios to assist me had I stood in need. With long rests,
from which I rose each time with greater difficulty,--with increasing
anxiety as I drew near my home, to learn all that had taken place during
my absence,--and yet with legs which almost refused to carry me; after
many days that seemed to have grown into months,--they were so full of
care and suffering,--I toiled up a hill, which had, I thought, the power
of getting steeper as I ascended. At length I reached the top, and to my
joy discovered the well-known city of Caneville, lying in the plain
beneath me. The sight gave me strength again. I at once resumed my
journey, and trotted down the hill at a pace which surprised myself. As I
got warm with my exertions, the stiffness seemed by degrees to leave my
limbs; I ran, I bounded along, over grass and stone through broad patches
of mud which showed too plainly to what height the river had lately
risen, out of breath, yet with a spirit that would not let me flag, I
still flew on, nor slackened my speed until I had got to the first few
houses of the town. There I stopped indeed, and fell; for it then seemed
as if my bones were all breaking asunder. My eyes grew dim; strange
noises sounded in my ears; and though I fancied I could distinguish
voices which I knew, I could neither see nor speak; I thought it was my
dying hour.