[ R. M. Ballantyne / The Floating Light of the Goodwin Sands ]
The "Goodwin Sands" is an extensive sandbar in the English channel, site of numerous wrecks over the centuries. Ballantyne spent a week aboard a lightship anchored at the Goodwin Sands to gather material for this fictionalized treatment of the lives of the men associated with the lightships and rescue operations at the Goodwin Sands. This book — like many of Ballantyne's, it is strongly moralized and frequently endorses temperance — was first published in 1870 (London: Nisbet).
The first reference to Newfoundlands occurs in Chapter 3, when the sailors (speaking in their native dialect) on board the lightship hear, shortly after a shipwreck, a strange noise in the water:
"Wot iver is that?" exclaimed Dick, as they all rushed to the port bow of the vessel and looked over the side.
"Something in the water," cried Jack Shales, hastily catching up a coil of rope and throwing it overboard with that promptitude which is peculiar to seamen.
"Why, he can't kitch hold on it; it's only a dog," observed Dick Moy.
All uncertainty on this point was cleared away, by a loud wail to which the poor animal gave vent, as it scraped along the ship's hull, vainly endeavouring to prevent itself from being carried past by the tide.
By this time they were joined by the mate and the rest of the crew, who had heard the unwonted sounds and hurried on deck. Each man was eagerly suggesting a method of rescue, or attempting to carry one into effect, by means of a noose or otherwise, when Mr Welton, senior, observed that Mr Welton, junior, was hastily tying a rope round his waist.
"Hallo! Jim," he cried, "surely you don't mean to risk your life for a dog?"
"There's no risk about it, father. Why should I leave a poor dog to drown when it will only cost a ducking at the worst? You know I can swim like a cork, and I ain't easily cooled down."
"You shan't do it if I can prevent," cried the mate, rushing at his reckless son.
But Jim was too nimble for him. He ran to the stern of the vessel, leaped on the bulwarks, flung the end of the coil of rope among the men, and shouting, "Hold on taut, boys!" sprang into the sea.
The men did "hold on" most powerfully; they did more, they hauled upon
the rope, hand over hand, to a "Yo-heave-ho!" from Jerry MacGowl, which put to shame the roaring gale, and finally hauled Jim Welton on board with a magnificent Newfoundland dog in his arms, an event which was greeted with three enthusiastic cheers!
In Chapter 10 we learn the name given to the Newf when one character, Billy, asks another character, Dick, what his name is, jokingly referring to him as "Neptune":
"I say, Neptune," he added, looking up into Dick's face, "wot's yer name?"
"It ain't Neptune, anyhow," replied Dick. "That's wot we've called the big black Noofoundland dog you sees over there a-jumping about Jim Welton as if he had falled in love with him."
"Why is it so fond of him?" asked Billy.
Dick replied to this question by relating the incident of the dog's rescue by Jim.
"Neptune" is, by this point in the 19th Century, something of a cliché when it comes to naming Newfoundland dogs — see, for example, Sir Edwin Landseer's 1824 painting of a Newfoundland named "Neptune" (in the "Fine Arts" section of this website).
As Neptune is something of a minor character in this work, it is not possible to present here every reference to the dog. What follows, then, are some of the novel's remarks on Newfoundlands in general.
We get the next reference to Newfoundlands when Jim and Neptune are part of crew getting ready to sail from Calcutta; Jim explains to the ship's surgeon that part of their cargo will be wild animals:
"I wonder when those brutes will be sent off," said the first mate of the ship to the surgeon, who stood on the poop beside him.
"What brutes do you refer to?" asked the surgeon, who was no other than our young friend Stanley Hall.
"Why, the wild beasts, to be sure. Have you not heard that we are to have as passengers on the voyage home two leopards, an elephant, and a rhinoceros?"
"Pleasant company! I wonder what Neptune will say to that?" said Stanley, with a laugh, as he walked forward to ask the opinion of the owner of the said Neptune. "I say, Welton, we are to have an elephant, a rhinoceros, and two leopards, on this voyage."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, what will Neptune say to it?"
"Oh, he won't mind, sir," replied Jim, patting the head of the large
Newfoundland dog with grey paws which stood beside him.
. . . .
"Neptune is a wise dog, sir," continued Jim; "he don't feel much put out by curious company, and is first-rate at taking care of himself. Besides, there is no jealousy in his nature. I suppose he feels that nobody can cut him out when he has once fairly established a friendship. I don't grudge the dive off the bulwarks of the old Gull, when I saved Neptune, I assure you."
"He was worth saving," remarked Stanley, stooping to pat the meek head of the dog.
When the rhinoceros is lost overboard in a storm, Neptune's reaction is the strongest:
Strange to say, the dog Neptune was the only one on board that appeared to mourn the loss of this passenger. He howled a good deal that night in an unusually sad tone, and appeared to court sympathy and caresses more than was his wont from Jim Welton and the young people who were specially attached to him, but he soon became reconciled, alas! to the loss of his crusty friend.
Having survived a shipwreck and other adventures, Neptune is mentioned again near the end of the novel:
"You'll be glad to hear that the old dog Neptune is well and hearty. He is a great favourite here, especially with the children. Billy Towler has taught him a number of tricks — among other things he can dive like a
seal, and has no objection whatever to let little Morley choke him or half punch out his eyes. Tell mother not to be uneasy on that point, for though Neptune has the heart of a lion he has the temper of a lamb.
In Chapter 23, which takes place some years after much of the main part of the novel, an old man approaches an island lighthouse, observing several young children playing outside the lighthouse door, watched over by their mother:
A magnificent black Newfoundland dog, with grey paws and a benignant countenance, couched beside the woman and watched the children at play. He frequently betrayed a desire to join them in their gambols, but either laziness or a sense of his own dignity induced him to sit still.
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