Aileen Aroon, A Memoir

“Well, dear, I had learned to love Nero, and love him well, when I received an appointment to join the flagship at Sheerness. The fact is I had been a whole year on sick leave, and Nero and I had been travelling for the sake of my health. There was hardly a town in England, Ireland, or Scotland we had not visited, and I always managed it so that the dog should occupy the same room as myself. By the end of a twelvemonth, Nero had got to be quite an old and quite a wise traveller. His special duty was to see after the luggage – in other words, Master Nero was baggage-master. When I left a hôtel, my traps were generally taken in a hand-cart or trolly. Close beside the man all the way to the station walked my faithful friend, he himself in all probability carrying a carpet bag, and looking the very quintessence of seriousness and dignified importance. As soon as he saw the porter place the luggage in the van, then back he would come to me, with many a joyous bark and bound, quite regardless of the fact that he sometimes ran against a passenger, and sent him sprawling on the platform.

“When we arrived at our journey’s end, Nero used to be at the luggage van before me. And here is something worth recording: as we usually came out at a door on the opposite side of the train to that at which we had entered, I was apt for a moment or two to forget the position of the luggage van. Nero never made a mistake, so I daresay his scent assisted him. As soon as the luggage was put on the trolly, and the man started with it, the dog went with him, but as the man often went a long way ahead of me, Nero was naturally afraid of losing sight of me; therefore if the porter attempted to turn a corner the dog invariably barked, not angrily, but determinedly, till he stopped. As soon as I came up, then the procession went on again, till we came to another corner, when the man had to stop once more. I remember he pulled a man down, because he would not stop, but he did not otherwise hurt him at all.

“In the train, he either travelled in the same carriage with myself, or in cases where the guard objected to this, I travelled in the van with the dog, so we were not separated.

“If a man is travelling much by train or by steamboat, he need never feel lonely if he has as splendid a dog as the Champion Theodore Nero with him; for the dog makes his master acquaintances.

“When Nero was with me, I could hardly stand for a moment at a street corner or to look in at a shop window without attracting a small crowd. I was never half an hour on the deck of a steamer without some one coming up and saying —

“‘Excuse me, sir, but what a noble-looking dog you have! What breed is he? Pure Newfoundland, doubtless.’

“This would in all probability lead to conversation, and many an acquaintance I have thus formed, which have ripened into friendships that last till this day.

“Well, Ida, when I received my appointment to the flagship, my very first thoughts were about my friend the dog, and with a sad feeling of sinking at my heart, I asked myself the question – ‘Will Nero be permitted to live on board?’ To part with the dear fellow would have been a grief I could not bear to contemplate.

“An answer to the question, however, could not be obtained until I joined my ship, that was certain; so I started.

“It was in the gloaming of a blustering day in early spring that the train in which we travelled, slowly, and after much unseemly delay, rolled rattling into the little station at Sheerness, and after a shoulder-to-shoulder struggle between half a dozen boatmen, who wished to take me, bag and baggage, off somewhere, and the same number of cabbies, who wished to carry me anywhere else, I was lucky enough to get seated in a musty conveyance that smelt like the aroma of wet collie-dogs and stale tobacco, with a slight suspicion of bad beer. Against the windows of this rattletrap beat the cold rain, and the mud flew from the wheels as from a wet swab. Lights were springing up here and there in the street under the busy fingers of a lamp-lighter, who might have been mistaken for a member of the monkey tribe, so nimbly did he glide up and down his skeleton ladder, and hurry along at his task. The wind, too, was doing all in its power to render his work abortive, and the gas-lights burned blue under the blast.

“We were glad when we reached the hotel, but I was gladder still when, on making some inquiries about the ship I was about to join, I was told that the commander was extremely fond of dogs, and that he had two of his own.

“I slept more soundly after that.

“Next day, leaving my friend carefully under lock and key in charge of the worthy proprietor of the Fountain Hotel, I got into uniform, and having hired a shore boat, went off to my ship to report myself. To my joy I found Commander C – to be as kind and jovial a sailor as any one could wish to see and talk to. I was not long before I broached the subject nearest to my heart.

“‘Objection to your dog on board?’ he said, laughing. ‘Bring him, by all means; he won’t kill mine, though, I hope.’

“‘That I’m sure he won’t,’ I replied, feeling as happy as if I had just come into a fortune.

“I went on shore with a light heart, and hugged the dog.

“‘We’re not going to be parted, dear old boy,’ I said. ‘You are going on board with me to-morrow.’

“The evening before my heart was as gloomy as the weather; to-day the sun shone, and my heart was as bright as the sky was blue. Nero and I set out after luncheon to have a look at the town.

“Sheerness on two sides is bounded by the dockyard, which divides it from the sea. Indeed, the dockyard occupies the most comfortable corner, and seems to say to the town, ‘Stand aside; you’re nobody.’ The principal thoroughfare of Sheerness has on one side of it the high, bleak boundary wall, while on the other stands as ragged-looking a line of houses as one could well imagine, putting one in mind of a regiment of militia newly embodied and minus uniform. As you journey from the station, everything reminds you that you are in a naval seaport of the lowest class. Lazy watermen by the dozen loll about the pier-head with their arms, to say nothing of their hands, buried deeply in their breeches-pockets, while every male you meet is either soldier or sailor, dockyard’s man or solemn-looking policeman. Every shop that isn’t a beer-house, is either a general dealer’s, where you can purchase anything nautical, from a sail-needle to sea boots, or an eating house, in the windows of which are temptingly exposed joints of suspiciously red corned-beef, soapy-looking mutton and uninviting pork, and where you are invited to partake of tea and shrimps for ninepence.

“So on the whole the town of Sheerness itself is by no means a very inviting one, nor a very savoury one either.

“But away out beyond the dockyard and over the moat, and Sheerness brightens up a little, and spreads out both to left and right, and you find terraces with trim little gardens and green-painted palings, while instead of the odour of tar and cheese and animal decay, you can breathe the fresh, pure air from over the ocean, and see the green waves come tumbling in and break in soft music on the snowy shingle.

“Here live the benedicts of the flagship. At half-past seven of a fine summer morning you may see them, hurried and hungry, trotting along towards the dockyard, looking as if another hour’s sleep would not have come amiss to them. But once they get on board their ships, how magic-like will be the disappearance of the plump soles, the curried lobster, the corned-beef, and the remains of last night’s pigeon-pie, while the messman can hardly help looking anxious, and the servants run each other down in their hurry to supply the tea and toast!

“Of the country immediately around this town of Sheerness, the principal features are open ditches, slimy and green, evolving an effluvium that keeps the very bees at bay, encircling low flat fields and marshy moors, affording subsistence only to crazy-looking sheep and water rats. The people of Sheerness eat the sheep; I have not been advised as to their eating the rats.

“But, and if you are young, and your muscles are well developed, and your tendo Achillis wiry and strong, then when the summer is in its prime and the sun is brightly shining, shall you leave the odoriferous town and its aguish surroundings, and like ‘Jack of the bean-stalk,’ climb up into a comparative fairyland. At the top of the hill stands the little village of Minster, its romantic old church and ivied tower begirt with the graves of generations long since passed and gone, the very tombstones of which are mouldering to dust. The view from here well repays the labour of climbing the bean-stalk. But leave it behind and journey seaward over the rolling tableland. Rural hamlets; pretty villages; tree-lined lanes and clovery fields with grazing kine – you shall scarcely be tired of such quiet and peaceful scenery when you arrive at the edge of the clayey cliff, with the waves breaking among the boulders on the beach far beneath you, and the sea spreading out towards the horizon a vast plain of rippling green, crowded with ships from every land and clime. Heigho! won’t you be sorry to descend your bean-stalk and re-enter Sheerness once again?

“I do not think, Ida, that ship dogs’ lives are as a rule very happy ones. They get far too little exercise and far too much to eat, so they grow both fat and lazy. But in this particular flagship neither I nor my friend Nero had very much to grumble about. The commander was as good as he looked, and there was not an officer in the ship, nor a man either, that had not a kind word for the dog.

“The great event of the day, as far as Nero and I were concerned, was going on shore in the afternoon for a walk, and a dip in the sea when the weather was warm. Whether the weather was warm or not, Nero always had his bath, for the distance to the shore being hardly half a mile, no sooner had the boat left the vessel’s side than there were cries from some of us officers of the vessel —

“‘Hie over, you dogs, hie over, boys.’

“The first to spring into the sea would be Nero, next went his friend Sambo, and afterwards doggie Daidles. The three black heads in the water put one in mind of seals. Although the retrievers managed to keep well up for some time, gradually the Newfoundland forged ahead, and he was in long before the others, and standing very anxiously gazing seawards to notice how Sambo was getting on; for the currents run fearfully strong there. Daidles always got in second. Of Daidles Nero took not the slightest notice; even had he been drowning he would have made no attempt to save him; but no sooner did Sambo approach the stone steps than with a cry of fond anxiety, the noble Newfoundland used to rush downwards, seize Sambo gently by the neck, and help him out.

“I was coming from the shore one day, when Sambo fell from a port into the sea. Nero at once leapt into the water, and swimming up to his friend, attempted to seize him. The conversation between them seemed to be something like the following —

“Nero: ‘You’re drowning, aren’t you? Let me hold you up.’

“Sambo: ‘Nonsense, Nero, let go my neck; I could keep afloat as long as yourself.’

“Nero: ‘Very well, here goes then; but I must pick something up.’

“So saying, Nero swam after a piece of newspaper, seized that, and swam to the ladder with it; some of the men lent him a helping hand, and up he went.

“The flagship was a tall old line of battle ship; on the starboard side was a broad ladder, on the port merely a ladder of ropes. On stormy days, with a heavy sea on, the starboard ladder probably could not be used, and so the dog had to be lowered into the boat and hoisted up therefrom with a long rope. To make matters more simple and easy for him, one of the men made the dog a broad belt of canvas. To this corset the end of the rope was attached, and away went Nero up or down as the case happened to be.

“Although as gentle by nature as a lamb, Nero would never stand much impudence from another dog without resenting it. When passing through the dockyard one day, we met an immense Saint Bernard, who strutted up to Nero, and at once addressed him in what appeared to me the following strain —

“‘Hullo! Got on shore, have you? I daresay you think yourself a pretty fellow now? But you’re not a bit bigger than I am, and not so handsome. I’ve a good mind to bite you. Yah! you’re only a surgeon’s dog, and my master is captain of the dockyard. Yah!’

“‘Don’t growl at me,’ replied Nero; ‘my master is every bit as good as yours, and a vast deal better, so don’t raise your hair, else I may lose my temper.’

“‘Yah! yah!’ growled the Saint Bernard.

“‘Come on, Nero,’ I cried; ‘don’t get angry, old boy.’

“‘Half a minute, master,’ replied Nero; ‘here is a gentleman that wants to be brought to his bearings.’

“Next moment those two dogs were at it. It was an ugly fight, and some blood was spilled on both sides, but at last Nero was triumphant. He hauled the Saint Bernard under a gun carriage and punished him severely, I being thus powerless to do anything.

“Then Nero came out and shook himself, while the other dog lay beaten and cowed.

“‘I don’t think,’ said Nero to me, ‘that he will boast about his master again in a hurry.’

“Generosity is a part of the Newfoundland dog’s nature. At my father’s village in the far north, called Inverurie, there used to be a large black half-bred dog, that until Nero made an appearance lorded it over all the other dogs in the town. This animal was a bully, and therefore a coward. He had killed more than one dog.

“The very first day that he saw Nero he must needs rush out and attack him. He found himself on his back on the pavement in a few moments. Then came the curious part of the intercourse. Instead of worrying him, Nero simply held him down, and lay quietly on top of him for more than two minutes, during which time he appeared to reason with the cur, who was completely cowed.

“‘I’ll let you up presently,’ Nero said; ‘but you must promise not to attempt to attack me again.’

“‘I promise,’ said the other dog.

“Then, much to the amusement of the little crowd that had collected, Nero very slowly raised himself and walked away. Behold! no sooner had he turned his back than his prostrate foe sprang up and bit him viciously in the leg.

“It was no wonder Nero now lost his temper, or that he shook that black dog as a servant-maid shakes a hearthrug.

“I tried to intervene to save the poor mongrel, but was kept back by the mob.

“‘Let him have it, sir,’ cried one man; ‘he killed S – ’s dog.’

“‘Yes, let him have it,’ cried another; ‘he kills dogs and he kills sheep as well.’

“To his honour be it said, I never saw Nero provoke a fight, but when set upon by a cur he always punished his foe. In two instances he tried to drown his antagonist. A dog at Sheerness attacked him on the beach one day. Nero punished him well, but seeing me coming to the dog’s rescue, he dragged the dog into the sea and lay on him there. I had to wade in and pull Master Nero off by the tail, else the other dog would assuredly have been drowned. I am referring to a large red retriever, lame in one leg, that belonged to the artillery. He had been accidentally blown from a gun and set fire to. That was the cause of his lameness.

“There was a large Newfoundland used to be on the Great Eastern, whose name was ‘Sailor.’ Before Nero’s appearance at Sheerness, he was looked upon as the finest specimen of that kind of dog ever seen. He had to lower his flag to Nero, however.

“They met one morning on the beach at the oyster beds.

“‘Hullo!’ said Sailor, ‘you are the dog that everybody is making such a fuss over. You’re Nero, aren’t you?’

“‘My name is Theodore Nero,’ said my friend, bristling up at the saucy looks of the stranger.

“‘And my name is Sailor, at your service,’ said the other, ‘and I belong to the largest ship in the world. And I don’t think much of you. Yah!’

“‘Good-morning,’ said Nero.

“‘Not so fast,’ cried the other; ‘you’ve got to fight first, but I daresay you’re afraid. Eh! Yah!’

“‘Am I?’ said Nero. ‘We’ll see who is afraid.’

“Next moment the oyster beach was a battle-field. But some sailors coming along, we managed to pull the dogs asunder by the tails. Whenever Sailor saw Nero after this he took to his heels and ran away. But a good dog was Sailor for all that, and a very clever water-dog. He used to jump from the top of the paddle-box of the great ship into the sea – a height, I believe, of about seventy feet.

“Nero’s prowess as a water-dog was well known in Sheerness, and wonderful stories are told about him, even to this day; not all of which are true, any more than the tales of the knights of old are. But some of our marines managed to turn his swimming powers to good account, as the following will testify.

“On days when it was impossible for me to get on shore, I used to send my servant with the dog for a swim and a run. When near the dockyard steps, a great log of wood used to be pitched out of the boat, and Nero sent after it. Anything Nero fetched out of the water he considered his own or his master’s property, which it would be dangerous for any one to meddle with. Well, as soon as he had landed with the log, Nero used to march up the steps, the water flowing behind from his splendid coat, up the steps and through the dockyard; the policemen only stood by marvelling to see a dog carrying such an immense great log of wood. If my servant carried a basket, that would be searched for contraband goods, rum or tobacco.

“Then my servant would pass on, smiling in his own sleeve as the saying is, for no one ever dreamed of searching the dog.”

“Searching the dog!” said Ida, with wondering eyes.

“Yes, dear, the dog was a smuggler, though he did not know it. For that log of wood was a hollow one, and stuffed with tobacco. I did not know of this, of course.”

“How wicked!” said Ida. “Why, Nero, you’ve been a regular pirate of the boundless ocean.”

Chapter Twenty Nine.

The Story of Aileen’s Husband, Nero – Continued

“Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure,And he constantly loved me, although I was poor.”Campbell.

“Do I think that Master Nero knows we are talking about him? Yes, birdie, of that I am quite convinced. Just look at the cunning old rogue lying there pretending to be asleep, but with his ears well forward, and one eye half-open. And Aileen, too, knows there is a bit of biography going on, and that it is all about her well-beloved lord and master.

“But to tell you one-tenth part of all that had happened to Nero, or to me and Nero together, would take far more time than I can spare, dear Ida. I could give you anecdote after anecdote about his bravery, his strength, his nobility of mind, and his wonderful sagacity; but these would not make you love him more than you do.

“And you never can love the faithful fellow half so much as I do. I have been blamed for loving him far too well, and reminded that he is only a dog.

“Only a dog! How much I hate the phrase; and sinful though I know it to be, I can hardly help despising those who make use of it. But of those who do use the expression, there are few, I really believe, who would wonder at me loving that noble fellow so well did they know the sincere friend he has been many a time and oft to me.

“He saved my life – worthless though it may be – he saved the life of another. Tell you the story? It is not a story, but two stories; and though both redound to the extreme wisdom and sagacity and love of the dog, both are far too sad for you to listen to. Some day I may tell them. Perhaps – ”

There was a pause of some minutes here; Ida, who was lying beside the dog, had thrown her arms around his neck, and was fondly hugging him. Aileen came directly to me, sighed as usual, and put her head on my shoulder.

“Love begets love, Ida, and I think it was more than anything else the dog’s extreme affection for me, shown in a thousand little ways, that caused me to take such a strong abiding affection for him. He knew – as he does now – everything I said, and was always willing to forestall my wishes, and do everything in the world to please me.

“When ill one time, during some of our wanderings, and laid up in an out-of-the-way part of the country among strange people, it was a sad anxiety for me to have to tell the dog he must go out by himself and take his necessary ramble, as I was far too ill to leave my bed.

“The poor animal understood me.

“‘Good-bye, master,’ he seemed to say, as he licked my face; ‘I know you are ill, but I won’t stop out long.’

“He was back again in a quarter of an hour, and the same thing occurred every time he was sent by himself; he never stopped more than fifteen minutes.

“Would a human friend have been as careful? Do you not think that there were temptations to be resisted even during that short ramble of his – things he would have liked to have stopped to look at, things he would have liked to have chased? Many a dog, I have no doubt, invited him to stop and play, but the dog’s answer must have been, ‘Nay, nay, not to-day; I have a poor sick master in bed, and I know not what might happen to him in this strange place, and among so many strange people. I must hurry and get home.’

“When he did return, he did so as joyfully and made as much fuss over me as if he had been away for a week.

“‘I didn’t stop long, did I, master?’ he would always say, when he returned.

“But wasn’t he a happy dog when he got me up and out again? Weak enough I was at first, but he never went far away from me, just trotted on and looked about encouragingly and waited. I allowed him to take me where he chose, and I have reason to believe he led me on his own round, the round he had taken all by himself every day for weeks before that.

“‘Nero, old boy,’ I said to him one day, some time after this sickness, ‘come here.’

“The dog got up from his corner, and laid his saucy head on my lap.

“‘I’m all attention, master,’ he said, talking with his bonnie brown eyes.

“‘I don’t believe there are two better Newfoundlands in England than yourself, Nero.’

“‘I don’t believe there is one,’ said Nero.

“‘Don’t be saucy,’ I said.

“‘Didn’t I take a cup at the Crystal Palace?’

“‘Yes, but it was only second prize, old boy.’

“‘True, master, but nearly every one said it ought to have been first. I’m only two years old and little over, and isn’t a second prize at a Crystal Palace show a great honour for a youngster like myself?’

“‘True, Nero, true; and now I’ve something to propose.’

“‘To which,’ said the dog, ‘I am willing to listen.’

“‘Well,’ I said, ‘there are dozens of dog-shows about to take place all over the country. I want a change: suppose we go round. Suppose we constitute ourselves show folk. Eh?’

“‘Capital.’

“‘And you’ll win lots of prize-money, Nero.’

“‘And you’ll spend it, master. Capital again.’

“‘There won’t be much capital left, I expect, doggie, by the time we get back; but we’ll see a bit of England, at all events.’

“So we agreed to start, and so sure of winning with the dog was I that I bought that splendid red patent leather collar that you, Ida, sometimes wear for a waist-belt. The silver clasps on it were empty then, but each time the dog won a prize, the name of the town was engraved on one of the clasps.”

“They are pretty well filled up now,” said Ida.

“Yes, the dog won nineteen first prizes and cups in little over three months, which was very fair for those days. He was then dubbed champion. There was not a Newfoundland dog from Glasgow to Neath that would have cared to have met Nero in the show ring.

“He used to enter the arena, too, with such humour and dash, with his grand black coat floating around him, and the sun glittering on it like moonbeams on a midnight sea. That was how Nero entered the judging ring; he never slunk in, as did some dogs. He just as often as not had a stick in his mouth, and if he hadn’t, he very soon possessed himself of one.

“‘Yes, look at me all over,’ he would say to the judges; ‘there is no picking a fault in me, nor in my master either for that matter. I’m going to win, that’s what I’m here for.’

“But when I was presented with the prize card by the judge, Nero never failed to make him a very pretty bow.