In August 1873, a Northumberland shepherd made his way from the Cheviots to the Cleveland Hills in North Yorkshire, with a beautiful drove of white lambs. Accompanied by his faithful collie, they crossed the Tyne at Shields by steam ferry. On arrival, the lambs sniffed the unfamiliar air of a manufacturing town. Suddenly, surrounded by a cloud of dense black smoke, their frolicking came to a sudden halt. This was a new world, this was not home! The lambs made their escape! The streets were suddenly filled with bleating fluffy clouds on legs dashing in all directions. The collie pursued the lambs the best it could, bounding and running, turning and driving. It finally got them all into one flock and brought them to the presence of his master. At the first count it appeared one of the flock was missing and the shepherd raised a cry in the collie’s ear. Away he ran to find the missing lamb but in his absence, the drove was actually found to be complete.
By the time the autumn sun had set the shepherd still had four miles to go before resting his weary charge. The dog was nowhere in sight. He has searched the town for the supposed missing lamb and had returned late at night to the ferry in search of his master. Men came and went and the dog checked each in turn but the shepherd did not appear. Weak and hungry, he finally settled down for the night.
The collie lingered around the same spot for days, weeks then months refusing comfort, growling at consolation and setting his teeth at the kindest efforts to win him from his despair. He seemed to have a notion that any interest in his welfare, whether it be generous sympathy or substantial food, was almost like a bribe to induce him to forget his former life and enter the service of a new friend. For a full six months his independent spirit scorned all patronage. Offerings of food were laid his way but often he prefered to seek out scraps on the shore and provide for himself.
The lonely canine became known as Wandering Willie. Night and day he began to travel on the ferry searching for his master. One night the poor beast was thrown overboard when the tide was high. He strove against death and by some miracle he survived the waves!! He was seen a week later, resuming his search. The Shepherd returned the following autumn having heard of the dog’s long lonely wanderings but sadly missed him and could not recover him on that journey.
Willie was frequently taken home by friendly butchers and farmers as he had awakened the widest sympathy by his devotion. However, in a week or two, he would break away from their care to renew his solitary life. When the close of 1874 drew near, there was a general doubt that he would survive the winter. His frame was slight and he had been reduced to a ‘ruckle of bones’. Luckily the dog began to respond to the kindness shown by people and gradually his glossy black coat returned and the ring around his neck was restored to white. He was even seen to finally wag his tail! Food was accepted more readily with expressions of gratitude. He did not however lighten his labours and pursued them with added energy and zeal. His daily and nightly wanderings in search of his old friend went forward as earnestly as ever.
Willie became known far and wide and people both rich and poor would try to feed him. He became gloriously fat and very possessive; he began to growl at every dog that crossed on the ferry. On reaching land he claimed the right of being ‘first man out’ and would bark furiously as a proclamation that he had brought all the passengers safely over the water. This he did for several years. Local street children would join Willie, but, sadly, this resulted in such commotion that the poor dog and his ragamuffin comrades were banished from the locality of the landing place.
After his banishment, Willie was often still seen on the streets of Shields with Ralph the local Ferryman. Blindness and infirmities quickly gathered upon him and at last in 1880, old age ended his wanderings. To commemorate the animal’s fidelity, Ralph had Willie stuffed and mounted and placed behind glass in the Turk’s Head pub in Tynemouth.
