The first record of a dolphin refusing to save a man's life comes from the Barbary Coast, dated 1839, in a young merchant's first-hand account:

...And first-mate Smith begins speaking to the Dolphin, and as the crew is crouched over the edge (but the first-mate on a ladder twenty feet below) we only hear the bare rudiments of conversation. First-mate Smith asks about the location of sunken treasure, to which the Dolphin responds enthusiastically -- splashing, followed by a volley of bizarre noises -- and the deck mob begins cheering, while their head, the second-mate, announces "Here is the Dolphin's treasure, Smith" and, the second-mate being the one of us competent to perform the task, begins urinating on Smith's ladder-bound body.

Smith curses and plunges into the ocean, returning to the ladder when he's sure the second-mate is finished. Now the Dolphin is a frenzy of activity, to which Smith declares the beast has other things in mind. "He wants rum!" Smith yells, urging the men to transfer down a liter, although the second-mate stresses he was always unsure of the difference between rum and piss.

Liter in hand, Smith turns to the Dolphin and begins interrogating it via noises imitative of the various squawks and whimpers emerging from its bobbing skull; and, convinced he's on to something, presents his findings: the Dolphin, it seems, is interested in a game of "Dolphin's Up", which, luckily for the crew, who've been practically swimming in ale since supper, is a drinking game. As the Dolphin, or Smith, rationalizes to us, the game is far more serious: it is to be a contest of man and the sea, two naturally opposing forces. And what better to decide the victor than a victual?

So the glorious challenge is on! The crew sneaks into the Captain's room and emerges moments later with a yawning Captain, who, happily enough, has already been contesting with a spot of rum. He is placed before a table mid-deck, while the Dolphin is provided with a buoyant supply of the snifter twenty feet below, and Smith is prepared to read the rules: Each contestant is to drink as much as they can, and the one who loses will be thrown to the winner, to be eaten.

Thus the game is off! The play unfolding is that of the fearless Captain resolute on his stool emptying bottles into his enormous maw; and the Dolphin swimming noisily round the circumference of the ship, sometimes only visible by the inverted rum bottle placed in its blowhole (as this is the only fitting orifice Smith could find); and the crew gathering admiringly round the Captain and his chance to be finally victorious over the sea.

But he isn't. It seems, aided by Smith, the Dolphin can fit many more bottles of rum in the reservoir beneath its blowhole than can the Captain, and where, half-past two in the morning, the Captain is unconscious mid-deck, the Dolphin is still gleefully skimming the water, much more often now ramming into the ship, perhaps in its undersea tongue boasting that he'd sink the vessel if he could...but Smith, perched on his ladder, is now prepared to name the Dolphin the victor.

Sadly the crew balances the hulking captain over its shoulder and hurls his still body over the edge into the choppy waters, where we're expecting a quite gruesome victory dinner, but instead the man sinks readily into the sea. The Dolphin, still staggering through the water, apparently is too drunk to realize its triumph, or, even if it had the benevolence the Captain surely had, to foreswear its meal and save him...