Captain Lewis's Dog
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the watermelons, which they soon discovered were sweet as candy. They gave them gifts in return and suggested a meeting. The Otos and Missouris agreed.
As Lewis and Clark approached the fire the next morning, the Native American leaders stood, talking loudly and gesturing in the dog's direction.
Seaman, who was standing close to Lewis's side, growled in response, a low rumble of warning deep in his chest.
“What are they saying?” Clark asked.
“If I had to guess,” Lewis replied, “I think they're talking about my dog. I suspect they've never seen anything quite like Seaman before.”
Once they were all sitting around the fire, Lewis learned that he was right. In fact, the interpreter explained that the Native Americans admired the dog greatly, and were willing to trade many beaver pelts for him.
“He's not for sale,” Lewis said bluntly. “We have other items they might like instead. But if they want, they're welcome to look him over when we're done.”
After the meeting, the Native Americans gathered around Seaman. They inspected his fangs and fur, lifted his ears and tail, and checked his paws, occasionally exclaiming loudly and nodding with admiration towards Lewis.
Seaman didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed all the attention, wagging his tail and wiggling, and finally flopping down on his back so they could scratch his chest.
“That's an unusual dog,” Clark remarked dryly. He was still not convinced that bringing a dog along on their trip was the right thing to do. “I was afraid he was going to snap off a finger or two when he first saw them.”
“Not, Seaman,” Lewis said with a shake of his head. “Despite the way he was treated, he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. In fact, before this trip is over I suspect he's going to make a wonderful canine ambassador for the United States of America.”
Clark glanced over at his friend, and when he saw that he was serious, he threw back his head and laughed. “We'll see how long that dog lasts,” he said. “We've a long way to go.”
Encounters with various tribes now became more common. The group also came across vast herds of buffalo for the first time, thousands and thousands of them that stretched as far as they could see. When the herds moved, they sounded like thunder. They also saw signs of grizzly bear, an animal the Native Americans treated with so much respect they referred to it as a fellow warrior.
Seaman rarely seemed to sleep anymore. He was invigorated by the night air, filled with strange scents and smells. While the men slept, and a few guards kept watch, he would patrol the perimeter of the camp. His loud barking was often the first alarm that danger was nearby.
One night, he did more than just bark.
As the camp slept, a huge, ill-tempered male buffalo swam across the river. It came out of the shallows, water streaming from its sharp horns and shaggy beard. Then the breeze shifted, and it picked up the scent of the men on the bank up above. Instantly, it was enraged and charged up the slope, directly towards the camp.
At the last moment, a guard saw the shadow of a massive animal, head down, barreling towards a line of men asleep on the ground. He yelled out in terror, firing his rifle in the air at the same time.
The sharp crack of the rifle caused the bull to change direction slightly. But now it was heading like a runaway freight wagon directly towards Lewis's tent.
It was just a few feet away when Seaman leaped out of the darkness, barking furiously and nipping at the buffalo's hide.
Surprised by the sudden attack, the buffalo changed direction again. It brushed by Lewis's tent, and then charged into the night, crashing through the undergrowth with Seaman continuing to bark and chase after it.
The camp was left in an uproar. Within moments, all the men were crowded near the fire, shouting at once, gesturing with their rifles.
“What was it?” Lewis asked as he stepped into the circle of light.
Right about then Seaman came padding back into the camp. He trotted directly up to Lewis, panting happily.
“That there dog of yours, Captain, I'd say he saved your life,” one of the men remarked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why that creature was barrel'n right for your tent. If not for Seaman, well, we might be tend'n injuries or worse instead of congratulatin' ourselves on a close escape.”
“Well then, I suppose we'd best make sure we keep this darn dog around,” Lewis said loudly, “despite what Captain Clark seems to think about him.” He winked in Clark's direction across the fire. Clark nodded and smiled in response.
“Three cheers for Seaman,” someone cried out.
“Hip, Hip.”
“Hooray!”
“Hip, Hip.”
“Hooray!”
“Hip, Hip.”
“HOORAY!”
Of course, that wasn't last of Seaman's many adventures. Along with the rest of the explorers, he made it across the mountains, all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back again. It was a journey no dog had ever done before.
The End
More about Seaman
Although Captain's Lewis's Dog is fiction, parts of the story are based on actual events. Months before the Lewis and Clark Expedition set out from St. Charles on May 21st, 1804, Captain Meriwether Lewis purchased a black Newfoundland dog for $20. Although an extraordinary amount for that time, Lewis must have seen something exceptional in the dog he named, Seaman.
When the explorers began encountering Native American tribes, Lewis was surprised by the reception Seaman received. Although they had small dogs of their own, the Native Americans had never seen a dog that looked like Seaman. His thick black coat, and large size, made him seem more like a cousin to the grizzly bear, than a dog.
During the journey, when Lewis hiked away from the main party to make scientific observations of the flora, fauna, and geography; Seaman was often his only companion.
One night, the expedition's camp was charged by an angry buffalo. It was only Seaman's quick action, barking and nipping at the buffalo's side that prevented it from trampling over Captain Lewis's tent. At the time, Lewis was sleeping unaware inside.
About the Author
MICHAEL WENBERG lives just up the road from the Point No Point lighthouse on Washington State’s Puget Sound. In addition to working in technology, he’s the former CEO of the Walla Walla Symphony. He enjoys backpacking, hiking and kayaking the waters of Puget Sound with his wife, Sandy, and their dog, Gracie. Michael’s nickname when he was six-years-old was “Mickey.”
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You can find Wenberg online at www.michaelwenberg.com, or contact him at michaelcwenberg@hotmail.com.