Captain Lewis’s Dog
An Anytime story of Early America
by Michael Wenberg
Copyright 2011 Michael C. Wenberg
Smashwords Edition
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Captain Lewis’s Dog
An Anytime tale of Early America
by Michael Wenberg
I don't have time for this,” Captain Meriwether Lewis muttered to himself, as he came to a sudden halt in the middle of the muddy street.
It was still months before Lewis, his partner, Captain Clark, and their small band of explorers would begin a journey that would take them up the Missouri River, across the mountains, all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back again.
But they wouldn't be going anywhere next spring if Lewis couldn't convince that lazy, good-for-nothing boat builder to finish his keelboat.
And before he could do that, he had to get to the boatyard. A crowd up ahead was blocking his way.
“Not just dog,” came a loud boast from the center of the crowd, “but part dog and part bear. Meaner'n a mountain lion. Stronger'n a bull. This critter ain’t never lost a fight. Never!”
As Lewis listened to the words, a rare smile crossed his face. For two years, he had been planning for everything the expedition might need, from flour and salt, to buttons and sewing needles. A dog was something he hadn't even considered.
Until now.
Curious, Lewis moved closer. But as soon as he glimpsed the dog his smile was replaced by an angry scowl.
It was a huge animal all right, the size of a small bear and just as black. But it was in sorry shape, so weary and beaten down its nose and tail nearly touched the dirt. Its thick fur was ragged, and Lewis could see red welts across its back where it had been slashed and cut in dogfights, or worse, from beatings by its owner.
“Newfoundland,” Lewis roared suddenly.
“What did you say?” said a man in a dirty red vest, who was holding a thick rope that was attached to the dog's rough leather collar.
“Newfoundland,” Lewis repeated in a hard voice. “A wonderful breed of dog. But that is all. Just dog. If anything is part bear, I daresay it is you, my filthy, hairy, mistaken, friend. . .”
At Lewis's words, the crowd began to laugh and jeer. The man reached up to scratch the dirty beard that covered most of his face. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped, looked the tall, lean, buckskin clad man in front of him up and down, and then began to sputter, “Why you. . .you. . .”
“Captain Meriwether Lewis, at your service.”
“The scoundrel’s trying to cheat us,” came a growl at Lewis's shoulder, “I say he's. . .”
“. . . leaving Pittsburgh,” Lewis interrupted smoothly. “But before he goes, he's going to sell me that dog. How much do you want?”
“I don't know. . .” said the man slowly, licking his lips and glancing rat-like at the faces surrounding him. “I love this, er, dog, like it was part'a me own family. . .”
“How much?” There was a hint of steel in Lewis's voice.
“Fifty dollars gold,” mumbled the man.
There were gasps from the crowd. Fifty dollars was a lot of money, as much as someone might earn after months and months of hard work. No dog was worth that much.
“Here's twenty,” Lewis said, stuffing the coin into the man's vest pocket and then taking the end of the rope from him without bothering to ask. “And if I were you,” Lewis whispered in the man's ear, “I'd take off before this bunch decides to teach you a lesson.”
Lewis didn't wait around to see what would happen next. “Come on, boy,” he said, tugging the rope gently. “Let's get you back to camp.”
At the sound of Lewis's voice, the Newfoundland lifted his head and looked up at his new owner with calm, proud eyes.
So you aren't at death's door after all? Lewis thought to himself. Good.
He reached down and scratched the Newfoundland behind the ear. To his surprise, the dog began to wag his tail. That was enough to bring the smile back to Lewis's face.
For the first few days, Lewis paid close attention to the dog. In between errands, buying supplies, writing letters, and hounding the man building the keelboat, he kept the dog's wounds coated with a clean salve, and his food dish filled with a meaty stew.
His attention was soon rewarded. Within the week, the Newfoundland looked like a completely different dog. He’d gained weight, his wounds were healing nicely, and his coat was beginning to shine like black velvet.
That's when Lewis began taking him along on his errands around town. It was clear from the first that someone had once trained the dog well. He responded instantly to Lewis's commands - sit, stay, down, heel - and was so obedient that Lewis never had to tie him up.
The only thing missing was a name.
That was solved during Lewis's final inspection of the keelboat. He watched the big, black Newfoundland scamper aboard the boat like an experienced sailor. He climbed all the way to the highest point, and then stood, nose in the air, calmly surveying his surroundings.
“That there's a natural seaman, if I've ever seen one,” remarked one of the boat builders.
“That's it!” Lewis exclaimed. “My dog needed a name. And you've just found the perfect one for him. My thanks, sir. Come here, boy, come here Seaman.”
The Newfoundland's brown eyes snapped to the sound of Lewis's voice. He jumped off the roof of the boat, leaped over the side, and a moment later, slid to a stop at by Lewis's side, panting happily.
“Good dog, Seaman,” Lewis said, roughing the dog's thick coat. “How do you like your new name?”
Seaman began to wiggle and bark loudly.
“I'd take that for a yep,” the worker said with a laugh.
The rest of the summer of 1803 continued at a busy pace for Lewis and Seaman. They had become an inseparable pair, a common sight around the dusty streets and alleyways of Pittsburgh.
When the keelboat was finally loaded with supplies, Lewis, Seaman, and a hired crew, floated it down the Ohio River to the Mississippi, and then rowed it up the Mississippi to where the Missouri joined in. That's where they met Captain Clark and the rest of their growing band of explorers. Their expedition to explore the west would start here the following spring.
It was soon fall, and then winter, but Lewis barely noticed the changing seasons. There were always more supplies, equipment and trading goods to buy, a hundred things to do to every day to keep him busy.
When the days finally began to warm and lengthen, Lewis’s growing excitement was contagious. Sometimes, during walks along the river with Lewis, Seaman could barely contain himself, racing after birds and scaring squirrels and other animals out of the bright green grass.
Finally, in the early morning of May 22nd, 1804, with a band of pink mist thick over the mirror-like surface of the Missouri, and the cool air filled with the cries of ten thousand birds, the expedition's journey began.
One well-loaded keelboat, and two large canoes pushed off from shore. Altogether, the party consisted of 46 men, and four horses, and, of course, Captain Lewis's dog, the big, black Newfoundland named Seaman.
After a few days, the explorers fell into a routine that was to last for most of their journey. Under the command of Captain Clark, some of the men poled, paddled, and rowed the boats upstream. Three or four of the best hunters ranged ahead of the boats, hunting for game. Lewis and Seaman usually went off alone, roaming the riverbanks and far inland.
Lewis was the only member of the expedition with scientific training. But often, while he was off with Seaman, making careful observations of the plants, animals and birds, he would take time to hunt. He was delighted when Seaman turned out to be an excellent hunting partner.
Of course, he had learned during the trip down the Ohio about Seaman's ability to capture squirrels. Roasted over an open fire, Lewis didn't think there was anything tastier than a cooked squirrel. He now discovered that the big Newfoundland could help bring down antelope and deer, as well. Between the regular hunting party, and Lewis and Seaman, the explorers were kept well stocked with meat.
Before long, the expedition was far beyond the last outpost, pushing deep into a land unmarked by roads or buildings, filled with birds and animals and lush with trees and grass. Weeks went by without the party seeing anyone else. If it weren't for the clouds of mosquitoes that tormented everyone, including Seaman, it would have been a paradise.
In early August, they met their first Native Americans. Some Otos and a few Missouris walked into the camp just as the sun dipped below the horizon. They brought with them a welcome gift, something the members of the expedition had never seen or tasted before: watermelons.
Lewis and Clark thanked their visitors for 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.”
Discover other books by Michael Wenberg
Oops (Smashwords ebook, 2011), Melba’s Slide Trombone (Tubby the Forgotten Tugboat, (Smashwords ebook, 2011), Stringz (a young adult novel published by Westside Books, 2010), Seattle Blues (a young adult novel published by Westside Books, 2009), Elizabeth’s Song (a picture book illustrated by Cornelius Van Wright, and published Beyond Words Publishing, 2002).
Connect with Michael Wenberg online
You can find Wenberg online at www.michaelwenberg.com, or contact him at michaelcwenberg@hotmail.com.