CHAPTER XII
CAPTAIN WILLIAM CLARK
"Will!"
"Merne!"
The two young men gripped hands as the great bateau swung inshore atthe Point of Rocks on the Kentucky side of the Ohio. They needed notto do more, these two. The face of each told the other what he felt.Their mutual devotion, their generosity and unselfishness, theirunflagging unity of purpose, their perfect manly comradeship--whatwonder so many have called the story of these two more romantic thanromance itself?
"It has been long since we met, Will," said Meriwether Lewis. "I havebeen eating my heart out up at Pittsburgh. I got your letter, and gladenough I was to have it. I had been fearing that I would have to go onalone. Now I feel as if we already had succeeded. I cannot tellyou--but I don't need to try."
"And you, Merne," rejoined William Clark--Captain William Clark, ifyou please, border fighter, leader of men, one of a family of leadersof men, tall, gaunt, red-headed, blue-eyed, smiling, himself asplendid figure of a man--"you, Merne, are a great man now, famousthere in Washington! Mr. Jefferson's right-hand man--we hear of youoften across the mountains. I have been waiting for you here, asanxious as yourself."
"The water is low," complained Lewis, "and a thousand things havedelayed us. Are you ready to start?"
"In ten minutes--in five minutes. I will have my boy York go up andget my rifle and my bags."
"Your brother, General Clark, how is he?"
William Clark shrugged with a smile which had half as much sorrow asmirth in it.
"The truth is, Merne, the general's heart is broken. He thinks thathis country has forgotten him."
"Forgotten him? From Detroit to New Orleans--we owe it all to GeorgeRogers Clark. It was he who opened the river from Pittsburgh to NewOrleans. He'll not need, now, to be an ally of France again. Once morea member of your family will be in at the finding of a vast newcountry!"
"Merne, I've sold my farm. I got ten thousand dollars for myplace--and so I am off with you, not with much of it left in mypockets, but with a clean bill and a good conscience, and some of thefamily debts paid. I care not how far we go, or when we come back. Ithank Mr. Jefferson for taking me on with you. 'Tis the gladdest timein all my life!"
"We are share and share alike, Will," said his friend Lewis, soberly."Tell me, can we get beyond the Mississippi this fall, do you think?"
"Doubtful," said Clark. "The Spanish of the valley are not very wellreconciled to this Louisiana sale, and neither are the French. Theyhave been holding all that country in partnership, each people afraidof the other, and both showing their teeth to us. But I hear thecommission is doing well at St. Louis, and I presume the transfer willbe made this fall or winter. After that they cannot stop us from goingon. Tell me, have you heard anything of Colonel Burr's plan? Therehave come new rumors of the old attempt to separate the West from thegovernment at Washington, and he is said to have agents scattered fromSt. Louis to New Orleans."
He did not note the sudden flush on his friend's face--indeed, gavehim no time to answer, but went on, absorbed in his own executivedetails.
"What sort of men have you in your party, Merne?"
"Only good ones, I think. Young Shannon and an army sergeant by thename of Gass, Patrick Gass--they should be very good men. I brought onCollins from Maryland and Pete Weiser from Pennsylvania, also goodstuff, I think. McNeal, Potts, Gibson--I got those around Carlisle. Weneed more men."
"I have picked out a few here," said Clark. "You know Kentucky breedsexplorers. I have a good blacksmith, Shields, and Bill Bratton isanother blacksmith--either can tinker a gun if need be. Then I haveJohn Coalter, an active, strapping chap, and the two Fields boys, whomI know to be good men; and Charlie Floyd, Nate Pryor, and a couple ofothers--Warner and Whitehouse. We should get the rest at the fortsaround St. Louis. I want to take my boy York along--a negro is alwaysgood-natured under hardship, and a laugh now and then will not hurtany of us."
Lewis nodded assent.
"Your judgment of men is as good as mine, Will. But come, it isSeptember, and the leaves are falling. All my men have the fall huntin their blood--they will start for any place at any moment. Let usmove. Suppose you take the boat on down, and let me go across,horseback, to Kaskaskia. I have some business there, and I will tryfor a few more recruits. We must have fifty men."
"Nothing shall stop us, Merne, and we cannot start too soon. I want tosee fresh grass every night for a year. But you--how can you becontent to punish yourself for so long? For me, I am half Indian; butI expected to have heard long ago that you were married and settleddown as a Virginia squire, raising tobacco and negroes, like anyoneelse. Tell me, how about that old affair of which you once used toconfide to me when we were soldiering together here, years back? 'Twasa fair New York maid, was it not? From what you said I fancied herquite without comparison, in your estimate, at least. Yet here youare, vagabonding out into a country where you may be gone foryears--or never come back at all, for all we know. Have a care,man--pretty girls do not wait!"
As he spoke, so strange a look passed over his friend's face thatWilliam Clark swiftly put out a hand.
"What is it, Merne? Pardon me! Did she--not wait?"
His companion looked at him gravely.
"She married, something like three years ago. She is the wife of Mr.Alston, a wealthy planter of the Carolinas, a friend of her father anda man of station. A good marriage for her--for him--for both."
The sadness of his face spoke more than his words to his warmestfriend, and left them both silent for a time. William Clark ceasedbreaking bark between his fingers and flipping away the pieces.
"Well, in my own case," said he at length, "I have no ties to cut.'Tis as well--we shall have no faces of women to trouble us on ourtrails out yonder. They don't belong there, Merne--the ways of thetrappers are best. But we must not talk too much of this," he added."I'll see you yet well settled down as a Virginia squire--your whitehair hanging down on your shoulders and a score of grandchildren aboutyour knees to hamper you."
William Clark meant well--his friend knew that; so now he smiled, ortried to smile.
"Merne," the red-headed one went on, throwing an arm across hisfriend's shoulders, "pass over this affair--cut it out of your heart.Believe me, believe me, the friendship of men is the only one thatlasts. We two have eaten from the same pannikin, slept under the samebear-robe before now--we still may do so. And look at the adventuresbefore us!"
"You are a boy, Will," said Meriwether Lewis, actually smiling now,"and I am glad you are and always will be; because, Will, I never wasa boy--I was born old. But now," he added sharply, as he rose, "apleasant journey to us both--and the longer the better!"