CHAPTER X
THE THRESHOLD OF THE WEST
Meriwether Lewis, having put behind him one set of duties, nowaddressed himself to another, and did so with care and thoroughness. Afew of his men, a part of his outfitting, he found already assembledat Harper's Ferry, up the Potomac. Before sunset of the first day thelittle band knew they had a leader.
There was not a knife or a tomahawk of the entire equipment which hehimself did not examine--not a rifle which he himself did notpersonally test. He went over the boxes and bales which had beengathered here, and saw to their arrangement in the transport-wagons.He did all this without bluster or officiousness, but with the quietcare and thoroughness of the natural leader of men.
In two days they were on their way across the Alleghanies. A few daysmore of steady travel sufficed to bring them to Pittsburgh, the headof navigation on the Ohio River, and at that time the American capitalin the upper valley of the West. At Pittsburgh Captain Lewis was tobuild his boats, to complete the details of his equipment, to take onadditional men for his party--now to be officially styled theVolunteers for the Discovery of the West. He lost no time in urgingforward the necessary work.
The young adventurer found this inland town half maritime in its look.Its shores were lined with commerce suited to a seaport. Schooners ofconsiderable tonnage lay at the wharfs, others were building in thebusy shipyards. The destination of these craft obviously was down theMississippi, to the sea. Here were vessels bound for the West Indies,bound for Philadelphia, for New York, for Boston--carrying theproducts of this distant and little-known interior.
As he looked at this commerce of the great West, pondered itslimitations, saw its trend with the down-slant of the perpetualroadway to the sea, there came to the young officer's mind withgreater force certain arguments that had been advanced to him.
He saw that here was the heart of America, realized how natural wasthe insistence of all these hardy Western men upon the free use of theMississippi and its tributaries. He easily could agree with Aaron Burrthat, had the fleet of Napoleon ever sailed from Haiti--had Napoleonever done otherwise than to cede Louisiana to us--then these boatsfrom the Ohio and the Mississippi would at this very moment, perhaps,be carrying armed men down to take New Orleans, as so often they hadthreatened.
There came, however, to his mind not the slightest thought ofalteration in his own plans. With him it was no question of what mighthave been, but of what actually was. The cession by Napoleon had beenmade, and Louisiana was ours. It was time to plot for expeditions,not down the great river, but across it, beyond it, into that greatand unknown country that lay toward the farther sea.
The keen zest of this vast enterprise came to him as a stimulus--thefeel of the new country was as the breath of his nostrils. His bosomswelled with joy as he looked out toward that West which had so longallured him--that West of which he was to be the discoverer. Thecarousing riffraff of the wharfs, the flotsam and jetsam of the rivertrade, were to him but passing phenomena. He shouldered his way amongthem indifferently. He walked with a larger vision before his eyes.
Now, too, he had news--good news, fortunate news, joyous news--noneless than the long-delayed answer of his friend, Captain WilliamClark, to his proposal that he should associate himself with theVolunteers for the Discovery of the West. Misspelled, scrawled, donein the hieroglyphics which marked that remarkable gentleman, WilliamClark's letter carried joy to the heart of Meriwether Lewis. Itcemented one of the most astonishing partnerships ever known amongmen, one of the most beautiful friendships of which history leavesnote. Let us give the strange epistle in Clark's own spelling:
DEAR MERNE:
Yours to hand touching uppon the Expedishon into the Missourie Country, & I send this by special bote up the river to mete you at Pts'brgh, at the Foarks. You convey a moast welcome and appreciated invitation to join you in an Enterprise conjenial to my Every thought and Desire. It will in all likelyhood require at least a year to make the journey out and Return, but although that means certain Sacrifises of a personal sort, I hold such far less than the pleasure to enlist with you, wh. indeed I hold to be my duty allso.
I need not say how content I am to be associated with the man moast of all my acquaintance apt to achieve Success in an undertaking of so difficult and perlous nature. As you know, it is in the wilderness men are moast sevearly tried, and there we know a man. I have seen you so tried, and I Know what you are. I am proud that you apeare to hold me and my own qualities in like confident trust and belief, and I shall hope to merit no alteration in your Judgment.
There is no other man I would go with on such an undertaking, nor consider it seriously, although the concern of my family largely has been with things military and adventurous, and we are not new to life among Savidges. Too well I know the dangers of bad leadership in such affairs, yes and my brother, the General, also, as the story of Detroit and the upper Ohio country could prove. All of that country should have been ours from the first, and only lack of courage lost it so long to us.
You are so kind as to offer me a place equal in command with you--I accept not because of the Rank, which is no moving consideration, eather for you or for me--but because I see in the jenerosity of the man proposing such a division of his own Honors, the best assurance of success.
You will find me at or near the Falls of the Ohio awaiting the arrival of your party, which I taik it will be in early August or the Midel of that month.
Pray convey to Mr. Jefferson my humble and obedient respects, and thanks for this honor wh. I shall endeavor to merit as best lies within my powers.
With all affec'n, I remain,
Your friend,
WM. CLARK.
P. S.--God alone knows how mutch this all may mean to You and me, Merne--WILL.
Clark, then, was to meet him at the Falls of the Ohio, and he, too,counseled haste. Lewis drove his drunken, lazy workmen in theshipyards as hard as he might, week after week, yet found six weekselapsed before at last he was in any wise fitted to set forth. Thedelay fretted him, even though he received word from his chief biddinghim not to grieve over the possible loss of a season in his start, butto do what he might and to possess his soul in patience and inconfidence.
Recruits of proper sort for his purposes did not grow on trees, hefound, but he added a few men to his party now and then, picking themslowly, carefully. One morning, while engaged in his duties ofsupervising the work in progress at the shipyards, he had hisattention attracted to a youth of some seventeen or eighteen years,who stood, cap in hand, at a little distance, apparently too timid toaccost him.
"What is it, my son?" said he. "Did you wish to see me?"
The boy advanced, smiling.
"You do not know me, sir. My name is Shannon--George Shannon. I usedto know you when you were stationed here with the army. I was a boythen."
"You are right--I remember you perfectly. So you are grown into astrapping young man, I see!"
The boy twirled his cap in his hands.
"I want to go along with you, Captain," said he shyly.
"What? You would go with me--do you know what is our journey?"
"No. I only hear that you are going up the Missouri, beyond St. Louis,into new country. They say there are buffalo there, and Indians. 'Tistoo quiet here for me--I want to see the world with you."
The young leader, after his fashion, stood silently regarding theother for a time. An instant served him.
"Very well, George," said he. "If your parents consent, you shall gowith me. Your pay will be such that you can save somewhat, and I trustyou will use it to complete your schooling after your return. Therewill be adventure and a certain honor in our undertaking. If we comeback successful, I am persuaded that our country will not forget us."
And so that matter was completed. Stra
ngely enough, as the futureproved, were the fortunes of these two to intermingle. From the first,Shannon attached himself to his captain almost in the capacity ofpersonal attendant.
At last the great bateau lay ready, launched from the docks and mooredalongside the wharf. Fifty feet long it was, with mast, tholes andwalking-boards for the arduous upstream work. It had received a partof its cargo, and soon all was in readiness to start.
On the evening of that day Lewis sat down to pen a last letter to hischief. He wrote in the little office-room of the inn where he wasstopping, and for a time he did not note the presence of youngShannon, who stood, as usual, silent until his leader might addresshim.
"What, is it, George?" he asked at length, looking up.
"Someone waiting to see you, sir--they are in the parlor. They sentme----"
"They? Who are they?"
"I don't know, sir. She asked me to come for you."
"She. Who is she?"
"I don't know, sir. She spoke to her father. They are in the room justacross the hall, sir."
The face of Meriwether Lewis was pale when presently he opened thedoor leading to the apartment which had been indicated. He knew, orthought he knew, who this must be. But why--why?
The interior was dim. A single lamp of the inefficient sort then inuse served only to lessen the gloom. Presently, however, he sawawaiting him the figure he had anticipated. Yes, it was she herself.Almost his heart stood still.
Theodosia Alston arose from the spot where she sat in the deepershadows, and came forward to him. He met her, his hands outstretched,his pulse leaping eagerly in spite of his reproofs. He dreaded, yetrejoiced.
"Why are you here?" he asked at length.
"My father and I are on a journey down the river to visit Mr.Blennerhasset on his island. You know his castle there?"
"Why is it that you always come to torment me the more? Another dayand I should have been gone!"
"Torment you, sir?"
"You rebuke me properly. I presume I should have courage to meet youalways--to speak with you--to look into your eyes--to take your handsin mine. But I find it hard, terribly hard! Each time it isworse--because each time I must leave you. Why did you not wait oneday?"
She made no reply. He fought for his self-control.
"Mr. Jefferson, how is he?" he demanded at length. "You left himwell?"
"Unchangeable as flint. You said that only the order of your chiefcould change your plans. I sought to gain that order--I went myself tosee Mr. Jefferson, that very day you started. He said that nothingcould alter his faith in you, and that nothing could alter the planyou both had made. He would not call you back. He ordered me not toattempt to do so; but I have broken the President's command. You findit hard! Do you think this is not hard for me also?"
"These are strange words. What is your motive? What is it that youplan? Why should you seek to stop me when I am trying to blot yourface out of my mind? Strange labor is that--to try to forget what Ihold most dear!"
"You shall not leave my face behind you, Captain Lewis!" she saidsuddenly.
"What do you mean, Theodosia? What is it?"
"You shall see me every night under the stars, Meriwether Lewis. Iwill not let you go. I will not relinquish you!"
He turned swiftly toward her, but paused as if caught back by somemighty hand.
"What is it?" he said once more, half in a whisper. "What do you mean?Would you ruin me? Would you see me go to ruin?"
"No! To the contrary, shall I allow you to hasten into the usual ruinof a man? If you go yonder, what will be the fate of Meriwether Lewis?You have spoken beautifully to me at times--you have awakened somefeeling of what images a woman may make in a man's heart. I have beenno more to you than any woman is to any man--the image of a dream.But, that being so beautiful, ought I to allow you to turn it to ruin?Shall I let you go down in savagery? Ah, if I thought I wererelinquishing you to that, this would be a heavy day for me!"
"Can you fancy what all this means to me?" he broke out hoarsely.
"Yes, I can fancy. And what for me? So much my feeling for you hasbeen--oh, call it what you like--admiration, affection, maternaltenderness--I do not know what--but so much have I wished, so muchhave I planned for your future in return for what you have givenme--ah, I do not dare tell you. I could not dare come here if I didnot know that I was never to see or speak to you again. It tears myheart from my bosom that I must say these things to you. I have riskedall my honor in your hands. Is there no reward for that? Is myrecompense to be only your assertion that I torment you, that Itorture you? What! Is there no torture for me as well? The thoughtthat I have done this covertly, secretly--what do you think that costsme?"
"Your secret is absolutely safe with me, Theodosia. No, it is not asecret! We have sworn that neither of us would lay a secret upon theother. I swear that to you once more."
"And yet you upbraid me when I say I cannot give you up to any fatebut that of happiness and success--oh, not with me, for that is beyondus two--it is past forever. But happiness----"
"There are some words that burn deep," he said slowly. "I know that Iwas not made for happiness."
"Does a woman's wish mean nothing to you? Have I no appeal for you?"
Something like a sob was torn from his bosom.
"You can speak thus with me?" he said huskily. "If you cannot leave mehappiness, can you not at least leave me partial peace of mind?"
She stood slightly swaying, silent.
"And you say you will not relinquish me, you will not let me go tothat fate which surely is mine? You say you will not let me be savage?I say I am too nearly savage now. Let me go--let me go yonder into thewilderness, where I may be a gentleman!"
He saw her movement as she turned, heard her sigh.
"Sometimes," she said, "I have thought it worth a woman's life thrownaway that a strong man may succeed. Failure and sacrifice a woman mayoffer--not much more. But it is as my father told me!"
"He told you what?"
"That only chivalry would ever make you forget your duty--that younever could be approached through your weakness, but only through yourstrength, through your honor. I cannot approach you through yourstrength, and I would not approach you through your weakness, even ifI could. No! Wait. Perhaps some day it will all be made clear forboth of us, so that we may understand. Yes, this is torture for usboth!"
He heard the soft rustle of her gown, her light footfall as shepassed; and once more he was alone.