Trail by Louis Charbonneau

Author:Louis Charbonneau [Charbonneau, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-625670-83-0
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part Four

To The Rocky Mountains

This little fleet altho’ not quite so rispectable as those of Columbus or Capt. Cook, were still viewed by us with as much pleasure as those deservedly famed adventurers ever beheld theirs; and I dare say with quite as much anxiety for their safety and preservation.

—MERIWETHER LEWIS, April 7, 1805

Chapter 23

As the Discovery edged out into the Missouri River, Corporal Richard Warfington, standing in the bow of the barge, self-consciously saluted his two captains on the riverbank. Warfington’s feelings were as crowded as the deck on which he stood. Part of him was excited by the prospect of returning to St. Louis in charge of the keelboat; the other part felt the wrench of separation from his companions of the past year, fellow soldiers now bound for even greater adventure.

With Warfington were two of the French engagés, five of the six soldiers he had had in his original detachment (the sixth, Robert Frazier, had enlisted in the permanent party), and John Newman and Moses Reed, who were being sent back. The trader Joseph Gravelines was also aboard, having been employed by Meriwether Lewis as pilot for the keelboat, with the added charge of taking one or more of the Arikara chiefs to St. Louis and arranging for their visit to the Great Father in Washington.

The men who now made up the permanent party of the Corps of Discovery were already in their boats. At the moment the barge pushed out into the current, William Clark bellowed his own order. “Cast off, lads! Westward it is!”

The little flotilla, consisting of the two pirogues that had come up the Missouri River from Camp Wood and six newly crafted canoes, started upriver against the familiar drag of the current. The river was so wide at this point—during the winter William Clark had paced it off at 500 yards walking across the ice—that the buffalo-robed natives on the far bank were faceless puppets.

Fretful over his lack of sufficient exercise, Meriwether Lewis walked along the bank with Seaman. The men in the boats watched them until they were out of sight. The soldiers took an unvoiced pride in the sight—the captain with his brisk, muscular stride, the black dog loping easily at his heels; the one a commander each soldier would unhesitatingly trust with his life, the other a friendly companion to each of them.

In the eyes of the detachment both Lewis and Clark had amply proven their mettle. They had led the way up the Missouri, conquering every obstacle. They had bested the truculent Sioux. They had dealt in fair and friendly fashion with the Otos, the Arikaras, the Mandans and Minitarees. They had directed the building of the fort, which had seen their men safely through the harsh winter. At each stage the men’s confidence in their leaders had grown and with it their belief in themselves and the destiny of their expedition.

In addition to the two commanders, the permanent party included three sergeants—Ordway, Pryor, and Gass—and twenty-three privates.

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