"Behold this Ohio city of the Gauls. Volney's ruins of modern
date--new oldness--fresh decay--dilapidation to begin with! I am
proud of this consummation of American enterprise!"
This irony was uttered by Burr to Arlington as the two men stood
taking a first look at Gallipolis, a poor village, consisting of a
dozen miserable log houses patched with clay and occupied by a score
of wretched French families. The travellers had walked up a steep bank
to the natural terrace on which the forlorn dwellings stood.
"Shall we go back to our boat? Have you seen enough of Palmyra? Here
are the palaces, but where are the citizens? _Ecce Homo!_ One
inhabitant turns out to receive us."
The person to whom Arlington's attention was thus called was a small,
nervous gentleman, about sixty years old, who came forth from a
whitewashed cot, and, taking off a scarlet cap, saluted the strangers,
whom he had eagerly watched from the moment of their landing.
"Pardon, messieurs. Permit that I speak. May it be convenient should
one passenger more be accommodated in your polite boat? I much wish to
go to Cincinnati, for one of my business very special. I have courage
to ask ze bold favor by my necessity professional to come to _mon
frère_."
"Ours is a private boat. Do you say it is to meet a brother that you
wish to go to Cincinnati?"
The old man's countenance fell. "Monsieur, accept my apology. Permit
me to speak my explanation. _Pardieu_, I deceive not. When I speak I
shall not indicate ze son of my mother, but I shall indicate ze
brother in medicine, Monsieur Goforth, ze physician _celèbre_.
Pardon. Pardon that I detain you so long."
Disappointed, the old man turned toward his modest domicile, at the
door of which stood a petite maiden awaiting the issue of the
interview. Immediately descrying the damsel, Burr remarked aside to
Arlington:
"Another alluring petticoat. Tree nymphs or naiads haunt every island
and green bank."
"Père," asked the girl anxiously, in a gentle voice, so clear that
every word she spoke reached the ear of Burr, "may you go with them?"
The father shook his head.
"_Non, chérie_."
He went up to his daughter, who impulsively kissed him, as if to
solace his disappointment. He seemed about to enter the cottage, when,
like one suddenly recollecting a neglected duty, he wheeled round and
again approached the strangers.
"Do me ze honor, messieurs, before you depart to enter in my poor
dwelling and drink with me one glass of wine."
An invitation so naïvely extended could not be declined. Burr felt a
kindly impulse toward the cordial sire and was not averse to wasting a
few stray glances on mademoiselle.
"It will give us great pleasure to accept your hospitality and also to
have your company as our guest on the boat. There is room, and you
shall be accommodated."
The doctor's spirits rose. His face shone with gratification.
"Your courtesy lift my heart. I shall never forsake to do you ze
friendly service. Is it convenient now that we present us. I am your
servant, Eloy Deville."
Having imparted his own name, the flighty Frenchman waited not for the
completion of the ceremony he had proposed, but, taking on trust the
respectability of the strangers, he hastily led the way to his
cottage. Burr noticed that he was attired in a tight-fitting suit of
brown cloth, clean and well pressed but threadbare and redeemed from
shabbiness only by the stitch in time. The feminine apparition
vanished from the threshold as the travellers approached, but the
father, ushering them in, placed chairs beside a small table, and
called out cheerily: "_Lucrèce, ma chère enfant une bouteille de
vin_." The girl promptly obeyed by carrying in a salver on which were
a flask and three tiny wine-glasses. She glided to the table upon
which she set her light burden, keeping her head demurely bowed and
her eyes cast down bashfully.
"Messieurs, permit that I you present my daughter, my _aide
chirurgeon_." Thus introduced, Lucrèce, raising her head, bestowed a
modest smile of welcome on her father's guests and divided between
them a coy courtesy.
She could not elude the pardonable glances cast upon her by the
strangers--glances which left in their memories the form and face of
a dainty brunette with large and very brilliant black eyes. Her waist
was slender, her hands and feet were nimble and delicate, and her
dress fitted her so neatly that she looked the personation of
trimness.
"This wine is not original of Ohio. No, no. Ze cask was from Bordeaux,
very old, very old--he has fourteen years. Presented to me by my
countryman, Comte Malartie. I speak ze truth. From this very cask I
have ze honor to drink also ze health of ze General St. Clair, and at
one time of Daniel Boone. _Eh bien!_ Long have I suffer in this
wilderness; it is fifteen years that Eloy Deville was ze fool to leave
France, to leave my native Lyons, and seek ze Terre promise--to find
ze tree of natural sugar, ze plants also with wax candles for ze
fruit, ze no work, no tax, no war, no king--ze paradise on ze ground!
_Oui_, sold I not all my property--take ze ship, take ze wagon, ze
flatboat--_en route pour Gallipolis!_ Ah! _mon dieu!_ ze damn fever
kill _ma femme_; you see ze old Frenchman in ze poverty; _voilà sa
richesse! une cabane, un verre de vin--et ma bien aimée--ma
pauvre fille--ma Lucrèce!_"
To justify his grievance, the excited man sprang up and ran to a
drawer, from which he took an old French map of the Seven Ranges of
the Ohio, representing as cleared and inhabited lands large tracts of
unbroken wilderness. This chart had been used by speculators to induce
French families to migrate to the Ohio Valley.
"See!" continued Deville explosively; "ze scoundrel Barlow cheat my
honest poor friends--he print here no veracity--he draw here only to
deceive! Look on this place I put my finger"--he tapped the paper
angrily--"you see ze Premiereville--ze Premiereville? Eh? I come to
Premiereville--no street--no house, only ze forest tree! Messieurs,
my little axe make ze first log in ze city, in Premiereville, where we
drink now this wine."
The doctor's preparations for the trip down the river were quickly
made. Half the population of the village, led by Lucrèce, flocked to
the boat-landing to see him safely off. After the passengers had gone
on board, and while the damsel stood waiting their departure, Burke
Pierce, leering in her direction, threw her a kiss and as the boat was
pushed off began to sing a ribald song. Deville did not witness the
insult, but Arlington, with quick anger kindling his chivalrous blood,
strode up to Pierce.
"You ought to be flogged, you filthy cur."
The boatman scowled and clenched his fists, but did not attempt to
strike the imperious Southerner.
"Cur? I'll remember that!" he muttered, and swaggered away. "I'm a
dog, a filthy cur! But I'll have my day!" he growled to Sheldrake.
The loquacity of the French doctor seemed accelerated by the motion of
the boat and the breezy freedom of its deck. Unlike most of his Gallic
brethren who left their native land to come to America in 1790, he was
in sympathy with the Revolution, and had rejoiced at the falling of
the Bastile. By chance a copy of the Marseillaise Hymn had reached
him, and snatches of this he would sing, keeping time to the music
with his own springing steps as he marched up and down. The cry of
"_Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité_," often broke from his lips. When
Burr opened to him part of the plausible scheme against Mexico he
eagerly volunteered to join any expedition gotten up in the name of
freedom. He proffered his services as surgeon, and asked with amusing
simplicity what would be the emoluments.
"_Sacré!_" exclaimed he. "_Il faut vivre!_ Let us destroy ze
Spaniard. _Vive l'amérique! Vive le Général Bur-r-r! Vive Eloy
Deville!_"
The tedious passage from Gallipolis to Cincinnati required almost a
week's time. On the last day of the voyage, soon after breakfast,
while Burr and Deville were enjoying the morning sunshine and
discussing the French Revolution, Arlington heard a knock on the door
of his room, in which he sat writing a letter.
"Come in," he shouted, hurrying to pen down the sentence that was in
his mind. The door opened, and Burke Pierce thrust his head and
shoulders into the room. Arlington glanced up from his writing and saw
a flushed face and a pair of bloodshot eyes.
"You know what you called me up at Gallipolis?"
"Yes--dog."
"I'm a dog, eh? a filthy cur?"
The Virginian made an impatient gesture and dipped his quill into the
ink. The drunken boatman after a moment's pause said:
"I want you out here in the kitchen."
Arlington paid no attention to the insolent speech, but went on with
his letter writing.
Pierce, without closing the door, stepped back into the narrow
quarters in which Sheldrake did the cooking, and a minute later
reappeared with two long butcher knives, which he flung down on the
table, in front of Arlington.
"Take your choice."
Arlington picked up both the ugly weapons, one in each hand, and
stepping to a window, tossed them out into the river. The contemptuous
act raised the fury of the captain to the point of frenzy; he seized a
stick of firewood and rushed forward. Arlington parried the stroke,
closed in, and grappled his assailant. The noise of the scuffle
brought to the place Sheldrake and others of the crew. Summoning all
his strength, Arlington hurled Pierce backward over a chair with such
violence that the ruffian, falling on his head, was rendered
senseless. The Southerner stood on the defensive, expecting to be
attacked by the others, as he would have been, had not Burr strode
into the room, followed by the French doctor. The colonel's sudden
appearance on the scene prevented further turbulent demonstrations.
The three passengers repaired to the deck, leaving the drunken captain
to be revived by his faithful henchman, Sheldrake.
Arlington in few words told how he had been challenged, not stating
any cause for Burke Pierce's animosity.
"Wanted to butcher you without provocation! Has the fellow gone mad?"
"Mad from drink."
"This fellow's bellicose propensity," said Burr, "must be punished. I
shall have him arrested by the first magistrate I can find."
"Not on my account, colonel. He'll sober off. Your unctuous agent in
Pittsburg allowed that when cap is drunk he's vicious."
"_Sacré!_" burst in the doctor, "not always a gentleman shall be able
to observe formality in a quarrel with ze savage. I who tell it you
was one time attack on this very river by three red devil in ze canoe.
See here, ze scar on my head! Ze wild gentlemen make no ceremony--he
yell, and he shall right away take ze scalp with his knife. _Pardieu!_
By good chance I shoot ze one impolite Iroquoix--and ze two, his
second, paddle away!"
"We must beat our swords and pistols into scalping-knives and
bludgeons," remarked Burr, banteringly. "The code of honor is not
observed by Indians or Western boatmen. Mr. Arlington, you may be
compelled to adapt yourself to the customs of the country."