ON FURLOUGH
A number of soldiers off duty were loitering in front of the barracks,
while a small group of officers occupied chairs on the log porch of
their quarters, enjoying the warmth of the sun. I greeted these as I
passed, conscious that their eyes followed me curiously as I approached
the closed door of the commandant's office. The sentry without brought
his rifle to a salute, but permitted my passage without challenge. A
voice within answered my knock, and I entered, closing the door behind
me. The room was familiar--plain, almost shabbily furnished, the walls
decorated only by the skins of wild beasts, and holding merely a few
rudely constructed chairs and a long pine table. Major Bliss glanced
up at my entrance, with deep-set eyes hidden beneath bushy-gray
eyebrows, his smooth-shaven face appearing almost youthful in contrast
to a wealth of gray hair. A veteran of the old war, and a strict
disciplinarian, inclined to be austere, his smile of welcome gave me
instantly a distinct feeling of relief.
"How long have you been here at Armstrong, Lieutenant?" he questioned,
toying with an official-looking paper in his hands.
"Only about three weeks, sir. I came north on the _Enterprise_, with
dispatches from General Gaines."
"I remember; you belong to the Fifth, and, without orders, I promptly
dragooned you into garrison service." His eyes laughed. "Only sorry I
cannot hold you any longer."
"I do not understand, sir."
"Yet I presume you have learned that the _Wanderer_ stopped here for an
hour last night on its way north to Prairie du Chien?"
"Captain Thockmorton just informed me."
"But you received no mail?"
"No, sir; or, rather, I have not been at the office to inquire. Was
there mail for me?"
"That I do not know; only I have received a communication relating to
you. It seems you have an application pending for a furlough."
"Yes, sir."
"It is my pleasure to inform you that it has been granted--sixty days,
with permission to proceed east. There has been considerable delay
evidently in locating you."
A sudden vision arose before me of my mother's face and of the old home
among the hills as I took the paper from his extended hands and glanced
at the printed and written lines.
"The date is a month ago."
"That need not trouble you, Knox. The furlough begins with this
delivery. However, as I shall require your services as far as St.
Louis, I shall date its acceptance from the time of your arrival there."
"Which is very kind, sir."
"Not at all. You have proven of considerable assistance here, and I
shall part from you with regret. I have letters for Governor Clark of
Missouri, and Governor Reynolds of Illinois; also one to General
Atkinson at Jefferson Barracks, detailing my views on the present
Indian situation. These are confidential, and I hesitate to entrust
them to the regular mail service. I had intended sending them down
river in charge of a non-commissioned officer, but shall now utilize
your services instead--that is, if you are willing to assume their
care?"
"Very gladly, of course."
"I thought as much. Each of these is to be delivered in person.
Captain Thockmorton informs me that he will be prepared to depart
within an hour. You can be ready in that time?"
I smiled.
"In much less. I have little with me but a field kit, sir. It will
not require long to pack that."
"Then return here at the first whistle, and the letters will be ready
for you. That will be all now."
I turned toward the door, but paused irresolutely. The major was
already bent over his task, and writing rapidly.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but as I am still to remain on duty, I presume
I must travel in uniform?"
He glanced up, his eyes quizzical, the pen still grasped in his fingers.
"I could never quite understand the eagerness of young officers to get
into civilian clothing," he confessed reflectively. "Why, I haven't
even had a suit for ten years. However, I can see no necessity for
your proclaiming your identity on the trip down. Indeed, it may prove
the safer course, and technically I presume you may be considered as on
furlough. Travel as you please, Lieutenant, but I suggest it will be
well to wear the uniform of your rank when you deliver the letters. Is
that all?"
"I think of nothing more."
Fifteen minutes sufficed to gather together all my belongings, and
change from blue into gray, and, as I emerged from quarters, the
officers of the garrison flocked about me with words of congratulation
and innumerable questions. Universal envy of my good fortune was
evident, but this assumed no unpleasant form, although much was said to
express their belief in my early return.
"Anyway, you are bound to wish you were back," exclaimed Hartley, the
senior captain, earnestly. "For we are going to be in the thick of it
here in less than a month, unless all signs fail. I was at that last
council, and I tell you that Sac devil means to fight."
"You may be certain I shall be back if he does," I answered. "But the
Major seems to believe that peace is still possible."
"No one really knows what he believes," insisted Hartley soberly.
"Those letters you carry south may contain the truth, but if I was in
command here we would never take the chances we do now. Look at those
stockade gates standing wide open, and only one sentry posted. Ye
gods! who would ever suppose we were just a handful of men in hostile
Indian territory." His voice increased in earnestness, his eyes
sweeping the group of faces. "I've been on this frontier for fourteen
years, and visited in Black Hawk's camp a dozen times. He's a British
Indian, and hates everything American. Ask Forsyth."
"The Indian agent?"
"Yes, he knows. He's already written Governor Reynolds, and I saw the
letter. His word is that Keokuk is powerless to hold back an
explosion; he and the Hawk are open enemies, and with the first advance
of settlers along the Rock River Valley this whole border is going to
be bathed in blood. And look what we've got to fight it with."
"Thockmorton told me," I explained, "that Atkinson is preparing to send
in more troops; he expects to bring a load north with him on his next
trip."
"From Jefferson?"
"Yes; they are concentrating there."
"How many regulars are there?"
"About four hundred from the First and Sixth regiments."
He laughed scornfully.
"I thought so. That means that Atkinson may send two or three hundred
men, half of them recruits, to be scattered between Madison, Armstrong
and Crawford. Say we are lucky enough to get a hundred or a hundred
and fifty of them stationed here. Why, man, there are five hundred
warriors in Black Hawk's camp at this minute, and that is only fifteen
miles away. Within ten days he could rally to him Kickapoos,
Potawatamies and Winnebagoes in sufficient force to crush us like an
eggshell. Why, Gaines ought to be here himself, with a thousand
regulars behind him."
"Surely we can defend Armstrong," broke in a confident voice. "The
savages would have to attack in canoes."
Hartley turned, and confronted the speaker.
"In canoes!" he exclaimed. "Why, may I ask? With three hundred men
here in garrison, how many could we spare to patrol the island? Not a
corporal's guard, if we retained enough to prevent an open assault on
the fort. On any dark night they could land every warrior unknown to
us. The Hawk knows that."
His voice had scarcely ceased when the boat whistle sounded hoarse from
the landing below. Grasping my kit I shook hands all around, and left
them, hastening across the parade to the office. Ten minutes later I
crossed the gangplank, and put foot for the first time on the deck of
the _Warrior_. Evidently the crew had been awaiting my arrival to push
off, for instantly the whistle shrieked again, and immediately after
the boat began to churn its way out into the river current, with bow
pointing down stream. Little groups of officers and enlisted men
gathered high up on the rocky headland to watch us getting under way,
and I lingered beside the rail, waving to them, as the struggling boat
swept down, constantly increasing its speed. Even when the last of
those black spots had vanished in the far distance, the flag on the
high staff remained clearly outlined against the sky, a symbol of
civilization in the midst of that vast savage wilderness. Thockmorton
leaned out from the open window of the pilot house and hailed me.
"Put your dunnage in the third cabin, Knox--here, you, Sam, lay hold
and help."
It was nothing to boast of, that third cabin, being a mere hole,
measuring possibly about four feet by seven, but sufficient for
sleeping quarters, and was reasonably clean. It failed, however, in
attractiveness sufficient to keep me below, and as soon as I had
deposited my bag and indulged in a somewhat captious scrutiny of the
bedding, I very willingly returned to the outside and clambered up a
steep ladder to the upper deck.
The view from this point was a most attractive one. The little steamer
struggled forward through the swift, swirling water, keeping nearly in
the center of the broad stream, the white spray flung high by her
churning wheel and sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine. Lightly
loaded, a mere chip on the mighty current, she seemed to fly like a
bird, impelled not only by the force of her engines, but swept
irresistibly on by the grasp of the waters. We were already skirting
the willow-clad islands, green and dense with foliage to the river's
edge; and beyond these could gain tantalizing glimpses of the mouth of
the Rock, its waters gleaming like silver between grassy banks. The
opposite shore appeared dark and gloomy in comparison, with great
rock-crowned bluffs outlined against the sky, occasionally assuming
grotesque forms, which the boatmen pointed out as familiar landmarks.
Once we narrowly escaped collision with a speeding Indian canoe,
containing two frightened occupants, so intent upon saving themselves
they never even glanced up until we had swept by. Thockmorton laughed
heartily at their desperate struggle in the swell, and several of the
crew ran to the stern to watch the little cockle-shell toss about in
the waves. It was when I turned also, the better to assure myself of
their safety, that I discovered Judge Beaucaire standing close beside
me at the low rail. Our eyes met inquiringly, and he bowed with all
the ceremony of the old school.
"A new passenger on board, I think, sir," and his deep, resonant voice
left a pleasant impression. "You must have joined our company at Fort
Armstrong?"
"Your supposition is correct," I answered, some peculiar constraint
preventing me from referring to my military rank. "My name is Knox,
and I have been about the island for a few weeks. I believe you are
Judge Beaucaire of Missouri?"
He was a splendidly proportioned man, with deep chest, great breadth of
shoulders, and strong individual face, yet bearing unmistakable signs
of dissipation, together with numerous marks of both care and age.
"I feel the honor of your recognition, sir," he said with dignity.
"Knox, I believe you said? Of the Knox family at Cape Girardeau, may I
inquire?"
"No connection to my knowledge; my home was at Wheeling."
"Ah! I have never been so far east; indeed the extent of my travels
along the beautiful Ohio has only been to the Falls. The Beaucaires
were originally from Louisiana."
"You must have been among the earlier settlers of Missouri?"
"Before the Americans came, sir," proudly. "My grandfather arrived at
Beaucaire Landing during the old French regime; but doubtless you know
all this?"
"No, Judge," I answered, recognizing the egotism of the man, but
believing frankness to be the best policy. "This happens to be my
first trip on the upper river, and I merely chanced to know your name
because you had been pointed out to me by Captain Thockmorton. I
understood from him that you represented one of the oldest families in
that section."
"There were but very few here before us," he answered, with undisguised
pride. "Mostly wilderness outcasts, _voyageurs_, _coureurs de bois_;
but my grandfather's grant of land was from the King. Alphonse de
Beaucaire, sir, was the trusted lieutenant of D'Iberville--a soldier,
and a gentleman."
I bowed in acknowledgment the family arrogance of the man interesting
me deeply. So evident was this pride of ancestry that a sudden
suspicion flared into my mind that this might be all the man had
left--this memory of the past.
"The history of those early days is not altogether familiar to me," I
admitted regretfully. "But surely D'Iberville must have ruled in
Louisiana more than one hundred years ago?"
The Judge smiled.
"Quite true. This grant of ours was practically his last official act.
Alphonse de Beaucaire took possession in 1712, one hundred and twenty
years ago, sir. I was myself born at Beaucaire, sixty-eight years ago."
"I should have guessed you as ten years younger. And the estate still
remains in its original grant?"
The smile of condescension deserted his eyes, and his thin lips pressed
tightly together.
"I--I regret not; many of the later years have proven disastrous in the
extreme," he admitted, hesitatingly. "You will pardon me, sir, if I
decline to discuss misfortune. Ah, Monsieur Kirby! I have been
awaiting you. Have you met with this young man who came aboard at Fort
Armstrong? I--I am unable to recall the name."
"Steven Knox."
I felt the firm, strong grip of the other's hand, and looked straight
into his dark eyes. They were like a mask. While, indeed, they seemed
to smile in friendly greeting, they yet remained expressionless, and I
was glad when the gripping fingers released mine. The face into which
I looked was long, firm-jawed, slightly swarthy, a tightly-clipped
black moustache shadowing the upper lip. It was a reckless face, yet
appeared carved from marble.
"Exceedingly pleased to meet you," he said carelessly. "Rather a dull
lot on board--miners, and such cattle. Bound for St. Louis?"
"Yes--and beyond."
"Shall see more of you then. Well, Judge, how do you feel? Carver and
McAfee are waiting for us down below."
The two disappeared together down the ladder, and I was again left
alone in my occupancy of the upper deck.