The Crossing [78]
towards the fort we came to a little house with a flower garden in front of it, and there stood Colonel Clark himself by the gate. He stopped us with a motion of his hand.
``Davy,'' said he, ``we are to live here for a while, you and I. What do you think of our headquarters?'' He did not wait for me to reply, but continued, ``Can you suggest any improvement?''
``You will be needing a soldier to be on guard in front, sir,'' said I.
``Ah,'' said the Colonel, ``McChesney is too valuable a man. I am sending him with Captain Bowman to take Cahokia.''
``Would you have Terence, sir?'' I ventured, while Terence grinned. Whereupon Colonel Clark sent him to report to his captain that he was detailed for orderly duty to the commanding officer. And within half an hour he was standing guard in the flower garden, making grimaces at the children in the street. Colonel Clark sat at a table in the little front room, and while two of Monsieur Rocheblave's negroes cooked his dinner, he was busy with a score of visitors, organizing, advising, planning, and commanding. There were disputes to settle now that alarm had subsided, and at noon three excitable gentlemen came in to inform against a certain Monsieur Cerre, merchant and trader, then absent at St. Louis. When at length the Colonel had succeeded in bringing their denunciations to an end and they had departed, he looked at me comically as I stood in the doorway.
``Davy,'' said he, ``all I ask of the good Lord is that He will frighten me incontinently for a month before I die.''
``I think He would find that difficult, sir,'' I answered.
``Then there's no hope for me,'' he answered, laughing, ``for I have observed that fright alone brings a man into a fit spiritual state to enter heaven. What would you say of those slanderers of Monsieur Cerre?''
Not expecting an answer, he dipped his quill into the ink-pot and turned to his papers.
``I should say that they owed Monsieur Cerre money,'' I replied.
The Colonel dropped his quill and stared. As for me, I was puzzled to know why.
``Egad,'' said Colonel Clark, ``most of us get by hard knocks what you seem to have been born with.'' He fell to musing, a worried look coming on his face that was no stranger to me later, and his hand fell heavily on the loose pile of paper before him. ``Davy,'' says he, ``I need a commissary-general.''
``What would that be, sir,'' I asked.
``A John Law, who will make something out of nothing, who will make money out of this blank paper, who will wheedle the Creole traders into believing they are doing us a favor and making their everlasting fortune by advancing us flour and bacon.''
``And doesn't Congress make money, sir?'' I asked.
``That they do, Davy, by the ton,'' he replied, ``and so must we, as the rulers of a great province. For mark me, though the men are happy to-day, in four days they will be grumbling and trying to desert in dozens.''
We were interrupted by a knock at the door, and there stood Terence McCann.
``His riverence!'' he announced, and bowed low as the priest came into the room.
I was bid by Colonel Clark to sit down and dine with them on the good things which Monsieur Rocheblave's cook had prepared. After dinner they went into the little orchard behind the house and sat drinking (in the French fashion) the commandant's precious coffee which had been sent to him from far-away New Orleans. Colonel Clark plied the priest with questions of the French towns under English rule: and Father Gibault, speaking for his simple people, said that the English had led them easily to believe that the Kentuckians were cutthroats.
``Ah, monsieur,'' he said, ``if they but knew you! If they but knew the principles of that government for which you fight, they would renounce the English allegiance, and the whole of this territory would be yours. I know them, from Quebec to Detroit and Michilimackinac and Saint Vincennes. Listen, monsieur,'' he cried, his homely face alight; ``I myself will go to Saint Vincennes for you. I will tell them the
``Davy,'' said he, ``we are to live here for a while, you and I. What do you think of our headquarters?'' He did not wait for me to reply, but continued, ``Can you suggest any improvement?''
``You will be needing a soldier to be on guard in front, sir,'' said I.
``Ah,'' said the Colonel, ``McChesney is too valuable a man. I am sending him with Captain Bowman to take Cahokia.''
``Would you have Terence, sir?'' I ventured, while Terence grinned. Whereupon Colonel Clark sent him to report to his captain that he was detailed for orderly duty to the commanding officer. And within half an hour he was standing guard in the flower garden, making grimaces at the children in the street. Colonel Clark sat at a table in the little front room, and while two of Monsieur Rocheblave's negroes cooked his dinner, he was busy with a score of visitors, organizing, advising, planning, and commanding. There were disputes to settle now that alarm had subsided, and at noon three excitable gentlemen came in to inform against a certain Monsieur Cerre, merchant and trader, then absent at St. Louis. When at length the Colonel had succeeded in bringing their denunciations to an end and they had departed, he looked at me comically as I stood in the doorway.
``Davy,'' said he, ``all I ask of the good Lord is that He will frighten me incontinently for a month before I die.''
``I think He would find that difficult, sir,'' I answered.
``Then there's no hope for me,'' he answered, laughing, ``for I have observed that fright alone brings a man into a fit spiritual state to enter heaven. What would you say of those slanderers of Monsieur Cerre?''
Not expecting an answer, he dipped his quill into the ink-pot and turned to his papers.
``I should say that they owed Monsieur Cerre money,'' I replied.
The Colonel dropped his quill and stared. As for me, I was puzzled to know why.
``Egad,'' said Colonel Clark, ``most of us get by hard knocks what you seem to have been born with.'' He fell to musing, a worried look coming on his face that was no stranger to me later, and his hand fell heavily on the loose pile of paper before him. ``Davy,'' says he, ``I need a commissary-general.''
``What would that be, sir,'' I asked.
``A John Law, who will make something out of nothing, who will make money out of this blank paper, who will wheedle the Creole traders into believing they are doing us a favor and making their everlasting fortune by advancing us flour and bacon.''
``And doesn't Congress make money, sir?'' I asked.
``That they do, Davy, by the ton,'' he replied, ``and so must we, as the rulers of a great province. For mark me, though the men are happy to-day, in four days they will be grumbling and trying to desert in dozens.''
We were interrupted by a knock at the door, and there stood Terence McCann.
``His riverence!'' he announced, and bowed low as the priest came into the room.
I was bid by Colonel Clark to sit down and dine with them on the good things which Monsieur Rocheblave's cook had prepared. After dinner they went into the little orchard behind the house and sat drinking (in the French fashion) the commandant's precious coffee which had been sent to him from far-away New Orleans. Colonel Clark plied the priest with questions of the French towns under English rule: and Father Gibault, speaking for his simple people, said that the English had led them easily to believe that the Kentuckians were cutthroats.
``Ah, monsieur,'' he said, ``if they but knew you! If they but knew the principles of that government for which you fight, they would renounce the English allegiance, and the whole of this territory would be yours. I know them, from Quebec to Detroit and Michilimackinac and Saint Vincennes. Listen, monsieur,'' he cried, his homely face alight; ``I myself will go to Saint Vincennes for you. I will tell them the