October, 1803
Captain Lewis and his flotilla left Cincinnati for Clarksville, situated two hours farther down river, on its north bank. When Clarksville came into view, it was little more than a few log cabins on a wooded hill—but across the river, Louisville appeared to be a sizable town, spread out over many acres with a busy riverside landing where more than a dozen flatboats were unloading goods. As his flotilla tied up below Clarksville, Lewis directed Corporal Warfington to set up camp. Then he took off, climbing the steep path to the cluster of log cabins atop a high bluff.
The cool October air was bracing. Leaves were already beginning to cover the ground and a musty scent brought back memories of his Virginia home. In his mind’s eye he saw the autumn beauty of familiar scenes of home and the fall activity of his family – the customary giant black kettle of apples cooking over a fire in the yard behind the summer kitchen, the sweet aroma of apple butter enveloping the house and grounds. He shook off the fleeting wave of nostalgia as he completed the climb. Two smiling men emerged from the largest cabin shouting their welcome.
“Meriwether! Welcome to Clarksville, my friend!”
“Hello, Clark!” Lewis yelled back at them. “I’m so glad to see you again,” he said as the red-haired William Clark enthusiastically wrapped Lewis in a bear hug. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are joining me for this expedition.”
“Nothing could keep me from this mission except your refusal to take me.” Clark stepped back, motioning to the older man. “Meet my brother, General George Rogers Clark. George, this is my old friend, Meriwether Lewis.”
“I’ve heard and read much about you, General Clark,” Lewis smiled, extending his hand. The famous general, who had led the Kentucky militia in securing the northwest wilderness during the Revolutionary War, shook hands heartily with Lewis.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” the elder Clark said. “Come inside where we can talk.”
Lewis noted that the famous man, deeply tanned and weathered, was showing a good amount of gray. William and George Rogers Clark had been born in Virginia to a family of the lesser gentry who had migrated to Kentucky when William was a teenager. George was the eldest and William was the ninth of ten children in the respected family. William had grown to adulthood across the river near Louisville.
As a fire danced and crackled in the huge fireplace, the three men—one a proven hero and the other two potential heroes—dined and drank together amiably through the afternoon and evening. Excitement and joy at the prospect of the adventure before the two younger men ran through the questions and answers they had for each other. They also discussed the old days when the two younger men had served together under General “Mad” Anthony Wayne.
“There is something I’ve been wondering about, Meriwether,” William Clark said. “How did you become President Jefferson’s secretary? An army officer seems a curious choice for such a position.”
“Our families were neighbors in Virginia most of my life and we knew each other well. The President knew I had traveled extensively as an army paymaster as far as St. Louis, making me familiar with the organization and operation of the army. He needed a man with a good knowledge of the army because Congress was considering reducing its size, and my insights might prove valuable in deciding whom he should retain. There’s also no doubt that I was in the right place at the right time.”
“Did you live at the President’s House in Washington or at Monticello?”
“During the past two years I have been living in the President’s House—and I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed meeting all the famous men who gathered around our dinner table. In such respected company I became quite the polished gentleman, believe it or not.” Lewis smiled broadly and chuckled.
The two brothers were fascinated. “What kinds of things did they talk about?”
“Being such intelligent men with such varied experiences, they discussed natural science, geography, philosophy, Indian affairs, literature, history, music—all of this besides politics. It was quite an education for me! During those two years I was also able to read much of President Jefferson’s personal library, from which I learned much about botany, geography, mineralogy, and ethnology. On top of that, he arranged for me to study things like medicine, navigation, and engineering under the tutelage of professors at the University of Pennsylvania—all excellent preparation for our exploration of the West.”
“Tell me how you envision our expedition, Meriwether.” William said.
“We’ll be crossing territory belonging to the United States until we reach the Continental Divide in the Rocky Mountains, but we’ll be outside of the United States from there to the Pacific Ocean. The President envisions our country eventually stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean.”
“Really!” General Clark said, surprised. “That’s a very ambitious goal! Spain might have something to say about that. Maybe the Indian nations, too. Of course, the unwritten code—the Right of Discovery—might give us claim to the Northwest if you make it all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back.”
“Is that the real purpose of the journey?” William asked.
“The primary purpose is to follow the Missouri River west until, hopefully, it reaches the Columbia River. The President wants to know whether there is a water route that can accommodate commerce stretching from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean. He wants an accurate map, which I know is a particular talent of my red-haired friend here,” Lewis said, slapping William’s knee. “President Jefferson has many purposes. He wants to combine scientific, agricultural, and commercial information with the geographical data we gather. He’s interested in mineral deposits, soil conditions, climate, and trade possibilities with the Indians. He wants us to record the names of the tribes as well as their languages, traditions, living conditions, laws, medicines, and customs.”
“You have a great challenge before you,” the old general said. “A truly enormous responsibility has fallen on your shoulders. But I know of no better men to handle that responsibility than the two of you.” The two younger men smiled their appreciation.
Lewis leaned toward Clark and remarked, “We’ll need cheerful, stout-hearted, physically fit men—men who get along well with each other and can withstand the extreme rigors of living outdoors in the natural elements for as long as two years.”
“I think I have found some good men,” Clark said. “Charles Floyd and Nathaniel Pryor are cousins, and both are men of character and ability who will make good sergeants, at least in my opinion. William Bratton is a blacksmith and gunsmith, which will be handy skills to have along. George Gibson is a fine hunter and also plays the violin, a good diversion to have along during the journey. George Shannon is only eighteen years old, but he is a very good hunter and they tell me he is also a good singer, which should go well with the violin, and the men will need entertainment. John Shields, at thirty-five, is considerably older than the rest, but he is also a blacksmith, a gunsmith, a boat builder, and an excellent repairman—overall, a nearly indispensable man to have along on such a journey as we are undertaking. Joseph Whitehouse is a hide curer and a tailor, which I suspect will be very handy skills on a long wilderness journey. Alexander Willard is another blacksmith and gunsmith, as well as a good hunter. They are all woodsmen, easy to get along with, and hale, hearty, healthy men.
“The word is out along the river,” Clark continued. “I’ve been deluged with other men wanting to go along. I’m sure there will be no shortage of candidates to choose from. They feel that this will be the ultimate adventure for our country, and they are also hoping that Congress will give land grants to the men who complete the journey—just as the Revolutionary War veterans received. And, of course, I’ll be taking my slave, York.”
George Rogers Clark put another log on the fire as the two younger men continued planning and sharing goals for their expedition. Giant red sparks flew up the chimney and into the blackness outside. The general served bowls of venison stew which had been simmering in an iron kettle over the fireplace, piquing their appetites for hours with its aroma. Lewis thought of his men bedding down near the river and knew he was fortunate to be dry and warm in the Clark home. The cabin was sparsely furnished but adequate, with its table and chairs, shelves holding necessities, and cots with woolen blankets.
Lewis and Clark spent the next ten days in the area assembling their team and tons of equipment for the western expedition. They would leave as soon as possible.