November, 1803
As the Lewis and Clark flotilla approached Fort Massac, a U.S. Army base on the Illinois bank of the Ohio River, Lewis signaled all the boats to pull in to shore. The November weather was nippy as the men jumped into the cold water to tie up the boats and Seaman raced ashore, sniffing at and inspecting everything. Lewis introduced himself to the fort commander, showing him the orders from President Jefferson to recruit volunteers from soldiers.
“Let’s see if anyone is in the mood to volunteer for such an important journey,” the commander said. “I suspect there’ll be no shortage. You know how soldiers tire of garrison duty.” He called the men to assemble, and Lewis addressed them.
“We are embarking on an expedition to explore the Louisiana Territory. We need hardy volunteers who can withstand the extreme rigors of life in the wild. The journey will probably take two years. It will be adventurous, but it will also be hard work and will no doubt include peril. If you are interested, we will consider you.”
Many in the garrison volunteered, but only one man, a civilian, had the recommendation of the commanding officer. George Drouillard was an expert hunter, scout, and Indian translator, the son of a French-Canadian father and a Shawnee mother. He was an expert in Indian culture and languages, as well as being fluent in French and English. Most importantly, he was a master of the sign language used by Indian tribes to communicate with each other—a critical skill for this journey. In his late twenties, with dark hair and complexion, Drouillard was intelligent, skilled in all he did, physically fit, slightly over six feet tall, and ramrod straight—a fine specimen of a man.
“We’re delighted to have you join our party,” Captain Lewis told Drouillard. “I look forward to making this journey with you,” he replied, gripping Lewis’s hand.
The party stayed at Fort Massaic only long enough for Lewis to take the latitude and longitude of the site as practice of the skill he had been taught at the University of Pennsylvania, a skill he would constantly use in the unmapped wilderness ahead. He then compared his numbers with the known figures for the area. They were correct, and Lewis felt like a student who had just passed a test.
The following day, the party reached the juncture of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, both swirling with mud from recent fall rains. Despite the muddy waters, Corporal Warfington brought cheers from the men when his fishing line landed the biggest fish any of them had ever seen: a catfish four feet long, ten inches wide, and weighing one hundred and twenty pounds. That fish fed all the men that evening.
Now that Captain Clark had joined the party as co-commander, Lewis often walked on shore as they continued toward St. Louis, Seaman always bounding at his side, a welcome companion. Lewis took every opportunity to practice his knowledge of botany.
As the expedition steered into the Mississippi River, the captains were shocked at the force of the moving water. The current was far greater that they had ever experienced. Rushing water, eddies, swirls, floating logs and other debris presented new challenges.
“We’re going to have to have more men to deal with this current, Meriwether,” Clark said.
“Yes, maybe twice as many as we have now. We can get them at Fort Kaskaskia, but that’s another fifty miles. Meanwhile, we must keep all the men alert so we don’t lose any of our supplies to this dangerous current.”
“Yes, and more men means more supplies. We can get them in St. Louis.”
Both men kept a watchful eye on their boats and floating obstacles as they progressed. Finally, after several treacherous days on the roiling river, they reached Kaskaskia, sixty miles south of St. Louis. The fort commander, a grizzled career officer with a short graying beard, introduced himself.
“Captain Leonard Dawson at your service,” he said, raising a tanned, calloused hand in salute.
“Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Maybe you have already heard of our mission to explore the Louisiana Territory. We need more men to help us with our boats against the current of the Mississippi River.” Lewis showed him the presidential order for recruitment.
A sizeable group of volunteers stepped forward when the request for volunteers was made, and the two commanders selected many men. Most would return to the fort with the keelboat after wintering next year with the expedition near the Mandan Indian villages on the Missouri River. The best of these men, however, would go all the way to the Pacific Ocean as key members of the expedition. Private Patrick Gass, a Pennsylvanian of Irish descent with the valuable skills of a carpenter, boatbuilder, and woodsman, was one. Sergeant John Ordway, an educated man who kept the fort’s official records and performed other important bookkeeping duties, would prove his value to the expedition. Private Silas Goodrich was an expert fisherman, and Francois Labiche, half French and half Omaha Indian, was an experienced tracker, hunter, and boatman. Captains Lewis and Clark were pleased with these men and all the others added to their crew.
The flotilla set out at sunrise on December 1 with a frigid wind blowing up-river. Their first stop would be at the village of Bellefontaine in the Illinois Territory. As the boats pulled near the small dock, curious villagers came to the riverbank.
“Is there a Mr. Walden here?” Lewis called.
“I am Jesse Walden,” a small, middle-aged man said, stepping forward. “But your provisions haven’t yet arrived. They were due here yesterday. I’m sorry!”
Lewis grimaced with disappointment and addressed his crew. “We have to wait for them. We can’t go on without them. Let’s set up camp, men.” It proved to be only a one-day delay, but the men were glad for even a brief rest from the oars and the dangers of the river. As the flotilla set out again, a hard, cold wind blew against them until mid-morning, when it suddenly reversed and enabled them to sail.
Finally, on a blustery and snowy day, they arrived at St. Louis, the westernmost major settlement in the United States. Built on a bluff above a flood plain, St. Louis had been settled forty years before and now had a population of about one thousand people.
“Clark, I’m going to stay here to order the extra supplies we need and find out what I can about the Missouri River and what’s ahead for us with the Indians. Maybe I can find a local trapper or trader who is familiar with the area and the Indians. You take the men and boats on ahead and start building a fort where we can spend the winter.”
The men were disappointed to miss St. Louis with its bawdy ladies and whiskey mills they had heard so much about, but they grumbled only among themselves.
After Clark and the expedition left, Captain Lewis looked up the town mayor, whose office was in an unpainted clapboard house on the main street. The mayor was working at his desk.
“I’m Captain Meriwether Lewis,” he said. “I’m co-commander of a U.S. Army expedition sent to explore the Louisiana Territory. I wonder if you know of any trappers or traders who have been up the Missouri River and can advise me.”
The mayor, a rotund, friendly man in his early forties named Rupert Gillette, beamed as he shook Lewis’s hand. “I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Captain. I heard you were coming. Sit down and let’s drink a toast to your mission.” He took out a bottle and two glasses from a drawer of his desk and poured them a drink. “I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren that I shook the hand of the man who explored the Louisiana Territory.”
Lewis smiled and said, “As of right now, we have explored only the Ohio River, which didn’t need exploring. But once we turn up the Missouri, we will be in new territory and need all the help we can get from people who have been up that way.”
They touched glasses in salute and sipped the contents.
“You might look up Blaize Gaston,” the mayor suggested. “He’s a French trapper who has spent some time in that area. He lived with the Indians a couple of years and has an Indian squaw. You’ll most likely find him at Twilliger’s Tavern at this time of day.”
Lewis located Twilliger’s Tavern and Blaize Gaston, a seasoned, serious frontiersman in his thirties. The tavern was a log shack with two rooms, one for customers in the front and one for supplies in the back. Lewis introduced himself and his mission.
“Can you tell me about conditions up the Missouri and about the disposition of the Indians?” Lewis asked.
Gaston paused, the flames in the big fireplace nearby reflecting in his dark eyes. “The Indians are all right except for the Sioux farther on up the river. They are as mean as rattlesnakes, and they’ll take half of what you got just to let you pass through their part of the river.” He was clearly a straightforward, no-nonsense individual, which made him an ideal source for the kind of information Lewis needed.
“How many Sioux are there?”
“Hundreds,” came the prompt reply.
“What about the other tribes?”
“All friendly except the Sioux.”
“Thank you for the information, Gaston,” Lewis said at the end of their conversation, rising from his chair. “I appreciate your candor.” The men shook hands and Lewis left the tavern.
Large snowflakes were falling as Lewis walked toward the general store on the opposite side of the street. It was late afternoon and darkness would be coming on soon. He ordered the additional supplies needed for the thirty more men they had acquired for the expedition. Lewis also decided to buy four blunderbusses and a one-pounder cannon that could be mounted on a swivel in the keelboat, just in case they had to fight their way through the Sioux territory. The shopkeeper needed a few hours to gather his order, so Lewis rented a bed in the back room of the store for the night. Before he slept, he wrote a report to President Jefferson about the progress of the expedition to this point.
Dear Mr. President,
We have arrived in St. Louis, and Captain Clark and the expedition have gone on up the Mississippi River a ways to start building a fort where we will spend the winter. I have stayed behind in St. Louis to talk with as many people as possible who have knowledge of the Missouri River area. Because of the tremendous current of the Mississippi, we have had to double the size of the expedition until we reach the Mandan Indian villages. I have learned that we are very likely to have trouble with the Sioux Indians on the Upper Missouri River; therefore, I have purchased a one-pounder cannon and a swivel base to mount it on just in case, but I hope we do not have to use it. In order to be as prepared as possible, I have also purchased four blunderbusses should we be forced to fight. I have learned that the other Indian tribes are friendly. You will hear from me again when we reach the Mandan villages next fall.
Your Obedient Servant,
Meriwether Lewis,
Captain, U.S. Army