Snowbound and Eclipse (56 page)

“What is the absolute minimum you need?” I asked.

“Two thousand dollars for the purchase of gifts, beads, metal items, knives, awls.”

“Two thousand dollars!”

He nodded. But I knew the crafty Spaniard. He probably wanted five hundred and knew how to turn the screws.

I was weary of being importuned for money. Half the people entering my office begged money from the government.

“What exactly would you spend it on?” I asked.

Lisa shrugged. “You have told us many times what the Corps of Discovery needed and lacked. I would follow your wisdom, Your Excellency.”

Blue beads.

I nodded. At my desk I lifted a quill, sharpened the point with my blade, and dipped it into the inkpot. I scratched out a voucher on the United States Treasury, on the account of the secretary of war, for one thousand five hundred dollars, payable to Pierre Chouteau because I didn't trust Lisa, to be employed in the purchase of public gifts to be given to the tribes as needed to insure their allegiance. I spilled ink on two occasions, my hand being unruly these days for some reason, blotted up the ink spots, and handed it to Lisa.

“Wait,” I said. “I want to inform Will Clark of this.”

I penned a second note for Will, letting him know I was adding trade items from the public purse to foster amity and help preserve the company's passage.

“Give this to the general, please.”

Lisa took the note, nodded, and smiled. Was it slyly? Had he gulled me? Was this the crafty Spaniard's way of enlarging the profit at the expense of the public purse?

I exhaled, and watched him go. He didn't linger about for social amenities, and I wondered if the Spaniard was a friend of anyone, or loyal to anything other than himself.

I made a notation to put the draft on record. Bates would cause more trouble. I felt unwell, and settled into my chair, my mind climbing the skies like a hawk.

Oh, to go with them! Oh, to walk those golden prairies, and see the eagles own the sky! Oh, to be young and strong and filled with life again! Oh, to dream great dreams!

Secretary Bates sprang upon me moments after I arrived at my office, and he was in a wrathy mood. I had scarcely hung my cape over the antler coatrack in the corner and opened the casements to let in some April breezes when he burst in, fires glittering in those milkstone eyes.

“General, sir, I have come for a
confidential
talk about certain matters pertaining to the lawful governance of the territory!” he exclaimed.

I said nothing and made no assurances about confidentiality. I have made it a lifetime habit to listen attentively, and keep my counsel, by which means I get along with all manner of men, and even a man so fiddle-strung as Secretary Bates.

I could tell at a glance that he had rehearsed this moment all night, and perhaps for days.

I gestured him to a seat, but he declined, preferring to pace about like an advocate before the bar, making his case with a multitude of theatrical gestures and postures.

“I know, General, that you are a
close
companion of the governor, the partner in a long journey, and therefore my views are likely to be instantly dismissed. But I am
compelled by the
law
and
justice
and
propriety
to make the case before the only other official in the territory whose conduct
influences
the affairs of Upper Louisiana.”

I nodded. This was going to take some time. Bates often talked like that, using twice the words he needed to. He paced again, his hands clasped behind him, his kinked dark hair drawn tight into a disciplined queue without a strand out of place. I wondered how a man of such unruly feeling could rule his hair with such total sovereignty.

“By appointing you his agent in his absence, in the matter of the St. Louis Missouri Fur Company, General, he violates the law. The code is explicit. The territorial secretary shall act as governor in the absence of the governor. He is
wilfully and wantonly
offending the government, offending me, and insulting me by demonstrating his lack of confidence in me.”

I thought it would be this. I had hoped he would let it pass.

I said nothing, as was my wont, but nodded.

“This is a dangerous and unlawful precedent,” he said. “I have written Secretary Eustis about it, intending that the authorities should know at once. I fear, General, that the tides that will wash over the governor will wash against your shore, also.”

“I see,” I said.

He took that for encouragement. “The man is behaving in a most improper manner. He signs warrants for any
small
expense, expecting Washington to pay. Why, sir, without any authority he had a public notice translated into the French and printed in French, though there is no provision for it. I sent it along to the treasury secretary as directed, but
over my protest
.”

I wanted to tell Bates that if some official matter is made public in Louisiana it must be made so in two tongues and
the government must shoulder the cost. But I get more from listening than I do from debating, so I simply nodded.

Bates stopped pacing suddenly, and faced me. “All this will come down upon his head. I will make sure of it. He cannot govern improperly without the eyes of
responsible
men observing his misconduct and taking the necessary steps.”

He was proclaiming he was the tattletale, which interested me. I nodded.

“He borrows money right and left, General. From you, I know, from Chouteau, even from
me.
Why, he had the audacity to press me for twenty dollars a day or two ago, knowing that a mere
servant
and
underling
cannot refuse his governor, and so I lent it. I have eyes and ears in this town, sir, and I get wind of how he spends all this money. It is upon draughts and pills.”

He leaned close, his air confidential. “I happen to know that he consumes large numbers of one-gram pills of opium. One gram! Several times daily. It is a frightful habit. Where will it end? In madness? Do you know what that does to his judgment? He is falling into grievous error, General, because his mind is clouded by
opium.
”

I hadn't known it was so bad, but I suspected it was true. Bates had an amazing intelligence network feeding him dirt. I wondered what he knew about me, or thought he knew.

I nodded.

He liked my attentiveness; it encouraged him. “And that's not all, General. He doses himself with cinchona, calomel, and other powders. But it is not for the ague or intermittent fever. Not for bilious fever. Not for consumption. Have you seen his gums, General? Blue! The
Mark of Cain.
”

I knew what he was talking about.

I hadn't noticed, and the accusation worried me. Perhaps I had been too close to Meriwether to see him clearly. Then again, maybe Bates was merely imagining things. I had not seen any such mark of mercury poisoning upon the governor. But it was possible. He had borrowed, he said, to pay medical bills.

“Mark my words, General. The time of protection, when our heroic governor was
untouchable
because he was harbored in the esteem of a president, has passed. Now he will be scrutinized with care and integrity, and by men who are less impressed with Meriwether Lewis than he is impressed with himself.”

That was the unkindest cut but I wanted to let Bates run with his indictment. I was learning fast.

He continued in that vein a while more, and when he finally wound down I knew that Lewis had a genuine enemy in Bates, a man who itched to depose the governor and rule the territory himself. I felt certain also that Bates could do considerable damage to Lewis with those letters; that Bates did have a certain punctilio about the law on his side, and that his sort of songs would find receptive ears among a certain class of lesser clerks in the warrens of the government.

“Well?” said Bates, having emptied himself.

“Mr. Bates, I would like to offer my good offices toward reconciling you and the governor,” I said.

“No, you will only take the governor's part,” he retorted.

“I will follow my own counsel, I assure you. It is an offer set before you. Perhaps I can help you work out some common ground.”

“I do not wish to share any ground with that cur, that dog,” Bates said. “Look at me! I am here
complaining
! Yes,
complaining
about another mortal, and thus demeaning myself before your very eyes. You know what the world thinks of complainers! But I have no recourse, sir. I must complain
because that is the only avenue open to me, even though it besmirches me to speak so ill of another.”

“What do you want of me?” I asked.

“I came to warn you that you are under scrutiny as well, sir. And that you might properly distance yourself from the governor.”

I grinned. “Mr. Lewis is my friend and I hope you can be also, Mr. Bates. You are a skillful man and needed here.”

He puffed up. “I should hope so,” he said. “I mean no man harm who has done me none.”

That's how it ended. Like a steam kettle breathing its last vapor into the atmosphere. I saw him off, and settled into my chair, running over the accusations and threats, and finding little in them but wind. Still, a man wrapped in such passion could be nettlesome, and I resolved to brace Meriwether about Bates, as I had several times in the past.

The danger lay in Bates's objections to various expenditures, including those for the St. Louis Missouri Fur Company for the delivery of Big White safely home. I resolved then and there that I must head for Washington before the travel season ended, and talk to Eustis and the president myself. If money was the bone of contention, then I would contend about it.

I settled back in my desk chair, remembering Captain Lewis of the Corps of Discovery. He had been occasionally severe, especially in the way he meted out punishment for military infractions. And yet, no man of the corps, not the lowest private, had grounds to loathe Lewis, and in fact he inspired in them a great devotion and a yearning to excel.

Without Meriwether's skills in dealing with our men the corps might have faltered; might even have died, to the last man. They loved him, love him still. They admired him in the field, and admire him still. He has seen to their back pay, their pensions, their honors, their retirement, their medical
needs. He nursed them through desperate times and brought them safely home, as only a great man will.

He preferred to walk the banks of the rivers while the rest of us poled or rowed or pulled ourselves upstream. He walked in perfect grace, his lithe footsteps keeping pace with us, even though he took the time to examine every plant and animal that caught his eye. His great mind is what mesmerized us all. There was something grand in everything he did, as if he could see over horizons, anticipate the next crisis or triumph. He had no Frederick Bates along to whittle him down.

I have little stomach for politics, for backbiting, for the snares some men lay to trip others. I debated there, in the April sun, while breezes wafted across my desk and rattled my papers, whether even to bring this latest bout of Bates distemper to Meriwether.

Blue gums. I didn't believe it. The Mark of Cain was not upon Governor Lewis. But next time I saw him, I would see for myself. It was something I had to know.

Dover's powder helps. I take one-gram tablets and find they clarify the mind and help me to see keenly into the mysteries of the world. The powder not only sweeps away confusions so that I see all of life with burning clarity, but produces a fine sweat that keeps my occasional fever under control. In spite of the great burdens of office, I find I can proceed calmly and even with some degree of
equanimity. I am able even to cope with Frederick Bates day by day.

I have a standing order with the apothecary, Marcel Rolland, to fill my phial once a fortnight, and I require him to keep some back so that the governor might be supplied as needed. The supply of Dover's powder from New Orleans is tenuous and seasonal. He is admirable in his eagerness to serve me. The powder has an unfortunate tendency to bind me, but Rush's Thunderclappers never fail to relieve my distress, and I count the calomel in them as a good weapon against the fevers that afflict me more and more. My ague is more severe than most, and often leaves me weak and dehydrated.

The St. Louis Missouri Fur Company is engaged in a last-minute frenzy to set off for the high Missouri, and I have turned most of my energies to making sure the partners are well equipped and ready for anything. Big White at last is going home, and the Mandan chief's eyes light up at the prospect. He struts the levee, a dandy now in black frock coat, red shirt, beaver hat, blackened boots, and white breeches, along with his bedizened wife and son, his shrewd savage eye upon the river men loading the keelboats for the great haul into the wilds. I shall be relieved to get him back to his home; nothing burdens me more.

I would love to be present when he regales his brethren in the Mandan villages about what he saw here and in Virginia and in Washington. I hope he is up to it; if not, I fear they will think him a big liar. Toward the end of making him credible to his people, I have showered gifts upon him, all of them calculated to display the magic of the white man. He grins broadly at each item; the compass, the book, the various weapons, the silks, and all the rest.

Some advance elements of the company have already
started up the river; most of the rest must be under way this Wednesday, May 17, 1809, or forfeit three thousand dollars to the government. My contract sets severe penalties for nonperformance, which is one reason I am mystified at the criticism of it by know-nothings. Lisa will follow with the last of the supplies.

Pierre Chouteau came to me recently and asked for more cash for trade goods; there simply were not enough wares to meet the British competition's generous disbursements. Nor enough powder. Word has come downriver that the Sioux and Arikara are determined to stop the company.