Civilization in the Wilderness
A Tale of Adventure on the American Frontier
Read Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, and Eight.
Chapter Nine
Morale was low in the days following the river crossing. The only thing that kept their spirits up – or at least some of their spirits up – was their remaining supply of whiskey, which had been in Daniel’s pack, and thus had missed being swept downstream.
It rained heavily in those days and they made slower progress. The ground became very muddy. Robert grew tired of waking to the dampness, to the streaked gray skies, to the sodden blankets. He grew tired of the trudging with soaked boots, the wet hair sliding into his eyes, the shivers he experienced despite the warmth of summer.
After four days, the rain stopped. The ground dried and hardened. They spoke little in those rainy days, but now that the sun was out again the mood in the company lightened. Even the captain spoke liberally, chatting with Sagamore as they walked ahead of the other two. He called a longer halt in the middle of the day, and they enjoyed the last of the food they’d brought from Kentucky. They’d been so successful hunting recently that nobody gave this much thought. Sagamore and the captain could find berries and edible roots with relative ease, and even Robert could hunt up some wild fruit or some grasses that tasted alright when boiled in a stew.
Even with the longer halt, they made good time that day and soon found themselves on a ridgeline. There was a large pond below, which they would need to skirt the following day. Sagamore and Captain Edwards spent the evening pouring over the maps the captain had brought, and eventually the captain declared that – despite his having packed the best and most-up-to-date maps available – there was an error in the map.
This was not altogether unexpected. Maps were notoriously unreliable west of the Mississippi, and they were approaching terrain which most maps depicted as a gaping hole in the center of the continent. They would be relying upon guesswork and what little was known from the few excursions that had made it this far west. It seemed the error in the map was more extensive than the captain first thought – perhaps even contributing to their earlier dilemma at the river – but Edwards appeared unperturbed.
That night, despite the sunny weather, a black cloud descended upon Robert. He didn’t know where it came from or what it was, only that he felt very tired and he did not wish to go on. He didn’t say anything to any of the others. The journey ahead seemed the pit of foulest and most dismal despair, but he didn’t want to go back either. He felt only a hole inside when he thought of Kentucky. He could never go back.
For some reason, Robert felt liberated. He had worried – though he hadn’t admitted it – that he might not make it back. Now, he began to hope that he wouldn’t. He didn’t imagine he could go on to the Pacific and make it back, but he didn’t worry. When death overtook him, it would overtake him. There was no need to hasten it. It would take him before he saw Kentucky again.
He felt better almost instantly, knowing he would never see the settled states again, or anyone he had ever known. He supposed the others – if any of them survived – would carry word of his fate to everyone back east.
Robert fell asleep feeling that he might not wake up the next morning. He let sleep take him, wishing only that he could stay sleeping and never wake up.
In the morning, he did wake up, but he wasn’t upset. He found that he was no longer tired and, not being tired, the feeling he’d had the night before had completely deserted him. The journey no longer seemed intolerable and he wondered why he hadn’t wanted to return to Kentucky. He was physically healthy and seemed in no great sign of distress. He ate healthily that morning and set out with a spring in his step.
Within days, he had forgotten all about it. Robert did not know it, but like most travelers on a journey like this one, he would be stalked by the black dog for the rest of the trip. At times, it would descend upon him, heavy and dull. At other times, it would strike him in the evenings when he looked out into the darkening sky and the breeze rustled him and fear seized him unexpectedly from nowhere. It was a lonely wilderness they were entering and the weight of the journey bore down upon him sometimes. But the dark care always left him and he said nothing to the others.
Chapter Ten
One day, the whiskey ran out. Even without Sagamore drinking, it was bound to happen at some point. From the first day of the journey, everyone had known this day would come. For the past three weeks, the stores had been running obviously low. And at breakfast that morning, the captain doled out the last of it. In an uncharacteristic gesture of generosity, he let Robert and Daniel split it, saying that he didn’t need any.
“No point in prolonging the dry season,” he said. “Better to go in headfirst.”
Daniel dashed his off with a show of bravado and Robert gave a weak smile as he drank his, but clearly neither of them was looking forward to what was to come. The withdrawal started later that day. That afternoon, Robert’s face was pinched and Daniel looked angry. Among the three, only the captain showed no sign of perturbation.
“This is why it is better never to start,” said Sagamore.
“Oh, be quiet,” growled Daniel.
“You can’t miss it yet,” said Sagamore, who was often silent except when someone ordered him to be silent. “You had some this morning.”
“Yeah, but I know I’m going to miss it,” said Daniel. “I know it’s gone. You’re not helping things.”
“Daniel, you’re making yourself miserable,” said the captain. “Robert, you too. Don’t think about it.”
“I have a question,” said Sagamore to the captain. This was the most Sagamore had spoken in a while, and the others wondered whether maybe the absence of the whiskey had brought out a new side in him, too. “You knew we were going to run out of whiskey from the beginning.”
“Yes. What’s your point?” said the captain, holding aside a branch as they shoved their way deeper into the woods.
“Why bring any at all? Why not get it over with right away, when we’re closer to settlements?”
The captain looked over his shoulder. “And you’re also wondering whether maybe I should have tested how the party would do without alcohol then, instead of waiting until we’re out here. Well, a few reasons. Whiskey can kill whatever’s bad in the water, so there’s safety in having it on a journey like this. It keeps the spirits up, and that’s something we’ve badly needed on this trip. Better to have it for as long as we can. Finally, I wanted to wait until we’re out here to run out. Then there’s no choice but to keep pressing on. Going back isn’t an option for any of us. Circumstance may force upon our constitutions what we could not achieve by willpower – we may be cured of our longings for whiskey in relatively short order.”
But it wasn’t relatively short order. The captain never gave any signs that he was experiencing the slightest difficulty, but Robert was flagging the next day and the day after. It took a week for him to regain his spirits. Daniel was even worse. He spent the better part of two weeks alternately angry and glum. He snapped easily and was given to expending energy in odd directions and giving in quickly when his energy returned him nothing.
After two weeks, the party’s spirits were strained, but on the mend. Within another week, Daniel seemed almost shy of his usual self and Robert’s color was better. The captain continued to show no signs of strain, but every so often, Sagamore caught him close his eyes and relax his face. It was drawn and lined and his eyes were tired when he let them be.
One night, as they were sitting around in a dry camp, without a fire, watching the sun set, Robert said, “Would be nice to have a drink about now.”
“Oh, don’t start that,” said Daniel. “I’ve almost gotten over it.”
The captain shook his head. “Do you ever think before you say something?” he asked.
“Seems fitting,” said Robert, indicating the fireless camp. “No fire. No water. No whiskey.”
Everyone was silent. By this time, they knew that they could stay quiet and Robert would fill the silence.
“You know, it’s adversities like this that make the bonds of friendship grow stronger,” he said. Daniel stared at the ground and Sagamore looked away into the trees. The captain watched the sky. None of them looked at Robert.
“We’ve been together these many months and seen and had many an adventure. And you know what? We’ve had some good ones, too. See, this here alcohol situation is just another adventure. It’s miserable hell, to be sure, but that’s how you know it’s an adventure, because it ain’t no fun when you’re in it.”
At times, Robert lapsed in his speech and fell out of the civilized ways of speaking his uncle was always impressing the importance of.
“We’re brothers, see, not in blood but in bond. We’re a merry band of adventurers, that’s what.”
The captain maintained his stone face and Sagamore showed his characteristic lack of emotion, but Daniel finally lost his effort to suppress a smile. The corners of his mouth tugged up and Robert broke into a grin. They met each other’s’ eyes and Daniel started chuckling and shaking his head. Robert was laughing, too.
“See, you know it, Daniel. I got you to laugh. You, too, Sagamore, I see you shaking your head there.”
Only the captain managed to keep his face impassive. He frowned, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile.
They chuckled at nothing, relieved finally of the tension which had clung to their steps for weeks now. After they stopped, having nothing to do, three of them went to bed and the captain stayed up for the first watch.