Lieutenant Pattie remained in command of Cap au Gris, being essentially instrumental in repressing the incursions of the Sacs and Foxes, and disposing them to a treaty of peace, until the close of the war.[14] In 1813 he received his discharge, and returned to his family, with whom he enjoyed domestic happiness in privacy and repose for some years. St. Louis and St. Charles [x] were beginning rapidly to improve; American families were constantly immigrating to these towns. The timber in their vicinity is not of the best kind for building. Pine could no where be obtained in abundance, nearer than on the Gasconade, a stream that enters on the south side of the Missouri, about one hundred and fifty miles up that river. Mr. Pattie, possessing a wandering and adventurous spirit, meditated the idea of removing to this frontier and unpeopled river, to erect Mills upon it, and send down pine lumber in rafts to St. Louis, and the adjoining country. He carried his plan into operation, and erected a Saw and Grist Mill upon the Gasconade.[15] It proved a very fortunate speculation, as there was an immediate demand at St. Louis and St. Charles for all the plank the mill could supply.
In this remote wilderness, Mr. Pattie lived in happiness and prosperity, until the mother of the author was attacked by consumption. Although her husband was, as has been said, strongly endowed with the wandering propensity, he was no less profoundly attached to his family; and in this wild region, the loss of a beloved wife was irreparable. She soon sunk under the disorder, leaving nine young children. Not long after, the youngest died, and was deposited by her side in this far land.
The house, which had been the scene of domestic quiet, cheerfulness and joy, and the hospitable home of the stranger, sojourning in these forests, became dreary and desolate. Mr. Pattie, who had been noted for the buoyancy of his gay spirit, was now silent, dejected, and even inattentive to his business; which, requiring great activity and constant attention, soon ran into disorder.
About this time, remote trapping and trading expeditions up the Missouri, and in the interior of New Mexico began to be much talked of. Mr. Pattie seemed to be interested in these expeditions, which offered much to stir the spirit and excite enterprize. To arouse him from his indolent melancholy, his friends advised him to sell his property, convert it into merchandize and equipments for trapping and hunting, and to join in such an undertaking. To a man born and reared under the circumstances [xi] of his early life—one to whom forests, and long rivers, adventures, and distant mountains, presented pictures of familiar and birth day scenes—one, who confided in his rifle, as a sure friend, and who withal, connected dejection and bereavement with his present desolate residence; little was necessary to tempt him to such an enterprise.
In a word, he adopted the project with that undoubting and unshrinking purpose, with which to will is to accomplish. Arrangements were soon made. The Children were provided for among his relations. The Author was at school; but inheriting the love of a rifle through so many generations, and nursed amid such scenes, he begged so earnestly of his father that he might be allowed to accompany the expedition, that he prevailed. The sad task remained for him to record the incidents of the expedition, and the sufferings and death of his father.
COMMENCEMENT OF THE EXPEDITION
I pass by, as unimportant in this Journal, all the circumstances of our arrangements for setting out on our expedition; together with my father's sorrow and mine, at leaving the spot where his wife and my mother was buried, the place, which had once been so cheerful, and was now so gloomy to us. We made our purchases at St. Louis. Our company consisted of five persons. We had ten horses packed with traps, trapping utensils, guns, ammunition, knives, tomahawks, provisions, blankets, and some surplus arms, as we anticipated that we should be able to gain some additions to our number by way of recruits, as we proceeded onward. But when the trial came, so formidable seemed the danger, fatigue, distance, and uncertainty of the expedition, that not an individual could be persuaded to share our enterprize.
June 20, 1824, we crossed the Missouri at a small town called Newport,[16] and meandered the river as far as Pilcher's fort,[17] without any incident worthy of record, except that one of our associates, who had become too unwell to travel, was left at Charaton, the remotest village on this frontier of any size.[18] We arrived at Pilcher's fort, on the 13th day of July. There we remained, until the 28th, waiting the arrival of a keel boat from below, that was partly freighted with merchandize for us, with which we intended to trade with the Indians.