There I met again Captain Porter, and I asked him if he had progressed any in his courtship, and he, being very much embarrassed, said he did not know, but if patient waiting was of any avail, he believed he might win his bride.
After we had been at Whipple a few days, Jack came in and remarked casually to Lieutenant Aldrich, "Well, I heard Bernard has asked to be relieved from Ehrenberg.
"What!" I said, "the lonely man down there on the river—the prisoner of Chillon—the silent one? Well, they are going to relieve him, of course?"
"Why, yes," said Jack, falteringly, "if they can get anyone to take his place."
"Can't they order some one?" I inquired.
"Of course they can," he replied, and then, turning towards the window, he ventured: "The fact is Martha, I've been offered it, and am thinking it over." (The real truth was, that he had applied for it, thinking it possessed great advantages over Camp MacDowell. )
"What! do I hear aright? Have your senses left you? Are you crazy? Are you going to take me to that awful place? Why, Jack, I should die there!"
"Now, Martha, be reasonable; listen to me, and if you really decide against it, I'll throw up the detail. But don't you see, we shall be right on the river, the boat comes up every fortnight or so, you can jump aboard and go up to San Francisco." (Oh, how alluring that sounded to my ears!) "Why, it's no trouble to get out of Arizona from Ehrenberg. Then, too, I shall be independent, and can do just as I like, and when I like," et caetera, et caetera. "Oh, you'll be making the greatest mistake, if you decide against it. As for MacDowell, it's a hell of a place, down there in the South; and you never will be able to go back East with the baby, if we once get settled down there. Why, it's a good fifteen days from the river."
And so he piled up the arguments in favor of Ehrenberg, saying finally, "You need not stop a day there. If the boat happens to be up, you can jump right aboard and start at once down river."
All the discomforts of the voyage on the "Newbern," and the memory of those long days spent on the river steamer in August had paled before my recent experiences. I flew, in imagination, to the deck of the "Gila," and to good Captain Mellon, who would take me and my child out of that wretched Territory.