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Updated: June 2, 2025
While I believe McAfee is right, we are not going to bring the Judge back to life by turning into a mob. There is no proof of cheating, and Kirby has the law behind him. Let me talk to the captain about what had best be done." "Who, Thockmorton?" "Yes; he'll know the better action for us to take. He's level-headed, and an old friend of Beaucaire's."
"I do not understand, sir." "Yet I presume you have learned that the Wanderer stopped here for an hour last night on its way north to Prairie du Chien?" "Captain Thockmorton just informed me." "But you received no mail?" "No, sir; or, rather, I have not been at the office to inquire. Was there mail for me?" "That I do not know; only I have received a communication relating to you.
"Thockmorton told me," I explained, "that Atkinson is preparing to send in more troops; he expects to bring a load north with him on his next trip." "From Jefferson?" "Yes; they are concentrating there." "How many regulars are there?" "About four hundred from the First and Sixth regiments." He laughed scornfully. "I thought so.
Why, suppose Beaucaire should die, or lose his property suddenly, she could be sold to the cotton fields, into bondage to anyone who would pay the price for her." Thockmorton knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "Of course," he admitted slowly. "There is no question as to the law, but I have little doubt but what Beaucaire has attended to this matter long ago.
Interested as Thockmorton would be in serving Beaucaire's dependents, and as much as he cordially disliked Kirby, all I could rely upon from him in this emergency would be a certain moral support, and possibly some valuable advice. He would never dare ally himself openly, for the cost of such action would be too high.
Involuntarily I had placed them in my mind as river gamblers, but was still observing their movements with some curiosity, when Captain Thockmorton crossed the gangplank and began ascending the steep bluff. The path to be followed led directly past where I was sitting, and, recognizing me, he stopped to exchange greetings.
You came south on the Warrior." "From Fort Armstrong yes; who told you this?" "Captain Thockmorton. I saw him in St. Louis, and he seemed deeply grieved by your sudden disappearance. No one on board was able to explain what had occurred." "Yet there were two men on the boat who could have explained, if they had cared to do so," I answered drily.
Even when the last of those black spots had vanished in the far distance, the flag on the high staff remained clearly outlined against the sky, a symbol of civilization in the midst of that vast savage wilderness. Thockmorton leaned out from the open window of the pilot house and hailed me. "Put your dunnage in the third cabin, Knox here, you, Sam, lay hold and help."
Louis at midnight, and Thockmorton confidently expected to tie up the Warrior at the wharf before that city early the next morning. So, surely, somewhere near at hand, concealed amid the gloom, would be discovered the habitations of men either the pretentious mansion of some prosperous planter, or the humble huts of his black slaves.
This I did not regret, although Beaucaire rather interested me, but, as the gambler seldom permitted the Judge out of his sight, our intimacy grew very slowly. Thockmorton, being his own pilot, seldom left the wheelhouse, and consequently I passed many hours on the bench beside him, gazing out on the wide expanse of river, and listening to his reminiscences of early steam-boating days.
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