"I have not a blanket, an ounce of bread, nor a pound of powder. Can you fit me out in the name of Virginia?"
Francis Vigo, a Sardinian by birth but Republican at heart, answered, "I can fit you out. Here is an order for money. Down yonder is a swivel and a boatload of powder. I will bid the merchants supply whatever you need. They can look to me for payment."
In two days Clark's men were fitted out and ready. Clad in skins, they stepped out like trappers.
On the shore lay a new bateau. Vigo's swivel was rolled aboard, and some of the guns of Kaskaskia.
"Now, Captain John Rogers," said Colonel Clark to his cousin, "with these forty-eight men and these cannon you go down the Mississippi, up the Ohio, and enter the Wabash River. Station yourself a few miles below Vincennes; suffer nothing to pass, and wait for me."
On the 4th of February the little galley slid out with Rogers and his men.
"Now who will go with me?" inquired Clark, turning to his comrades. "It will be a desperate service. I must call for volunteers."
Stirred by the daring of the deed, one hundred and thirty young men swore to follow him to the death. All the remaining inhabitants were detailed to garrison Kaskaskia and Cahokia. The fickle weather-vanes of old Kaskaskia veered and whirled, the winds blew hot and cold, then came fair weather for the starting.
It was February 5, 1779, when George Rogers Clark set out with his one hundred and thirty men to cross the Illinois. Vigo pointed out the fur-trader's trail to Vincennes and Detroit. Father Gibault blessed them as they marched away. The Creole girls put flags in the hands of their sweethearts, and begged them to stand by "le Colonel."
"O Mother of God, sweet Virgin, preserve my beloved," prayed the Donna de Leyba in the Government House at St. Louis.
Over all the prairies the snows were melting, the rains were falling, the rivers were flooding.
Hamilton sat at Vincennes planning his murders.
