This day 14th, of May 1805 A.D
Weather: Squalls early AM watch, clearing to sunny. PM watch: Hot & humid. Two falling stars, 3 rd hour. Current less than 1 knot, variable light wind from the N NW.
This day our Compagnie was assembl’d, in order to take measure of our stores. With the recent capture of an Anglais trader’s barge, our numbers have cannon, musket, and shot enough; but we lack sufficient poudre, as much was lost during the recent acquisition. We find our lot compell’d to provision our ever-dissipating supply of Spirits, As well. Do for Salt, Tobacco or any other such viable commodities.
Upon report of more Anglais and Yanqui Traders barges on la Rivier, we did have chance to dispatch and accompany a scouting partie to Pointe a la Chevelure, amongst Les Isles de la Merde. Our partie consist’d of Myself, the Scots Renegades Mr. McIguire, and Young Master Willi’m Koch &, in addition to, the ever enigmatic "White Turtle" (Osage) and his band of Métis; Romeo "Biscuits du Chene", "Strong Heart" and his dark child, "Little Big Crow" (A somewhat verbose and ill temper’d, young wench; truly swarthy and exuberant, Une Rousse Farouche!). We depart’d our camp by bateaux and canoe to Le Isle de la Merde (Les Isle sont étouffe en Merde d’Oie!)
After landing, and concealing our craft, we post’d lookouts to watch for any potentially benevolent factors favourable to our enterprise. Mr. McIguire took the first watch on the Pointe, as the rest of the partie made their way into positions inland. We conceal’d ourselves unto the Sycamores and sporadic dense underbrush of the sandbars. Our plan was for Little Big Crow to feign distress and lure our quarry; so they would be maroon’d unto the sandbars of the shallows in the west channel of la Rivier.
As our partie lie in wait, White Turtle and the rest of his band indulg’d in their customary face and body painting with miscellaneous pigments of vermillion and willow charcoal combin’d with bear fat. Master Willi’m fashion’d a spear and engage’d in a fishing contest with Little Big Crow. This contest was forfeited by all concerned upon the appearance of a rather large water serpent. This was taken as an ominous omen by all...
As happenstance would have it, a small prize: a lost fisherman in a small Pirogue discovered our position. As he came unto our midst, and made it known he was not inclined to be a partie to our undertakings, we dispatched him with tomahawk & knife; as not to alarm any other potential prospects with musket fire, or waste using any more precious stores of poudre. Our partie conceal’d his headless corpse unto the interior underbrush. We commandeer’d his boat, his catch, his nets & personal accoutrements:
1 Musket, 1 Horn o’ Poudre, 1 Hunting Bag w’ 30 Musket ball, 1 Cuttoe, 1 Gourd o’ Whiskey
The Sauvages & the Métis then fashion’d adornments from the strips they cut from his bloody scalp locks, after words they engag’d in playing a rather macabre version of Lacrosse with this poor sod’s corpse-less head...
Note* We were well suppli’d by our Savauge allies and their hunting parties with Venison, Buffalo, Bear, Boar and Hair. All manner of Rivièr Fishes & Fowl, fresh Mussels, Wild Nuts, Berries and abundant fruits as well. I must remark upon the bounty of Plum and most delicious Dewberries indigenous to these Isles.
Upon the hour our partie had reckon’d it was time to return to our camp, Mr. Mc Iguire detect’d a cannon report from a vessel approaching from up-rivier. As it came into view, I used my spyglass, it was the "Aux Arc"; a Yanqui trader Keelboat purportedly operat’d by the scalawag Yanqui trader Capt. "Ahab" Williams and his band of bilge rats & wharf trash. A worthy adversary for a worthy prize, but we will take this opportunity to relieve Capt. Ahab of his command, his commission, and his charges.
Little Big Crow made her move to the shore, she hail’d the "Aux Arc"; a wailing and crying like a distress’d Madwomen. As the boat ventur’d in closer, to further assess the situation at hand, a very dishevel’d and bedraggl’d little heathen wench came running out from the bush, crying out for God’s mercy... It appear’d that our ruse was working, the "Aux Arc" was coming about to rescue the young maiden in distress, when they were somehow alert’d to our presence by a careless noise or an untimely reflection.
The Prize was now trying to escape; White Turtle and the rest uttered their horrific war cries and gave volley fire from their muskets, targeting the mark of the Captain, the Coxswain and the Boatswain. As our partie reload’d, the Yanqui keelboat return’d our fire, Romeo "Biscuits Du Chene", the Métis; was mortally wound’d. Strong Heart’s musket miss-fired, although wound’d; he and the dark child, Little Big Crow continued to give fire with his brace of pistols. One of Master Willi’m Koch’s shots found its mark; the head of a rather large & ominous looking crewman. We could hear the screams of terror from the female passengers, and the shouts of a startl’d & confus’d crew; our lot was now most feverishly committ’d to the fray.
As our partie gave chase along the shoreline, we fired and reload’d at will; all the while, ducking the return vollies from our prey, shot buzzing all about, like mad hornets. The Prize seemed virtually undaunt’d by our efforts, and was quickly becoming a forlorn hope for our endeavors. We were making for our boats to run our prey the distance, when at that instance; the "Aux Arc" fired a volley of shot from their 1-pound Swivel Gun. Though we remain’d diligent to our pursuit, our losses were accruing. A second volley from their Swivel Gun, and more injuries to our partie; our lot was compell’d to terminate our accord, giving any further pursuit.
Ahab, take notice: I believe our paths shall soon cross again. As we live for now; to fight the fray again another day, Mark my words; Sir, and take full measure of our resolve.