Chuck Schading

Dearest Martha,

Today’s missive must remain brief as much remains to be done before our journey commences in the spring.

Our party has now grown to 10 with the addition of a handful of drunken Irishmen and a Swede we met at a tavern near the Niagara River. One of their party had fallen in and was surely on his way to misfortune and a precipitous fall from what I am told is a magnificent yet terrifying waterfall some ways north. Should he survive the frigid waters that long, he shall be in for a mighty surprise, will he not? The other drunks are not much better off but they will be of great use taking the forward point and attracting the first arrows as we enter Indian territory. 

Ah! But north is not the direction we are headed, is it? We head west! Gold, Martha! Gold! I continue to salivate at the mere thought of such riches, much as I salivate at the mere thought of you in your gold petticoat after church each Sunday. Oh, I shiver to think of the longing in my heart and loins that will develop after our long absence. For now I shall amuse myself with trifles and whatnots!

I’m also sad to report that our preparations hit a snag this morning after a significant portion of our food stores were stolen by a band of brigands overnight. We left Tadd (the idiot boy) to watch over them as we slumbered as usual, but when we awoke an entire crate was missing and the idiot boy was left with a swollen eye. St. George also thrashed him. 

Additionally, one of the oxen appears to be lame and also has a swollen eye. 

On the beneficial side, I met a mysterious cloaked gentleman on a narrow and filthy street near the wharf who claims that if I give him $500 dollars (nearly half of our expedition budget!), he will travel east to Rochester and there will be able to double it in a week’s time dealing in textiles and grains. Pike is dubious but something tells me I can trust this man. (I shall sleep on this and make my decision on the morrow.)

Jeffers saw a physician who believes his fear of syphilis to be unfounded and declared it to only be an infection of the glands. He prescribed a sulphur of some sort. Jeffers was quite relieved to be able to return to the brothel immediately, however I imagine the whores may not be quite so eager to see him as he is to see them. I think we will both agree that he should wait until the puss has subsided. Alas, he is a rascal! (Thankfully I have you, my peach, and have no need for such temptations of the flesh.)

I am, forever yours,

Montgomery G. Jenkins