The expedition’s progress on September 15, 1804, centered on a single decision: to detach two men up the White River while the main party continued along the Missouri. That decision generated four overlapping journal entries from William Clark, Patrick Gass, John Ordway, and Joseph Whitehouse — entries that, read side by side, reveal how information moved through the corps and where each narrator’s distinct voice asserted itself.
The Reconnaissance and Its Reporters
Clark, as commanding officer at the mouth, provides the fullest framing. He records that he and Lewis themselves first ascended the river briefly before delegating the longer survey:
Capt Lewis and my Self went up this river a Short distance and Crossed, found that this differed verry much from the Plat or que Courre, threw out but little Sand, about 300 yard wide, the water confind within 150 yards… we concluded to Send Some distance up this river detached Sjt. Gass & R. Fields.
Clark’s measurements — “about 300 yard wide, the water confind within 150 yards” — appear in compressed form across the other journals. Gass, who was himself the detached party, writes from inside the assignment:
one of the men and myself went up it to examine the country, and encamped about 12 miles from the mouth, where it is 150 yards broad.
Notably, Gass does not name his companion Reubin Field, referring to him only as “one of the men” — a self-effacing choice typical of his published narrative. Whitehouse, by contrast, names both men explicitly: “Serg! Gass & R. Fields went up white River Some distance.” Whitehouse’s phrasing — “12 miles. up this R. it is 150 yd wide the current and coulour is like the Missourie R.” — closely echoes Gass’s own “current and colour of the water are much like those of the Missouri,” suggesting Whitehouse either copied from Gass after the latter rejoined the party or absorbed a shared verbal report around the campfire.
Shannon’s Creek and the Lost Hunter
The morning’s first landmark was a creek on the south side that the corps named for George Shannon, the young private who had been separated from the party and survived on grapes while waiting for what he believed was a boat ahead of him. Ordway preserves the naming event most clearly:
passed a creek on s. s. where George Shannon Camped Six days in a Timbered bottom we call this creek Shannons Creek which Shoots in to the Missouri verry rapid.
Whitehouse confirms the name — “a creek on the S. Side named Shannons creek” — while Gass mentions only “a creek on the south side” without the commemorative label, an omission consistent with his published journal’s tendency to strip toponymic detail. Clark, writing as commander, supplies the human backstory rather than the new name: “the Mouth of a creek on the L S. where Shannon lived on grapes waiting for Mr. Clintens boat Supposeing we had went on.” Across the four accounts, the creek is variously a place, a name, and a story — each narrator selecting what his audience or purpose required.
Rabbit Island and the Cold Evening
Later in the day the party passed a small cedar-covered island where Clark killed a rabbit. Ordway alone records the immediate naming: “Capt Clark killed a Rabbit named the Isd Rabit Island.” Clark himself notes only “great numbers of Rabits & Grapes” without claiming the naming, while Gass and Whitehouse omit the island entirely. Ordway’s attentiveness to small naming events — a recurring feature of his journal — preserves details that would otherwise vanish from the record.
Clark closes his entry with atmospheric notes the enlisted men do not match:
this evening is verry Cold, Great many wolves of Different Sorts howling about us. the wind is hard from the N W this evening
Neither Gass, Ordway, nor Whitehouse mentions the cold, the wind, or the wolves — a striking silence given how vivid Clark’s scene is. The pattern is consistent with what appears elsewhere in the journals: Clark, writing at greater length and often later in the evening, registers ambient sensory conditions that the enlisted journalists, focused on distances, landmarks, and assignments, tend to pass over.
Patterns Across the Four Voices
Read together, the entries for September 15 illustrate a now-familiar division of narrative labor. Clark supplies command rationale, measurements, and weather. Ordway records names and naming events. Whitehouse closely tracks Gass’s phrasing on the White River reconnaissance, suggesting his text depends partly on Gass’s report. Gass, the field reporter, gives the most direct account of the upstream survey but suppresses his companion’s name. The convergences confirm the day’s basic facts; the divergences show how each man’s position in the corps shaped what he thought worth writing down.
