For a moment Sarah didn’t understand; then she laughed softly. “At home Emma and Mary Ann and Martha and me all shared a bed. I guess I’m used to having somebody next to me.” Then she looked horrified. “I didn’t snore, did I?”
Now it was Maggie who laughed. “No, not at all. But Old Brother Cunningham did again. For a time there in the night I thought he was sawing a hole in the bulkhead.”
“Maggie!”
She turned to see that Robbie, Hannah, and her mother had come up to join them. Emma James was also with them. Maggie’s mother was giving her a chastening look.
“Well,” Maggie said, a little sheepish, “that’s the way it sounded. I just hope that we don’t get assigned to the same tent with him, or I’ll not sleep a wink until we reach Salt Lake.”
“I slept good,” Robbie said brightly.
His mother groaned. “Yes, you did. And you slept all over the berth.”
Maggie laughed. Robbie was famous for waking up every morning in a different position.
“Did you hear?” Sarah said, nudging Maggie. “There was a baby born on the deck above ours yesterday.”
She turned in surprise, remembering the woman and her husband she had seen. “Really? What time?”
“About five o’clock. I guess they had barely made it on board. I don’t know them. They said it was a Sister McNeil.”
“I think I know exactly which one it was,” Maggie said, sobered by how close that sister had come to giving birth in very different circumstances.
“Brothers and sisters.”
They all turned. Brother Willie had one arm up, waving to the people to come to attention. Quiet swept across the crowd like a welcome breeze.
“Thank you. As some of you know, my name is Brother James G. Willie. I have been serving as a missionary here in Great Britain for almost four years now. Like many other elders, we are returning home with you. Elder Richards has asked that I serve as the president of this company and escort you to America.”
“Hurrah!” someone shouted and Brother Willie grinned.
“Thank you, Brother Baker. Right after the meeting, I will pay you the five quid I promised to give you if you would say that.”
That brought a ripple of pleasant laughter across the group. Maggie watched him and smiled too. Willie was about forty and seemed pleasant enough. Several of those from England knew him well and spoke very highly of him. It was good that he had a sense of humor.
He looked down, motioning at some men right below him. Several climbed up to join him. “In this ship’s company, we have five hundred and sixty adults, one hundred seventy-two children, and twenty-nine infants. That’s a total of seven hundred and sixty-one people. More than enough for one man to govern, I would wager. So, I would like to introduce my counselors for the voyage. Brother Millen Atwood will preside over the main deck of passengers.” A man stepped forward and raised his hand. “Brother Moses Cluff will preside over the English portion of the lower deck, and Brother Johan Ahmanson will preside over the Scandinavian Saints on that same deck.”
Maggie turned to Sarah. “Brother Ahmanson speaks English. I think he’s the one who was translating for the Scandinavians yesterday.”
President Willie went on. “The main deck will be divided into four wards with presidents, and the lower into three wards, likewise with presidents.”
He motioned to the other men. “Brother John Chislett here has been asked to serve as captain of the guard. You should know that he has been instructed that none of the ship’s crew will be allowed to come below on our decks unless they have permission of the ship’s captain or his first officer.”
Chislett stepped forward, smiled at the crowd, then stepped back.
“Elder Edward Griffith has been appointed steward to have general oversight over all of our provisions.” He waited as Griffith stepped forward. “And Brothers John Patterson and Henry Bodenham will serve as our cooks.”
As the last two stepped forward, he laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “The rest of us may be your leaders, but these two are the ones you should treat most kindly.”
Again that brought an appreciative laugh from the crowd, and a few clapped in response.
President Willie waited a moment as the men rejoined their fellow passengers, then started again. As he did so, Maggie saw that Brother Ahmanson immediately began to translate what was being said to his fellow Saints.
“Brothers and sisters,” Willie began, “our voyage on the Thornton will take about six weeks. We will be sailing to New York City. We shall then go by railway and steamers across the Great Lakes to a place called Iowa City, Iowa. There is where the railroad ends. That is where the wilderness begins. At Iowa City there are Church agents—likewise missionaries from England—who have gone ahead to prepare things for our arrival.
“While on board ship, we shall conduct ourselves as disciples of the Master. We shall rise at six A.M. and retire at nine P.M. Morning prayers will be at seven, evening prayers half an hour before lights out. We shall have worship services each day at two P.M., weather permitting, and Sabbath day services each week as well. We want to set an example to the captain and the crew. We want to convince them that Mormons are not the horrible creatures some people would make us out to be.”
The ship’s captain, standing behind Willie, raised a hand. “We already know that. This is the most orderly loading I’ve ever had.”
“Wonderful,” Willie said. Then he turned back to the people. “That’s what we want. Be cheerful. Keep your quarters clean. Serve one another.”
He paused, looking around with affection upon the group. “We realize that these next five or six months will be difficult ones for many of you. We know that you are leaving your homes, and in many cases loved ones.”
Maggie’s head came up and she looked at her mother sharply. Had she said something to Brother Willie? But her mother seemed as surprised as she was at his words.
“But remember, we are leaving our homes in obedience to the covenants we have made with the Lord. We leave our former lives behind in order to serve the purposes of God. We go forth now to build a heritage and legacy for our children and our grandchildren. Let us go forward with joy, brothers and sisters. We have begun the journey. May we carry on with faith until we bring it to a successful close.”
•••
“Hey, you!”
Eric and Olaf Pederson were standing by the rail, watching the activity on the dock. President Willie and the other leaders had taken a boat back to the dock and returned to Liverpool. According to Brother Ahmanson, they would return the next day with President Richards for the final send-off. Eric turned at the shout, though he didn’t know what had been said. It was one of the crew about ten feet away. He was working with a large crate near the bow, lashing it down, then nailing boards around the base to secure it in place. He was staring at the two brothers.
“Yes, you!” the man said angrily. “What are you standing around for? Grab a hammer and get to work.”
Eric could see that he was talking to him and that he was upset, but had no idea what it was about. Other passengers had stopped to watch curiously. He felt terribly stupid.
“Didn’t they tell you anything?” the man snarled. “Get yourself a hammer.”
The brothers looked at each other again, clearly dismayed, but not knowing what to do.
The man stood, his face red. “Stupid Dummkopf!” he cried.
Maggie McKensie was just coming up the ladder from the hold when she heard the man shouting. It took her only a moment to realize what was happening. These were the two brothers she had noticed yesterday. They were part of the Scandinavian group and therefore likely did not speak English.
She walked swiftly to the sailor, planting herself between him and the two young men. “They don’t speak English,” Maggie McKensie said. “Or German,” she added pointedly. “Can’t you see that?”
“I don’t care what they speak. Just tell them to get a hammer and
get to work.”
She felt her temper flare. “How can I do that? I don’t speak Danish, or whatever it is they are,” she snapped.
“Look, lady,” he snarled. “We’re crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Anything we don’t nail down will go right through that railing and overboard.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, fighting to keep her voice under control. “But I don’t have the gift of tongues any more than you have the gift of good sense.”
She threw up her hands and whirled away. What a dolt! As if it were her fault they couldn’t understand him.
“May I be of help?”
Maggie turned to see a tall man with graying hair and kind eyes. She recognized him immediately. It was the leader of the Scandinavian group, Brother . . .
She was still groping for his name when he held out his hand. “Johan Ahmanson,” he said. His English was slightly accented but very good.
“I am Maggie McKensie.” She pointed to the sailor. “He wants these two young men to help, but I don’t think they speak English.”
He turned to the crewman. “What is the problem?” he asked in Danish.
The man just stared at him. He smiled gently. “I asked you,” he repeated in English, “what is the problem?”
“Why don’t you speak English, then?” the man growled darkly.
“And why don’t you speak to these boys in Norwegian?” he shot right back.
The man saw the point immediately and seemed to soften. There was no animosity or anger in Ahmanson, only quiet patience.
“I need them to help me secure these crates.”
“Good. If you will get them hammers and tell me what you want them to do, I’ll translate for you.”
The crewman nodded, somewhat pacified. “Have them follow me.” He looked a little chagrined. “I can show them what to do.”
Ahmanson spoke quickly and the two fell into step behind the man. As the older one passed Maggie, he spoke softly. “Takk. God dag.”
She looked at Ahmanson.
“That’s ‘Thank you,’ and ‘Good day,’ ” he said with a smile.
“Are they brothers?” Maggie asked as they walked away.
“Yes,” Elder Ahmanson said. “They are Eric and Olaf Pederson. They are from Norway.”
“I noticed them yesterday. They seem to be alone. Don’t they have a family?”
“They are going to Utah by themselves to help earn money. Their family will come next season.”
“Oh.”
“Well,” the leader said graciously, “I’d better go help them. Thank you for intervening.”
She blushed a little. “I’m afraid I didn’t do it as graciously as you.”
He chuckled amiably. “I think you softened the man up so that I could deal with him more reasonably.” He waved and walked away.
Just then Hannah came up to stand beside her. “What’s the matter?” she asked, turning to watch the departing group. “It looked like you were fighting with that sailor.”
“Nothing’s wrong now. Just be thankful that we can speak English. This journey is going to be hard enough without not knowing what is going on around you.”
Chapter Notes
The details of the arrival of the Saints at Liverpool and the events surrounding their boarding and preparations for departure are taken from the company journal (see Turner, Emigrating Journals, pp. 1–2). For convenience in the novel, everything that was happening in the process of embarking and the events prior to sailing are compressed somewhat.
As noted before, while the Mary McKensie family from Scotland is the author’s creation, many others in this book are actual historical characters. Obviously the interactions and conversations of these actual people with the fictional characters are the creation of the author. Also, since in many cases physical descriptions of these people at this point in their lives are unavailable, the descriptions given here are not meant to convey what they may have actually looked like. The actual historical characters in this chapter include:
Franklin D. Richards: He was ordained an Apostle in 1849 at the age of twenty-seven. As the presiding authority over the Church’s mission in Europe, he was directly responsible for the massive effort of getting the emigrating Saints outfitted and on their way to America (see Deseret News 1999–2000 Church Almanac, p. 58).
Johan A. Ahmanson: This missionary from Scandinavia who became one of the leaders in the Willie Company was introduced in chapter 3.
James Grey Willie: He who would become the captain of the fourth handcart company of 1856 was an Englishman by birth. Born in 1814, he came to America when he was twenty-one and in 1842 joined the Church in Nauvoo. In 1852 he returned to England to serve a mission, and after four years away from his family he was returning home. Elder Richards appointed him president of the group who sailed on the Thornton (see Hafen and Hafen, Handcarts to Zion, pp. 92–93).
Edward Martin: Also a native Englishman, Martin, born in 1818, was from Preston, England, where the Church’s first missionary efforts in the British Isles took place. He was converted to the Church there, and he and his wife came to America thereafter. He was on his way west with the Saints in 1846 when the call for the Mormon Battalion came and he volunteered to go. He too was called back as a missionary to his native land in 1852 and was returning home in 1856 after four years of service. He sailed on the Horizon later in May of 1856 and in Iowa City was appointed as captain of one of the two handcart companies formed from that group. At Florence, Nebraska, the two companies were joined and he was kept as the captain. Thus the fifth company of 1856 came to be called the Edward Martin Handcart Company (see Hafen and Hafen, Handcarts to Zion, p. 93).
William and Jane James: William was the son of Lee James of Eckington, Worcestershire, England, and was born in 1809. His wife, Jane Haines, also from Worcestershire, was six years younger than her husband. They had eight children, including Sarah, Emma, and Reuben.
John Jaques: Having Brother Jaques as one of the check-in agents for the Thornton group is a device of the author to introduce Brother Jaques to the readers. He was not actually there for that sailing, though he did come to America on the Horizon with Edward Martin. Brother Jaques had a notable literary gift and was appointed as an editor at the Millennial Star. He is the author of the lyrics for the popular hymn “Oh Say, What Is Truth?”
As referred to in this chapter, in the spring of 1856 Patience Loader, Jaques’s sister-in-law, wrote him a letter from New York. Upset by what she said, Jaques wrote back to James Loader, her father and his father-in-law. Brother Jaques interpreted Patience’s letter as evidence of a lack of faith and evidently assumed that as head of the family, James Loader was responsible for this wavering in the faith. Later, Elder Richards published both letters in the Millennial Star. For convenience in the novel, it is suggested the letters had already been published in the Star by the time the Thornton group gathered at Liverpool. In actuality, they were not published until June, some weeks after the Thornton’s departure (see Millennial Star 18 [14 June 1856]: 369–72; see also Bell, Life History and Writings of John Jaques, pp. 72–78, where both letters are printed in their entirety).
Since these letters provide a wonderful insight into the minds and hearts of the Saints of that day, the letter from Patience and excerpts of Jaques’s reply to her father are included here:
Williamsburg, [New York,] April 21, 1856.
Dear Brother Jaques—On the 18th April we received your letter, dated March 29. We had been anxiously expecting to hear from you, and I can say, that when we did hear, we felt somewhat surprised to find that we have to go by the hand-carts. Father and mother think this cannot be done, and I am sure I think the same, for mother cannot walk day after day, and I do not think that any of us will ever be able to continue walking every day. We think it will be better to remain here or at St. Louis for a time until we are able to help ourselves to a wagon. We are across the water, which is a great part of the way to Zion. Father and mother think you had better c
ome here for a time. We will take lodgings for you if you will let us know. Do you and your wife think it right to go by the hand-carts? If we girls were strong boys then I think it might be done, but father is the only man in our family. I don’t feel myself that I can go like this. If, by staying here for a little time, we can get means to go by a wagon, it will be far preferable. Mother, I am sure, can never go that way. She says herself that she cannot do it, and I don’t think that any of us can. Why, we understood that the hand-carts were the last resource! Mother says that she must have a revelation before she can see this right. Why, we shall have to sell nearly all our clothes! And what shall we do for things to wear when we get to the Valley? Seventeen pounds weight each is but very little.
We shall be delighted to see you. I wish they in London would come with you. We are doing very comfortable now.
I remain your sister in the Gospel,
[Patience Loader]
Liverpool, May 19, 1856.
Dear Brother L——— [Brother James Loader, Jaques’s father-in-law].
On May 7, I received with great pleasure the letter written by P———, and dated April 21, because we had been so long expecting one. But my pleasure was changed to great pain and unfeigned sorrow when I read the contents. I have read the letter about half a dozen times. I could scarcely believe that you [Jaques evidently assumed that James Loader was in agreement] could have sent such a one. There is not one atom of the spirit of Zion in it, but the very spirit of apostacy. I felt to exclaim in my heart, “Who has bewitched you, and with whom have you been taking counsel, that you should so soon forget the goodness of the Lord in delivering you from this part of Babylon, and opening up your way to Zion?”. . .
. . . As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord, and when we start we will go right up to Zion, if we go ragged and barefoot. . . .
You have looked upon the journey all in a lump. Recollect that you will only have to perform one day’s travel at a time, and the first 200 or 300 miles, from Iowa City to Florence, the hand-carts will travel through a partly settled country, and be lightly loaded, for they will not take their full load for the Plains till they get to Florence. This first part of the journey will just get the Saints used to travelling, without a great deal of toil all at once. You have also thought of performing the journey in your own strength, forgetting that you should put your trust in the Lord, who strengthens even the weak according to their day. . . .