menu_book Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII. EMIGRATING TO ZION. WE ARRIVE IN NEW YORK. The afternoon following, Mary herself came to see me, her face all flushed with excitement, and eager to tell me something.

Who do you think I've been talking to, Sister Stenhouse? She exclaimed. You'd never guess. I don't think there's much need for guessing, I said. Your face betrays the secret, Mary.

Well, she said, perhaps it does, but you wouldn't wonder at it if you only knew how very anxious I have been. All this time I have kept my word and I did not see him or speak to him once, except at meetings, and not much then, and I have been very unhappy. This afternoon I came round about an hour ago to see you, and there on the step was

Elder Shrewsbury. He said he was here yesterday and was just going to call on you again, and then he asked me to go a little way with him, as he had something very important to say to me. At first I refused to go, but he wouldn't listen to it for a moment. So I went with him, and we have been talking ever since, or rather, he has been talking

and I have been listening to him. I can't tell you, Sister Stenhouse, all he said, you can guess better than I can tell you. But I'm afraid I shall not be able to keep my resolution much longer, for when we came back to the door again he said he wouldn't come in to see you now, and when he begged

me to let him call at Mrs. Ellsworth's tomorrow night I did not feel it in my heart to refuse him. Was it very wrong of me to do so? said I. I'm afraid, Mary, my opinion would not matter much either way. Elder Shrewsbury's eloquence is the music which you like best to listen to.

She blushed and came and sat down beside me, and we talked together until the sun went down and my little room was quite dark. I told her of my troubles in Switzerland and of the miserable effects of introducing polygamy there, and she in return told me all her love affairs with Elder Shrewsbury and of her resolution not to listen to him unless he solemnly promised never to have anything to

do with the hated revelation. Her faith in Mormonism itself had, as I expected, been very severely shaken, and I think that had it not been for my efforts to reassure her she would have left the church at that time. Would to God she had!

After tea she said, Have you a copy of the revelation here, Sister Stenhouse? I want to show you some strong points in it which I think will astonish you. I learned all about it from Elder Shrewsbury that night when he came to see me, and it was that that disgusted me with the whole affair. We searched through my trunk but could not find the document, and I told her that I had

not the patience to read it quite through when it was given to me, and that since then I was not sure that I had even seen it. Never mind, she said, I'll bring it with me when I come again. How often have I thought since, how much depended on that trifling circumstance! Had we then together read over the revelation and noticed the strong points of which she

spoke, I believe my eyes would have been opened, and I never should have submitted to the misery which I afterwards endured in Utah. By and by she asked me whether I had heard anything of the terrible doings out in Zion, and I in return asked her what doings she alluded to. Well, she said, I hardly like to tell you if you have heard nothing about the matter,

for I'm not quite sure whether it is all true, but we have had some strange reports floating about here, just like the reports of polygamy before it was acknowledged. in the time of Joseph Smith a band of men was organized who put to death anyone who was troublesome to the church or offended the elders. Some people say that it was one or perhaps more of this band who fired at Governor Boggs

of Missouri and who killed many other Gentiles. Dr. Avard and Sidney Rigdon are said to have been mixed up in the matter, and that wretched John C. Bennett tells a frightful story about it. But that is not the worst, for Elder Shrewsbury himself told me long ago that Thomas B. Marsh, the then President of the Twelve, when he apostatized, took oath that the Saints had

formed a destruction company, as he called it, for the purpose of avenging themselves, and Orson Hyde, in a solemn affidavit, swore that all that Marsh said was true. Well dear, I said, I've heard all that before, but no doubt it is all scandal. I'm afraid not, she replied, for I have heard from people who ought to know that since the Saints have been in Salt Lake Valley the same things have been done, only now they speak

of those men as Stanites and avenging angels. People say that those who are dissatisfied and want to leave Zion almost always are killed after they set out, by the Indians, and they dare not say boldly who they believe those Indians are. Then too one lady told me that she had heard from her sister that not only were apostates

killed in a mysterious way by Indians or someone else, but that many people were missing, or else found murdered, who were only suspected of being very weak in the faith. These things are horrible, and sometimes I think I will never go out to Zion. I had heard these very same stories and told her so, and I tried to make her believe that they were without foundation, but I could see that what she had heard had made a great

impression on her mind. So I turned the conversation to other topics, and we talked over our plans and prospects for the future. Neither of us were very hopeful, she because she was undecided what course to pursue, I because of the shadow of coming sorrow, which already began to darken my way.

We tried, however, to comfort each other, and when she left I certainly felt more assured and hopeful. At this time I was left much alone, for my husband having no business in which to employ himself was sent by the pastor of the London conference to travel among the saints. Domestic comfort or the claims of a wife were never for a moment thought worthy of

consideration. Then it was that I felt how lonely one may be in the midst of that great city. Towards the end of the year 1855, it was determined that a company of Mormon immigrants numbering several hundreds should leave Liverpool en route for Salt Lake City, and for that purpose a vessel was chartered early in November.

This was not the ordinary season for emigration, but there were then in England numbers of the saints anxious to go to Zion, but too poor to pay their passage all the way. It was thought that when they arrived in New York they would have time to earn sufficient to carry them on, and it was then supposed they could join those who came over by the ordinary spring emigration.

My husband and myself were counseled to join these immigrants in Liverpool and proceed at once to New York. I was now strong enough to travel, and though far from well, and the prospect of such a journey in the middle of winter was anything but cheering. My husband, however, who was anxious to go, smoothed away every difficulty, and it was

resolved that this time we should obey counsel. The reader may perhaps think me somewhat unreasonable in regarding such a journey as more than an ordinary annoyance, but he should remember that I am speaking of eighteen years ago. The passage across the Atlantic Ocean in midwinter is anything but inviting, even under the best of circumstances, but in the old days of sailing vessels it was infinitely worse.

The ocean steamers now make the passage in from ten to fourteen days, but then a month was considered a good quick passage for a sailing boat. Then too the modern accommodations, even for steerage passengers, bear no comparison with the frightful disorder and utter lack of comfort experienced in former times. All this ought to be taken into consideration when speaking of the early Mormon immigrants

and the sacrifices which that people then made for their faith. There was the same difference between them and the snug little party which a year ago crossed the ocean under the guidance of the counselor Apostle G.A. Smith, and the childless versifier Eliza R. Snow, as there was between St. Paul braving the perils of Shipwreck with the tempestuous Urocladon, and the modern Orthodox missionary with well-filled purse

and comfortable outfit on board the magnificent steamers of the Mediterranean. The Mormon immigration has always been a well-managed business, and forming a united body under the guidance of inspired leaders, the Mormons have never given so much trouble as ordinary passengers. At the time of which I speak the immigration was on a much larger scale than at present,

Although even now several thousand converts arrive every summer in New York on their way to Utah, now the journey from Liverpool to Salt Lake City is accomplished easily in less than a month. Then it required nine. Then the saints used to speak of Zion as being a thousand miles from everywhere, and when

they went east they used to talk of going to the states as if they belonged to another nation. But now the Great Pacific Railway has knit together the utmost limits of this vast country, and a journey to the far west is only a pleasant summer tour. Every presiding elder in Britain is a Mormon immigration agent, unpaid but no less effective.

It is a part of his mission. The elder presiding over the office at Liverpool, generally some favored apostle, pockets all the profits of the transaction and has but little trouble in return. The saints are notified through the star of the day when the vessel will sail, and are told to forward their immigration money, or at least a portion of it, as the church risks

nothing. The apostle, being thus secured by the deposits, arranges with the shipping agent for the passage of a specified number of persons, and receives a very nice commission upon each immigrant, which commission is one of the chief perquisites of his office. The Mormons in London were very kind to us before we left, and did all they could to

help us in preparing for our journey. A kinder people than the saints in Europe could nowhere be found. My husband had been directed to take charge of the immigrants in the transit from London to Liverpool, and consequently I received no assistance from him. It seemed to me a very cruel arrangement for the elders to take away from me and my helpless

little ones the very person to whom we ought naturally to have turned for protection. But what were the feelings of a weak woman when they came in conflict with the Council of Inspired Apostles? We arrived in Liverpool the same evening, and there my husband was relieved of the charge of the company, and some of the brethren were appointed to see that the baggage was safely

transferred from the railway to the ship. Early the next morning we went on board, and it was not long before we began to experience the pleasures of an immigrant life. Before we set out for Liverpool, I had been told that on board ship I should be able to obtain all the help that I might desire.

And anxious to provide for the comfort of the children, I engaged the services of two young girls to look after them and assist me generally. This was an imprudent step, as I afterwards found, to my cost. But at the time I thought that I had made a very sensible arrangement. Help being secured, my next thought was to get our berths fixed so that all might be

ready before the rolling of the ship began. My first inquiries were for our bedding, but it was nowhere to be found. Now this was very annoying, for we were all tired, and the children, poor things, were for a fidgety, and anticipating a long and unpleasant voyage, I wanted to have everything in readiness.

Besides which, I had made special preparations in the shape of many additional comforts, which I knew on board ship would be absolutely necessary, and had even sold my watch and jewelry for that purpose. I inquired of the proper authorities, but could obtain no information, and nothing remained but for me to wait until the Apostle came on board to bid a final adieu to the immigrants.

I felt this annoyance all the more as I considered that we had no right to expect such mismanagement. We would naturally have preferred to make our own arrangements and to go alone had we been permitted to do so. But we had over and over again been instructed not to go by any other vessel but that chartered by the Apostle Richards, that so we might escape the perils which were sure to overtake

the Gentiles. Imagine our disgust when we found that as there were not enough of the Saints to occupy the whole ship, the lower deck was filled with Irish immigrants of the most barbarous type, and that their luggage and ours had been thrown together indiscriminately into the hold.

Most of the Mormon immigrants recovered their property when they arrived at New York, but as for our own, personally we never saw it again, and all the voyage through we were left utterly destitute. The Apostle Richards and Pastor Kimball came on board before the vessel sailed, and I told them all about it.

We could not possibly put to sea in that condition, I said, and I wanted to leave the ship. They promised that the things should be looked after, and assured me that on no account should we be permitted to sail without being properly provided for. I not only trusted their word as gentlemen, but I believed in them as favored servants of God, and when subsequently I found that they had willfully deceived me, I became conscious

that there was as little of the true and truthful gentlemen about some of the modern Apostles as there was of the Apostle about ordinary gentlemen. Thus in the cold, foggy days of an English November we set out, bereft of the commonest necessaries and deceived by our own leaders, to begin a new life in a new world. I would not for my own sake mention these unpleasant reminiscences, were it not for

so many mean and cruel deceptions, and were it not that I do not care to use harsh words, I might call downright swindles, had come beneath my observation in connection with the Mormon emigration in past years. I will mention one alone which ought not to be passed by unnoticed. In the year 1854, Brigham Young and the leading elders were most anxious to draw to Zion the

converts from every part of the globe, and for this purpose the faithful were called upon to bring in freely their contributions to the perpetual emigration fund. To set them an example, Brother Brigham himself stated that he would present as a free gift his own property, a valuable city-house and lot, if any purchaser could be found wealthy enough to purchase it.

An English gentleman named Tennant, a new convert, accepted the offer and advanced the money, thirty thousand dollars, and set out for Salt Lake City, expecting there to be put in possession of the property. He was one of the unfortunate hand-cart emigrants, of whom I shall presently have occasion to speak more fully, and he died on the plains.

His wife and children, when they arrived in the valley, were told that the transaction was not made with them, but with Mr. Tennant, and all their efforts to obtain the property, which in common justice was theirs, were unavailing. At the present moment, Mr. Tennant's wife lives in miserable poverty in Salt Lake City, while there is no one to bring the honest profit to account.

The vessel sailed, and we heard no more of our property. Whether it ever left London, or whether some obliging brother took charge of it on his own account, I cannot say, but I could form a pretty good guess. I frequently see that man in Salt Lake City, and I always think of my bedding when I see him.

Nothing, however, remained but for me to put the best face I could upon matters. I took my wearing apparel and other articles out of the trunks, and put them into pillow slips, and extemporized as well as I could a rough substitute for beds. These served for the children, and I covered them with my cloaks and shawls, and for our own berths and bed-covering I had only a few pieces of carpet, which I had put aside for

the cabin floor, together with a worn-out blanket which an old lady on board was good enough to lend me. We had not been long at sea, when the young sisters whom I had engaged to help me fell sick, and some of the brethren were very anxious to nurse them. This appeared to be quite the established order of things, for I then found that it

was very seldom that a Mormon emigrant ship crossed the ocean without one or more marriages on board. It was no doubt very interesting to them, but to me it was extremely inconvenient, especially considering that my husband had now taken to his birth, which he did not leave during the remainder of the voyage, and myself and the children were not much better off.

Sick as I was, I had to prepare our food and manage everything, for in those times emigrants out their own provisions or were allowanced in raw material, and in either case had to do their own cooking. My chief difficulty was in getting what I had prepared to the fire galley, for I could not leave the children, and I was afraid to venture myself upon the deck.

So I got any of the brethren who chanced to be passing to take it up, and of course they were willing to oblige me, but the galley was so crowded, everyone having his or her own interests to attend to, that I very rarely have ever had my provisions decently cooked, and on more than one occasion I never saw them again. This was an inconvenience which modern emigrants do not suffer at the present day.

Unsuccessful with the young sisters, I thought I would try, if I could not get one of the brethren to help me, and fortune at first appeared to favor me. There was on board a young man, Harry they called him, and he was so situated that I found it easy to open a negotiation with him. He had been a saddler's apprentice in a country town in England, and having listened to some

itinerant preacher, had been converted, joined the church, and begun to think for himself. So hearing that terrible judgments were quickly coming upon the old world, he resolved to flee to the new, and in his hurry to get there, he forgot to inform his master that he was about to leave. This accounted for his being so badly provided for.

Now Harry had those two great blessings, a splendid appetite, and unimpeachable powers of digestion. I will not say that he enjoyed these two blessings, for that he did not, on account of lacking a third blessing, namely the wherewithal to make the first two blessings a pleasure, and not an inconvenience.

The ship's allowance was altogether insufficient for him, and he therefore gladly engaged to do what few things I required, upon condition that I should add a little to his own private commissariat. Harry was a smart lad, and at first very useful, and he soon convinced me that he had told the truth when he said that he had not enough to eat ever since he came on board.

It seemed to me very questionable whether he ever had before. He had, however, nothing to complain of in that respect while in our employment, for although the children were able to eat whenever we had anything fit for them, my husband and myself could seldom touch our rations, and as everything that was not used fell to Harry's share, he fared pretty well.

Harry was not the lad to neglect his own interests, and as our interests appeared just then to be his also, matters worked very harmoniously. Our bread was never now brought back to us half raw or burnt to a cinder. It must be properly cooked for our eating, or it would not do for Harry's, and as for it being lost or delayed on its way to or from the galley, that was of course quite

out of the question. But the strangest thing of all connected with Harry was that immediately after his coming we were incessantly annoyed by the rats. I had brought for the children's use a small supply of preserves and other delicacies, but these mysteriously disappeared with alarming rapidity, and whenever I saved any trifle

for the children to eat between meals, that also was gone when it was wanted, and in every instance Harry suggested that it was the rats, although I could never find any traces of those interesting animals. I was sorry to part with Harry, for he used to tell funny stories to the children and amused them a great deal, but the rats and Harry were so closely associated in my mind

that I thought if Harry left, the rats might perhaps also cease their visits. So Harry went, and I was once more left alone to do the best I could. The weather was very cold, and though we wore our clothing day and night, we felt its severity very much. The rigging of the ship was hung with icicles, and without fire or warmth of any sort, it

is no wonder that we were all soon hardly able to move from cold and sickness. I have heard emigrants who came over in steam vessels and say that even in midwinter the heat in their berths was almost unendurable, but in a sailing vessel there were, of course, no engine fires to warm the ship, and the passengers suffered accordingly. In the midst of my trouble I was told of an ancient Scotch sister, a maiden lady sharp

and shrewd, who like the miser in Scots, Fortunes of Nigel, was willing to help us for a consideration. We talked the matter over, and it was agreed that she should give me her services for the remainder of the voyage, and the consideration was to be two pounds English. Small as was our stock of money, and much as I knew we should need it upon our arrival, I felt that I could do no better than engage her.

There was no saying upon whom she might chance to set her maiden fancy, but there was not the remotest chance of any of the Brethren falling in love with her, so I considered her a safe investment, and besides, I must have somebody. There was no alternative. It was now Christmas time, a season which in England was always sacred to joyous memories

and festivities, but to us exiles and wanderers, seeking a land of which we knew nothing, and which to us was a new and untried world, it was far from being a happy time. In the midst of the wild, dreary ocean there was nothing to recall the pleasant reminiscences of the past, or to inspire us with hope and courage as we thought of the future. The Captain told us that we might prepare to eat our Christmas dinner in New York, but

he was mistaken. I can form no opinion of the Captain as a seaman, but as a man I detested him for his cruel treatment of two unfortunate men who were under him. These men, one a Spaniard and the other a Hungarian, had agreed to work out their passage to New York, but they were quite unfit for sea life.

One of them, when he refused or was unable to go up into the shrouds, was dragged aloft by main force, and there they tied him, and there they kept him until he was nearly frozen to death. On another occasion they beat both of these men with spikes, and I feared they would kill them, and their cries and groans right above my head were most painful to listen to.

In fact, so badly were they treated that on their arrival they had to be carried to the hospital. Such was the discipline on board that ship. The Captain was mistaken in his calculations. We did not eat our Christmas dinner in New York as he had promised.

A storm came on which compelled us to stand out to sea again, and then a dead calm followed, and it was not until New Year's Eve that we set foot upon the shore of the New World. We were now three thousand miles nearer to Zion, but my heart misgave me as I thought of the future, and the first New Year's Day that I spent in the United States was anything but a day of pleasure to me.