John Taylor nodded thoughtfully. “If you think it best that I go with you, Derek and I are willing, aren’t we, Derek?”
“Absolutely.” Like Wilford, Derek had been through enough delays.
“I should like to go too,” Theodore Turley said.
Wilford turned to Matthew with a quizzical look. Matthew shook his head immediately. “I promised Brother Brigham I would wait for him here.”
“And I think you should,” John Taylor said. “Joseph called you to be a companion to him and Heber.” He turned to Woodruff. “But I think the three of us can leave with you, Wilford.”
“Wonderful!” He was greatly relieved.
“Book us passage, then,” John said, “and we shall make our preparations.”
Parley leaned forward. “What about the money for your tickets?”
Taylor smiled enigmatically. “There shall be no difficulty with that. Go ahead and book passage for the three of us.”
Parley was ecstatic. “Then it’s true? I have heard you say to several people that you have plenty of money.”
“Aye, that I do,” John responded easily.
Derek gaped at him. As far as he knew, it had taken every farthing they had to get to New York.
Parley clapped his hands. “Then could I borrow two or three hundred dollars from you to see to the printing of my tracts?”
“You are welcome to whatever I have,” John answered gravely, reaching in his pocket. He withdrew a coin purse, stood, and walked over to Parley. Parley stretched out his hands as John tipped the purse upside down. One copper penny fell out. “There you are,” John said with a smile.
Parley was dumbfounded. “But . . . but you said you had plenty of money.”
“Aye, and that I do. I am well clothed, you are feeding us plenty of good food here, we have a warm roof over our heads, and I owe no man anything. With all of that, I have a penny extra. Is not that plenty?”
Wilford laughed heartily at the crestfallen expression on Parley’s face. Then he turned to John. “So you have no money for the passage?”
“Book our passage,” John Taylor said confidently, “and if it is the Lord’s will that we accompany you, we shall have the funds.”
“Perhaps it might have been better if we had died in Germantown.”
John Taylor rose up in the bunk across from Derek. In the faint light of the one lantern, which swayed and danced with the movement of the ship, his face looked as gray as chalk. “What was that you said?” he called.
The ship pitched sharply downward again, the timbers shrieking in protest at the punishment they were taking. Barrels and boxes, trunks and suitcases slammed about the compartment, making a horrendous din.
Derek was too weak to shout over the noise, and he simply waved it away and fell back. Theodore Turley, squeezed in beside him in the narrow berth, turned his head. His color was more green than gray, and he looked like he had aged twenty years in the ten days since they had set sail. “What happened in Germantown?”
“That’s where Brother Taylor and I were so sick. I thought for sure one of us was going to die.” He forced a weak grin. “Had I known this was coming, I might have been tempted to pray less vigorously for our recovery.”
Turley nodded grimly. “Was it this bad when you came over?”
“No,” Derek grunted. “Nothing like this.”
When he and Peter had sailed from Liverpool to America two years before, there had been only two or three days of rough weather, but it was nothing compared to the violent storm that raged around them now. He thought he had been seasick then. Now he realized he had barely understood the word. Conditions were bad enough without the weather turning on them too. Steerage was the least expensive way to travel on the packet ships, and therefore offered the least amount of comfort and convenience. The steerage compartment—so named because this area of ships sometimes contained the steering apparatus—was below deck. It was overcrowded, offered no privacy, was poorly lit, and because it had virtually no ventilation it reeked with the stench of sweat, rotting food, vomit, and human waste.
All of that would have been bad enough, but it wasn’t until the first night at sea that they discovered that the selling agents had severely overbooked the ship. Normally a ticket with a berth number was given to each passenger. The sellers had assured everyone there would be no more than two people per berth. In actuality, they had sold the same bunk to as many as five people, and several had no bed at all. Sixty-four people in a space meant to house little more than half that—it was a criminal disgrace. The crew rigged a few bunks in a storage compartment, but there were still some berths where four people slept in shifts, and some passengers had no choice but to sleep on the deck or on boxes.
“No,” Derek said again, “it was nothing like this.”
Wilford Woodruff must have heard him, for his head came up. He was wedged into the bunk beside John Taylor. “Brother Derek,” he called.
Derek rose up as best he could. Wilford was sick, but was faring better than any of his three companions. He grinned and waved. “Do you know what day the day after tomorrow is?” he shouted.
Derek thought for a moment, then shook his head. He wasn’t even sure what year it was anymore.
“It’s New Year’s Day.”
Derek ducked as the ship took a particularly hard roll and a small barrel came hurtling past him. It crashed against the bulkhead and shattered. “Bully!” Derek said through gritted teeth. “Happy New Year.”
Wilford was still looking at him. “It
will
be a new year for us. A glorious year, Brother Derek. Keep that in mind. This storm cannot last forever, and we shall soon be in England.”
Chapter Notes
The idea, expressed in the novel by Josiah McBride, that Joseph Smith patterned the Book of Mormon after the Spalding manuscript was used by enemies of the Church to try and explain away a remarkable book translated by an unlearned young man. Because of his skills in speaking and writing, Sidney Rigdon was often credited by proponents of the “Spalding theory” as being the one who actually wrote the Book of Mormon, even though he did not meet Joseph for the first time until almost a year after the book was published. The manuscript for Spalding’s book was lost for many years, so that it could not be compared to the Book of Mormon. But a copy was discovered in the 1880s and shows that it bears no resemblance to the Book of Mormon. (See
CHFT,
p. 59.)
The Twelve came into New York City on widely different dates. Wilford Woodruff arrived on 8 October, the first of the Twelve to do so. Parley arrived on 25 October with his wife and three children; his brother Orson came three weeks later. John Taylor and his companion came on 13 December. (See
MWM,
pp. 75–80.)
John Taylor’s interchange with Parley over having “plenty of money” is told by John Taylor. Though he had no money at all at that time, within a day or two, contributions sufficient for him and Theodore Turley to pay for their passage came in from the Saints. (See B. H. Roberts,
Life of John Taylor,
Collector’s Edition [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1989], pp. 72–74.)
Wilford Woodruff, John Taylor, and Theodore Turley set sail on the
Oxford
five days before Christmas. Their decision not to wait for the others was a wise one, for Brigham, Heber, and George A. Smith did not arrive for another five or six weeks and did not embark for England until March. The miserable conditions of the passage—the storm, the overbooking of the ship—are accurately portrayed here as recorded in the missionaries’ journals. (See
MWM,
pp. 78–80.)
Chapter Seventeen
30 Dec. 1839 Nauvoo, Illinois
Dearest Melissa,
Your letter dated 22 November reached us yesterday afternoon. I need not tell you what a welcome surprise that turned out to be. We gathered the whole family around the fire last evening and read it over and over. After receiving the letters from you and Derek and Matthew a short time before that, another letter came as a surprise. By now you should have received the letter I wrote back to you at that time containing all the news of the family, so I will not repeat any of that here except to say we received another letter from Will. He had not yet reached China when he wrote, but it took two months to get to us, so he may be there by now. Caroline still misses him terribly, but hearing from him on a regular basis now has done much to make it easier for her.
We are pleased to hear that Derek and Matthew have continued on their journey, though surely you will miss having them with you. We thank the Lord they were able to come by way of Kirtland and stay with you as long as they did. Jenny and Rebecca have written letters back to them. However, they wrote to New York, fearing they would be gone from Ohio before the letters got there. Your letter confirmed the wisdom of this choice.
Most gratifying was your report about Carl. His attendance at the worship services is a major step forward, considering how he has felt about Mormonism before. Joshua was a little disgusted with our response. He assumes we are happy only because we think Carl may be on the way to conversion—a thought that Joshua thinks is ridiculous. He doesn’t understand that our joy lies in something else. It is not good when a man and a woman who share their lives together do not share at least a mutual understanding and tolerance for each other’s faith. I speak from personal experience in this regard. Those days when your father was so bitterly opposed to Joseph and all that the Church meant still burn painfully in my mind. How different is our marriage now that we share like beliefs! So in that regard, we were most pleased with Carl’s response. Even if he never joins the Church, the fact that he got to know Brigham Young and Heber Kimball and felt kindly disposed toward them will go a long way in helping you and him be more as one on the matter.
We were sorry to hear that his going to that meeting with you has further strained his relationship to his father. I remember well how Hezekiah Rogers opposed us when we were there, so your report did not come as a surprise, but it still saddened us. However, Joshua was elated at that. Not at our sadness, but that Carl and his father are fighting over this issue. He thinks Carl’s father is the only thing stopping Carl from coming out here, so he’s hoping the distance between them widens even more. It has been a bit of a surprise to all of us how strongly Joshua feels about getting Carl to come. Caroline told me this morning that he is even talking about writing to Carl directly. Unheard of for Joshua!
Well, I do not wish to go overly long on the matter, but we were most pleased with the news. Please give Carl our love and affection. His coming with you to Missouri and Illinois earlier this year to bring us food and supplies has deeply endeared him to all of us. He is a wonderful man and a good husband and father.
In closing, just a word or two of advice from your mother. Your last paragraphs were filled with discouragement, almost despair, about the chances of ever coming out west. You say that with the feelings now between Carl and his father, there is no way that can happen.
I would only say this. Nine years ago, your father was stubbornly opposed to the Church, bitterly antagonistic toward Joseph, and absolutely, unbendably, unmovably against our moving to Kirtland. You will remember that well, for you too despaired that we would ever be able to follow Nathan and Lydia to Ohio. I was deeply discouraged. Then one day, while your father was in town, I began reading in the Bible. I won’t go into all the details, but I came across a passage where the Lord taught that some problems are of such size and difficulty that only prayer and fasting can bring the victory. I read it over and over. And on that day, I decided I would fast and pray about the matter. As you know, it wasn’t long after that that Martin Harris was talking to your father about selling the farm, and in a matter of a few weeks we were in Kirtland.
Melissa, I don’t know if the Lord wants you and Carl out here with us. We would love to see it happen, but what matters is what the Lord feels is best. But I do know this. Fasting and prayer can change circumstances and hearts and outcomes. Don’t lose heart. Don’t lose faith. Importune the Lord about this.
New Year wishes and love from all of us,
Your loving mother
Will Steed was agog. His eyes darted here and there and his head jerked back and forth so quickly, he was getting dizzy. He had heard men try to describe the scenes he was now seeing, but words completely paled beside the reality. He couldn’t believe the number of people. It was like trying to ford a river after a cloudburst. He kept his arms up slightly to fend off the crowds swirling and eddying around them. Will had never imagined there could be so many people in one place at the same time. As they pushed through them, heads turned and people stared at the fair-skinned strangers who towered above them.
Will leaned forward and shouted at his companion. “Are there so many people because of the holiday?”
Timothy O’Malley, first mate on the
Bostonia,
gave him a puzzled look. “What holiday?”
“New Year’s Day. This is New Year’s Day.”
O’Malley laughed, tossing his head. “Not in China, it’s not, lad. They have what they call the Chinese New Year, and it’s not the same as ours. No, no holiday. This is Canton. Just a regular day in the land of China.”
“There are always this many people?” Will asked incredulously.
O’Malley laughed again. “Wait until just before dark when the factories let out. You can almost walk on their shoulders.”
“Hey, Guailous! Wanna buy chop carving?”
Will turned. It was a boy, maybe ten or twelve. He was pushing his way through the people toward them.
“Chop carving. Veddy cheap. Veddy nice.”
O’Malley slowed, turning to Will. “You want a chop carving?”
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “You said you wanted to buy something for your family. I’d recommend this. It’s something you’ll never find in America.” He turned to the boy and nodded.