It is forty-nine years ago today (March 11) since over nine hundred souls were all aboard the John M. Wood in a Liverpool dock, from which they emerged on the following day en route for Utah, via New Orleans. The details of that and similar trips are no doubt still fresh in the memory of the Saints. The writer and his young wife were among the number who were unfamiliar with the sea, consequently when the Channel was reached, loose things began to fly around, discomfort and deadly apathy were the conditions. After we had passed the "Emerald Isle" and felt the swell of the Atlantic, the cry of fire sounded from the galley. The "Ocean Monarch" had, but a short time previously, been burnt at sea, and a throb of subdued feeling swept over all as to the possibilities of our fate. The fire was, however, soon subdued, and quiet gratitude went up from many hearts.
A good sailor died in mid-Atlantic, and no more solemn scene was ever witnessed by the majority than when the canvassed remains slid over the bulwarks and with a splash sank into that wondrous grave, being visible below the surface for some time in the semi-calm of the West Indies. In this section of the sea great fields of tropical vegetation were passed over or through. Cuban [p.231] buildings were quite plain to be seen, and when the vessel was becalmed a very joyous feeling reigned as a rule. Porpoises, flying and other fish were seen in abundance until we reached the great gulf stream and then approached Belize Island, which is at the mouth of the Mississippi, where millions of tons of debris are deposited yearly, always keeping the changing delta much above the surrounding country. Millions of dollars have been spent in the construction of jetties or levees to prevent the overflow which gives this majestic river the appearance of a creation for a long distance from its mouth.
The scenery, vegetation, and surroundings were also new and fascinating, trees veiled in moss, sugar plantations, and cotton fields stretched as far as the eye could reach, the whitewashed quarters of the slaves, the rambling unarchitectural dwellings of the planters, the great steamboats laden with cotton and crowded with passengers from the lower to the hurricane deck, with strains of music, and colored help, in the main, continually arrested our attention; but our grand ship finally tied up at the levee in New Orleans, where we were glad to rush down the gangway into the strange streets of a strange city many feet below. Sauntering and observing its quaint architecture, its medley population, we entered the slave market. Here we had the practical side of an institution we had been taught to believe unbiblical, unchristian, and in every way unworthy of civilization and human rights. We did not stop to discuss the proprieties, however, but when we saw "a good, likely wench" of eighteen called off the auction block, after critical examination, for $1750.00 and a valuable farm hand of twenty-seven years for $3500.00, we found ourselves thinking that when men paid those prices for what they deemed to be property, they would take care of it. There may have been abuses in connection with this long defunct institution, but conjecture fancied a little "lie" was mixed with the sensational stories of religious journals, as they have abundantly been with "Mormonism," and we took, as we have done many a time since that in regard to reports of men and things, "a little grain of salt."
Eight weeks of government rations supplemented by private supplies had kept our company in good health. The thrifty had stored their surplus hardtack and oatmeal for the river trip, but some who had means, rejecting counsel, bought fruit "ad libitum," and fresh meat at the wood stations, and tasted grim cholera, and some of the most promising young people from the rural counties of old England fell by the wayside; sometimes they were uncoffined in a lonely grave or because of the hurrying boats were left to be buried by strange hands.
The trip, otherwise enjoyable, was saddened by these "contretemps," while whitewashed quarters of straggling character, diversified with cities like Memphis, Natchez, etc., and the swollen mouths of the tributary rivers, turbid as the original Missouri and flecked with novel styles of laden boats, wiled away the time. Approaching St. Louis, it was realized that our passenger list was larger than that permitted by law, so the writer, in charge of some fifty young men, was put ashore to walk the balance of the road to St. Louis. In the meantime the cholera had increased in virulence, and the crowd was quarantined at a lonely sandbar within hailing distance of the coveted city. Here, upon an old hulk and on a porous soil, miasma struck down many. While in St. Louis the young men were more or less exposed; the Saints were, however, [p.232] hospitable. "Bene plant" was at a premium, until impatience became a virtue, and delay in the company's arrival determined someone on getting aboard the old hulk if possible to see the situation. Among the latter was the writer, who was anxious to see his young wife, her family and the other Saints.
Stratagem had to be resorted to, which succeeded, and almost the first person seen was the young wife, evidently ailing from an attack. Sympathy set the husband in the same direction, and for a time it seemed ominous, as an Elder in England had prophesied that he should never live to see the Valley. Probably a half developed reverence gave more credence than was justified, but in opposition to this sentiment was the fact of a vision or dream had by the writer, of activity in the Temple ordinances, and on retiring into the brush for prayer and assurance, a voice, as distinct as was possible, said, "With long life will I satisfy thee, and show thee my salvation." The cholera vanished from the husband and wife, and the entire company were soon on the way up the turbid waters above St. Louis for camping and preparation for the trip across the unknown and apparently interminable prairies and the Rocky Mountains to the promised land, where the trip ended, and the new and untried life began, after thousands of miles of travel, pleasant and otherwise, in a new and apparently sterile land.
The young and blooming woman and devoted wife has for many years been sleeping, as to the body, upon the hillside above our beloved city. The writer, strengthened often in the times of sorrow and affliction, has seen this promise literally and amply fulfilled; for this life was then consecrated, which, if not always fervent, yet ever recognizes the Master's hand, guarding in many perils, has kept the faith to both the letter and the spirit of that promise, and it will yet be held in faith until the word comes, "It is enough, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. Meet again the radiant wife of thy youth, and recount in grateful mood the vicissitudes of this unfamiliar pioneer life."
H. [Henry] Naisbitt [p.233]
BIB: Naisbitt, Henry W. , "Recollections of Our Zionward Journey,"
Juvenile Instructor, 38:8, (April 15, 1903) p.233. (CHL)
(source abbreviations)