The Work and the Glory (316 page)

  The first adhesive postage stamp in the world was introduced in England in May 1840 while the missionaries were there (see James Trager,
The People’s Chronology: A Year-by-Year Record of Human Events from Prehistory to the Present,
rev. ed. [New York: Henry Holt and Co., 1992], p. 428).

Chapter Twenty-Four

They were four days out before Will saw the girl’s mother alone. He was off duty and dawdling around at the bow of the ship where he could see the passengers come out on deck. The girl and her mother came out every morning and afternoon except when the weather turned rough. Sometimes the girl came out alone, but then Will stayed out of sight. It would be a long voyage, and if there was anything Will had learned in the past two years, it was patience.

Now it paid off. The woman was alone. He moved swiftly aft, then cut across at midship and came up behind her at the railing. “Mrs. Pottsworth?”

She turned in surprise. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Steed.”

“Good morning.”

“You’re not on duty this morning?”

“Not till third watch.”

“Aye.” She turned and looked forward, watching the prow of the ship nose into the waves, then shoulder them aside with a spray of salt water. “It’s a glorious day, eh?”

Will nodded, and took a quick breath. “Ma’am, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.” She turned to him and gave him her full attention.

“You know that shipboard rules forbid fraternizing with the passengers?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“On pain of five lashes.”

“Oh, dear. Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No. Officers have more latitude, and I’ve also spoken with my captain and got permission. But I wanted you to know that I’ll not be speaking much with you on the voyage, and I didn’t want you”—he looked around quickly—“or your daughter to think I am ungrateful for what happened and what you told me.”

“We don’t.” She smiled warmly at him. “Jenny didn’t sleep well last night, so she’s napping at the moment.”

“I know, but . . . well, she tried to speak with me the other day, and I suppose I was a little abrupt with her, not wanting the crew to think I was taking liberties and all that. I think I offended her.” Then, irritated that he was even trying to explain, he changed tacks. “Are you sure my family is in Illinois? I left my mother in Savannah. That’s a long way from Illinois.”

Mrs. Pottsworth was a plump lady with kind gray eyes and with wrinkles around the corners of her mouth from a ready smile. Now she looked a little distressed. “I wish I had paid closer attention to all what Derek was telling us, but at the time I had no idea . . .” She shrugged at him helplessly.

“I know, I know.”

“But the part about Nauvoo, of that I am perfectly sure. Derek and Matthew told us all about the family so we could look them up when we arrive. I have a letter to Matthew’s mum and dad to introduce us. It was while he was telling us about the family that Derek told us the story about a nephew who thought his father was dead and how he was shanghaied away to sea.”

“And my father and mother are in this place called Nauvoo too? Not just my grandfather and grandmother? You’re sure he said that?”

“Yes, positive.”

“Good.” He looked around, getting nervous now. “I’ll be staying on as crew with whatever ship you take from New York to New Orleans, but once we get there, I’ll be quitting the sailing business and going north with you if that’s all right.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Do you think your daughter would mind?”

She laughed. “Don’t let Jenny get your goat, now. She was a little miffed at your unwillingness to speak with her, but that’s just Jenny.”

“Well, thank you.”

The corners of her mouth pulled down a little. “Derek says if we’re too late, we may have to winter over in New Orleans or go by land. He says the river gets choked with ice.”

Will calculated quickly. “We’ll be in New York in a little over two more weeks. It will take a day or two there to replenish our stores, then say another two weeks to New Orleans. That would make it about mid-October. That’s too early for river ice, so we should be—”

“Hello, Mum, what’s this?”

Will spun around. Jenny was walking toward them. She was frowning heavily, looking at her mother and ignoring Will completely.

“Mr. Steed here, he was just telling me about our river trip.”

“I suppose he’s an expert on riverboats too, just like he is on Mormons,” Jenny said saucily.

Will winced. “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Pottsworth, “but I’d best get back. Thank you for the information.”

“You’re welcome. We’re glad you’ll be going all the way with us.”

“Oh, yes,” Jenny sniffed, “I don’t know how we’d make it without you.”

But Will had already spun on his heel and was heading aft, putting as much of the ship between him and her as possible.

Though it was now mid-September, the morning sun was already getting hot and the air was humid and heavy. Mary Ann Steed was openly worried as she and Benjamin hurried along. Word had come just a few minutes before that Father Smith was critically ill. “It’s this thing with the Missourians,” she muttered angrily. “It’s those Missourians coming after Joseph and Hyrum again. That’s what’s done it. It was Joseph and Hyrum’s arrest in the first place that sent Father Smith to his bed. Remember? He’s never fully recovered.”

Benjamin nodded grimly as they turned eastward onto Water Street. They had thought Missouri was behind them, but then a few weeks before, four brethren had been unexpectedly captured and ferried across the river by several Missourians. They bound the men, stripped them naked, beat one, hanged another until he was nearly strangled, and in all ways treated them shamefully. Two of the brethren finally escaped a few days later, but two were still in a Missouri jail.

Next, rumors started flying that Governor Boggs had issued a warrant for the arrest of Joseph and Hyrum. He was under tremendous pressure for letting his famous prisoners escape, and rumor said he was going to extradite them back to Missouri for trial. A few days before, the possibility became real enough that Joseph and Hyrum went into hiding and Father Smith went to his bed again, his aged system unable to withstand another such threat to his sons.

Benjamin fingered the bottle of quinine in his pocket. He was pretty sure Father Smith’s problems were not caused by ague, but as Mary Ann said, they had to do something to help.

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Mary Ann burst out. “They drove us from the state—isn’t that enough?”

Benjamin reached out and took her hand. “They’re not going to get them, Mary Ann. We’re in Illinois now. Joseph has already appealed to Governor Carlin, and he’ll not tolerate this criminality for one moment.”

She sighed, hoping it was true, but feeling a great sense of dread. If Joseph and Hyrum had come out of hiding, which was what the boy who brought the news to them had said, then the danger was only increased. And Father Smith must be very bad indeed. “He’s sixty-nine, you know,” she said, the worry twisting her voice. “He can’t keep taking this time after time.”

“I know,” Benjamin replied glumly. “That is a great concern.”

The moment Emma opened the door, Mary Ann knew that it was worse than they feared. Emma’s eyes were red and her cheeks tearstained. Mary Fielding Smith, Hyrum’s wife, was crying quietly in one corner. Lucy, Joseph’s youngest sister and just recently married, was sobbing uncontrollably. Mother Smith looked terrible. Her normally boundless energy was drained. Her face showed the depths of her exhaustion. Joseph came out of the bedroom and thanked them profusely. Through the door they could see Samuel and Don Carlos and the others gathered.

Benjamin took the bottle from his pocket and held it out to Joseph. “We don’t know if this will help, but we wanted to do something.”

Joseph took it, then laid a hand on Benjamin’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he said. “How wonderful to have friends such as you in times like this.”

“If you need anything else,” Mary Ann said, “just send word. You know where we are.”

“Thank you,” he said again, the weariness showing in his eyes.

Mary Ann gave Mother Smith a quick hug. “We’ll be praying for him,” she whispered.

Mother Smith nodded, numb. “I’m afraid that’s all there is to do now.”

Father Smith was on the bed, lying nearly motionless. His face was pale and gray. His hands, lying on his breast, trembled noticeably. Hyrum sat on a chair next to him, holding his hand. They were talking quietly. All of the children and their spouses and children were there except for Catherine and her family, who lived in Plymouth, about forty miles southeast of Nauvoo, and one of the sons-in-law, Arthur Millikin. Catherine was detained because her husband was sick, but circumstances being what they were, Arthur had been sent after her and her children.

Father Smith turned. Though his face was gaunt and ashen, his eyes burned like two coals of fire in his face. They were alert and filled with intelligence. “Mother,” he called.

Lucy Mack walked swiftly to his side. “Yes, Father Smith.” She reached down and took his other hand.

He rose up slightly, looking around the room, then at her. “Mother, do you not know that you are the mother of as great a family as ever lived upon the earth? The world loves its own, but it does not love us.” He had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. “It hates us because we are not of the world. When I look upon my children, and realize that although they were raised up to do the Lord’s work, yet they must pass through scenes of trouble and affliction as long as they live upon the earth. I dread to leave them surrounded by their enemies.”

Hyrum leaned forward, grasping his father’s hand to his breast. “Father,” he cried, “if you are taken from us, will you not intercede for us at the throne of grace, that our enemies may not have so much power over us?”

His father fell back, his chest rising and falling. Finally he nodded slowly. “Come closer, son. I should like to leave a blessing with each of my children.”

Scooting the chair even closer, Hyrum inclined his head. The long hands and slender fingers came up and rested on the head of Father Smith’s oldest living son. “My son, Hyrum,” he began, his voice slow but firm, “I now seal upon your head your patriarchal blessing, which I placed upon your head before, for that shall be verified. In addition to this, I now give you my dying blessing. You shall have a season of peace, so that you shall have sufficient rest to accomplish the work which God has given you to do. You shall be as firm as the pillars of heaven unto the end of your days. I now seal upon your head the patriarchal power, and you shall bless the people. This is my dying blessing upon your head, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

The hands came down and Hyrum straightened. “Thank you, Papa,” he cried in a choked voice.

Father Smith turned until his eyes found Joseph. Hyrum stood and stepped back, and Joseph took his place. Again the aged hands came up, then rested on Joseph’s head.

“Joseph, my son, you are called to a high and holy calling. You are even called to do the work of the Lord. Hold out faithful and you shall be blest, and your children after you. You shall even live to finish your work.”

Joseph stiffened. “Oh! My father!” he cried with a great sob of relief and joy. “Shall I? Shall I truly?”

Emma had buried her face in her hands and was weeping quietly now.

“Yes, Joseph,” Father Smith declared, “you shall live to lay out the plan of all the work which God has given you to do. This is my dying blessing upon your head, in the name of Jesus.”

Joseph leaned forward, bending over his father. His shoulders shook as they embraced. Now there wasn’t anyone in the room who wasn’t crying. He continued one by one—Samuel, William, Don Carlos, and Sophronia and Lucy—until each of the children was blessed. Like the patriarchs of old, this first Patriarch of the dispensation of the fulness of times was leaving his family their richest legacy.

Exhausted and drained, after he finished with Lucy he had to rest for a time, but finally he reached out and took his wife’s hand again. “Mother, do you not know that you are one of the most singular women in the world?”

She looked startled, but every head in the room began to nod. “No, I do not,” she said.

“Well, I do. You have brought up my children for me by the fireside, and when I was gone from home, you comforted them. You have brought up all my children, and could always comfort them when I could not.”

She dropped to her knees beside the bed. “Oh, Father, don’t leave me.”

He smiled and laid a hand upon her head with great gentleness. “We have often wished that we might both die at the same time, but you must not desire to die when I do, for you must stay to comfort the children when I am gone. So do not mourn. Try to be comforted.”

She laid her head down on his breast, weeping as though her very heart was broken.

“Your last days shall be your best days, as to being driven, for you shall have more power over your enemies than you have had. Again I say, be comforted.”

He fell back, and Joseph and Hyrum both took an anxious step forward. But his eyes were still open and his breathing deep but steady. The room grew very quiet now, for the blessings were over and everyone sensed he had fulfilled his purpose in gathering the family around him.

Suddenly he straightened noticeably. With great surprise and wonder, he looked around. “I can see and hear as well as I ever could,” he exclaimed. Again there was a long pause. Then he cried out a second time, this time with great joy. “I can see Alvin.”

Those present felt chills shoot through their bodies. Alvin was the older brother of Joseph and Hyrum. He had died nearly seventeen years earlier, about two months after Joseph had first been visited by the angel Moroni and learned about the gold plates. Just prior to the dedication of the Kirtland Temple, Joseph had seen Alvin in vision in the celestial kingdom.

Again Father Smith fell silent, this time for even longer than before. No one moved. Every eye was fixed on their father and grandfather. He turned his head, as though searching, then saw his wife kneeling beside him. “I shall live seven or eight minutes,” he said, his voice now soft as a whisper.