The Work and the Glory (165 page)

* * *

As Derek had expected, Jenny’s mother had come right outside and located him and Peter. What Derek had not expected, though, was that he didn’t mind at all. They talked eagerly of the afternoon’s experience and of what they had heard. Like him, Mrs. Pottsworth had been very impressed with the message of the Americans. Finally they prepared to leave, but Derek wasn’t ready, and he asked Mrs. Pottsworth if she would see Peter home. He promised he would follow shortly.

At last the missionaries came out of the Church. In the lead was Joseph Fielding, the reverend’s brother. He was talking with the reverend’s wife. Then, a moment later, the others came out. Heber C. Kimball was deep in conversation with the minister and another couple, but to Derek’s relief, Orson Hyde was at the rear, pretty much alone. Derek also saw that he still held the book in one hand. He sidled up to him carefully. “Mr. Hyde?”

Hyde turned and sized Derek up quickly. What he saw was a broad-shouldered, strapping fellow with the features of a twenty-year-old and the eyes of a much older man. “Yes, lad.”

“I . . .” He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly embarrassed by his boldness. “I was wonderin’. That book . . .”

“Yes?”

“Where might I get a copy that I might read it?”

Hyde nodded thoughtfully, looking him up and down with new interest. “Can you read, lad?”

“Aye.” Derek thought of the leather bag of coins carefully hidden away in the coal pile in the cellar where they lived. It was still pitifully light. If the book was too much, he’d have to pretend that he wasn’t that interested after all.

Hyde held out the book to him. Derek stared at it. “Go on, take it, young man. We’ve got only a limited number of them, so I can’t let you have it permanently. But as you heard, we’ll be preaching here again tonight and then on Wednesday night. Do you think you could have some of it read by Wednesday?”

Derek took the book, holding it carefully so as not to drop it. He looked up into Hyde’s face. “Yes, sir! I could have it nearly all read by Wednesday, sir.”

“Then it’s yours. Take it, Master . . . ?” He let the sentence hang.

“Ingalls. Derek Ingalls.”

“Take it, then, Master Ingalls, and return it read to me by Wednesday evening.”

Derek whirled around and ran down the church steps. As he got to the bottom, he suddenly remembered his manners. He stopped and turned. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Hyde laughed. And then as Derek raced away, he called after him. “Don’t forget the promise at the end of the book. Page 586.”

“I won’t,” Derek called over his shoulder. “I won’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The little stub of the candle had finally melted down into a puddle of wax in the bottle lid. The flame began to sputter and crackle softly.

Derek looked at his younger brother, whose eyes were closed. “Peter?” he whispered. The two men who shared the cellar with them were long since asleep, and waking them up would only bring a stream of curses and maybe a hurled boot or something.

Peter’s eyes opened immediately. He hadn’t been asleep.

“The candle is nearly burned out.”

“I know.”

Derek frowned, looking at the flickering remains of the only light source for their side of the cellar apartment. “The meeting t’morrow night starts right after supper. There’s no way we can finish the book by then.”

Peter’s shoulders rose and fell. “Maybe they’ll let us keep it longer.”

“Maybe.” Derek didn’t have much hope for that. Brother Hyde had said they had only a few books with them, and with the large crowds they had drawn to both Sunday services, they would almost certainly have many requests for books.

He closed the Book of Mormon and set it down on the small crate that served as their only table. The scrap of paper he was using for a bookmark was stuck in the book not quite two-thirds of the way through. They had read steadily all of Sunday afternoon and evening, and then had done the same last night and tonight as soon as they got home from work. But it was difficult reading for two who were still mastering the art of reading. There were many strange words. And they often stopped to talk about what they had just read. Derek’s greatest disappointment was that they had not yet come to the story of Jesus appearing to the people in the Americas that Brother Hyde had talked about.

The sputtering and crackling had ceased now. The melted wax was nearly consumed, and the flame had shrunk to half its normal size. Peter turned over on his side so that he could look at his older brother. His eyes were large and dark in the flickering light. “Derek?” he said softly.

“What?”

“Would you pray with me?”

Derek straightened, fighting a sudden sense of panic. “What?”

“The mission’ries said we should pray about whether the book is true.”

“I know. I . . . well, I’ve been kinda doing that inside.”

Peter looked pleased. “Me too,” he confided. He hesitated. “Is that good enough?”

Derek looked away. “I don’t know.”

Peter looked up at him until Derek finally turned and met his gaze. Peter’s eyes were filled with longing. He didn’t have to put words to it; Derek read him perfectly.

“I ain’t never prayed before, Peter,” Derek whispered.

The disappointment filled Peter’s eyes. “I know,” he said. After a moment, he turned over and snuggled down against the mattress. “It’s all right.”

Derek sighed in exasperation. Peter knew full well how to get his brother to do his will. But then, Derek realized, he was glad in a way, for he was filled with a longing of his own. “All right, Peter, I’ll try it.”

Awkwardly he climbed off the bed and knelt down. Grinning with pleasure, Peter scrambled off to join him. He knelt beside Derek, his shoulder pushing up against that of his brother.

For several moments, Derek knelt there, feeling beneath his arms the roughness of the straw under the mattress ticking and with his knees the hardness of the brick flooring. His tongue felt like a piece of stone inside his mouth. He took a quick breath, then another. Then he plunged in.

“God . . .” He stopped. That didn’t sound right, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember how the pastor had started his prayers at the meeting. Perplexed to be stopped at his first word, he rushed on. “Peter and me, we ain’t been much for church.” He swallowed quickly. “We hope you’ll forgive us for that. It’s not that we don’t believe in you, it’s just that . . .”

It occurred to him that if God really existed, he didn’t need Derek to be giving him any excuses. He decided to get on with what they wanted to say. “God, Peter and me, we been reading this book. We like it. There are some things we don’t understand, but we feel good when we read it.”

He felt beads of perspiration starting to form on his forehead. This was sheer agony. “We was wond’rin’ if you would tell us if the book is true. The missionaries—” He stopped as he realized that he had pronounced the word in the American fashion. “The mission’ries told us that if we asked you, you’d tell us. So we’re askin’. We really want to know, God. We—”

His voice strengthened as he realized that he really meant what he had started to say. “We want to do what you want us to do. ’Cause we don’t want to go to hell, God. So tell us, please. Then we’ll know what to do.” He stopped again, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But he could put none of them into the form of a prayer, so he simply finished. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Peter whispered.

Derek opened his eyes to darkness. During the prayer the candle had gone out. He stood slowly and felt Peter stand beside him. He put his arm across his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Derek.”

“Thank
you,
Peter. I wanted to, I just didn’t know how.”

“It was a real good prayer, Derek.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you know how I know it was a good prayer?”

Derek looked down in surprise at the small figure in the darkness. “No, how do you know that?”

Peter slipped his arm around Derek’s waist. “’Cause I feel so happy, Derek. I feel happier than I can ever remember.”

Derek squeezed his shoulder. “Me too, Peter.”

* * *

On Wednesday evening, the twenty-sixth of July, the elders from America held their third meeting in the Vauxhall Chapel in Preston. For the third time they preached to a capacity crowd. Word spread quickly after the Sunday afternoon meeting. Sunday evening’s session was bigger than the afternoon’s had been, and now Wednesday’s was the largest of all. As usual, the missionaries preached stirring sermons, and afterwards several of those who attended requested baptism. A date was set for the following Sunday.

To the elders’ surprise and dismay, that set the Reverend James Fielding into a spin. Even though he had written to his brother in Canada and begged him to bring someone from the new church, even though he had been the one to invite the missionaries to speak in his chapel, now everything changed. It was members of
his
congregation that were abuzz with the new doctrine. It was
his
people requesting baptism. Claiming that the missionaries had violated their trust by preaching baptism contrary to their arrangement with him, the pastor said he could no longer tolerate their preaching in his church. Heber C. Kimball vehemently denied that there had ever been such an arrangement, pointing out that he would never consent to remain silent about the one ordinance by which membership in the kingdom was obtained. But Fielding was adamant, and practically overnight their ardent supporter became their violent opponent.

  Fortunately, the “damage” had already been done. Many of the congregation followed the Reverend Mr. Fielding’s lead, of course, but many others did not. He had spoken too glowingly of what his brother and others had written about a restored Church of Jesus Christ. Many had prayed fervently that the Lord would send someone to them, and Fielding himself had said they had come as an answer to those prayers. And then there were the dreams. Word of the remarkable fulfillment of the dreams went through Fielding’s group like news of a raise in salary at the factory. Many were as dismayed and frustrated at the reverend’s change of heart as were the elders from North America. They opened their houses to the missionaries now, and the meetings simply shifted to new locations.

But the powers of darkness had determined that the gospel would not take root in the Old World. In America, Satan raged in the Church, making significant inroads even into the highest quorums. The infant Church, barely seven years old, was being shaken to its very roots. In those dark and terrible days, the Lord told Joseph, “Something new must be done for the salvation of my church.” A few days later Heber C. Kimball was called to take the gospel to England. Within days of his and his companions’ arrival, a beachhead had been successfully established, and the work was rolling forth with remarkable success. When the reversal and opposition of James Fielding failed to halt the progress, the adversary decided on more drastic measures.

The time for the first baptisms in England was set for the morning of July thirtieth at the River Ribble, which ran along the southern edge of town. Heber C. Kimball would later relate what happened in the early morning hours of that Sabbath day.

“By this time the adversary of souls began to rage, and he felt determined to destroy us before we had fully established the kingdom of God in that land. I witnessed a scene of satanic power and influence which I shall never forget.

“Sunday, July 30th (1837), about daybreak, Elder Isaac Russell, who slept in the same room with Elder Richards in Wilfred Street, came up to the third story, where Elder Hyde and myself were sleeping. He called out, ‘Brother Kimball, I want you should get up and pray for me that I may be delivered from the evil spirits that are tormenting me to such a degree that I feel I cannot live long, unless I obtain relief.’

“I had been sleeping on the back of the bed. I immediately arose, slipped off at the foot of the bed, and passed around to where he was. Elder Hyde threw his feet out, and sat up in the bed, and we laid hands on him, I being mouth, and prayed that the Lord would have mercy on him. And we rebuked the devil.

“While thus engaged, I was struck with great force by some invisible power, and fell senseless on the floor. The first thing I recollected was being supported by Elders Hyde and Richards, who were praying for me, Elder Richards having followed Russell up to my room. Elders Hyde and Richards then assisted me to get on the bed, but my agony was so great I could not endure it, and I arose, bowed my knees, and prayed. I then arose and sat up on the bed, when a vision was opened to our minds, and we could distinctly see the evil spirits, who foamed and gnashed their teeth at us. We gazed upon them about an hour and a half (by Willard’s watch). We were not looking towards the window, but towards the wall. Space appeared before us, and we saw the devils coming in legions, with their leaders, who came within a few feet of us. They came towards us like armies rushing to battle. They appeared to be men of full stature, possessing every form and feature of men in the flesh, who were angry and desperate; and I shall never forget the vindictive malignity depicted on their countenances as they looked me in the eye. Any attempt to paint the scene which then presented itself, or to portray their malice and enmity, would be vain.

“I perspired exceedingly, my clothes becoming as wet as if I had been taken out of the river. I felt excessive pain, and was in the greatest distress for some time. I cannot even look back on the scene without feelings of horror. Yet by it I learned the power of the adversary, his enmity against the servants of God, and got some understanding of the invisible world. We distinctly heard those spirits talk and express their wrath and hellish designs against us. However, the Lord delivered us from them, and blessed us exceedingly that day.”

Elder Hyde described it thus: “After Elder Kimball was overcome by these evil spirits and had fallen, their awful rush upon me with threats, imprecations, and hellish grins amply convinced me that they were no friends of mine. After we laid Elder Kimball on the bed, I stood between him and the devils and fought them and contended with them face-to-face, until they began to diminish in number and to retreat from the room. The last imp that left turned round to me as he was going out and said, as if to apologize and appease my determined opposition to them, ‘I never said anything against you!’ I replied to him thus: ‘It matters not to me whether you have or have not; you are a liar from the beginning! In the name of Jesus Christ, depart!’ He immediately left, and the room was clear. That closed the scene for that time.”