The Work and the Glory (333 page)

“Joseph says right there,” Benjamin said, pointing to the near center of the excavation. “That’s a well you see there. That will furnish the water they need.”

“They’re gonna let cows in the temple?” six-year-old Mark Griffith asked, his mouth open in amazement.

Everyone laughed at that. “No, Mark,” Benjamin said, chuckling. “They’re not real oxen. They’ll be carved from the same stone as the temple.”

“Then why do they need water?” Emily asked, as puzzled as her cousin.

“Yeah,” Luke Griffith piped in. “Why?”

Lydia knelt down in front of her daughter. “Remember last year when Papa baptized you, Emily?”

“Yes.”

“Well, instead of being baptized in the river like you were, there’s going to be a baptismal font—a font is like a huge bathtub—in the temple. And it will sit on the backs of twelve oxen. Not real oxen, but carved oxen, like Grandpa said. That’s what the water is for, to put in the font so people can be baptized.”

Olivia had been listening closely. She looked up at her mother. “When we get baptized, Mama, can we be baptized in the temple?”

A sudden, embarrassed silence swept over the family. For a moment, Caroline was taken aback, but then she looked around. “You can all relax,” she laughed. “It’s only Joshua who doesn’t like you talking about baptism. But I have made up my mind to be baptized someday, you know.”

“And so have I,” Olivia said with conviction.

Caroline looked down at her oldest daughter. “But to answer your question, Livvy. No, I think this font will be used only for those who want to be baptized for the dead. We’ll be baptized in the river, probably.”

Benjamin started to make an additional comment, when the sharp crack of cannon shot was heard from the direction of the city.

“Oh,” Mary Ann cried, “they’re coming. Quick, let’s go over by the road so we can see better.”

Rachel looked up in alarm at Jennifer Jo. “What is it? What’s happening?”

Jennifer Jo took her hand. “It’s the Nauvoo Legion, Rachel. They’re coming. The parade has started.”

They joined the flow of the crowd as everyone moved to where they could see the sweep of Nauvoo below them. And then the Steeds, along with everyone else, stopped dead, dumbfounded at the sight that awaited them.

“Oh, my!” Mary Ann breathed.

“Would you look at that?” Carl exclaimed with open awe.

“Oh!” Caroline said, in a drawn-out exclamation of amazement.

Carl reached down and picked up his two younger boys and held them up as high as he could. Lydia had her baby and couldn’t do anything for Emily as the crowd pushed in and cut off their view. Benjamin already had Savannah on his shoulders, and Jessica did the same with John, her youngest. Cries of excitement were exploding everywhere now. People were shouting and pointing. Children who couldn’t see were squealing to be lifted up. People near the back of the crowd were calling out, asking what it was. Those near the front with the best view whistled and clapped their hands.

“I can’t see, Papa,” young Carl complained.

“Me neither,” cried Olivia.

Just then two men came riding up on horses. “Make a path! Give way!”

The crowd began to fall back in both directions, opening up a broad avenue. The Steeds were right at the split point and ended up along the second or third row of spectators. And now they all could see what was coming.

Sixteen companies of the Nauvoo Legion were marching up the road toward the temple site. In the lead was the Legion band, playing a rousing military march. Next came the officers and their staffs on horseback. And following behind was square after square of soldiers, boots crunching in perfect rhythm to the music, forming a phalanx of men and weapons almost a quarter of a mile long.

It was a grand sight and one to stir the blood. As the band passed, the Steeds and everyone around them applauded wildly.
A band, no less,
Benjamin thought. In Far West, they had had a few who could play instruments, and they had formed a band of sorts. But this was a real band. Most of the men had uniforms on, and the drum major was marking the beat with long up-and-down sweeps of his staff. As he passed by, he raised the staff above his head and twirled it around two or three times with a grand flourish. There were cries of approval and the applause increased. The children’s eyes were big as wagon wheel hubs.

“There’s Brother Joseph,” Kathryn McIntire cried, pointing. “And Sister Emma.” Joseph, mounted on his horse, heard her and turned and waved.

“My,” Mary Ann said to Benjamin, “don’t they make a fine-looking couple?”

Joseph and Emma rode side by side. Emma was in a full dress and rode sidesaddle. Joseph was resplendent, dressed in full uniform. There was a dark blue coat with gold braid epaulets and brass buttons, white trousers, knee-length boots, a wonderful belt with a sword and scabbard, and a plumed helmet. The plumes, made of ostrich feathers, waved gaily in the breeze as his horse pranced, sensing the excitement of the crowd.

Under the Nauvoo Charter, the city council was allowed to appoint the commanding general of the militia. To no one’s surprise, Joseph Smith was chosen and given the rank of lieutenant general. John C. Bennett was made a major general as a reward for his role in getting the charter passed. Wilson Law and Don Carlos Smith, Joseph’s youngest brother, were given commissions as brigadier generals.

Behind Joseph and Emma came the other general officers and their wives and the younger officers who served them. They waved and called out as they rode past.

“Where’s Papa, Mama?” Emily asked, searching the rows of faces as the first company of men approached them.

“He is in General Law’s company,” Lydia answered. “I’m not sure which one that is, but if—”

“There he is!” Peter said, pointing to the third company back. Nathan was the second man in on the fourth row.

“Papa! Papa!” Emily cried. It was lost in the shouts of a hundred other children doing exactly the same thing, but somehow he picked her voice out. His head turned just a fraction as he approached and he winked at them. Then he snapped back to the front and marched on by, his right arm up to hold his rifle, his left arm swinging back and forth in cadence with the others.

Benjamin watched them pass, rank after rank, row after row. As the final company passed by, he leaned over to Mary Ann. “We owe John C. Bennett a great debt of gratitude,” he said loudly enough to carry over the noise.

She looked up and nodded. The Nauvoo Legion was authorized by the Nauvoo Charter, and John C. Bennett was the man primarily responsible for the Nauvoo Charter.

“If we had had this in Far West,” Benjamin said grimly, “it would have been a far different story.”

Chapter Notes

  As stated in the novel, the article critical of the Church and Parley Pratt’s reply to it were printed in the
Millennial Star
in November 1840 (see
MWM,
p. 215). The reply of the archbishop of Canterbury to the request of the ministers was reported by Wilford Woodruff (see
MWM,
pp. 125–26).

  The growth statistics given by Derek do not include the incredible success Wilford Woodruff and John Taylor had prior to April 1840 when Brigham and the rest of the missionaries arrived. The best calculations would indicate that there were approximately six thousand converts to the Church as a result of the mission of the Twelve to England. (See
MWM,
pp. 301–2.) Total Church membership at the end of 1839, just before the missionaries started to arrive in England, was over sixteen thousand (see
Deseret News 1993–1994 Church Almanac
[Salt Lake City: Deseret News, 1992], p. 396), which means the British mission swelled the Church’s population by more than a third.

  Wilford Woodruff records the account of the woman possessed of an evil spirit. While in Manchester, he was asked to go and heal the woman. There were several nonmembers in the room, skeptics who had come to see if the Apostle could work a miracle. Reluctantly, Wilford blessed her, but with no results. Her raging only increased. He then cleared the room and administered to her again, with the immediate results here described. (See
MWM,
p. 92.)

  The general conference of 6 April 1841 began with a grand march by the Nauvoo Legion. Hymns were sung and Sidney Rigdon gave an impassioned speech about the significance of the occasion. Then the cornerstones of the temple were laid. (See
HC
4:326–31.) Largely through the lobbying efforts of John C. Bennett, the Illinois legislature approved the Nauvoo Charter on 16 December 1840. This not only legally incorporated the city of Nauvoo but also authorized the city council to form a militia, much as other cities of any size were allowed to do. At its height, the militia had as many as five thousand men. They were well equipped, with many of the men having arms and the Legion itself having some light artillery pieces. (See Philip M. Flammer, “Nauvoo Legion,” in
Encyclopedia of Mormonism,
ed. Daniel H. Ludlow, 5 vols. [New York: Macmillan, 1992], 3:997–99.)

Chapter Thirty-Three

There was a loud crash and a piercing scream.

Will came out of his bunk in one leap. The ship shuddered like a frightened animal as it plowed into a wave higher than its foredeck and tons of water crashed over its length. Then, fighting to get its head out of the sea, the prow rose sharply.

“Watch out!” Will shouted at a shadowy figure across the steerage compartment from him. The man jumped to the side as a heavy travel trunk went hurtling by, smashing through a barrel of beans like an ax chopping through birch bark, and slamming into the bulkhead hard enough to splinter the wood.

Will made a leaping dive for the trunk as the ship crested the wave and plunged downward again. He grabbed on to one of the lashing ropes tied to a support beam, shoved his hand through the handle of the trunk, and hung on. In a moment, the deck changed its pitch from a sharp upward angle to what seemed like almost straight down. The trunk wanted to follow, and Will’s arm felt like it was being jerked from its socket.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. When the rough weather had started four days ago, the captain had given Will permission to sleep in steerage with the passengers for just this kind of contingency. They were sick and frightened and inexperienced in riding a ship in a storm. Will had come off a double watch just an hour before, exhausted beyond belief, and fallen into his bunk. He was almost instantly asleep in spite of the wild ride. That’s when everything started to break loose.

He jerked his head to the left. A woman screamed as the braces of her bunk tore out of the bulkhead, dumping her and a little girl onto the deck with a crash. Fortunately, they were in the lowest bunk and it was a short drop to the deck, but they both shrieked in terror as the deck slanted upward again and mother and daughter began sliding across it.

Up ahead of him another bunk gave way and a man was dumped onto the man in the bunk below him. That bunk couldn’t handle the extra weight and it too ripped free. The two men slammed down against the deck and cried out in pain. Will’s fingers were numb as the leather dug into the flesh, but he clenched his teeth and hung on the harder. The two men writhing on the floor were right where the trunk would pass if he let it go. It would smash them as easily as it had the barrel.

As the ship leveled again for a moment, Will whipped the lashing rope through one handle, then shoved the trunk against the nearest bulkhead and frantically tied the rope down, securing the trunk from slipping further. Suddenly he was aware of someone beside him. It was Brigham Young and Heber Kimball, both with faces as white as the foam on the sea, but teeth set and determined. “We’ve got to get things secured,” Brigham shouted into Will’s ear, “or someone is going to get killed.”

Will nodded, grabbing for Brigham’s arm as the ship rose again and he nearly lost his balance. “Get every man who can walk. You take the forward compartment. Tell them to hang on when she’s going up or down, then work quickly while she’s more level.”

“Right.” The ship leveled, creaking and groaning like a living thing, preparing to shoot downward again. They ran like deer for the next hold.

Will looked around. Derek was half out of his bunk. Wilford Woodruff was beside him, trying to help him. They clung grimly to the bunk and to each other as the deck tipped downward again. On the next break, they were staggering across to him. Both had been violently ill for several days now and could barely walk.

Will met them halfway. “We’ve got to get anything that’s loose tied down,” he shouted. “Work while the ship is level. Stay close to something to hang on to.”

He darted away, moving from bunk to bunk, hollering instructions. Matthew, right below Derek’s bunk, tried to get up, but instantly collapsed back down again. Of all the passengers, he had been one of the sickest. “Stay there!” Will commanded. “You’ll just get hurt.”

They worked frantically for half an hour, shadowy figures in the semidarkness. The heavier items were their first objective. Then they began grabbing at smaller loose objects rolling or flying about. They helped people back into their bunks, put women and children who had lost their beds in with others, jamming two and three into bunks where there was barely room for one.

Through it all, Will was grateful for two years of sea experience. This storm was as bad as any he had weathered, and even some of the crew were seasick. That was why he had been working double watches. But Will was fine. His body anticipated the rolls and pitches and adjusted accordingly without conscious thought anymore. And compared to some tasks, the problems in the passenger compartment were simple to deal with. The day before, he and the bosun had scrambled up thirty feet of mast when the top foresail snapped clean off and tangled in the rigging. That was like trying to hang on with one hand to some massive, fiendishly powerful bucking horse while keeping the other hand free to untangle the rigging.

From the very start, any hopes for a pleasant passage to America had been dashed. They were barely out of Liverpool when they ran into contrary winds. That made for rough seas and slow progress. Then, three days out, the winds rose to gale force. For the next four days, the winds howled unabated, and life became a living nightmare for the passengers. On this night, it had worsened, turning even the most harmless of objects into lethal weapons.