Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  About five minutes later, from above them there was a shout. They both straightened and turned. One of the crew was on the top deck, pointing forward and yelling something indistinguishable over the noise of the paddles. “Uh-oh,” Joshua muttered.

  “What?”

  He shook his head and walked quickly around to the other side of the boat. As he reached the other side, Joshua lifted an arm to point. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  Up ahead of them, perhaps three-quarters of a mile off still, just coming into view around a bend of the river, they could see another boat, a big one, probably half again as big as theirs, with two paddle wheels on each side amidships. Now above them, several members of the crew were shouting at each other. Some of the passengers who were out on deck came around to the starboard side to see what was going on.

  “What is it, Pa?”

  “We are about to engage in a race,” he said grimly.

  The race wasn’t much of a surprise, but the timing was. It seemed like anytime two boats got within a mile of each other going the same direction a race was on. Will had been in several going up and down this river, but never when it was nearly dark and never this late in the summer when the river was lower. This could prove to be pure insanity. But even as he thought that, the roar of the engine deepened, and the sound of the paddles quickened noticeably.

  “But we can’t possibly beat him,” Will said. “He’s way bigger than us.”

  “And with the double wheels, he’ll have two big boilers for sure. But since when did that ever stop a riverboat captain from trying?”

  News of what was happening spread fast. People poured out from their cabins and from the big dining hall to line the rails. Above them, the smokestacks were belching a huge quantity of dark black smoke which trailed out behind them for quarter of a mile.

  “The race is on!” someone shouted five minutes later. They had closed the distance to about half a mile now. There was no question about it. The other boat was streaming huge clouds of smoke and the paddle wheels were a blur now. The smaller boat had been spotted, and the captain of the larger boat wasn’t about to let this upstart little boat pass one of the great river queens.

  “Ten dollars says the big boat wins!” someone shouted.

  “I’ll give you fifty that ours overtakes it within the next quarter hour.”

  Will turned to his father in disbelief. “They’re betting on the race? Does the captain know that?”

  “Know it?” Joshua snorted. “He’ll be covering some of the bets himself. The stupid fool. Now he’s got to win.” He grabbed Will’s arm. “Will, go to our cabin. Get all my papers. Don’t worry about the rest of our stuff. I’ll meet you at the bow.”

  Will just stared at him. “We’re getting off?”

  “Of course not, but if this thing blows, you and I are going to be as far from that boiler as possible. I’ll go see if I can find something we can use to float ashore if we need to.”

  “Pa!” Will cried, truly alarmed now, but Joshua was already gone.

  Two minutes later, Will pushed his way through the mob at the front of the boat, holding his father’s small case in front of him as a wedge, winning himself several angry looks. He looked around but could not see his father anywhere. Two more minutes and Joshua was suddenly standing beside him.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got a couple of small casks put aside. We can get to them if we need to.”

  “So what now?”

  His father grinned. “Now we see who wins.” Will’s gaping mouth made his father laugh. “Look, we’ve prepared for the worst, which probably won’t happen. There’s nothing more we can do.”

  Will turned and was surprised to see that they had cut the distance between the two boats by almost half again. “Look, Pa, we’re closing on him.”

  “Yep,” Joshua said lazily. “I put a word in with the captain.”

  “You did?” Will exclaimed. “What did you say?”

  “I told him that if his boiler blows up, I will personally drag him out of the water and beat him to a pulp.” There was an ironic grin. “In the meantime, I told him he darn well better win, because I put a hundred dollars down for us with a man from Natchez.”

  “You what?”

  But Joshua just laughed.

  Another ten minutes and a roar went up from the crowd. The big boat was up to full steam now and making almost twice the speed it had when they first saw it, but the distance was now down to a few hundred yards. The larger boat had started to turn, moving toward the faster current, directly where their boat was traveling. With the smaller boat making better speed, they were on a possible collision course now, depending on who got there first. That had brought the shout. Will saw that whoever got there first would be the winner, for the other boat would have to go out and around him, into the slower current.

  “He’s going for the current!” someone yelled.

  “We’ll crash!” another man cried.

  Will, still dumbfounded, looked at his father, but Joshua seemed undaunted. “Our captain’s already in the swiftest current. We may not have the boiler power of that one, but we’re smaller and lighter and more maneuverable. You want to put some money down on this, Will?”

  Will just shook his head. And then, seeing the look in his father’s eyes, he realized what Joshua was doing. He was trying to keep Will’s mind off the possibility of an explosion. And then Will smiled. They had done all they could do to prepare for it. They would fare better than most. And if it didn’t happen, then all there was to worry about was the race. He laughed aloud, relieved and excited and proud of his father and cocky about their chances all in the same moment. He turned forward again and began to shout, urging their boat on faster and faster.

  The crowd was going wild now. The boats were down to fifty yards apart. Even women and children were outside, screaming and shouting, cheering their captain on. This was a grand American tradition. Competition was a way of life here on the river. It was a way of life in many parts of America, especially on the frontier. And on the frontier, often you bet on that competition with your life. It was frightening and exhilarating and expanding and totally American.

  Their boat was coming up hard on the other one now, and they could clearly see the people who lined its rails three and four deep also. And they too were shouting and screaming and waving their fists with wild abandon. As a seaman, Will was getting increasingly nervous. The distance between them was closing fast. You didn’t turn boats and ships the way you did a wagon or a carriage. You needed room. A lot of room. And that was fast disappearing.

  To his surprise, he saw his father looking up toward the wheelhouse. “Don’t you do it,” Joshua said in a low, commanding voice. “Don’t lose your nerve. Hold steady, now.”

  With a start, Will suddenly realized that if the two boats collided, the bigger boat would get the better of it by far. “We’re going to hit, Pa!” he exclaimed. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he eyed the two intersecting paths.

  People had stopped shouting now. They were holding their breath, staring in horror as the two boats closed ominously. Now the big river queen towered over them, looking for all reality like a giant box bearing down on a bug. Will looked across the water and saw the horrified looks on the faces of the people there.

  “Everybody back!” someone screamed. “We’re going to hit!”

  “Turn! Turn! Turn!” someone else was shouting.

  Suddenly the crowds around him bolted, running for the back of the ship. Will staggered and nearly fell, then braced himself against the mass. The din was deafening—people screaming and sobbing, the high pitched whine of the big engines, the roar of great paddle wheels propelling them forward at ramming speed. Joshua reached out and grabbed Will’s arm, holding him in place. His eyes were darting back and forth between the two riverboats, measuring the distance with a practiced eye. He shouted in Will’s ear. “If we do hit, it’s going to be at the back and not the front. Stay h
ere and hang on.”

  Will grabbed the rail, digging his fingertips in and planting his feet, staring back at the massive shape coming at them like a juggernaut. He tensed, wanting to close his eyes but not able to. And then, at what seemed like the last possible moment, the huge stubby nose of the double paddle wheeler veered away, coming not more than ten to twelve feet from the side of their boat. He was turning. Their boat rocked violently as the wake from the bigger boat shook them like a dog shaking a rag. The side paddle wheel, which stuck out a good eight to ten feet wider than the rest of the big boat, still nearly clipped them. Will tensed again, expecting to hear the ripping sound of churning paddles chewing into hardwood. But then in another moment, the paddle wheel was clear and their boat shot forward as the big one went off at an angle.

  A great cheer went up all along their boat. Hats flew in the air. People fell on each other, pounding one another and laughing and pointing. On the far boat, the other passengers were silent. A few shook their fists at them, but the rest just stared in bitter disappointment. Angling off, the big boat was dropping rapidly to stern. The race was over. Will felt a great sigh of relief as the boat slowed and the sound of the engine dropped in pitch.

  Will looked at his father, and finally could only shake his head.

  Joshua smiled, though Will could see the relief in his eyes as well. Then he took Will by the shoulder. “Why don’t you take our stuff back to the cabin. I’ll go collect my winnings, and then I’ll buy you the biggest steak on board this old tub.”

  “That’s a deal,” Will agreed.

  “And Will?”

  “Yes, Pa?”

  “We don’t have to tell your mother about this, all right?”

  He grinned. “Yes, Pa.”

  As they sat lazily letting the dinner settle in their stomachs, Joshua stirred beside him. “Will?” It was said with some tentativeness.

  “Yes, Pa?”

  “Walter Samuelson’s a good man, Will.”

  Will nodded, a little surprised at the sudden mention of his father’s St. Louis business partner.

  “He’s been real good to me. Real fair. Never had one question about his integrity.”

  “That’s good, Pa.” He still wasn’t sure where this was going.

  “I didn’t ask him to set something up, Will.”

  “Set something up?”

  There was a long pause. “Yes.”

  “Like what, Pa?”

  “Like dinner at his home.”

  Will went cold. “Oh.”

  “With his daughter.”

  “I figured that much out,” Will said with a sudden bite to his voice.

  “I was joking with you earlier today, Will. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he has arranged something. He thinks you’re one of the finest young men he’s ever met.”

  “No, Pa.”

  “Will, it’s not my doing. And I’ll not have you be offending Mrs. Samuelson or their daughter. She’s a fine young woman.”

  Will considered that. He believed his father when he said it wasn’t his doing. But he also knew that whatever it was Samuelson was setting up, it wouldn’t be going against Joshua Steed’s wishes either. Well, it wasn’t the girl’s fault, was it? Maybe she felt as stupid about it as he did. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll not be offending them, Pa.”

  “Good.”

  Will stood up. “I’m tired, Pa. I think I’ll be turning in.”

  “I’ll be along shortly.”

  “All right.” Will turned and headed for their cabin, already dreading their arrival on the morrow.

  Chapter Notes

  The details surrounding John C. Bennett’s life as given here—including his position of prominence, the anonymous letter from Ohio, the investigation by George Miller, and Hyrum Smith’s subsequent letter—are described in several sources (see, for example, HC 5:36–37, 42–43; Times and Seasons 3

  [1 July 1842]: 839–40, 842; and Andrew F. Smith, “The Saintly Scoundrel: The Life and Times of John Cook Bennett,” [unpublished ms., Brooklyn, N.Y., 1994], pp. 117–18). Bennett was elected mayor of Nauvoo on 1 February 1841 and elected as major general in the Nauvoo Legion three days later (see HC 4:287, 296). Sidney Rigdon continued to have serious health problems incident to his long imprisonment in Missouri, and so during the April 1841 conference, John C. Bennett was appointed Assistant President in the First Presidency while Rigdon was ill (see HC 4:341).

  Chapter 4

  To his surprise, as Nathan came around the corner onto Water Street later that same night, approaching the large two-story cabin that was known as the Homestead, he saw two figures standing just outside the fence, having an animated discussion. It was full dark now, and only as Nathan drew up on them did he see it was Brigham Young and Heber Kimball. They looked up as he strode over to them, immediately cutting their conversation short. Both looked grim. “Hello, Brother Nathan,” Brigham said.

  Nathan was still fuming over what Lydia had told him. Every time he thought of those oily eyes raking Rebecca up and down, and the smooth hands brushing at her arm, he felt himself boiling inside. So he didn’t pay much attention to the state the two brethren were in. “Is Brother Joseph at home?” he asked abruptly.

  “No,” Brigham said. “We were just looking for him.”

  Nathan threw up his hands. “Did Emma say where he is? I must talk with him.”

  “No. As you probably know, Don Carlos Smith is very ill. Emma’s gone to help his wife care for him. Only Emma’s nephew is home now with the baby.”

  Nathan grunted at that. He knew that Emma’s nephew, a young man in his early twenties, was visiting with them from out of town somewhere. “It is a matter of utmost urgency,” he went on. “No idea where Joseph might be?”

  “No,” Brigham answered. “We have an urgent matter of our own.” There was a snort of open disgust. “It concerns our esteemed mayor. We were just discussing where we might find Joseph so we can deal with it.”

  Nathan had started to turn away, but now he snapped back around. “Brother Bennett?”

  “Yes,” Heber growled. “We’ve been working on a problem concerning him. Now it is time for a resolution.”

  “Well, there’s a thing or two you should know about this man before you go calling him our esteemed mayor,” Nathan snapped.

  The two Apostles exchanged a quick glance; then Brigham took Nathan by the arm. “When I called him our esteemed mayor, I was being somewhat sarcastic, Nathan. But I suggest that you tell Heber and me what it is that is of concern to you. There are some questions with John C. Bennett that we wish to take up with Brother Joseph.” He gave his companion another quick look, and it was filled with a sudden dread. “And I pray this is not what I think it is, Nathan.”

  Nathan hesitated only a moment. Here were two senior members of the Quorum of the Twelve. If he couldn’t tell Joseph, then there weren’t two men in Nauvoo with more authority to tell it to. So he told them, trying to control his bitterness from spilling over into the narrative.

  When he finished, there was a long silence, and then Brigham’s face noticeably relaxed. “Thank heavens, Nathan.”

  “Thank heavens?” he echoed incredulously. “My sister goes to the Assistant President of the Church and is made to feel like a common harlot, and all you can say is thank heavens?”

  Heber turned Nathan to face him. “What Brigham means is that we are thankful that it progressed no further than that. At first we feared the report might be much worse.”

  “Oh.” Nathan realized he was letting his feelings get the better of him. “I’m sorry, Brigham. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  Brigham brushed that off as inconsequential. “When did all this happen?”

  “This morning.”

  Brigham shook his head, his jaw tight, the blue-gray eyes looking like the advancing crest of a thunderstorm. “Nathan, I want you to come with us and find Joseph. He needs to hear your report along with ours. This is a very serious thing now.”

 
; As Nathan looked back and forth between these two lifelong friends, his bewilderment was evident. Heber watched him for a moment, then looked at Brigham. “I think he has a right to know what is going on.”

  There was a quick, curt nod.

  Heber turned back to Nathan. “Are you aware of the letter Joseph got from Brother Hyrum a short time ago?”

  “Yes, Joseph told my father and me about it.”

  “Joseph has opened an inquiry,” Heber went on. “Brigham and I have been helping him.”

  “He hinted as much to us in that same conversation. What have you found?”

  Brigham didn’t answer that directly. “In the past few days, Joseph called in a young woman whose name has been linked with Bennett’s in various rumors and gossip. He was hoping that she would refute the accusations.”

  “But she didn’t?” Nathan asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No, she didn’t,” Heber said.

  “But it is far worse than any of us had supposed,” Brigham broke in. “This woman, thinking Bennett was an unmarried man and hoping for a proposal of marriage from him, was quite flattered that his attentions had settled on her. But he began to press his affections upon her, begging her to let him gratify the passion he felt for her. The woman demurred, of course. She was a virtuous and innocent sister. She protested that such acts were against the laws of God.”

  Now Brigham’s eyes were hard and very cold. “Was Bennett discouraged by such a show of chastity? Not in the least. He told her that she didn’t understand the law properly. He said that promiscuous relations between the sexes was lawful and that there was no harm in it as long as it was kept a secret.”

  “No!” Nathan exclaimed.

  “Oh, yes!” Brigham muttered. “She was shocked and refused his advances in the strongest terms, saying that she couldn’t accept his word on a matter that important. She told him that what he was asking was wrong and it would bring shame and disgrace upon her and the Church.”

  “Good for her.” Nathan’s anger was quickly turning into cold fury.