Elder Brannan had fought the ensuing terror by admonishing the Saints to sing hymns and call upon the Lord for deliverance. Surprisingly, though more miserable than she could have ever imagined, Alice and the others had not lost their faith. Even Captain Richardson had come down near the end of the fourth day in total despair. They were being blown toward the Cape Verde Islands, which were just four hundred miles off the coast of West Africa, and would be dashed upon the rocks before morning. He came down to tell them to prepare for shipwreck at best and death at the worst. To his utter amazement he found the Saints composed and unwilling to lose hope. And within hours the winds died, the seas calmed, and they were spared.
Gratefully that had been the last of it. The mountainous waves which had threatened to swamp the ship became light chops or gentle swells. The skies cleared, the breezes were stiff but favorable, the temperatures of the northern latitudes gave way to warm and pleasant days. There had been those two dreadful days in the doldrums—those latitudes north of the equator where the winds died and there was not so much as a gentle breeze to fill the sails—but they quickly passed. Now the winds were steady again and favorable, as the sailors called them.
With a groan, she threw back the covers and sat up, her feet dangling over the side board of their bed. It wouldn’t do to have the inspectors—perhaps Elder Brannan himself—catch her like this. A set of twenty-one rules had been established by Elder Brannan to govern life on ship. Reveille was at six a.m. At seven, rooms were inspected and opened for airing. No one could leave their “state-rooms” without being fully and properly dressed, including coats for the men. At eight-thirty the children began breakfast, followed by the adults. Dinner was served from three to five o’clock, with a “cold lunch” served at eight in the evening. There were times set aside for group and individual prayer, with the Sabbath days—like today—being devoted to rest and worship. They would have worship services at eleven this morning.
The rules helped to maintain order and cleanliness, and most accepted them cheerfully. Most of what little grumbling there was went toward Samuel Brannan, who seemed to view himself as more like a ruler or governor than simply their priesthood leader. His insistence that they always refer to him as “First Elder,” for example, grated on several. He ate with the captain and did not share the simple quarters of the others. After the storm had blown itself out, he had determined that they had to put themselves under covenant to prepare for that time when the voyage was completed and they reached Upper California. He established an order, patterned after the united order set up by Joseph Smith, wherein they all agreed to form a company and put the returns from their labors in a common pot for three years. The fact that it was obviously advantageous to him and that he titled the company “Samuel Brannan and Company” added to the irritation of some, but everyone signed. As usual, Will said little, even to Alice, though she could tell that their leader’s high-handed ways disturbed him.
Chiding herself for getting lost in thought again, Alice hopped down onto the deck, feeling the coolness of the wood beneath her bare feet. Absently, her right hand rose to her stomach and rested there for a moment. She knew it was mostly her imagination, but she thought she could feel the first swellings. She smiled in the half darkness. She had thought about telling Will this day, it being the first of March and seemingly a good time. But now she had another thought. When they crossed the equator there would be a party in celebration for King Neptune—a tradition among sailors, according to Will. Whenever the equator was crossed in either direction, King Neptune, god of the sea, was crowned in a celebration by all on board the ship. It would be a jolly and rollicking time—less so for the Mormons than for others perhaps, because the Saints would not toast the occasion with ale or rum; but it would be a genuine party nevertheless. In light of the monotony of shipboard life, this would be something to look forward to indeed.
Her hand moved up and she began to unbutton her nightdress. Yes, that would be the time. Just before the celebration began, she would whisper it in his ear. Then they would have more than King Neptune and the crossing of his great line of demarcation to be glad about.
She was nearly right in guessing where her husband would be. Will was at the prow of the ship, but he was not just standing there with his face in the wind. He was working with two of the crew, helping them stow the rigging and check on some of the crates that were lashed down to the deck. When he saw her, he immediately left them and came over. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. He leaned down and kissed her. “How are you feeling?”
“Glorious. Thank you for letting me sleep.”
“I’m not sure there was much choice. I thought for sure you’d wake up when I dropped that kettle on the floor right next to you.”
“You dropped a kettle?” she burst out, and then she saw the laughter in his eyes. “Oh, you,” she said, poking at him.
“Well, you were sleeping pretty soundly.”
“I know, and it felt so good.” She slipped an arm through his and they walked back to about midship. There were several other passengers out and about, and they spoke briefly with them. Then they stopped at the railing where they could be alone.
“Another beautiful day,” Will said.
“It is. I’m so glad.” She waited a moment. “I’m coming to understand why you so love the sea.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“At times. At other times it can be terrifying.”
“I won’t argue that point.”
And then, since they were talking about the sea, she decided this might be the time to raise a question that had been on her mind of late. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You know how we were blown off course during the storm.”
“Yes.”
“How long do you think that will delay our arrival in California?”
He was a little surprised by her question. “Oh, two or three days, maybe. Why?”
“Two or three days? That’s all?”
“Yes, why?”
“Didn’t you tell me that the Cape Verde Islands were off the coast of Africa?”
“Yes.”
“Africa? Not South America?”
He was clearly puzzled. “That’s right. They’re about four hundred miles west of the westernmost shoulder of Africa.”
“But that’s a thousand miles off course, Will. How can you say it will delay us for only two or three days?”
Now he understood. His first impression was to chuckle, but then he caught himself. Why shouldn’t she assume that that was what had happened? He had not taken the time to explain things to her.
“Look,” he said, holding up his left hand, fingers pointing up and palm facing the two of them. “Picture South America in your mind. The tips of my fingers are the northern coast; the palm is the fat part of the continent. My thumb is the western coast; my little finger and the side of my palm are the eastern coast. My arm is where the continent narrows.”
“Okay.” It was a crude similarity, but for his purposes it was fine.
“If you can picture it, the continent is long and mostly straight down the west coast. But here”—he tapped the side of his little finger—“there is a great bulge eastward. It is called Brazil. Can you picture what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now tell me where this eastern tip of Brazil—what they call Cabo de São Roque—is in comparison to New York City.”
She looked at him for a moment, then tapped a spot in the air above the tip of his little finger. “About here?”
He smiled. “That’s what most people in North America think. They picture South America as being directly south of us. But it’s not true. Mexico and Central America have a great eastward curve and South America is offset quite a bit to the east of North America.” Now he tapped a spot above the tip of his thumb. “Would you believe New York is about here, directly above the western coast of the continent, and is more than a thousand mil
es west of Brazil’s eastern tip?”
“Really?”
“Yes. The east coast of North America is about even with the west coast of South America.”
She looked at him closely to see if he was teasing her. But he was quite serious.
“Okay,” he continued, “that’s the first problem. If you want to go around Brazil, what direction do you have to sail?”
“Southeast,” she said promptly.
“That is correct. And there is the second problem. We’ve talked about the prevailing winds. You remember that?”
“Yes.” Will had been trying to teach her a little about sailing and had spent an hour one day after the storm describing how around the globe various winds blew in predictable, reliable patterns. Because they were so important to sailors and ships, they were called the trade winds.
“Well, if you were to head directly southeast from New York”—with his right forefinger he drew a line from above the tip of his thumb to the right side of his palm—“not only would you not clear South America, but right here at the eastern end of the Caribbean you would run into the northeasterly winds. What is that going to do for us?”
She nodded slowly, understanding starting to come now. The winds were always named for the direction from which they came, not the direction in which they blew. So a northeasterly would blow them southwest. “It would blow us directly toward South America.”
He beamed. She was really very quick and it pleased him greatly. Not only that, she really wanted to know. “Okay. Now, when you sail mostly east from New York you hit the westerly trades. They take us out far enough that we clear the land mass of Brazil and miss the northeasterly winds.”
“I see that, but do we go all the way to Africa?”
“No, not all the way, but almost. When the storm hit, it drove us farther east than we would normally go. That’s when we came dangerously close to the Cape Verde Islands and nearly shipwrecked. But we were not a thousand miles off course. This is the route that all the China traders and the whalers use. It is about a thousand miles longer, but it cuts nearly two weeks off the total journey.”
She nodded and turned back to the railing, glad she had asked him. It was a simple answer, and she felt foolish for having harbored the fears for so long.
“Did you know that in about three days we’ll have been at sea for one month?” he asked.
She turned her head and nodded. She had already remembered that it was the first day of March. They had sailed from New York on the fourth of February. “It seems longer in a way. It’s like we’ve been on board for a lifetime. And yet in another way, it seems like only a week.”
“That’s how the sea is,” he said. “I have found—”
“Mr. Steed?”
Will turned. The first mate, the ship’s second officer, was approaching them. With him was the bosun and several sailors. They were sober faced, but there seemed to be some hidden amusement.
“Yes, Mr. Lombard?”
“I think we’ve just spotted it.” He held out a telescope.
“Really?” Will turned around and peered out to sea.
“Oh, you can’t see it without help yet,” Lombard said quickly. “You’ll need the glass.”
“Thank you.” Will took the spyglass and held it up to his eye.
“You’ll have to look closely,” the bosun spoke up. “It’s still a long way off.”
“What is it, Will?” Alice asked, looking in the direction Will was facing.
He grunted, lifting his other hand to adjust the focus slightly. And then he straightened. “I’ve got it!”
“What, Will? What is it?”
Still he didn’t answer. After a moment he lowered the glass and turned back to the ship’s officer. “I guess you’re right. I thought we were still too far away.”
Seeing what was going on, other sailors and some of the passengers began to gather around them. Alice noted that one or two of the sailors were grinning and chuckling to themselves. Whatever it was, it must be something exciting. She turned back to Will. “What is it? What are you looking at?”
He turned solemnly. “It’s the equator.”
“What?”
The other passengers moved to the rail, peering out across the vast expanse of water. “Where?” one of the men asked.
“Oh, you can’t see it with the naked eye,” Will explained. “It’s still too far away.” He handed the telescope to Alice. “Here. You have to look really close. You can barely see it.”
Eagerly she took the glass and turned to brace herself on the railing. “Where is it?”
“Almost straight ahead. You have to keep your other eye closed tightly.”
She did so, searching through the lens, trying to see anything but the blue water.
“Do you see it?” Will asked.
“No. What am I looking for?”
“It’s a long black line right on the surface of the water.”
“Really?” She leaned forward.
Behind her she could hear the people chuckling softly now. She was so intent on her search that she gave it no thought. Then suddenly she stiffened. “There it is! I see it! I see it!”
Will was standing right beside her now. “You do? What does it look like?”
“It’s really fuzzy, but it’s there. A long dark line in the water.”
“That’s it,” he exclaimed. “That’s the equator.”
It was the laughter that made her pull away from the telescope. Several of the women were tittering. There were some loud snickers. A couple of the sailors—the same ones who had been grinning before—were laughing uproariously, slapping their legs or doubled over. Mr. Lombard was trying to repress a broad smile.
And then she understood. Her face flamed brilliant red. Will had reached out with both hands and was holding a piece of black yarn in front of the lens of the telescope. That was the “equator” she had seen.
Seeing her face and her expression, the whole company erupted with a roar. Will was grinning as if he had just found a pot of gold.
“You—,” she started, still blushing furiously.
“I’m sorry, honey.” This was a joke played on just about every sailing ship taking passengers across the equator, but it was always great fun when there was one so innocent and so trusting. And to have her own husband in on the sham delighted the crew. “If it makes you feel any better, I fell for the same trick the first time I approached the equator.”
“And you think that makes it all right?” she said archly.
The crew exploded again. They liked Will a lot, and from what they had seen of his wife, they liked her as well. That she would not take this lying down was all the more delightful. She looked around at the crew. “Gentlemen, I put you on notice that I shall have my day as well. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I shall get even.”
“Yes!” one of the men chortled.
“We’ll help, Miz Steed,” another sang out.
Will was laughing now too. “Doesn’t the Bible talk about turning the other cheek?”
“It does,” she said sweetly, “but unfortunately that page has been torn out of my Bible.”
Chapter Notes
On the first day of March, 1846, almost one full month after the first wagons left Nauvoo and crossed the Mississippi River, Brigham Young decided to wait no longer. Though he was feeling somewhat ill and would not leave the camp until evening when a carriage came to convey him, he did not have the others wait. Moving out from Sugar Creek about noon, with not all the wagons leaving, the Saints started west. They moved about five miles that first day. Brigham caught up with them later that evening. (See MHBY, pp. 57–58; CN, 9 March 1996, p. 12.)
Information about life on the ship Brooklyn, including the great storm that blew them so far off course, comes from reports of those who participated in the journey (see Paul Bailey, Sam Brannan and the California Mormons [Los Angeles: Westernlore Press, 1943], pp. 31–35; Church History in the Fulness of Times [Salt
Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1989], pp. 327–28).
Chapter 3
When Caroline returned home from a brief trip to her store, wheeling Livvy in the baby carriage, the house was empty. Surprised, she took off her coat, got the baby out of hers, all the while calling out for Charles and Savannah. She sat Livvy up to the table with a piece of bread and butter and a cup of milk, then went methodically through the house, looking in every room. They were not there. Neither were they out in the backyard or in the barn.
Feeling the first touch of anxiety, she picked Livvy up, then went next door to Melissa and Carl’s house. “Yes,” Melissa said when she asked about Savannah, “I saw her about half an hour ago.”
“Where?”
“Pulling a wagonload of stuff out the gate of your house.”
“A wagonload of stuff?”
“Yes. You know, the little wagon Joshua gave her for Christmas a year or so ago.”
“Oh.” There were too many wagons and teams in Nauvoo right now and Caroline’s first thought had been of a full-sized wagon, which made no sense at all. “What kind of stuff?”
Melissa shrugged. “I couldn’t really tell. It looked like there were some clothes and some of her toys. I saw that big doll she loves so much.”
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