The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  Chapter 7

  To Will’s surprise, Alice did not look back as the wind caught the sails and the Brooklyn began to pick up speed. He watched her, wondering when she would, betting himself that there would come that moment when she would turn around and look back with longing on the land. It was a temptation that all but a sailor found hard to resist, that one last, longing look at dry land before surrendering to the endless vastness of the sea.

  But he was wrong. They were in the bow of the boat, and as it picked up speed they could hear the hiss as its timbers slipped through the water. Almost ten minutes had passed now since clearing the reef and waving off their pilot boat. Off to their left, the majesty of what the natives called Diamond Head, a spectacularly green mountain that formed the southernmost tip of the island of Oahu, was dazzling in the morning sunlight. But even that did not turn her head. As it moved by slowly on the port side she never once turned. She reached up, gripping part of the rigging to brace herself, then leaned far forward, letting the wind blow back her hair. The breeze was stiff enough that it blew against her clothing, showing the roundness of her stomach. They were now down to three months from the time when they would be parents.

  A little piqued that she wasn’t cooperating with his prediction for her, he turned, looking back toward the island and the white line of surf that marked the reef. “It is a beautiful place, isn’t it?”

  There was a soft murmur, but she didn’t turn. He leaned forward and saw that her eyes were closed as she swayed softly back and forth. “Do you smell it, Will?”

  He moved to stand closer to her. “Smell what?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. “California!”

  He laughed. “We’re barely ten miles out of port and you think you can smell California?”

  “Think?I know it!” She threw out her arms, tipped back her head, and breathed deeply. “I know it.”

  He laughed and took her in his arms. She leaned against him and closed her eyes again. For a long moment they stood there; then she stirred slightly. “Today is June thirtieth?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you said it should take no more than a month from here?”

  He pulled a face. “Well, about that. It depends on how the winds are.”

  “Oh no you don’t, Will Steed. You told me no more than a month, and no more than a month is what I am going to hold you to.”

  He chuckled softly. “Yes, dear.”

  “You have July, my husband, and that is all. Then I want to be in California.”

  “Brother Nathan Steed! Brother Nathan Steed!”

  Nathan straightened. “Here.” He leaned down, scraping the last of the soap from his chin as he looked in the small square of mirror he had propped up against the tin bowl. He rinsed the razor, swabbed at his face with his towel, then hurriedly put on his shirt.

  “My pa is around here,” he heard Elizabeth Mary say. Buttoning his shirt, he stepped around the wagon.

  It was Heber Kimball. He sat astride a horse that was still breath-ing heavily from having run up the bluffs from the camps below.

  “Good morning, Heber.”

  “Mornin’, Brother Nathan. I’ve come at the request of President Young.”

  He nodded, trying not to look surprised. “What can I do for you?”

  Lydia had come to the tent flap and was listening closely. She held little Tricia in her arms. He glanced at her and saw the concern in her eyes.

  “There’ll be a meeting at ten o’clock. The President would like you there if you can.”

  “Certainly. Have they crossed the river yet?”

  “No. They’re still down in the river bottoms, but the meeting won’t be there. It’ll be at Elder Taylor’s tent on Mosquito Creek. Know where that is?”

  “I do,” Nathan said. The new ferry had finally been completed on Monday afternoon, with considerable fanfare at its launching. Yesterday the leading brethren had moved their families down to the river bottoms in anticipation of moving across to the west side. That had been delayed by a heavy afternoon shower, but he expected that they would go across this morning. John Taylor, however, was still camped up here on the bluffs.

  The Apostle started to rein his horse around.

  “Any truth to the rumors we’re hearing about Thomas Grover riding in late yesterday?”

  Heber C. Kimball stopped, his face grave. “Isn’t just a rumor. It’s true enough.”

  “Are there really supposed to be army officers on their way here?” Nathan asked, disappointed that it had not proven to be just another of the many rumors that went up and down the camps.

  “No,” he retorted flatly. “They are not supposedto be coming. They got here shortly before dark last night. That’s what the meeting’s all about.” He reined his horse around and slapped its neck. “See you there,” he called as he rode away.

  Lydia came out to stand beside him. Nathan took the baby from her as they both watched Elder Kimball disappear. “The army?” she said in disbelief. “Would they really dare come asking for men after all they’ve done to us?”

  “I don’t know,” he said shortly, “but if they do, President Young will send them packing soon enough. We’re not part of the United States anymore. We owe them nothing.”

  There were four other officers with the captain of the First Dragoons from Fort Leavenworth. Though they had ridden well over two hundred miles, they looked as clean and fresh as if they had just come from an officer’s ball. Their blue uniforms were crisply pressed, their boots were polished until they gleamed, and their hair and mustaches were neatly trimmed.

  Elders Heber Kimball, Willard Richards, and Orson Pratt had ridden up with President Young from the bottoms. Others of the Twelve, including Orson Hyde, John Taylor, and George A. Smith, were still camped on the bluffs and were also present. In addition, there were other leaders. President Young greeted the officers warmly, though with some formality, and invited them to sit in the chairs at the front inside the large tent.

  The others then found places to sit on the beds or stood behind their leaders. For a moment there was an awkward silence; then Brigham cleared his throat. “Captain Allen, I understand that you have something to present to us. We are now at your service.”

  Allen got up, standing firmly, though not rigidly, at attention. “I do, sir. Thank you for your courtesy in receiving us.” He reached inside his jacket. “I have a letter of introduction from Colonel S. W. Kearny, commanding officer of the First Dragoons at Fort Leavenworth. With your permission, I should like to read that, sir.”

  “Proceed.”

  He unfolded it. “This was addressed to me and dated June nineteenth of this year.”

  Brigham nodded and motioned for him to go on.

  “ ‘Sir: It is understood that there is a large body of Mormons who are desirous of emigrating to California for the purpose of settling in that country, and I have therefore to direct that you will proceed to their camps, and endeavor to raise from amongst them four or five companies of volunteers to join me in my expedition to that country.’ ”

  There was a quiet ripple of surprise in the tent, and Captain Allen stopped for a moment. Nathan was one of those who had taken in a sharp breath. Four or five companies meant four or five hundred men—four or five hundred of their best men, because that would be what the army required.

  “Go on, Captain,” Brigham said quietly, giving his people a warning look.

  “Thank you, sir.” Allen began to read again. The facts were clear, though written in typical army formality. Each of the companies would have from seventy-three to one hundred and nine men. They would have three officers, elected by the men, and would be allowed to pick their own non-commissioned officers. Once mustered in, they were to be marched to Fort Leavenworth, where Captain Allen was to secure all necessary equipment and supplies to turn them into soldiers—uniforms, weapons, tents and traveling gear, horses, mules, wagons, and so forth.

  “ ‘You will have t
he Mormons distinctly to understand that I wish to take them as volunteers for twelve months, that they will be marched to California, receiving pay and allowances during the above time, and at its expiration they will be discharged, and allowed to retain, as their private property, the guns and accoutrements to be furnished to them at this post.

  “‘Each company will be allowed four women as laundresses, who will travel with the company, receiving rations and the other allowances given to the laundresses of our army.

  “ ‘With the foregoing conditions which are hereby pledged to the Mormons and which will be faithfully kept by me and other officers in behalf of the Government of the United States, I cannot doubt but that you will, in a few days, be able to raise five hundred young and efficient men for this expedition. Very respectfully, your obedient servant, S. W. Kearny, Colonel of First Dragoons.’ ”

  He folded the paper, returned it inside his uniform, then straightened again to attention.

  For a long moment, total silence filled the tent. Every eye was on President Young. Some seemed not at all surprised by what they had heard. Others were clearly agitated. Nathan watched their leader’s face for any signs of anger or disgust. But Brigham seemed only thoughtful, almost pensive. After a few moments, he looked up. “Captain Allen, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “As you know, if we were to send five hundred men with you as requested, that will leave many families here without their breadwinners and protectors.”

  “Yes, sir.” Allen seemed a little wary.

  “As you also know, here and across the river from where we now sit is land that has been designated by the government as Indian land.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s true, sir.”

  “Would an officer who has come to enlist men in the United States Army have the right to say to those men’s families, ‘You can stay on these lands till your husbands return’?”

  Nathan started at that. It was something that hadn’t crossed his mind. Already there had been considerable negotiations with the local Indian agent about the Saint’s right to stay on Indian land, or even to trade with the Indians without working through the agent. It was clearly a subject that weighed heavily on Brigham’s mind.

  Captain Allen did not hesitate. “Sir, as an officer in the U.S. Army, I am an official representative of James K. Polk, the president of the United States. As his representative, I am empowered to act until I notify him of my actions and he can either ratify the decisions I make or indemnify your people for any possible damages. And I would say it is safe to say that, under the current circumstances, the president might give his permission to travel through the Indian country, stopping whenever and wherever circumstances required.”

  Brigham nodded thoughtfully, but Nathan could see the satisfaction in his eyes. “Thank you for that clarification.”

  He looked around at his leadership. “Brethren, I know there are many questions in your minds about this course of action. You should know that Brother Kimball and Brother Richards and I met last night in council on this matter, knowing that Captain Allen had arrived. I am therefore recommending that we accept this invitation and immediately proceed to help Captain Allen and his officers recruit the necessary numbers requested.”

  There was a collective gasp. Several looked stunned. There wasn’t even going to be a discussion on this? Brother Brigham had already made up his mind? And in favor of the army?

  He smiled at the looks on some of their faces. “Captain Allen, we shall send word through the camp for all of our brethren to gather near what we call the wagon stand at fifteen minutes of noon today. There I shall ask you to address them with your proposal and read to them Colonel Kearny’s letter.”

  “Yes, sir!” There was no mistaking the relief and pleasure in his voice. “We shall be prepared. Thank you, Mr. Young. Your treatment of our request will not go without notice.” He snapped to attention and threw Brigham a salute, and then he and his fellow officers left the tent.

  Brigham stood slowly, looking around at those he had called. “Brethren, you shall hear my reasoning on this subject later. I’d like you all now to spread the word through the camp. I want all the brethren who are here to assemble at forty-five minutes past eleven o’clock. That is just over an hour from now, so please move quickly through the camp and extend the call.”

  It wasn’t just men who came. Many wives came with their husbands, and the whole camp was buzzing with excitement, anger, frustration, and bewilderment. Back at his family’s camp, Nathan fended off all queries. He was still a little dazed by it all, but that one simple question put by Brigham Young to the army captain had opened his eyes to a whole different way of looking at it. “Let’s go hear what Brother Brigham has to say,” was all he would say.

  By eleven-thirty the area around what they called the wagon stand—a wagon had been stripped of its cover and a temporary podium nailed inside its bed—was crowded with people. Brigham and the Twelve were there ten minutes before the appointed hour, as were the army officers. At a quarter to twelve President Young stood and introduced Captain Allen to the people, then turned the stand over to him. The captain spoke clearly and calmly. He explained who he was and under what authority he had come. He read the letter from Colonel Kearny again and also the circular he had read to the Saints at Mount Pisgah. He paused for a moment, offered his thanks for their attention, and then sat down.

  It was precisely noon when Brigham stood up again. “Brothers and sisters,” he began, “I’m sure all of this has taken many of you by surprise, just as it did us. I know that there are many in this congregation, even some among our leadership, who are dismayed at what is happening. They are asking many questions about why we would grant a hearing to such a request when we have been treated so unjustly by our government in times past.”

  “That’s right,” someone called out from the back.

  Brigham turned in the direction of the sound, his brows lowering. It silenced anything further. Finally he went on. “I wish you to make a distinction between this action of the general government and our former oppressions in Missouri and Illinois. I know that many are asking, ‘Is it prudent to enlist to defend our country?’ I also know that if we answer in the affirmative, all will be ready to go.”

  He stopped for a moment. Then, nodding as if he were agreeing with his own thoughts, he went on. “Suppose we were admitted into the Union as a state, once we reach our destination. If the government did not call upon us then for service, would we not feel ourselves neglected? I say yes, we would. So let the Mormons be the first to set their feet on the soil of California. Let us answer this call for men as faithful citizens.”

  He turned and looked for a moment at the army officers, then back at the group of Saints. “I want you to think for a moment of the advantages that shall accrue to us in benefit for our obedience. Many of you know that some time ago I sent Brother Jesse Little to Washington to petition the United States to help us move west. We offered to build a series of forts and maintain them for the government. That has not come to pass. But Brother Little met with President Polk and put our case before him. I’m sure this opportunity to enlist men in the army is the result of his labors.

  “Do you understand what that means for us? We shall send some five hundred men to the West at the expense of the United States government. Perhaps they shall even reach our final destination before we do. They will be given food and clothing and weapons, all of which they shall be able to keep as their own once their service is done. We are nearly destitute, my brothers and sisters, as you well know. And we have many more still coming, many with nothing but what they wear on their backs and feet.

  “These five hundred men will receive army pay for their service. Seven dollars a month. Multiply that by five hundred and then multiply that by twelve months and you have a substantial sum of cash, cash which we desperately need to help us prepare for the winter and to see our way west. The army has agreed to send a goodly
portion of those wages back to us in advance. We shall ask the battalion members to contribute much of their pay to care for their families who are left behind and also to help the Church care for our people.

  “Now, there is one more thing which comes as a great advantage to us. Captain Allen has agreed to give our people permission to stay on Indian lands until we can move on to the West. Brothers and sisters, open your eyes and your hearts to what the Lord has done for us here. This is the first offer we have ever had from the government which will benefit us at the same time that we offer our services to them.”

  Nathan looked around. People were nodding everywhere. The anger was gone. Many seemed a little sheepish, as he himself was, that they had not seen beyond their own emotional reaction to this new development.

  “My dearly beloved fellow Saints,” Brigham went on, his voice softer now, “I propose that we raise those five hundred volunteers and muster them into service. If you are one of those who is willing to volunteer, I promise you that your families will be brought forward with the rest of us when it is time for us to move on. They will not be neglected in your absence. I will feed them myself, so long as my family and I have anything to eat.”

  He stopped, and Heber C. Kimball got up instantly to stand beside him. “Brethren, I move that five hundred men be raised immediately for service in the United States Army for the war against Mexico.”

  “Second that motion,” Willard Richards cried from behind him.

  “All in favor.” Heber’s fierce dark eyes scanned the congregation. Then finally he turned back to President Young, smiling in satisfaction. “The voting has been unanimous, President. I believe we can begin recruiting immediately.”

  By that evening the reality of the call for five hundred of their best men had finally settled in on the camps that lined the eastern bluffs of the Missouri River and the bottoms below. It was no longer a question of acceptance. There were still a few grumblers here and there, but Brigham’s stirring speech that afternoon had convinced the majority that this was not only the Lord’s will but also part of his plan for his people.