Jack raised one skeptical eyebrow and held his position for a moment before turning.
Once alone, Will shook his head. If they were anywhere else besides this ship with a strict rule to follow, he might have mentioned that he did, in fact, enjoy talking with her.
Jack’s words were a good warning, though. He ought to be careful so people didn’t start gossiping about any preferences he might have.
As for the ship being cursed, Will’s mind wasn’t made up about it yet. It had been a particularly awful voyage so far, but why it had been so, he couldn’t rightly say. For now, he was going to run more drills with the seamen to make sure they were ready for whatever came.
The eight o’clock morning watch bells rang as Ann made her way out from the cabin and onto the deck. Whispers had sped through the steerage and cabins before anyone had even eaten breakfast. Smallpox was on board, and there was no escaping it. Most people had the same idea to seek fresh air, and the decks were lined with passengers. However, every square foot was as eerie as a cemetery at dawn.
She scanned the rows of people and found a familiar face she was sure would bring some comfort. She pulled up next to Elizabeth, who managed a sad smile toward her.
“I just can’t stop thinking about smallpox,” Ann said as the fresh breeze swirled around them.
“Quite dreadful.” Elizabeth shook her head. “But don’t you think most of the people have had the vaccine?”
“It’s too recent a law,” Ann said. “It only passed last year, and many people were skeptical about it and didn’t have their children receive it.” Like Adelaide, who didn’t allow Cyrus or herself to get it.
Elizabeth looked worried for one moment and then plastered on a smile. “It will be all right. I think God will deliver us from much harm.”
Ann wasn’t so sure. This was more calamity for an already arduous voyage. “He doesn’t spare people just because they are faithful.” Last night after she’d talked to Mr. Boyd, she’d had another nightmare of the stove crushing her. That incident was just the symbol of the danger they constantly faced. More and more she found herself not just doubting coming on this voyage, but angry at God. If they’d stayed home, they could still worship with the Saints there and little Addy would have never died.
Why hadn’t He spared Addy?
Ann stared out to the choppy sea and wished faith were like flour or molasses, and when one needed more, one could simply purchase it. But here, confined on this boat, on this forsaken quest, her stores felt empty, and she was simply too spiritually poor to have the right kind of currency.
Elizabeth turned and scanned the horizon as well. “Reminds me of President Garn’s sermon last week, wouldn’t you say?”
“I missed his last sermon. I was ... attending to Addy during it.” The sermon hadn’t saved Addy, and just saying the poor babe’s name made her shudder. She’d been gone a week now. Ann closed her eyes, trying to keep back the tears that flowed so easily. “What did he teach?”
“He spoke of Lehi and his family coming across on the great boat to the promised land and how we are doing the very same thing. He spoke about the contention and storms aboard and warned us against bickering and creating factions.”
President Garn usually gave powerful sermons, that was certain. And the story of Nephi’s journey and his believing determination had always been a strength to her. Maybe, if she could swallow down some of her anger, she’d think about reading that account tonight.
They drifted into silence like the other passengers around them. Ann knew everyone must feel the weight of having smallpox aboard. People had died—old Mr. Squires and little Addy—but this meant many more deaths to come, of all ages.
Death had been a distinct possibility each passenger knew about, but now the nearness of that reality seemed to be infiltrating their very souls.
Even the sailors worked quietly without any of their regular banter, stealing wary glances toward the passengers. The cloud of doom that hung over the ship was so palpable Ann was sure if she lifted her hand, she could touch it.
All of a sudden, Elizabeth’s clear singing voice started quietly next to her. The soft tones rippled across the air, carrying a kind of charged, positive energy.
“Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy, wend your way.”
Her voice pierced through the silence, its tone as pure as crystal-blue spring water. She reached down and squeezed Ann’s hand, and her voice grew in volume.
“Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.”
From somewhere toward the stern, a rich male voice joined in.
“’Tis better far for us to strive
Our useless cares from us to drive;
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell—
