This was just one of dozens of trips he’d make in a lifetime.
Chapter 3
February 22, 1854
First day at sea
The passengers poured ontothe decks as theWindermere’ssailors scurried up masts in preparation to sail out of the harbor. Ann’s mother strode eagerly toward the vessel, and Adelaide followed, holding Addy tightly to her chest. Her little boy, Cyrus, was already on the ship with Job, who was overseeing the counting of passengers.
As she approached the gangplank once again, Ann stalled. She couldn’t get her feet to step onto the wood. Someone pushed around her, but she stood frozen. Another person pressed forward. All around her were Church members with stronger faith and greater determination than her own.
This was the last chance she had to turn back.
The last chance to remain in safety.
The last chance to change her mind.
The sea wind tore around Ann’s hair and the hem of her skirts, each gust carrying more puffs of her personal doubt. Trying to best her nerves and quiet her heart, she forced her foot forward. She had to go on this journey for her mother, her sister, her niece, and her nephew.
Her feet made contact with the deck as her breathing quickened. She pushed onward until she crossed the space. With trembling fingers, she gripped the edge of the rail at the stern and gave one last look toward Liverpool.
As the gangplank was pulled in and the boat set into motion, she studied the land in the direction of her dear Hempstead, recalling the gorgeous green hills, the dewy, wet days, the sheep fields and the cobbled streets. She’d likely never see any of it again. She turned her head to the west. They were moving, pressing forward already. What lay before her in America? All shesaw at present were heavy, foreboding clouds far in the distance. She tried to ignore the fear they brought with them.
What would the streets be like there? And the people? From everything she’d heard, the valley where Zion lay was extremely different from England. Dry, brown, and hot. A desert instead of a lush land blessed with rain.
Full of a people sure of their God.
She was sure God existed, but she wasn’t sure about this journey. Why would He make them move so far? There were many of her religion in England. She doubted the need to risk so much. She’d heard tales of what a terribly dangerous and arduous journey this could be.
But she couldn’t turn the ship around now, and she couldn’t swim.Please help me to come to peace with this choice.
To her right, the rest of her family also clung to the rails. Job and little Cyrus had joined Adelaide and her mother, who stood in an awed silence. As the ship left port, Cyrus jabbered to himself. Baby Addy had thankfully fallen asleep in Adelaide’s arms.
As Ann took in the view, Elizabeth appeared at her side. “The captain wanted to leave, they said,” her voice was a low whisper, “but I heard some sailors grumbling about the storm coming, saying we will all be in danger.”
“I suppose we will have to trust the captain,” Ann whispered back, inwardly reminding herself to be brave, as a bell tolled loudly.
Ann and everyone near her turned to look at the edge of the poop deck where the captain stood.
“I am Captain Fairfield.” His clear American voice boomed. His face was tanned and lined, Ann assumed from years in the sun and wind. “The bells dictate the different watches for the seamen. Passengers are permitted on deck provided they stay clear of the sailors and their duties.” He clasped one hand on the ship’s wheel near him. “If we have any deaths, God forbid, the bodies must be given to the sea. Everyone must do their part to keep their quarters tidy and clean, for disease can spread quickly on a ship. Food will be measured to make sure we have enough for the entire duration of the voyage, which, God willing, will take six or seven weeks.”
He took a deep breath and motioned behind him to a few younger men. “And last, you must always abide by whatever instructions are given by me or my officers. There can be no exception to this. Anyone who cannot comply with these rules will serve time in the brig.”
Ann’s eyes darted across the row of men near the captain, noticing Mr. Boyd stood just to the man’s right. Decorations adorned the edge of his coat, and she realized he was one of the highest officers. How had she missed this before? Standing at attention, his hat perfect on his head, he seemed very much the stern gentleman. Before, she’d thought him less than ten years her senior, but his stance and drawn face made him appear older now.
President Garn stepped forward and asked if he might offer a word of prayer. The captain consented, and among the Saints, each man removed his hat and each person bowed their head. Even the children stilled. President Garn’s words came out powerful and sure, praying for safety, health, and a fast voyage.
A warming sensation spread throughout Ann’s body, like a blanket comforting from the inside out. For the first time in weeks, the rays of the sun on her skin sank deeper, finding their way to her soul.
At least this was a promising start to their voyage.
With one hand on the ship’s wheel, Will knew Captain Fairfield was completely wrong about the weather; they were sailing straight into a gale. It was the first dogwatch during the late afternoon, and huge raindrops pelted his hands, his clothes already soaked through.
Normally, as first mate, Will’s watch would consist of walking the deck, ensuring the seamen stayed on task, assessing the wind, looking for problems, and making sure they kept course. But today, in this tight channel, he trusted only himself to steer. He’d told Mr. Stevens and Mr. Drake, the two primary helmsmen, that he’d take the wheel as long as they were in such weather and still near land on either side.
The relentless raindrops against his face and arms increased in size and rapidity. The captain really had misjudged the weather. Interrupting this mutinous thought, a young seaman approached, his feet unsure on the rain-slicked deck. “Pardon me, sir,” he said, teetering, “but a man’s died below.”
Will’s head snapped toward him. “We’ve only been sailing seven hours.”
