A Child of the Sea; and Life Among the MormonsWilliams, Elizabeth Whitney
History
A Child of the Sea; and Life Among the Mormons
Williams, Elizabeth Whitney
Beaver Island (Mich.); Latter Day Saints -- Michigan; Strang, James Jesse, 1813-1856
It being cold we soon went back to the boat. Our boat looked like a huge
snow bank beside the dock. The freight was being rolled over the plank
and all was confusion. There were handshakes and good-byes as the people
hurried over the plank. The "all aboard" was shouted, the plank was
pulled in, the paddles turned and we were moving away amid the waving of
caps and fluttering of handkerchiefs. Our whistle was saluting, and many
of the people on the dock joined in one of the old French-Canadian glee
or boat songs, their voices sounding far out over the waters as we
passed Round Island.
ON LAKE HURON.
For a short time we watched the white island covered with snow. It soon
set in thick again and the snow came down in blinding sheets with a cold
wind. Our boat rocked and tumbled about. We were now out on Lake Huron
in a heavy snow storm. Our captain and sailors were dressed in their
warm fur coats. Every turn of the paddies was taking me farther from
home, and soon such a longing came over me which I could not shake off.
I wanted to go home. Elizabeth and my brother tried their best to
comfort me, telling me I was going to see brother Charley; but nothing
could make me feel better. Brother tried to have me eat something, but I
could not. My chin quivered, I tried so hard not to cry, I ran to my
room, throwing myself on my bed, trying hard to keep the tears back.
Soon Mr. Crane came with a big doll he bought for me at Mackinac Island
and grandpa McKinley came to see me, taking me in his arms and rocking
me in one of Jane's chairs. I was very glad to see him. He was a dear
white haired old man. He told me some droll stories that made me laugh.
Then I told him I was going to see my brother Charley and that I was
homesick, and if I didn't get better soon I was going to ask the captain
to turn the boat and take me back to Beaver Island.
The storm grew worse, the seas ran higher, the snow was blinding and all
things had to be made secure on the boat. No one but the sailors could
walk about. Any that tried would be thrown down. The only way they could
move about was to creep on their hands and knees. Sometimes our boat was
high on the waves, when it seemed every timber in her would be broken.
She trembled and then sank way down, where it seemed we would be buried
in the foaming waters.
CROSSING SAGINAW BAY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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