News & Columns > Dave Henderson > A Pioneer Story (Part 2)

A Pioneer Story (Part 2)

By Dave Henderson
Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Liverpool was a large city; the docks seemed miles in extent along the riverfront, built of granite in square basins opening into each other and also into the river. People of all kinds and conditions and colours and tongues. Police and custom house officers everywhere prying into your parcels and even tea kettles. No fire being allowed on the docks we had to get our cooking done on shore. This boat had been chartered by Orson Pratt, one of the twelve apostles of the Mormons, no doubt at a fair profit to himeself and some three hundred or over persons nearly all of the Mormon faith were passengers. A rather big lot for such a small vessel. The Captain and crew were nearly all Americans and from different states.

In less than a week we were in the Bay of Biscay where we had our first storm. And it came on in the night. We were in the second cabin and for convenience had most of our dunnage piled up around us to have it handy, so with the rocking and plunging of the vessel the lashings gave way and chests, bags, tableware etc. went slamming and racing through the cabin saloon and, no lights being allowed, all were afraid to get out of bed to make things fast. The steerage was immediately under us and through an open hatchway the racket down there was worse than with us. Children and women in terror of their lives and not hesitating to make it known. What with the howling of the wind through the cordage, the hoarse voices of the officers giving orders, the heavy tread of the sailors in their sea boots, the slashing of the waves on the vessels side, there was no sleep for anyone that night.

Towards morning some sailors came and put things to rights in the cabin and stowed all extra baggage below decks. Well when we got out next morning and saw the angry waves it was appalling. As far as the eye could reach immense volumes of water, white, crested, tumbling and surging. The utter helplessness of our little aggregation of sticks, strings, and rags canvass so apparent one cowers at the onslaught of every breaker. No need to wash decks that morning. The scuppers are open and the hatches battened down. The few passengers that dare appear on deck are holding on to ropes and rails, even the seasoned sailors. Men have out a weather eye for belaying pins and standing rigging of all sorts.

It was her I first got to see my life long friend. James H. Thorpe. He and John Chatterly, his cousin, were on top of the cook's galley feeding their dogs. They had my admiration for the fearless way they moved about between the boat, that served as a shelter for the dogs and did their duty fully under very adverse circumstances. But I afterwards found it was a piece of Thorpe to do so in all the vicissitudes of his eventful life. If they only would talk Scotch what chums they would make. Of course we had several storms in the eight long weeks it took to get to New Orleans and we eventuality got used to them, excepting a few, and were even able to extract humour out of quite unfavorable circumstances. An elderly lady from Leith, Mrs. Bieth, with two grown daughters and a son furnished some occasionally. Mrs. Beith needed much attention while seasick and never hesitated to make her wants known, It was."Richard, your mither wants this or that, and Joan, hand your your mither's head, put a bolster here or there," always in laud angry tones. So one fine morning after a storm Mrs. Beith, attended by Richard and Joan, got our into the sun and she was set on a loose hatch, bolstered up as comfortable as the circumstances would permit, when a huge wave gave us a toss. In an instant the lashings that held the hatch gave way and Mrs. Baird, followed by Richard and Joan, went sliding from side to side in water half knee deep, with the old lady screaming , "Richard save your mither" The passengers were convulsed with mirth and a boy about my size, forgetting to hold fast to whatever he was clinging to, fell in a sitting posture on the deck and took a couple of turns waist deep across the ship which helped to increase the hilarity. Ship life is monotonous at the best. Jokes and pranks were always enjoyed.

Soon after the storm in the Bay of Biscay we sighted the Peak of Pico. It looked to be a tall cone, the top snow covered. Daily we enjoyed the flight of the flying fish rising out of one wave and entering the next. Sometimes a huge shark or a whale would make its appearance. A few small sharks were cought with a hook baited with pork.

We got becalmed near the West India islands. The island of Saint Domingo was in sight several days. A very smooth sea and there was a continual rocking of the vessel, very hot weather, and we were on short allowance of water.

In places the sea at night was fairly ablaze with phosphorous scent animal life, from, dust size to the appearance of large balls, and the mountains on the islands seemed to be in perpetual storm from the perpetual flashes of lightening observable nearly all night long. Many were on deck nightly as the suffocating and heat bellow deck was quite unpleasant, but sleeping on deck was forbidden. But one fine morning we found our vessel going before a smart breeze and before long we had sighted the Island of Cuba, a long ridge of low hills with patches of verdure, evidently farms, and an occasional white spot which we understood to be residences. And the breeze stayed with us until we were at the Beliese or mouth of the Mississippi.

This was our introduction to the United States of America.

To Be Continued...

This article was first published on Tuesday, August 28, 2007 at 12:00 am. This article has been viewed 718 times.

Dave Henderson is the Vice-President of Operations for RIMOFTHEWORLD.net and it's parent company Vicinitas, LLC. Dave is the commercial and operational manager for the site.

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