

### Joseph Smith

### The President Elect

### Book Two: The Candidate

Copyright 2013 Kurt F. Kammeyer

Smashwords Edition

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Introduction

This is a book about what might have been. Nearly all the characters depicted in this book were real people, and their actual histories are a matter of record. There are only a very few instances where the characters are completely fictitious. Since I am dealing with real people, I have tried to respect the memory of the many greats and not-so-greats mentioned in this novel. The actual heroes, for the most part, remain heroes, and the villains are still villains.

Most of the scenes in this book are based on real events that took place in America around the years 1844-1845. However, in many cases the dates have been changed to improve the flow of the narrative. In some cases, actual statements made by one person are "quoted" by another. For example, in a few places Joseph Smith "says" things which in reality were said by Brigham Young or others. The recurring theme of this book, so to speak, might be: "History precedes itself."

This book uses an entirely different approach than any previously used by LDS authors who have written about Joseph Smith. Instead of just fictionalizing the Prophet's short life, I have "extended" his life into a work of fiction that explores what could very well have happened, if only he had survived Carthage.

Since the 1930s a discipline has grown up under the name of "Counterfactual History" – the study of what might have been, if only small events were changed at certain key turning points in history. What if Hitler had repulsed the Normandy invasion? What if William the Conqueror had lost the Battle of Hastings? What if Annie Oakley had missed her shot and killed Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1889, when he challenged her to shoot a lighted cigar from between his teeth? In my estimation, Joseph and Hyrum Smith's presence in Carthage Jail was just such a turning point in history. I have no doubt that if they had survived, our nation and the world would be a very different place today.

I have gone to great lengths to make this book as true to life as possible. In particular, I have tried to make these people speak and sound the way they actually did in 1840s America. A quotation from Mark Twain in his introduction to Huck Finn best says what I have attempted:

In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri Negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary "Pike County" dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.

(Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)

Would that I were as conversant with these dialects as Mark Twain was! In addition to some of the dialects he mentioned, I have sometimes made use of the broadest, most flap-jawed southern patois of all, as found in the writings of "Sut Lovingood" (George Washington Harris), a contemporary and inspiration to Mark Twain.

Many of the early leaders of the Church came from New England, including Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, and they no doubt spoke with a rather strong West New England "twang" which I have not attempted to imitate here. However, I have tried to mimic the following accents, with varying degrees of success: Southern English, Irish, Cockney, Welsh, Yorkshire/Cumbrian, Yiddish, German, and French. The accents of persons such as William Clayton, Charles Lambert, and Dan Jones were not written haphazardly, but are based on their place of origin in the British Isles.

Writing in dialect is an imprecise business at best, and the overusage of it can get in the way of the narrative. After awhile, the many dropped h's and apostrophes can become a liability. Unfortunately, there are simply not enough letters in the alphabet to portray the subtle nuances of all the English dialects used here. I found that certain dialects were fairly easy to render (Welsh, Cumbrian), while others were nearly impossible (Received Southern Pronunciation, the "Queen's English"). Unless you have actually heard a Yorkie or a Lankie's speech patterns, much of the effect of this dialect may be lost on you. Also, the use of written dialect can mislead us into thinking that the less "proper" (i.e., 21st century American-sounding) a person's speech was, the less educated they were. While this is certainly true of some of the characters in this book (Prudence Bigelow, for instance), it was not generally the case, then or now.

As a final check on the accuracy of this book, I have carefully compared it against Webster's 1828 Dictionary, in order to weed out any 21st-century anachronisms. Whether these efforts have made this a better yarn, I shall leave to the reader to decide.

To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever succeeded in fictionalizing Joseph Smith's life while still respecting his character. How could they? To the non-Mormons, he was and is a complete mystery. At the other end of the spectrum, Latter-day Saint authors tend to treat him with such reverence (and rightly so) that it is well-nigh impossible to explore his true personality.

Those who have written about Joseph Smith – and they are legion – have generally used two approaches. They either turn him into something he was not (a charlatan, a clever but lazy oaf, or a modern Mahomet) or, if they are more honest, they simply write "around" him. In the latter category are several extremely popular series written recently by Latter-day Saint authors, which I would prefer not to mention here by name.

No novel about Joseph Smith can surpass the true history of his life. As he said of himself,

"You don't know me; you never knew my heart. No man knows my history. I cannot tell it; I shall never undertake it. I don't blame any one for not believing my history. If I had not experienced what I have, I would not have believed it myself."

Since this book is an historical extrapolation, no one should assume that it represents the official views of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed here are solely my own. I have tried to tread lightly when it comes to Church doctrine or sacred matters, and I have relied heavily on historical records concerning polygamy, the Nauvoo temple, Church organization, Joseph Smith's campaign for President, and slavery. In addition, most of the miracles portrayed here are based on historical accounts – they actually happened.

The first chapter of this book is a meticulously accurate depiction of the actual events leading up to the instant of the martyrdom. As near as we can tell from the many written accounts, it really happened this way. After that, all kinds of amazing "alternate timelines" unfold, as Joseph Smith pursues his campaign for the Presidency.

For the record, these are the historical facts: Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were incarcerated in Carthage Jail, Illinois, where on June 27th 1844, they were both killed by an armed mob. John Taylor was severely wounded in the attack; Willard Richards escaped with just a nick on his left ear. The campaign to elect Joseph Smith President of the United States died with him. In February of 1846, Brigham Young led the first company of Saints out of Nauvoo, and in 1847 the first pioneer company made the long journey to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake. The rest, as they say, is history...

Kurt F. Kammeyer
CHAPTER 16

PONTOOSUC, Tuesday, September 10, 1844

Porter Rockwell left Hampton on Sunday and made his way on horseback down the east shore of the Mississippi River. As he rode along, he had plenty of time to think about James J. Strang's "revelations" and the brass plates he had displayed to his followers.

It just don't add up. He had witnesses who swore that the ground was undisturbed round the oak tree, and the plates was a good four foot under ground. They must be real, else it's all a spool of lies, but how...?

In the early evening Porter arrived at Pontoosuc, a small village about 15 miles north of Nauvoo. Based on Strang's description of the miraculous discovery of the plates, he soon found the "Hill of Promise" and the big oak tree, just up the bank from the river. The ground around the tree still showed signs of the recent excavation.

So it is true... he thought, confused. That corks it... No! I know a shyster when I sees one...

He wandered down to the river, where an old steamboat wreck lay beached. He sat down on the hull timbers, his head in his hands, and thought for a long time. Finally he got up and wandered idly about the wreck, examining the hull. It appeared to have suffered a boiler explosion and fire – an all too common fate for steamboats. The superstructure and pilot house were gone, leaving nothing but the burned-out flat-bottomed hull, with rusty remnants of the fire boxes still standing amidships. What was left of the boat had been picked clean, and most of the brass and iron fittings had been removed.

The sun was setting across the river. Porter was just turning to leave when he stubbed his toe on a long, heavy object half buried in the sand. It was a section of the broken paddlewheel driveshaft, about five feet long and six inches in diameter. On the visible end of the hollow shaft, someone had fitted a wooden "T" handle. Curious, Porter picked up the "T" end of the shaft, and a trickle of clay poured out of the other end. He thought for a moment, looked up the bank towards the oak tree, and smiled.

It all makes sense t' me now, he thought.

BUFFALO, Tuesday, September 10

Joseph and William paid a visit to James G. Birney, the presidential candidate of the Liberty Party, at his campaign headquarters in Buffalo. The Birney campaign was in full swing, with brass bands, crowds roaming the streets carrying banners, and all the political hoopla that Joseph had come to recognize during his recent travels.

Mr. Birney was a tall, distinguished-looking man of fifty-two years of age. For several decades he had been one of the most prominent abolitionists in America.

"Mr. Smith, I have followed yo' campaign closely and I must say, fo' a young upsta't you have ce'tainly made a name for yo'sef and yo' new National Refo'm pa'ty", he said. "Wha, in ma first run at the Pres'dency in 1840 I polled jest seven thousan' votes, yet here you are, relatively unknown to the nation, yet with delegates an' conventions afoot in nearly evah state. I must congratulate you."

Joseph replied, "Thank you, Mr. Birney. I believe I owe the success of my campaign principally to the broad appeal of my platform. In contradistinction, Mr. Polk and Mr. Clay are like the cloud of steam from a kettle – it makes a good impression, but then dissipates and vanishes away. You can't pin them down on anything. And forgive me, but if I may be so bold, your Liberty Party platform, while it has merit, is in my estimation too narrow and divisive to ever appeal to the nation as a whole."

"Per'aps, but ma larger p'litical purpose has been to get men elected to Congress who could actually make a difference on the slavery issue", Birney replied. "The Whigs an' Democrats, 'cept fo the Ba'n-Burners, won't touch the issue – although, Mr. Clay has come out in suppo't of re-colonization, as has Commodore Robert Stockton. Fact, it was Stockton an' Clay who sta'ted the whole Liberia movement back in 1820."

"In my view, re-colonizing the slaves back to Africa will never solve the problem", said Joseph. "Those that are here, despite what the Supreme Court may claim, are already American citizens in my opinion. Furthermore, as fast as we ship them back to Africa, the slave-ships will only continue to bring new captives to our shores. No, the only solution is to outlaw slavery, then buy them their freedom from their masters. Then, the black man will be free to work his own land and earn an honest wage, which is his right."

Birney was skeptical. "Mr. Smith, have you evah visited the South?"

"I've lived in Missouri, so I think I understand the Southern view on slavery, if that's what you mean."

"I'm not so sure you do. When I lived in Kentucky, my ab'litionist press was destroyed three times by pro-slavery mobs. Eva' since the Nat Turner rebellion in 1831, every 'massa' in the South goes to bed with a loaded pistol unda' his pillow, terrified that he mought not wake up in the mornin', courtesy of his slaves. There's a deep, ingrained fear an' loathin' of the Negroes, flava'ed perhaps with a healthy dose of guilt, an' the maddenin' feelin' that maybe, just maybe the black race is just as intelligent an' hard-workin' as their masta's – per'aps more. For these reasons, I find it unlikely that the South will eva' willingly turn thea' slaves loose, for any sum o' money. Thea's simply too much rancor, don't you see?"

"I see no other way, short of war", Joseph replied. "And that would only inflame the animosities, not assuage them. But those are the alternatives."

Both men ruminated in silence for a time. Finally, Mr. Birney looked at Joseph and said,

"Shoot, Smith, you know well as I do that neitha' one of us has a chance in Hell of winnin' the Presidency. But togetha', we just mought make a difference."

"What are you proposing?" Joseph said cautiously.

"Tho' we may have our differences, yet we still have more in common than with eitha' of the two maja' pa'ties", Birney said. "So, hea's what I perpose: Winna'-take-all. If'n I win more electors, you'll throw yo' votes to me, and if you win more electors, you can have my votes. It mought just give us enough votes to tip th'election, at least in Congress. Do we have an agreement?"

Joseph closed his eyes and sat motionless for about ten seconds. Then he opened them and said,

"I agree to your proposal."

The three men shook hands and parted.

As Joseph and William were making their way to the steamboat quay, William turned and said anxiously,

"Joseph, I donna like it! 'Tis an unholy alliance, a pact wi' th' deevil! How can ye joost gie' o'er the Saints' votes t' that abolitionist, withou' they 'ave a say in it?"

"William, I thought long and hard about this pact. I think Mr. Birney knows we can beat him handily at the polls, and this is his way of conceding defeat, without actually admitting it. I have no intention of losing to him, at any rate, and we'll just have to wait and see if he follows through on his part of the agreement. 'Make unto yourselves friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, and they will not destroy you.' So in the end, we really have nothing to lose by this."

At about noon, Joseph and William boarded a steamboat headed for Cleveland.

YELROME, Tuesday, September 10

The Morley Settlement (Yelrome spelled backwards), was situated about 25 miles south of Nauvoo near the border of Hancock and Adams counties. About 300 Latter-day Saints had followed Father Isaac Morley to this site, and by 1844 Yelrome and Lima were becoming prosperous outposts of Zion. Unfortunately, Yelrome was located a mere ten miles from Warsaw, the center of anti-Mormon activity in the county. On this day, the inhabitants of Yelrome got an unwelcome visit from their neighbors to the north.

At about ten o'clock in the morning Isaac Morley was mowing hay with Hiram Mount, when he saw four men approaching on horseback.

"Watch yourself, Hiram", Isaac said softly. "I know these men, and they ain't here ta pick crab-apples."

Major Mark Aldrich reined his horse up in front of the two men and said,

"Mornin' Isaac. I heard that ol' mullet-head Rigdon's raisin' Cain up in Nauvoo. They say half the town's already up an' follered him to Hampton. So, when you plannin' to leave here?"

Isaac Morley put down his scythe and replied tartly,

"Well Mark, I guess you're just a fount of knowledge this mornin'. Did you ride all the way from Green Plains just to ask me that? Or are you here to drag me off to Missouri like you done poor ol' Daniel Avery last year?"

Aldrich bristled. "Damn you, Morley! Someone fired at our schoolhouse in Green Plains yesterday, an' when we find out which Mormon it was, yall'll be an idiot short, I promise. I've warned you an' your followers to clear out o' here before! This is my land! You Mormons think you kin rule the county, an' elect whoever you please?"

Hiram Mount spoke up. "But you know perfectly well we bought this land, fair and square! What gives you the right to drive us off it?"

"You shet your head!" Aldrich snarled. "This committee here", he said motioning to the other men, "has been appointed to make three propositions to you. First, you kin take up arms with us an' proceed to Nauvoo, where we will arrest Brigham Young an' his doughead friends. Or second, you kin give up your arms to us an' stay quiet as bedbugs here till the fuss is o'er. Or third, you kin pack up your followers an' high-tail it for Nauvoo. It's your call."

Hiram Mount was furious at this. He shouted,

"Here's my reply, you murdering puke!" at the same time aiming a vicious blow at Aldrich with his scythe. Aldrich ducked, and his horse screamed and reared as the long blade raked her flank. Isaac Morley tried to pull Hiram back, but too late. Aldrich drew his pistol, aimed at Hiram and fired. Hiram fell to the ground with a cry, and then was still.

Isaac looked down at Hiram in anguish and heard three loud clicks. He looked up just in time to see three rifles aimed straight at his head. He backed slowly away from the men with his hands raised.

"That'll answer!" Aldrich said as he tried to settle his horse. "You got till Saturday mornin' to make up your minds. After that, we'll burn the town, hear?"

With that, Major Mark Aldrich and his men spun their horses around and cantered down the road toward Green Plains.

NAUVOO, Wednesday, September 11

Just before noon Clarissa Young was walking up Munson Street to the market when she spied a strange man standing near the corner of Granger and Munson. He was dressed in rags, holding a Bible in one hand and a tract in the other. Clarissa ignored him and proceeded up the street. As she approached Hotchkiss Street she noticed another man just as poorly dressed, waving the same tract in the air. She stopped to listen from a discrete distance.

"...Behold, my servant James shall lengthen the cords and strengthen the stakes of Zion, for he hath wisdom in the gospel and understandeth the doctrines and erreth not therein. And I will have a house built unto me there of stone, and there will I show myself to my people by many mighty works, and the name of the city shall be called Voree, which is, being interpreted, Garden of Peace, for there shall my people have peace and rest and wax fat and pleasant in the presence of their enemies."

What on earth? she thought. This doesn't sound like the true gospel to me.

Once she had finished her purchases, she turned and headed south on Granger Street until she reached home. Along the way she spotted yet a third preacher near Kimball Street.

She thought, Who are these curious men?

She found Brigham Young out in his garden, weeding his cabbage. As she began to describe the three men to him, Brigham straightened up and said,

"Yes, my dear, I know right well who they are. They're the deluded followers of James J. Strang, who claims Joseph Smith ordained him to be the next Prophet of the Church. They've been drifting into town by ones and twos for about a week now, from Hampton up north. Looks like they've deposed Sidney and chosen this Strang charlatan as their new 'Guardian'."

"But shouldn't we do something about them?" said Clarissa.

"What would you have me do?" Brigham replied, spreading his hands. "They're a fair harmless lot, for now. Far as I can see, they haven't made a single convert yet. Why, I wouldn't give you one picayune for all of Strang's predictions. My advice is to ignore them and let them rant all they please... Altho', if I find any of 'em wandering around in my garden, I mought just give 'em a good hiding with my belt."

He turned back to weeding his garden.

Several hours later, Porter Rockwell rode into town, dragging the broken steamboat shaft. He reigned up in front of Brigham Young's house, untied the shaft from his saddle, and dropped it with a heavy thud on the ground. Brigham heard the noise and came outside to investigate.

"Port, what in nation do you expect me to do with an old, rusty steamboat shaft?" Brigham inquired.

Porter replied, grinning, "I needed proof 'at this Strang fellow was an almighty liar, an' I found it, up near Pontoosuc. You heard his fairy tale 'bout him diggin' up those brass plates from under a oak tree? Well, here's how he planted 'em. He took this ol' rusty steamboat shaft – probably from the steamer Boreas 'at blowed up in July – stuck a wooden handle on it, an' used it to drill a hole in the ground under the oak tree. Then 'e slid 'is brass plates down the center of the drill under the tree, filled the hole back in and waited for the grass to grow back. Presto changeo! He had his 'miracle', just ready an waitin' t' bamboozle his follerers."

Brigham could scarcely contain himself from laughing. He slapped Porter on the back and said,

"Well done, Port! I've heard of the Stick of Joseph and the Stick of Judah, but it appears we now have the 'Stick of Strang'. Would you please see that it's mounted in a prominent place, say, in front of the Times and Seasons office? I want it to be a reproach to anyone foolish enough to follow after that humbug."
CHAPTER 17

FAIRPORT HARBOR, Wednesday, September 11

Early in the morning, Joseph Smith and William Clayton arrived at Fairport Harbor in Ohio. As the boat approached the dock, Joseph said,

"Seeing as we're only some eleven miles from Kirtland, I feel impressed that we should pay a visit there. I've been trying for five years to get Elder McBride and the others here to close out the Branch and gather with us to Nauvoo, but to no avail. Peradventure my presence in Kirtland will finally persuade a few of them to obey my counsel and follow the Twelve, as they should."

"I han't ever seen Kirtland", said William, as they disembarked. "But I came near 'ere in eighteen-an-forty, wi' my emigrant company from England. Some o' the Saints ware destitute afore reachin' Buffalo, an' they couldna' secure passage ta' Chicago, so we parted company 'ere at Fairport. The poorer Saints made their way'ta Kirtland, an' later ta' Commerce."

Joseph and William grabbed their valises and headed down the gangplank into Fairport Harbor, where they hired a hack. Joseph steered the buggy down Heisley Road towards Mentor and Kirtland.

"I want to steer a wide berth around Painesville", Joseph said. "Back in thirty-seven, I was arrested six times there in one day. Four of the charges were never dropped. Our business in Kirtland is far too important to risk my being detained here once again."

About two hours later, Joseph and William came down onto the river flats, crossed the Chagrin River, and paused at the fork in the Chardon road next to the old school house. On the bluffs southwest of them through the trees, they could just make out the spire of the temple, glinting in the morning sunlight. It was a beautiful, late summer day, and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn colors. As Joseph surveyed the scene, the memories came flooding back to him.

"Look, William!" he said. "Over there is the ashery, and just beyond that is Jacob Bump's farm. He plastered much of the interior of the temple, then apostatized and kicked himself out of the Church. Up Chardon Road there is the tannery and Newel K. Whitney's store, where I first met Newel in thirty-one. How I loved this place!"

Joseph's enthusiasm was infectious, and he continued pointing out old landmarks as the two men proceeded up the bluffs and turned south on Chillicothe Road: Samuel Smith's former home, the Tannery, the Orson Hyde home, and the John Johnson Inn. At least half of the buildings appeared to be abandoned and falling into disrepair.

They reached the top of the bluffs and approached the farm of Sylvester Smith on their right. Chillicothe Road was mostly deserted, and no one seemed to pay them notice. But just as Joseph was about to point out his old variety store on the left side of the street, they heard a shout. A man had just emerged from a cabin on their right and was pointing and shouting furiously at them:

"Holy Joe, you scurvy louse! What makes y' think you kin just traipse back 'ere inta' town? Mister high an' mighty Prophet, wi' your bags fulla' wuthless Safety Society scrip no doubt! Now, git offa my propity, hear?"

The man picked up a rock and threw it at Joseph and William. It bounced off the canvas buggy cover, narrowly missing William's head. Joseph flicked the reins, and the buggy sped away.

"Who in nation be that'n?" cried William, looking back in shock.

"Why, that was Sylvester Smith, William. I very nearly came to blows with him during Zion's Camp, and again later on here in Kirtland. He's always been quite the hot-head, and it appears he still bears a grudge against me. I was really expecting a more convivial welcome here..."

As they approached the temple Joseph slowed the buggy, then he steered the horse to the left and pulled up next to a hitching post. Joseph and William dismounted and surveyed the scene.

It was apparent that the once-glorious temple was quickly falling into ruin. The beautiful plaster – into which the sisters had crushed their precious china to make it glisten – was mostly gone from the outside walls for as high as a man could reach, revealing the bare, rough stone and mortar walls. Some of the lower window-frames, which Joseph himself had helped set in place, had been smashed in. As the two men approached the front entrance, William noticed that the doors had been kicked in and the latches were broken. They entered the vestibule, and Joseph gazed around in shock.

"No, it can't be... We labored for three years to build up this house to the Lord, and now..."

They entered the "Inner Court" and looked around. The floor was littered with trash and broken window glass. There were broken wine bottles and old food scattered about. Some of the pews had been removed or smashed, and the rope work and poles that had supported the canvas dividing curtains were lying on the floor. The curtains themselves were gone. Pigeons were making their nests along the cornices near the ceiling. Joseph wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell, and listened to the wind sighing in through the broken windows. William overheard a grunting sound coming from the front of the hall, and as he approached it he discovered a large sow nestled between the pews with her litter of piglets.

"Hyah, git!" he shouted, and gave the hog a swift kick in the ribs. She ran squealing out the back door, followed by her brood.

William turned and discovered that Joseph was standing transfixed in front of the pulpits, running his finger over the hinged sacrament table where someone had carved their initials with a pen knife. William heard Joseph say hauntingly,

"The Lord stood before us on this very table... Here is where the Savior, Moses, Elias, and Elijah appeared to Oliver and me. The Apostle Peter sat right up there, next to my father, during the dedication. A week later, a mighty rushing wind filled the house, and the Holy Spirit was poured out here upon the Saints. Now, the only wind I hear is through the broken windows. Oh, William..."

Joseph sat down on the front pew and bowed his head in his hands and wept. William sat down next to him and put his arm around him.

Joseph looked up through his tears and said,

"Will, why must it be this way? Why must the devil smash and destroy everything that we essay to make sacred and beautiful? Why won't he leave us alone? And why must the Saints be whipped and driven, thrown into dungeons and murdered? What did my brother Hyrum do to offend the devil, that he persecuted him even unto death? And will it always be so, that the righteous are driven from pillar to post, until we are entirely peeled and used up? When will the day of the Lord finally come, and my soul find rest?"

William replied, "Joseph, you know t' answer better'n any man, I reckon. You came out o' Liberty an' Carthage Jails a changed man, an' pairsecution 'as only made you stronger. Remember what you 'ad me write awhile back, about 'ow you ware like a huge, rough stone rollin' from a high mountain, wi' all 'ell knockin' off a corner 'ere an' a corner there? You would'na be t' Prophet an' future national President withou' all that friction! No one in this age 'as done more for t' welfare o' the human race than 'ave you!"

Joseph looked at the floor and softly said,

"I'm tired, Will. Tired, and used up. I miss the company of the Saints. I miss my family. And to come here and see all this labor gone to ruin, it makes me heartsick."

He sighed, and then slowly rose to his feet.

"Come on, William. It's time for me to put back on my prophet's hat. Let's go look up Brother McBride and see to the welfare of the Saints here in Kirtland."

Joseph headed for the door, with William following. They mounted the buggy and William took the reins. They headed south again on Chillicothe Road and turned right on Joseph Street, and presently Reuben Mcbride's house came in view – a tiny log cabin, attached to a somewhat larger, two-story clapboard dwelling. Next to the log cabin was an old, broken-down covered wagon. Just as Joseph and William dismounted from the buggy, a man stepped out from behind the wagon, holding a grease bucket. He looked at them, froze for a moment, then dropped the bucket and ran towards them.

"Joseph... Can it be! Joseph Smith!" exclaimed Reuben McBride. "And Brother Clayton! What in heaven's name brings you here to Kirtland? I heard you was standing for President, and on a tour of the eastern states, but..." He pumped their hands. "Well, God bless me and you! Please, come in an' sup with us!"

Reuben turned to his young son and said, "Reuben Augustus, go tend to Brother Joseph's horse an' buggy!"

Reuben escorted them into the tiny kitchen of his house. There they were introduced to Reuben's wife Mary Ann and their other five children: Helen, Harriet, Mary Louisa, Hyrum, and Emma, who was just one year old. Mary Ann prevailed upon Joseph and William to join them for dinner.

As they sat down to dinner, William observed the scanty fare: Cornbread, buttermilk, and a small side of salt pork.

Not nearly enough for a growing family like this, thought William, let alone Joseph and me.

"An' what day is today, young Reuben?" said his father between mouthfuls of cornbread.

"My birfday!" cried young Reuben Augustus, who had just turned eight.

"An' what does that mean?" his father asked.

"Means I kin git baptized now!" young Reuben replied excitedly.

William Clayton could see Joseph's countenance starting to brighten. Joseph spoke up:

"Children, do you know who was the very first person ever baptized in the Nauvoo temple font?"

As one, the children pointed to their father and shouted, "Papa!"

Reuben smiled and said, "Yes, I remembers it well. Brother Brigham baptized me, an' afterwards Brother Joseph here wrapped his cloak 'round me an' drove me home. Now children, when you've done eatin', go outside an' play, we have grownup things to discuss."

When the children were gone, Joseph turned to Reuben and said,

"Reuben, what's the drift here in Kirtland? As we were coming into town, Sylvester Smith nearly brained me with a rock. The temple is a shambles. How are the Saints faring?"

"Well enough I suppose, Brother Joseph..." Reuben said hesitantly.

"Are you holding your sacrament meetings every week?"

"Well, no, not every week..." Reuben said, bowing his head. "Truth is, we ha'n't had a regular meetin' for, oh, two-three months now. I does what I can for the poor amongst us, but we've little enough to spare ourselves, as you can see... You cotched me right inna' middle o' fittin' out our ol' wagon, so's we can head back to Nauvoo, like you been tellin' us for several years now, remember?"

Reuben paused for a moment. "And, ah... there's one other thing y'ot to know, Joseph. I been, well, sorta de-posed as the spiritual leader here in Kirtland, by Gladden Bishop."

Joseph groaned. "No... not Gladden... that heretic? Do you know how many times I excommunicated and rebaptized that imposter? Reuben, how could you let him worm his way back into the leadership here?"

Reuben stammered. "I – I, ah, din't have a whole lotta choice, Brother Joseph, after he convinced some o' th' members here 'at he had the Gold Plates, the Sword of Laban, an' even the hunnerd an' sixteen lost pages! He's real persuasive, when he wants ta be!"

Joseph leaned forward, and his eyes narrowed.

"Reuben, this is what I want you to do. Find your counselors. Bend every effort to contact the Saints, and tell them we shall be meeting at the temple on the morrow at nine. Tell everyone you meet to go fetch someone else, and spread the word to the surrounding towns as well. I want every faithful Saint to be apprised of this meeting. And send whomever you meet first, to assist Brother William and myself in cleansing the temple. Can I count on you to do this?"

"Yes Brother Joseph, you can", Reuben said firmly.

"And if Gladden Bishop happens to show up, well, I suppose we shall cast him out of the temple as well, with the other refuse."

"Yes, Joseph."

Joseph stood and shook Reuben's hand. "Very good. Sister Mcbride, may the Lord bless you for your generous hospitality. Come, William, we must set the House of the Lord to rights."

Joseph and William got back in their buggy and headed back to the temple, where they set to work cleaning out the refuse and righting the pews. As they worked, several other men drifted in to assist them: Hiram Kellog, Zebedee Coltrin, Thomas Burdick, and Amos Babcock. By early evening, Joseph declared the inner court of the temple to be presentable enough for the Kirtland Saints to hold their assembly meeting.

Just before sunset, young Reuben Augustus McBride was baptized by his father in the nearby Chagrin River, and Joseph Smith confirmed him a member of the Church.

PHILADELPHIA, Wednesday, September 11

Dan Jones, Wilford Woodruff and his family arrived in Philadelphia, only to find to their dismay that the port was closed to British traffic by an embargo. They sought out William Smith and explained their situation to him.

"You obviously have not read the eastern papers of late", William said to Wilford. "Great Britain has cut off all trade with the northern states. They are refusing entry into any British port to ships flying the United States flag. Georgia and South Carolina are excepted for the time being, I suspect because England needs their cotton. France is still open, but for how long, only God knows."

"What about our immigrant Saints?" Wilford said anxiously.

"Hard to say", said William. "Passage from England to here seems to be continuing apace. In any case, the immigration season is well-nigh over for us now."

Resigned to his fate, Wilford said, "I shall write immediately to the Prophet and apprise him of the situation."

KIRTLAND, Thursday, September 12

Early in the morning, Joseph and William rode back to the temple to prepare for the Saints' gathering. Shortly before nine, Reuben Mcbride showed up with several large loaves of bread, still warm from the oven.

"My Mary Ann baked these for us, with the last of our wheat flour", Reuben said humbly. "For the sacrament."

By nine a.m. about a hundred Saints and other citizens had assembled at the temple. Apparently Gladden Bishop had stayed away, fearful of confronting Joseph Smith before so many people in the temple.

Zebedee Coltrin led the Saints in singing "Adam-ondi-Ahman", and Reuben McBride opened with prayer. William Clayton blessed the Sacrament and Joseph and Thomas Burdick distributed it, and then Joseph stood to address the Saints.

"Ahem... It is nigh on to eight years since I stood to dedicate this House of the Lord. Many of you recall the great sacrifice and tribulation of those days. Nevertheless, 'after much tribulation cometh the blessings', and through the mercy of God, we were able to fulfill the Lord's command. The Spirit was verily poured out in abundance, and we truly received an endowment from on high that day. The keys of the priesthood were restored by God to earth right here, at this very pulpit, including the keys of the gathering of Israel from the four quarters of the earth. From here, the Twelve went forth in power and majesty to gather the lost sheep of the House of Israel. That gathering continues, and I say unto you, that wherever the Twelve and the First Presidency are, that is the center place of Zion!

"For years now, I have begged and pleaded with the Saints here in Kirtland and elsewhere to flee out of Babylon, to gather with the Saints in Nauvoo, and there build up the Church and Kingdom of God! Don't you understand? This temple was but a preparatory place, where the keys and sealing powers of the gospel were restored to the earth, but the Lord directed that the Saints should receive the greater blessings in a greater temple, which is now abuilding in the city of Nauvoo. There, you shall receive all the blessings of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, which the Saints were not yet prepared to receive here!

"Just three years ago, my brother Hyrum wrote to you, commanding you to come away, to pay out no moneys, nor properties for houses, nor lands in this country, for if you did you would lose them. He said that you should not possess this land in peace, but would be scourged with a sore scourge, yet your children may possess them, but not until many years shall pass away. Then, in that day, the Lord will send forth and build up Kirtland, and it shall be polished and refined according to his word."

Joseph looked over the congregation, then he said,

"I propose to lead a company of Saints to Nauvoo, beginning at this place, on the morrow! All those in favor, will please signify?"

There was a gasp from the company, followed by murmuring. Only a few hands went up. After a few awkward moments, a shabbily dressed man stood up, kneading his slouch hat in his hands, and said apologetically,

"Brother Joseph, jist look aroun' you. Most of us is willin' to go, but we jist han't the means. I mean, the Missouri Poor Camp of thirty-eight ware rich by comparison ta' us. We're barely scratchin' out a livin' here, an' to jist uproot our families an' all, well, I say, it's jist more'n a body should have'ter suffer for", he mumbled, then sat down quickly.

There were murmurs and nods of agreement from those around him. A woman stood up and continued,

"President Smith, what more do you want of us? Many of us have crossed the deep from England, been to Missouri and back, watched our husbands leave us to serve missions, and suffered and starved in their absence! We've been obliged to sell bits of the plaster from these walls, just to scrounge a few coins with which to feed our hungry children!"

Joseph was thunderstruck. "You took the plaster from the walls, and sold it for money?" he said.

Another woman jumped up. "An' why not? It's our china we ground inta' this plaster, after all! Why shouldn't we do as we please with this buildin'? You ain't had much use fer it, since't you ran off ta' Missourah!"

A man stood up, pointed to the ceiling, and said, "Shucks, Joseph, you see those empty rollers up there? Most every wagon in Kirtland now has a cover made from 'temple canvas'. It warn't no use to us, jist hangin' here! Why d'you even care? You think you can jist traipse back in 'ere, whomp up a revelation, an' merrily lead us all off'ta Nauvoo, like the Pied Piper?"

Joseph looked on in desperation. I didn't count on this, he thought. What am I to do?

More and more people were jumping up, crying,

"Who d'you think you are?"

"What gives you the right to meddle in our affairs?"

"Go backta' Nauvoo where you belong, an' leave us be!"

Amid all the confusion, no one noticed the sound at first – a faint chuffing sound, coming from outside. Joseph was the first to notice it, and he looked up instinctively. It sounded like a locomotive or a steamboat, coming from a great distance. It dawned on Joseph that there were no railroads or navigable rivers within a hundred miles of Kirtland, and it struck him as being faintly odd. As his attention drifted from the people before him to the sound, it continued to grow. Now others were noticing it and looking up and around. Now, the chuffing sound seemed to be intermingled with the sound of many wagons rattling over a rough stony road. People were staring out the windows, but they couldn't see anything. A few people near the back slipped out the door to look, then more and more followed. Joseph brought up the rear, and as he emerged into the sunlight he saw an astonishing spectacle.

Emerging out of the morning sun, a steamboat was sailing serenely through the air about a hundred feet up, directly east of the temple. The boat was glowing brightly, as if lit by the sun from within. People dressed all in white were walking the decks, laughing and talking. Joseph could clearly see the ornate "steamboat Gothic" woodwork and paintwork on the decks. The paddlewheels were turning slowly, as if they were stirring up an ethereal current in the air. As the steamboat approached, the Saints on the ground could hear the passengers above singing a well-known hymn:

The gallant ship is under weigh,

To bear me off to sea,

And yonder float the streamers gay,

That say she waits for me.

The seamen dip their ready oar,

As ebbing waves oft tell -

They bear me swiftly from the shore:

My native land, farewell!

The spectators on the ground were alternately jumping up and down, pointing, waving, clapping, laughing and crying. Many of them recognized their departed loved ones on the boat. Joseph felt a thrill of recognition go through him, too.

I know that steamboat, from somewhere...

He tried to read the name-board, but the boat was turned at the wrong angle. Then, as if in response to his thoughts, it turned to larboard as it approached him, and now Joseph could clearly see the name of the steamboat, written in fiery gilt letters:

NEW HYRUM SMITH

The steamboat continued its slow course over the temple towards the west, and the vision slowly faded. The Saints on the ground remained still as statues, their mouths open, staring into the west.

Joseph was the first to gather his wits. He looked over the congregation, cleared his throat, then said,

"Brethren and sisters, I restate my proposal. I intend to lead a company of Saints to Nauvoo, beginning at this place, on the morrow! All those in favor, will please signify."

This time, there was not a single dissenting vote.

KIRTLAND, Friday, September 13

Early in the morning, the emigrant Saints began assembling at the temple. They were a motley lot, arriving in all types of conveyance: Old buckboards, prairie schooners, broken-down carriages, hacks, and handcarts, drawn by an amazing assortment of horses, mules, oxen, and old cows. By about ten a.m., about sixty souls had assembled on Chillicothe Road.

After gazing skeptically at the small assemblage, Joseph remarked,

"Well, I suppose it takes more than a heavenly vision to impress some. Those that have heeded the call will be blest. As for the others, well... Many are called, but few are chosen."

As President of the Kirtland Branch, Reuben McBride took charge of appointing captains of tens, distribution of food and water, etc. He led the company in his own broken-down wagon, with his wife Mary Ann beside him and his three oldest children walking alongside.

"Our destination is Nauvoo, by way of the Ohio River", Joseph announced to the company. "From here, we can make East Liverpool on the Ohio in four days, and be in Nauvoo in under two weeks, I estimate."

"I agree", said Reuben. "If we were ta' strike out 'cross Indiana an' Illinois, t'would take us at least a month ter' reach Nauvoo, e'n assumin' half o' these ol' wagons could make it, an' our food didn't run out."

Reuben waved his arm and cried, "Wagons, ho!" and the procession slowly began wending its way down the Chillicothe Road towards Warren.

NAUVOO, Friday, September 13

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

I went to the parade ground where the officers were drilling. Jonathan Dunham was elected brigadier-general of the second cohort of the Nauvoo Legion; I addressed the officers. There are many reports concerning the movements of the mob; who are making preparations for what they call a "wolf hunt" on the 26th and 27th of this month; but the general apprehension is that they design coming and attempting to drag some more authorities of the Church out to Carthage to murder them.

I also sent a company of the Legion south to the Morley settlement for protection, as the settlers there have received numerous threats of late. We are hopeful that a show of strength by the Legion will discourage the mobbers from attacking the settlement.

YELROME, Saturday, September 14

General Hosea Stout's Nauvoo Legion company spent the day camped on the outskirts of Yelrome, keeping a watch for any mobbers who might disturb the settlement. They tried to make their presence as obvious as possible, by marching up and down the road and around the town, so as to discourage their enemies from contemplating an attack. They also overturned a number of wagons to form a rough breastwork along the road and near the brook that ran through the town.

Just after sunset, a noise was heard along the Warsaw road. "They're coming!" one of Hosea's watchmen cried from his post near the road.

In a few moments about two dozen cavalrymen came thundering down the road and reined up about fifty feet short of the breastworks. Some of the men were carrying torches.

Major Mark Aldrich had not expected this kind of resistance to his ultimatum. He rode his horse slowly up to the nearest overturned wagon and shouted,

"What's the meaning of this barricade?"

He tried to walk his horse around the wagon, but Hosea Stout stood up, cocked his musket and pointed it at him, saying,

"That's close enough! You have thirty seconds to clear out of here, Aldrich, else we open fire! This is a peaceable town, and we plan to keep it that way!" A long series of clicks from the other soldiers' muskets emphasized his point.

Mark Aldrich quickly backed his horse away from the barricade.

"All right, Stout, you win this time. But we'll be back!"

He wheeled his horse around and galloped back to his men. After a few moments discussion with his lieutenants, Aldrich gave the signal and the troop headed down the road – but in a southerly direction, not back towards Warsaw.

"What're they up to?" said Isaac Morley.

"They're headed to Lima!" Hosea said in alarm. "C'mon, men, let's mount up!"

About twenty Legionnaires ran for their horses and formed up as a troop. Then Hosea Stout led the charge down the road towards Lima, an unprotected, largely Mormon settlement about two miles south of Yelrome.

This will all be a waste of time if they get there before us, he thought.

He pulled out his revolver and fired a round into the air.

That should get their attention, he thought.

A tree branch whistled past him, narrowly missing his head. It was dangerous keeping up this breakneck pace in the dark along the narrow, rutted road. About a half mile from Lima, Hosea slowed his horse to a trot, and his men did the same.

Still no sign of the house-burners, he thought.

He slowed to a walk, then he listened.

Nothing. I should have spotted their torches by now.

Hosea raised his arm and signaled a halt. "It's way too quiet here", he whispered to Jedediah M. Grant. "I don't like it – I smell an ambuscade."

"What'll we do?" Grant whispered anxiously.

"I don't see any flames rising from Lima", Hosea whispered back. "We'll just sit tight here, until morning if necessary."

"What if they double back on Yelrome through the woods?" said Grant.

"I think Isaac and his men can handle that possibility", Hosea replied.

EAST LIVERPOOL, Monday, September 16

The Kirtland company of Saints arrived at the Ohio River and camped on the bluffs just outside of town. Joseph Smith, William Clayton and Reuben McBride walked into town to see about securing steamboat passage for the company.

East Liverpool was the main center of pottery making in the United States. As the three men proceeded down the bluffs, they could see pits where the riverbanks had been excavated to supply the fine clay that went onto the potters' wheels, and from there into the kilns that seemed to be a fixture in nearly every back yard. A thick pall of smoke hung over the town from all the brick and pottery kilns, supplemented by the smoke belching from the chimneys of the many steamboats that were moored along River Road.

"Brother Heber Kimball would be right at home 'ere with his potter's skills", said Reuben, observing the industry.

William looked at the line of steamboats all nosed into the riverbank, then he turned to Joseph and said,

"Ah, I say, Brother Joseph, 'ave you given any thought to 'ow we're ginna' secure passage ta' Nauvoo for aboot sixty penniless souls? As keeper o' the purse, an' I should know, we 'ave scarcely sixpence to our name."

"I know, William", Joseph replied. "But as you also recall, has the Lord ever shorted us in any way since we left Nauvoo? Have we ever lacked the means to accomplish his work? Has that purse ever been empty?"

"Never!" William replied stoutly.

East Liverpool was built on a great, sweeping horseshoe curve in the Ohio River. As the three men made their way down Broadway, the riverfront scene opened before them. At least twenty riverboats were nosed into the bank along River Road, loading and unloading their cargoes of pottery, cotton bales, housewares and passengers. Huge piles of firewood were haggled over by the steamboat clerks, and then were loaded on board to feed the voracious fireboxes. The men could see into the gaping, red maws of several of these, as the firemen stoked the flames and raised steam. The constant, breathy moan from the steam whistles, the chuffing of the steam valves, and roaring from the fireboxes created such a din that it was difficult to carry on a conversation.

Joseph cast his gaze along the line of riverboats: Grand Turk, Saluda, Louis Philippe, Cumberland, Meteor...

One boat at the far downstream end caught his eye. He pointed to it and said excitedly,

"William, that boat there at the far end... Could it perhaps be the Osprey?"

William squinted at the distant nameplate and then replied,

"Tis hard'ta say, Joseph... The pilot-house an' Texas-deck looks verra' much like Osprey, but I see three words on the nameplate, not one."

"Nevertheless, I wonder..." Joseph replied, as he picked up his pace and headed for the mysterious steamboat.

The three men made their way south through the crowds of passengers and lumpers and past endless piles of cargo. Joseph was just rounding a huge pile of firewood when he nearly collided with a tall, gray-haired man in a blue captain's uniform, who stared at Joseph for a moment, then said in astonishment,

"Joseph Smith! Can it be? In the very flesh! I thowt' you was still back east, standin' for President! And how fare you, my friend?"

Joseph was astonished too. "Well, bless us all! If it isn't Captain George Anderson! George, my campaign for the Presidency took a slight turn at Kirtland. I am still the Prophet, after all... At any rate, I'm leading a company of Saints from Kirtland to Nauvoo, about sixty in number. They're camped up on the bluffs there, while my two friends and I seek passage to Nauvoo for them by way of the river. Unfortunately, we're a bit short of means..." Joseph said this apologetically.

"But George, I promise you in the name of the Lord, if you will agree to carry us to Nauvoo, you will be more than amply compensated when we arrive there."

George Anderson grinned from ear to ear, then he clasped Joseph by the shoulders. "You have been gone fer awhile, Joseph! After I deposited you at St. Louis on August fourth, I retarned to Nauvoo, where Brother Brigham he'ped me 'git religion'. Ayup, I'm a full-fledged Mormon now, an' as for compensation, well, it'll be a cold day in Hell afore I accept a dime from you! You an' your followers kin have free passage ta' Nauvoo, or e'n China if 'n you please!"

George turned and pointed at his steamboat. "Oh, an' by the way, I'm no longer captain o' the Osprey, as you kin see."

Joseph looked up at the name plate on the pilot-house and saw, engraved in gilt letters, the words,

NEW HYRUM SMITH

YELROME, Monday, September 16

Shortly after dawn Hosea Stout led his saddle-weary Legionnaires back to Yelrome, after spending a fruitless night chasing house-burners. As he was dismounting near the center of town, Hosea spotted a familiar figure coming towards him – Edmund Durphee of Green Plains. He was accompanied by several of the other Mormon settlers from Green Plains.

"Durphee! What in nation are you doing here so early?" said Hosea.

"Bringing ill tidings, I fear", Durphee replied. "Last night, three houses were burned up in Green Plains. The few Mormons still there are fixin' to leave. There's no way we can defend our people there – It's just too dern close to Warsaw, as you know."

Hosea shook his weary head in frustration. "What are we to do? We can't cover the whole blessed county! My men haven't slept for two days, and they have crops to harvest and families to tend to. There are just too many Saints scattered hither and yon for us to protect. We must consolidate them somehow!"

"Looks like the mobbers are already doin' a good job of that", Durphee replied dryly.
CHAPTER 18

SPRINGFIELD, Monday, September 16

The Case of Chism vs. Benton came up before the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of Illinois, Judge Pope presiding.

As the spectators, plaintiffs and defendants slowly filed into the Springfield courthouse at half past nine a.m., Orson Spencer turned to Chism and reassured him, saying,

"Don't you worry, Chism, you're safe here. Illinois is a free state, with no fugitive slave laws neither. They can't drag you back to Missouri now, no matter how hard they try."

Chism looked down at his shackles as he slowly clanked down the aisle and said,

"Yah, sho', I'se free as a bird heah'..."

Judge Pope banged his gavel and called the court into session. The Attorney General for the State of Illinois, Josiah Lamborn, read the opening statement:

"Your Honor, this is an action of trespass vi et armis instituted in the Circuit Court by Chism, a Negro slave, against Mr. Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri.

"Prior to the institution of the present suit, an action was brought in behalf of Chism for his freedom in the Circuit Court of St. Louis County, Missouri, where there was a verdict and judgment in his favor. On a writ of error to the Supreme Court of the State, the judgment below was reversed, and the case remanded to the Circuit Court.

"In the month of March, 1844, the said Chism fled the state of Missouri. His whereabouts were unknown until a suit was filed in his behalf before the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of Illinois.

"The declaration of Chism contains two counts: one, that Benton had assaulted the plaintiff; and one, that he had assaulted Harriot, his wife."

Lamborn sat down. Attorney William Marr stood in behalf of Benton, and read the following plea:

"Your Honor, the defendant Mr. Benton says that this court ought not t' have or take further cognizance of the action aforesaid, because he says that said cause of action, an' each an' every of them, (if any such have accrued t' the said Chism), accrued t' the said Chism outta' the jurisdiction of this court, an' exclusively within the jurisdiction o' the courts o' the State o' Missouri."

William Marr looked up from his reading. Orson Spencer noticed that one side of Marr's face was still quite red. Marr continued,

"An' as t' the whereabouts of said plaintiff, Chism, I can prove t' the court that he was unlawfully an' illegally secreted in the city of Nauvoo from April to August o' this year!"

Orson Spencer jumped up. "Objection, your honor! Chism's prior whereabouts are irrelevant."

"Sustained", said Judge Pope. Marr continued his plea:

"The said plaintiff, Chism, is not a citizen o' the State of Missouri, as alleged in his declaration, because he is a Negro of African descent; his ancestors were of pure African blood, an' were brought into this country an' sold as Negro slaves, an' this the said Benton is ready to verify. Wherefore, he prays judgment whether this court can or will take further cognizance o' the action aforesaid."

William Marr sat down.

"Mr. Marr, your request is denied", said Judge Pope. "This is a federal court, with full jurisdiction in this matter. Does the prosecution have anything to say?"

Orson Spencer stood and said, "Your Honor, I move that Mr. William Marr be removed from this case for prejudice."

This caused quite a stir in the defense box.

"For what cause, may I ask?" said the judge, leaning forward.

Orson said, "In April of this year, the said William Marr was accused in Nauvoo City Court of beating the aforesaid Chism, and of essaying to forcibly abduct him and convey him against his will to Missouri."

Instantly the whole defense team was on its feet shouting. They knew that Illinois was not sympathetic to bounty hunters. William Law and William Marr were hopping mad, shouting,

"Objection! Objection!"

The judge banged his gavel for order. "Mr. Marr, is this true?"

Marr appeared flustered. "Well, ah, your Honor, the facts are, I was illegally arraigned by the so-called 'City Court o' Nauvoo', which in any case had no jurisdiction in the affair. Nevertheless, Mayor Joe Smith fined me fifty dollars for my trouble."

"I see..." said Judge Pope, scratching his beard. "Sit down, Marr."

Orson Spencer stood again with a sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Your honor, I have affidavits in my possession which confirm that Mr. Marr is in fact an agent of the State of Missouri, a 'bounty hunter' if you please, and that among his clients are Sheriff Joseph H. Reynolds, Thomas Hart Benton, and Lilburn W. Boggs."

William Law jumped to his feet. "Objection, Yair Honor! 'Tis not my associate Mr. Marr who is on trial 'ere!"

The Judge replied angrily, "Overruled! Mr. Spencer, let me see those papers!"

Orson handed the papers to the judge, who quickly glanced through them. Then he turned angrily to face Marr.

"Mister Marr, I believe I can take your silence as an admission of guilt in this matter! You are dismissed from this case, and furthermore, I intend to see that you are disbarred from appearing in any court in this state! Now get out of my courtroom!"

William Marr made a hasty retreat from the courtroom. The judge banged his gavel and said wearily,

"Now, may we return to the case at hand? Counsel for the defense?"

William Law stood nervously, looked around the courtroom and said,

"Yair Honor, th' defendant Benton, in pairsuance of an agrayment between counsel, an' with the leave o' the court, pleads in bar o' the action:

"One: Not guilty.

"Two: That th' plaintiff is a Negro slave, the lawful property o' the defendant, and, as sooch, the defendant gently laid 'is 'ands upon 'im, an' thereby 'ad only restrained 'im, as the defendant 'ad a right to do. That is all."

William Law sat down. Chism looked at Orson Spencer in surprise. "But dat'sa lie!" he hissed.

Orson leaned over to him and said, "Don't worry, this is just a formality. This will get both you and Benton off the hook."

"Don' keer 'bout ol' Mars Benton, ah jist wants outen deese year chains!" Chism whispered back.

Judge Pope spoke. "Counsel for the prosecution, what say you?"

Orson stood. "Your Honor, with your permission I would like to call the plaintiff, Chism, to the stand."

This caused quite a stir in the courtroom. The judge replied,

"Mr. Spencer, you know perfectly well I can't allow that. Negroes are not citizens, and therefore are not allowed to testify in court."

Orson sighed. "Very well. Then I request permission to call my brother, Daniel Spencer, to the stand as Chism's proxy."

The judge paused. "...Proxy?" he said.

"Yes, since Chism is not permitted to speak for himself, Daniel shall speak for him."

Judge Pope turned to the defense. "Is there any objection to this, ah, unusual procedure?"

William Law thought for a moment, then said reluctantly,

"Noo objection, Yair Honor."

Daniel Spencer walked to the front of the courtroom and sat down in the witness chair. After he was sworn in, Orson followed him up to the bar and said,

"Would you please to state your name for the court?"

"Chism", said Daniel Spencer.

William Law jumped to his feet. "Objection! The real plaintiff is clearly sittin' yonder, nae in th' witness box!"

"Overruled", said the judge, smiling. "Mr. Law, you can't have it both ways. Let's see what 'Chism' here has to say."

Orson continued. "And where were you born?"

"I don't rightly know", said Daniel. "Somewhere in Mississippi, around 1810, I believe."

"Tell me about your former owner, Dr. Emerson", said Orson.

Daniel glanced at his notes for a moment and said,

"In the year 1834 I was owned by Dr. Emerson, who was a surgeon in the United States Army. In that year, Dr. Emerson took me from Missouri to Fort Armstrong at Rock Island, in Illinois, and I was holden there as a slave until April or May, 1836. Then we moved from Rock Island to Fort Snelling on the west bank of the Mississippi river in Iowa, which is north of the line established by the Missouri Compromise of 1820 separating slave states from free territories. In spite of this, Dr. Emerson held me in slavery at Fort Snelling from 1836 until 1838.

"In 1836, I married my wife Harriot at Fort Snelling. In 1838, Dr. Emerson removed myself and Harriot from Fort Snelling to Missouri. In 1840, Harriot and I were sold to the defendant, Mr. Benton. In 1843 a suit was filed in my behalf in St. Louis, arguing that Mr. Benton could not claim ownership of me, as I had resided in Illinois and the Territory of Iowa, both of which forbid slavery."

"Thank you, 'Chism'", said Orson. "No further questions, Your Honor."

William Law approached the witness stand. He was clearly not happy with this unusual procedure. He said to Daniel Spencer,

"Mistair, uh, Chism. Tell me, ware you born a slave?"

"Yes, sir, I was", said Daniel.

"An' your parents ware born slaves?"

"No sir, they were born free in Africa, then impressed into slavery and brought to this country against their will."

William Law quickly sidestepped that point. "So, you air a prodooct as it ware, of that custom which is clair'ly sanctioned by the Constitution o' the United States, which pairmits those o' the African race ta be placed in bondage?"

Daniel paused. "Unfortunately, yes", he said.

"Is there any doo't that you ware the legal property of Dr. Emerson?"

"Yes, after he removed me from Mis-"

"Joost answer the question, please", said Law.

"No doubt", said Daniel.

"Thank you, 'Chism'. Noo ferther questions, Yair Honor."

The battle between the defense and prosecution went on for several more hours. The prosecution attempted to prove that Chism was a free man after having lived in Illinois and Iowa, and the defense maintained that he was still the rightful property of Mr. Benton by virtue of having returned to Missouri. After the final arguments had been presented, Judge Pope turned to the jury and said,

"This case hinges upon two points:

"One: Is Chism a free man by virtue of having lived in Illinois and Iowa?"

"Two: Did his forceful return to Missouri also return him to his prior state of bondage? Gentlemen of the jury, we await your verdict. This court is adjourned, pending the jury's return."

As the jury was leaving the courtroom, a worried Josiah Lamborn turned to Orson Spencer and said,

"Orson, are you sure this will work? Fugitive slave law is not your metier, nor is it as cut and dried as you seem to think!"

"Just trust me, Josiah", Orson replied confidently. "I know what I'm doing."

Chism rattled by them in his chains, as the Bailiff escorted him to a holding cell.

"Free state, ma Irish gran'ma", he grumbled. "All dis's jis' notha' wayter sell me down de ribber."

At noon, Orson and Daniel Spencer dined with Josiah Lamborn at the American House, a popular Springfield hotel. Seated at the table with them was Orville H. Browning, who was representing a client in Springfield this day. Halfway through the meal, Orson turned to Josiah Lamborn and said,

"Mr. Lamborn, what are your feelings with respect to the Negro race?"

Lamborn thought for a minute, then he set down his glass. "They came into the world slaves mentally and physically, but change their situation with the whites, and they would be like them."

"Now that is a most progressive, nay, far-reaching stance", said Browning. "I have met many abolitionists in my time, but none that advocated placing the Negroes on a level with the rest of us!"

"But they have souls, and are subjects of salvation like you and I", said Daniel Spencer. "Go into Cincinnati or any city, and find an educated Negro, who rides in his carriage, and you will see a man who has risen by the powers of his own mind to his exalted state of respectability. The slaves in Washington are more refined than many in high places, and the black boys will take the shine off many of those they brush and wait on."

Lamborn remarked, "Put them on the level, and they will rise above me."

"Pshaw!" said Browning. "I cannot accept that."

Orson Spencer replied, "If I raised you to be my equal, and then attempted to oppress you, would you not be indignant and try to rise above me? Yet this is precisely the case with Chism. He lived for four years in a supposedly 'free' state and a 'free' territory, and then was forcibly returned to his old state of bondage. If I were in his place I would be quite resentful, at the very least."

At about one o'clock the Bailiff sent word that the jury had reached a decision. The court quickly reassembled, and Judge Pope intoned,

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

The jury foreman stood and said, "We have, your honor." He began reading the verdict:

"As to the first issue joined in this case, we of the jury find the defendant not guilty; and as to the issue secondly above joined, we of the jury find that before and at the time when the said Chism was removed from the state of Missouri, in the first count mentioned, the said Chism was a Negro slave, the lawful property of the defendant."

A gasp ran through the courtroom. Chism leaned over to Orson Spencer and said anxiously,

"What he mean by all dat?"

Crestfallen, Orson faced Chism and said,

"The jury says, once a slave, always a slave. I'm sorry."

Chism buried his face in his arms and moaned. Judge Pope banged his gavel and said,

"This court gives judgment for the defendant. Case dismissed."

Lamborn jumped to his feet and said urgently, "Your Honor, I request a motion for a new trial!"

"Request denied", said Judge Pope. "The jury has already spoken, Mr. Lamborn."

"Then at least allow us to file an appeal on exception!"

The judge paused. "You are aware, Mr. Lamborn, that an appeal to the Supreme Court could take months, if not years. Are you prepared to wait that long?"

"As the eminent jurist Mr. Gladstone would say, 'Better justice delayed, than justice denied'", replied Lamborn. "I believe this is a case with not merely local, but national significance. Peradventure only the Supreme Court can settle this issue once and for all."

"Very well", said Judge Pope, banging his gavel. "This case is hereby referred on appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States! Mr. Lamborn, Mr. Spencer, I wish you good luck in your crusade. You may grow old before you see the end of it."

PHILADELPHIA, Tuesday, September 17

William Smith returned to his small row house at noon to take his luncheon. He found his wife Carolina still in bed, and his two young daughters, Mary Jane and Caroline, still in their nightclothes.

"Carol, what is it?" he said anxiously. "Are you ill again?"

Carolina weakly looked up at him from her bed. "It's the dropsy again... I'm swollen so bad I can scarcely move. I'm so sorry, I tried to get up and help the children, but I just..." She tried to sit up, but fell back exhausted.

William looked in distress at his wife. Her skin was pale and waxy-looking, and her face was puffy. When he pressed his finger on her forearm, the depression remained.

"I'll get some medicine for you my dear", he said tenderly. "Somehow..."

Nine year old Mary Jane tugged on her father's sleeve.

"Papa, there's no food in the pantry", she said softly. "We're so hungry!"

William looked around in desperation. What can I do? He thought. This is worse than Commerce in thirty-nine... At least there, the Saints rallied around us. Here in Philadelphia, the Church has as good as forgotten us.

Carolina spoke plaintively from her bed. "Have you found any prospects for work?"

William hung his head. "I'm sorry, no... There already seems to be an overabundance of printers and publishers in Philadelphia, and the embargo is hurting business. There is not so much as an ink-boy's position open in the whole town. I've tried everywhere."

There was a knock at the door. William answered it, and found Wilford Woodruff standing there.

"Brother Wilford, come in!" William said bravely.

"Thank you William, I trust your family is well?" Wilford inquired, as he removed his hat and entered.

"Well, yes..." William said, trying to put the best face on things.

Wilford had seen his own share of poverty and despair before, and was not easily fooled by William's brave front. Wilford looked at Carolina and the two hungry children, then he looked William in the eye and said,

"Brother William, how may I help? As the Presiding Elder in Philadelphia, you know t'is my duty to watch over the Church here."

William hung his head and shuffled his feet, then he said,

"I'll be straight with you, Brother Woodruff – we're destitute. Carolina's dropsy is worse by the day, and there's nothing I can do to relieve her suffering. And I can't find work. That about sums it."

"I'm so sorry..." Wilford said, laying his hand on William's shoulder. "I'll see what I can do. I'll get you some food, and I know a doctor who can supply a diuretic for Carolina. Chin up, William, things are never as bad as they seem. Oh, by the way, I have a letter for you here."

He fished in his coat pocket and handed a letter to William, then he picked up his hat.

"Good day to you William, Carolina, and may God bless you all. You shall hear from me soon."

After Wilford left, William broke the seal on the letter and unfolded it. He noticed to his surprise that the letter was imprinted with the elegant masthead of the New York Tribune. He glanced quickly down to the signature, and his heart jumped in his throat.

"What is it, Will?" his wife said.

"I – I don't believe it", he said, his voice trembling. "This is a letter from Horace Greeley, written in his own hand, and addressed to me. The greatest publisher in America, writing to me, a backwoods pressman!"

William took a deep breath. "The letter says:"

The New York Tribune

Nassau & Spruce St.

Manhattan, N.Y.

My dear Mr. Smith,

It is with the greatest of interest that I have followed the campaign of your distinguished brother, Joseph Smith, for the Presidency of the United States. I had the good fortune to meet General Smith at the Carroll mansion in Baltimore on the 19th of August, where he spoke most eloquently about his views of the Presidency, our body politic, &c. I was most impressed with his honesty and total lack of pretension – Rare qualities in one who aspires to such a lofty calling.

My only regret is that my encounter with your brother was so brief; if only we could have had the opportunity, tête à tête, for him to elucidate his opinions, I might have felt better served. For this reason, and knowing that you, sir, are better acquainted with Mr. Smith than any other man – I have penned this brief letter with the view of inviting you to come to New York, so that you might enlighten me concerning your brother's varied philosophies, be they political, religious, or of whatever stripe – All this to be done at your convenience, of course.

I have enclosed a note for the sum of ten dollars, which should be sufficient to pay for your train fare and boarding expenses here in New York. If this is inadequate, please inform me and I will forward an additional stipend. I await your reply, which you may post to the address found in the masthead above.

I am, respectfully yours,

Horace Greeley

NEW YORK CITY, Friday, September 20

William Smith left the train station at Hoboken and paid five cents to ride the ferryboat across the Hudson River to Manhattan Island. To save money, instead of hiring a cab he walked the one mile along Canal Street and up Broadway to the New York Tribune office.

He stared up at the massive new five-story brick building, which covered nearly an entire city block, and thought:

I used to think our new Times and Seasons office would be pretty splendid... Here I am in the greatest city in America, about to meet the most influential newsman in America, with a dollar and ninety-five cents in my pocket. At least my family is taken care of against my return... What do I have to say that Mr. Horace Greeley would care to hear?

William took a deep breath and walked up the steps and in the front door. He found himself in a small vestibule, with benches around the perimeter and a clerk sitting at a high desk next to the inner door. The clerk looked over his pince-nez glasses at William's shabby appearance, sniffed and said unctuously,

"Yas... What may I do fa' youse?"

William removed his hat and said,

"Mr. William Smith to see Mr. Horace Greeley. I, ah, have an appointment."

The clerk stifled a smirk, sniffed again and said,

"So ye do, do ye? If you was da Pope hissef, I don' keah! No one just droaps in on Mista' Horace Greeley, n'less e's invited! Why, I heavn't seen da Boz myse'f in ova' a yeah! Nah, thea's da doah, an' be off wit' youse!"

"But I have a letter of invitation from Mr. Greeley himself", William said, holding out the letter. The clerk took the letter and glanced quickly at it. His eyes widened as he recognized the signature.

"Youse stay ra't heah, an' I'll fetch da boz", the clerk said, and quickly disappeared through the door.

In about two minutes the door opened again and a most interesting figure entered. He walked directly over to William, grabbed his hand and said,

"Mr. Smith, so good of you to come! Please, do come in!" He put his hand on William's back and steered him through the door and down the hall to his own office.

Horace Greeley was a tall, muscular man of thirty-three years, dressed in a dark broadcloth suit and silk vest, with a gold watch dangling from his vest pocket. The lines in his face all pointed down, giving him a droopy, hound-dog sort of appearance. His hooded eyes seemed to be always on the move, taking in every detail around him.

Greeley's office was richly appointed, with oak paneling and red leather-backed chairs, and a massive oak desk. After the two men were seated, Greeley opened a humidor and held a cigar out to William.

"Cigar, Mr. Smith?"

"Thank you no, I don't smoke."

"A brandy, perhaps? Or are you a bourbon man?"

"I, ah, don't drink liquor, sir", William said nervously.

"Hmph... A temperance man, eh? As am I. But I like to keep a small stock on hand just in case, for my friends who do imbibe, you understand."

Greeley cut the end off a cigar and lit it, then sat back and studied William through a cloud of blue smoke.

"Very well. I have asked you here to elicit yours, and your brother's views on his campaign for the Presidency. I understand that you too are a publisher?"

William brightened. "Well, yes... I published a small, semi-weekly octavo paper called the Nauvoo Neighbor in Illinois. It was hardly on the scale of your Tribune, I daresay."

"Pshaw! You do yourself an injustice, Mr. Smith! We both have ink running in our veins, do we not? I started out in just as humble circumstances as you, I'll wager!"

"That would be quite humble indeed, sir", said William, kneading his hat with his fingers. "We started publishing the Neighbor, then called the Wasp, in an old, damp basement near the river in Nauvoo. My brother Don Carlos and I were fortunate if we could pull six hundred pages a day before our arms gave out. Poor Don Carlos contracted a lung disease from the damp and died three years ago. Many times we were unable to print at all, for want of rags and ink. And we received scarcely any compensation from our subscribers or the Church for our labors... Forgive me, I do tend to blatter on."

Greeley leaned back and took a draw on his cigar.

"It reminds me of my own beginnings... So, Mr. Smith – may I call you William? Why is your brother standing for President, and what does he hope to accomplish by it? Don't we have enough candidates as it is?"

William was starting to warm to Greeley. There was something about the man that was impossible to resist. He had the ability to draw information from a person as if he was drawing water from a bucket.

"Well..." said William. "Joseph feels that none of the other candidates is sympathetic to the plight of the Latter-day Saints. Martin Van Buren, in particular, told Joseph that 'Our cause is just, but he could do nothing for us.' For that reason, among others, we decided that Joseph should place himself in the candidacy."

"'Other' reasons?" Greeley queried politely, placing his fingertips together.

The words began to pour out of William. "Yes, you see, Joseph feels that the kingdoms of this world will soon become the kingdom of our God, as the scriptures say. All earthly governments will be swept away when the Savior comes to reign. Joseph is the Lord's Prophet on the earth, called to usher in the great and last dispensation. As such, I feel that he is peculiarly fitted to preside over this nation when the Lord comes."

"I see..." said Greeley, his eyes narrowing.

William rambled on. "Furthermore, there are some of us within the Church that feel that Joseph's standing for President gives us a unique opportunity to 'set the ship of Zion aright'."

"Could you be more specific?" Greeley said, raising one eyebrow.

"Well... A lot of strange new doctrines have been introduced into the Church in the last few years. Nauvoo is rife with rumors about 'spiritual wifery', 'sealing', 'adoption', and other strange notions that some have claimed were introduced by my brother. With Joseph out of the way standing for President, we have a chance to purge the Church of these false doctrines and set it straight again."

"Interesting..." Greeley said with a tight smile. "I should like to hear more... But first, I must confess I also have my own, 'other' reasons for bringing you here, William. I already have correspondents in the field covering the Democratic, Whig, and Liberty parties during the election, but I still lack someone to follow this new National Reform party. I am looking for someone who is familiar with both the party and its founder, Joseph Smith, and his views – and someone with experience in journalism. Do you perchance know anyone who fits this description?" He smiled.

William fairly leaped at the opportunity.

"Why yes, sir, I do! I would be honored to work for you!"

"Good..." Greeley said with a smile. "Your salary will be ten dollars a week. When can you begin?"

William could hardly believe his ears.

"Why, tomorrow, if that's convenient! Thank you, sir! Thank you very much!"

"You're welcome", said Greeley. "Now if you wish, I should like to give you a tour of my atelier."

Greeley escorted William out of the office and up a stairway to the second floor, where they entered a large room fitted with row after row of typesetters' desks. At least twenty men were hard at work setting the stories for the next day's Tribune, letter by tiny letter. At one side of the room, several young boys were laboriously cleaning and sorting used type and placing it back in the upper and lower cases. In one corner, a man was studiously carving away at a sheet of basswood, making a woodcut illustration for the paper.

"Now this is quite familiar to me", William said hopefully. "I've labored for days at a time with those tiny slugs of lead, in order to set a single page of the Wasp. It took us seven and a half months to typeset and print the Book of Mormon fifteen years ago, and a good month for Reuben Hedlock to carve the woodcuts for the Book of Abraham. I don't see that the printing business has changed much since Ben Franklin's day, only in terms of scale."

"As a matter of fact, it has", said Greeley. "With my improved presses and platemaking operations, I can print over five thousand copies of the Tribune each day, complete with illustrations. I also publish a weekly paper for my more distant subscribers. At two cents a copy, I'm pretty much giving the papers away – but I more than make up for it in advertising revenues. Come, I'll show you my press room."

Greeley led the way back down to the ground floor and through a double set of doors to the great press room. As soon as William entered, his ears were assaulted by the perpetual boom – hiss – boom – hiss of twenty steam printing presses, as if a herd of elephants was marching from one end of the room to the other.

William watched the process in awe, as a young boy at one of the presses inked a printing plate with a roller. Then the pressman slipped a sheet of paper into the tympan and pulled a steam lever. With a hiss – boom – hiss the paper slid in under the platen and was compressed onto the type; then another man lifted the sheet and hung it over a moving line to dry. The whole operation took less than ten seconds.

"The solution is steam pressure, Mr. Smith!" Greeley shouted over the din. "There is nothing a man cannot accomplish in this day and age, if only he can apply enough pressure!"

QUINCY, Friday, September 20

In the afternoon, the New Hyrum Smith steamed placidly up the Mississippi river past Hannibal, Missouri. Joseph and William were leaning on the railing, gazing at the scenery. Just south of Quincy, William spied about a dozen people standing in the water near the shore about a half mile away. He studied them for a moment, then he announced,

"Look, Brother Joseph... It looks as tho' the Baptists are out in force today. They're 'aving a baptismal sarvice."

Joseph focused his eyes on the distant congregation; then his eyes narrowed.

"Those aren't Baptists, William. Look at the way they're baptizing – with the right arm raised and all." He paused in surprise. "Not only that, they're baptizing the same person more than once... Will, go fetch those opera glasses in your bag. Quickly now!"

William dashed back to their cabin and returned a moment later with a pair of opera glasses. Joseph unfolded the lenses and focused them on the riverbank for a time.

"Will, I wouldn't have believed it", Joseph breathed. "There's my Counselor Sidney Rigdon on the shore, and if that isn't Zenos Gurley next to him, I'm a Hottentot." He closed the opera glasses with a loud snap and gave them back to William.

"Poor Sidney, I had hoped he would repent and come back", Joseph said mournfully. "But he's sealed his doom. I have no choice but to cut him off now, if Brother Brigham han't done it already."

"For what, Joseph?"

Joseph replied sadly, "For setting himself up above me, leading people away from the true Church, and performing sacred ordinances without authorization – in this case, baptisms for the dead."
CHAPTER 19

NEW YORK CITY, Saturday, September 21

William Smith had immediately written to his wife in Philadelphia, telling her of his good fortune at hiring in with the New York Tribune. He promised to send most of his pay to her, and hoped they could soon join him in New York.

William quickly set to work writing his first article for the paper – a report on the rise and progress of the National Reform Party. He also wrote a piece about the Latter-day Saint Church, in an attempt to debunk some of the common myths that were in circulation. When he had finished writing, William took his two articles down the hall to another department to be proofread. He knocked on the door, entered, and then stopped dead in his tracks. There sitting before him was John C. Bennett.

Bennett also froze for an instant, then he smiled.

"Well, if it isn't my old Nauvoo Legion pal, Apostle William Smith! So 'Mr. Greedy' shanghaied you too? He told me you mought be hiring on – even shared with me some of your opinions about 'spiritual wifery', et cetera. Said he merely wanted to get both sides of the story."

William just stood in stunned silence. Bennett held out his hand.

"So, you got some copy for me to proofread, boy?"

"I have nothing for the likes of you to read!" said William. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the office, fuming. Then he marched straight down to the first floor office of Horace Greeley and entered. Greeley was in the middle of a sentence with another man when William burst in.

"How dare you barge in here without knocking?" said Greeley. "What do you want, Smith?"

"I want to know why you have hired my arch enemy, 'Doctor' John C. Bennett, to proofread my copy! The man has already done a great deal of harm to the Mormon cause with his lies and misrepresentations! He is an adulterer and an abortionist! Why should I permit him to butcher my words and then pass them off as my own?"

"Because I hired you to", Greeley said slowly and carefully. "Mr. Bennett has already collaborated with me on an exposé of the Mormon religion. I find his views quite compelling. And if you don't like it, well, you can lump it. Now get out of here and get back to work before I dismiss you!"

He turned back to face the other man. "Now, as you were saying, Thurlow?"

William stomped out of the office and slammed the door. As he wandered down the hall back to his office, he thought bitterly,

I'm doomed, signed and sealed... I can't go back to my wife and children now... What am I to do?

NAUVOO, Saturday, September 21

At about noon Joseph Smith, William Clayton, Reuben McBride and the Kirtland Saints finally arrived in Nauvoo on board the New Hyrum Smith. As no one was expecting their arrival that day, they were met with surprise by the few people who happened to be at the lower boat landing. However, as word of their arrival quickly spread, the whole town turned out to greet them. By the time Joseph had disembarked, a few members of the Nauvoo Brass Band had been hastily assembled and serenaded them with "Hail Columbia". As the crowd swelled, they chanted,

"Pres-i-dent! Jo-seph Smith!"

"Pres-i-dent! Jo-seph Smith!"

"Looks like they 'aven't forgotten ye, Joseph", William said with a grin.

Just at that moment the two men spied their several wives approaching from the north, pushing through the crowd. Emma was there, along with Eliza R. Snow and Mary Elizabeth Lightner, as well as William Clayton's wife Ruth and her sister Margaret Moon. Emma was walking with considerable difficulty, as she was now about seven months pregnant, and Eliza and Mary helped to steady her. As soon as Joseph saw her, he waded through the crowd to greet her.

As they embraced, somewhat side-saddle because of her girth, Joseph fondly said to her,

"My dearest Emma! I knew you would return! You look absolutely radiant!"

She looked and felt anything but that, and she replied with a smile,

"I know a stretcher when I hear one, Joseph, but I accept the compliment. I learned some things about myself while in Dixon, things I must share with you at the appropriate time."

The throng wended its way up Main Street to the Mansion, where Joseph climbed the gatepost and said to them,

"My friends, I thank you for your warm welcome. I am pleased to find that all is well here in Nauvoo. My campaign for the Presidency is taking fire across the length and breadth of this country!"

Loud cheers and applause greeted this news.

"I shall have more to say to you the morrow morning on the temple grounds. Until then, I bid you a fond adieu!"

At a hastily gathered meeting of the Apostles later that evening, Joseph reported on his eastern campaign tour. Those of the Twelve who were present were:

Brigham Young

Heber C. Kimball

Orson Pratt

John Taylor

Willard Richards

George A. Smith

Amasa M. Lyman

Orson Hyde was in Boston.

Parley P. Pratt was in New York City.

John E. Page was last reported in Washington.

William Smith was last reported in Philadelphia.

Wilford Woodruff was reported on his way to England.

Joseph told of how he had met with many of the most prominent politicians and editors in the nation, and the favorable response he had received from most of them. He told them of his visit with President Tyler; the near-mobbing in Baltimore; and of his endorsement by Daniel Webster. He said,

"Brethren, whether I win or lose, we have now put this nation on notice. Mormonism is here to stay, firm and true, and my campaign pledges are a broad enough umbrella to cover all nations, kindreds, tongues and people. If this nation accepts the gospel and the kingdom of God, they will be saved; if not they are damned."

Brigham Young reported on the gathering of the Twelve to Nauvoo after Hyrum's martyrdom, and of Sidney Rigdon's duplicity and subsequent excommunication. Joseph said sadly,

"I was afraid it would come to this. Sidney has never been quite the same since that terrible beating he suffered in Kirtland some years ago. But infirm or not, he would have kicked himself out of the Church sooner or later. I can only hope he doesn't drag too many others down with him."

Brigham continued. "Joseph, there is one other thing you should know. Nauvoo has been visited of late by some of the followers of James Strang, from Hampton. It appears that Sidney Rigdon's reign and ministry there was short-lived. Apparently this Strang fellow recently tried to depose Sidney, claiming that he is your rightful successor as head of the Church."

Heber C. Kimball leaned forward. "Brother Joseph, this Strang chap claims to have a revelation signed by you, appointing him as the new Prophet. And that's not all – He also purports to have found the Brass Plates of Laban, from which he has 'translated' something he calls 'The Book of the Law of the Lord'. His followers are all over town, trying to drum up converts. So far, they've had precious little success."

Brigham said, "Porter Rockwell unearthed some of Strang's chicanery, so to speak, up near Pontoosuc recently. The man is a very clever forger. Do you recall Robert Wiley and his 'Kinderhook Plates', what you so quickly dismissed last year? This Strang chap is of the same ilk, with his purported 'Brass Plates of Laban'."

William Clayton gave a sideways, knowing glance at Joseph, who cleared his throat and replied with a smile,

"Ahem, brethren, I know exactly where the Brass Plates are, and the sword of Laban for that matter, and I assure you they are not in Hampton. Mr. Strang is a base fraud, and his pretensions shall come to naught."

Striking his hand on his bosom, Joseph said,

"Right here is the authority to lead this Church."

Orson Pratt and Willard Richards also exchanged knowing glances, but held their peace.

NAUVOO, Sunday, September 22

Meeting at ten o'clock in the grove. A vast congregation was assembled to hear their beloved Prophet Joseph Smith speak. The following is a synopsis of his remarks:

"I will advert to the Revelation of St. John, eleventh chapter and fifteenth verse, wherein he said: 'And the seventh angel sounded; and there were great voices in heaven, saying, The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; and he shall reign forever and ever.'

"The kingdom is organized; and although as yet no bigger than a grain of mustard seed, the little plant is in a flourishing condition and our prospects brighter than ever.

"We are asked, Is the Church of God, and the Kingdom of God the same organization – and we are informed that some of the brethren hold that they are separate.

"This is the correct view to take. The Kingdom of God is a separate organization from the Church of God.

"I give an ensample, which the younger elders here present should always remember. Men might be chosen to officiate as members of the Kingdom of God who had no standing in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Kingdom of God when established will not be for the protection of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints alone, but for the protection of all men, whatever their religious views or opinions may be. Under its rule, no one will be permitted to overstep the proper bounds or to interfere with the rights of others."

NEW YORK CITY, Monday, September 23

THE NEW YORK DAILY TRIBUNE

Monday, September 23 1844 Two cents

MORMONISM DEBUNKED ~ THE NATIONAL PARTY A HUMBUG

WILLIAM SMITH, brother of the self-styled 'Mormon' prophet Joe Smith, has recently signed on as a correspondent for this paper. In this and subsequent issues, Mr. Smith has agreed to reveal the true motives behind Joe Smith's meteoric rise to power, as well as his true intentions to the fate of this nation, in the unfortunate event that he gains the highest office in this land – A calamity that we shudder to even think might come to pass.

From what we have already ascertained from Mr. Smith, it is apparent that Mormonism presents an even greater threat to this nation than slavery, if only because of its phenomenal growth and its appeal to the more simple-minded and ignorant members of the populace. It would be our hope that by exposing this Mormon 'religion' for the contemptible fraud that it is, peace and civility may once again return to our political processes, and to our disquieted nation as well.

William Smith was horrified when he read the front page of the Tribune. He thought desperately:

I didn't sign on for this... What can I do?

NAUVOO, Monday, September 23

At about ten thirty a great throng gathered to watch the raising of the first capital stone on to the walls of the temple. Joseph was pleased and astonished to find that in his absence, the temple workmen had erected a steam engine to assist them in raising the heavy stones.

The temple foreman, William Player, said proudly,

"T'was Brother Huntington's idea, in truth. Since the auld Hyrum Smith was noo longer seaworthy, the crewmen ware all assigned to work on the temple constrooction. Dimick says to me, 'Why not salvage one o' the ship's boilers an' a steam engine, an' put 'em to work raisin' stones?' Well, it took six yoke of oxen to drag all the machinery up t' the temple lot here, where we hooked it up to a windlass an' derrick. Now we can raise twice as many stones in a day as 'at we could afore."

William Weeks, the temple architect, showed Joseph the massive capital stone. In the center of the stone was a large human face. Below the face was a cloud with rays emanating from it, and above the face were two trumpets. Weeks asked anxiously,

"General Smith, is this like the face you saw in vision?"

"Very near it", answered the prophet, rubbing his chin and smiling. "Only that the nose is just a thought too broad. But a handsome piece of work it is, Brother Weeks."

William Player called to him,

"Broother Joseph! Wair' ready ta proceed. We would be pleased if ye would do us the honor."

The workmen had swung the massive derrick around and tied it down, and the huge stone was attached to the windlass cable by what looked like two giant ice tongs. Several workmen were standing atop the temple walls, ready to swing the stone into place after it was raised.

Joseph walked over to the steam engine and asked William Player, "Just show me what to do."

"Just put yair 'and on this steam lever, 'ere", said Player. "When I gie' the signal, pull it towards ye, an' don't let go until the stone's level wi' the thaird story! Then we'll lock the windlass an' swing 'er inta place. Ready?"

"Ready", said Joseph.

"Ready on the derrick?" shouted Player.

"Ready!" was the reply.

"Ready on the walls?" shouted Player.

"Ready!"

"Then 'oist away, Joseph!"

Joseph pulled the steam lever and with a hiss and a clatter, the windlass started taking up the slack. The cable went taut, and the derrick creaked and bent under the weight of four thousand pounds of limestone. Then the stone slowly started rising from the ground, swaying in the light breeze. Everyone cheered and clapped as the stone cleared the ground.

Yorkshireman Charles Lambert, who had carved the stone, was muttering something to himself about how it had taken him three weeks to carve, and cost the Church $450, and if Joseph dropped it they couldn't pay him enough in carrots and chickens to carve another; but Joseph couldn't hear him over the roaring and hissing of the steam engine.

"Steady as she goes, Joseph", William Weeks said nervously, as he checked the steam pressure. By now the stone was level with the round windows above the first story.

A moment later there was a terrible screeching and grinding sound, and the stone suddenly stopped rising and bobbed up and down several times, dangling precariously sixty feet in the air. A collective gasp went up from the workers and spectators below, and Joseph quickly released the steam valve.

"Lock 'er down! Lock 'er down!" Player shouted, as he scrambled to set the brake on the windlass. Then he and Lambert tore madly up the front stairs of the temple and ran up the circular staircase to the second level, followed by several other workers.

Lambert arrived at the window first, and looked out the second story window at the massive stone dangling in front of him.

"Aye, 'at just corks it", he said disgustedly. "We broke a block shive – t'cable's all cluthered 'op. We cain't go 'op, and we cain't go d'ahn, leastways nowt withou' bustin' t'stone intae' a million cobs."

"Aye, 'tis a proper mullock..." Player replied.

Lambert looked anxiously at his stone for a minute and said,

"Will, I think we can 'oist it 'op an' set a new shive. If we wraps another cable 'round it an' raises it 'op just a wee bit t'relieve t'tension, I can replace t'block."

"What, are ye gawby, Charlie? Soon's ye climb on 'at rock, it'll whemmle ower' an' ye'll bust yourself all ta' flinders. That sunstone'll be yer' gravestone. Then who'll I get ta' carve me stones?"

"You got a better ideer, gaffer? Its gonter' look real strange danglin' 'ere, once t'temple's complayted."

William Player sighed. "Awright, go an' get yer block an' tackle. But mind yerself!"

In a few minutes Lambert was back with two new blocks and several hundred feet of rope. He ran up to the third level and hooked one of the blocks to the end of the derrick, next to the block that was supporting the stone. He played out the other end of the tackle until the lower block was even with the stone. Then he ran back down to the second story window.

"Gie'me a leg up, Will", he said breathlessly.

Player helped Lambert onto the windowsill. The capital stone was nearly even with the outside temple wall, and still bobbing slightly. Lambert closed his eyes for a moment, held his breath, and stepped out of the window onto the swaying stone and wrapped his arms for dear life around the tangled mass of rope. The people on the ground gasped at this daring feat.

"No time ta' be swaimish", he muttered, as the stone swayed and sagged under him. With his heart pounding, he opened his eyes and checked the damage.

The stone was suspended from a "double purchase" – two wooden blocks with several lengths of tackle connecting them. The pin in the lower block had broken, causing the pulley wheel to break loose and jam against the cables. He reached up cautiously and pulled the new block down towards him and hooked it into the eye of the tongs. Then he leaned back and shouted up to the third story workmen,

"Ready! 'eave away!"

The workmen pulled furiously on the tackle, and the blocks shrieked. Lambert held on for dear life as the stone bounced up and down, imperceptibly inching its way up the side of the temple. When the old cables were slack enough, he cried,

"Avast!"

The men above him ceased their pulling. Then he took a deep breath, pried his fingers loose one by one from the cables, reached out to William Player in the window and said,

"Gie' me 'at beetle 'ere, Will."

Round-eyed with fear, Player reached out and handed a wooden mallet to Lambert. He drove the broken pin out of the old block, pulled the halves apart, and set the new pin in its place. It took him several minutes to sort out the tangled loops of cable and realign them in the block.

"Let 'er dahn, mates, nice an' eeeasy!" he shouted up. The third story workers – William Player, Joseph Smith, and everyone on the ground – held their breath and watched bug-eyed as the stone slowly settled its weight into the new block with a creak and a groan.

As soon as he was certain the new block would hold, Lambert scrambled back into the windowsill, where Player seized him and helped him down onto the floor.

"'ere's 'open' I niver 'ave ta' do that again", Lambert said, trembling.

The stone was then raised without further difficulty, and was set precisely at twenty minutes before one o'clock. This was the heaviest stone among the whole number.

NAUVOO, Tuesday, September 24

This day Joseph received a letter from Wilford Woodruff in Philadelphia, informing him that he was unable to secure passage to England due to an embargo. In Joseph's reply to him, he directed that Wilford should assume the Presidency of the Eastern States' mission for the present, with Dan Jones as his Counselor.

Joseph also received a letter from Governor Ford, care of Almon W. Babbitt, concerning the upcoming trial in Carthage. He was informed that the Governor has engaged the firm of Lincoln & Herndon to prosecute the case:

Springfield, September 16, 1844.

Hon. A.W. Babbitt:

Dear Sir: I received your favor from Galena last evening. If I thought that I could have the least influence in preventing a disturbance in Hancock county I would cheerfully go over there. My opinion however is that my presence there, and that of Mr. Hoge would only aggravate matters. I have requested Mr. Abraham Lincoln of Springfield, one of the strongest jury lawyers in the state, to assist the prosecution. I have sent a military order to General Deming giving him authority to call out his whole brigade, including the Mormons of course if necessary to protect the court, the witnesses, the jurors, or to secure the custody of prisoners.

I am most respectfully,

Your Obedient Servant,

Thomas Ford

The Quincy Greys under Captain Morgan and a company of Germans under Captain Swinder arrived from Quincy and encamped in the east part of the city. These Captains expected a general officer to direct their movements and expressed their astonishment at his non-arrival.

Joseph informed the Captains politely that the last thing Hancock county needed at this time was for General Joseph Smith to be sweeping the countryside at the head of any body of militia, whether Mormon or non-Mormon.

WARSAW, Tuesday, September 24

William M. Daniels had traveled with the mob from Warsaw to Carthage on June 27, and was an eyewitness to the attack on the jail. Later, he had collaborated with Lyman O. Littlefield in the publication of a sensational 24-page pamphlet about the martyrdom, entitled Correct Account of the Murder of Hyrum Smith, at Carthage on the 27th Day of June, 1844. Daniels had recently been subpoenaed as a witness at the trial of Hyrum's assassins, which was scheduled to come up in October. When Levi Williams and the other defendants learned that Daniels was to testify, they threatened his life.

Mrs. Daniels, his wife, was presently living in Quincy. It was thought wise for her safety to send for her to come to Nauvoo, and as Lyman O. Littlefield was going to that place on some business, Daniels made arrangements for her to return with him.

At noon on Tuesday, Lyman O. Littlefield and Mrs. Daniels took the stage from Quincy to Nauvoo. At about sunset they rode into Warsaw, and the stage pulled up in front of Fleming's Tavern in a cloud of dust.

Lyman poked his head out the stage window and spoke to the driver.

"We must get to Nauvoo this evening. Will we be stopping here long?"

"Ayup. Over night, I reckon", said the driver, as he climbed down from the dickey seat.

Warsaw was not a safe place for Mormons, and Littlefield knew it. Fleming's Tavern was just across the street from Thomas Sharp's home and the Warsaw Signal office. But as they had no choice but to stay there overnight, they decided to put on a bold front and trust in God.

"Mr. Littlefield, I don't like this!" Mrs. Daniels whispered. "My husband is the chief witness against these men! They have sworn they'll be avenged upon him!"

They walked nervously into Fleming's dining hall, the very place where the mobbers had congregated on the evening of June 27th to boast about the murder of Hyrum Smith. As they passed the bar room, Littlefield noticed three men sitting there. One of them gave him a long look, then turned and whispered something to the other two.

Mr. Canfield Hamilton saw them to their separate rooms. As he set Lyman's valise down, Lyman asked him,

"Who are those men in the bar? One of them gave me a peculiar look as I passed."

"Them three? Oh, the one who looked you up an' down was Joseph Jackson. He claims he fired the first ball into Hyrum Smith. Oh, and he says you insulted him on board a steamboat once't."

"But, I never met him in my life!"

"Don't matter to him. He also called you a 'damned polygamy Mormon'. He claims that the lady who's travelin' with you is one of your 'spiritual wives'."

This did not exactly sit well with Lyman. Just before he retired, he pulled out his only weapon, a small boot derringer, and placed it under his pillow.

WARSAW, Wednesday, September 25

Lyman slept fitfully and arose early. At about six a.m. Mr. Hamilton knocked on his door.

"Mr. Littlefield, did you sleep well?"

Lyman rubbed his eyes and said, "I've had better nights. Mr. Hamilton, I thank you for your hospitality, and I'm sorry if our presence here has caused you any trouble."

"Mr. Littlefield, I'm a peaceable man. My family owns hotels in both Warsaw and Carthage, and we've stood neutral through all the difficulties 'tween the Mormons and t' other citizens, an' we wish to keep it that way. I dislike very much to have any difficulty at my house. I would wish you therefore, after breakfast, to leave the hotel by a back passage through the lot? You'll find the stage driver waitin' for you there."

"As you wish, Mr. Hamilton, and thank you."

About 6:30 the breakfast bell rang. Lyman hurried downstairs, where he found Mrs. Daniels seated with some of the ladies of the house.

Just at that moment the bar room door opened, and the first man to enter was Joseph Jackson. He walked down the entire length of the table – passed by numerous chairs, plates, and the smoking repast – to seat himself close to Lyman's left arm.

"Mornin', Littlefield. I hear tell Rigdon has cut the Church off, up at Nauvoo, has he not?"

"No, Jackson, the Church has cut Mr. Rigdon off."

Jackson looked Mrs. Daniels up and down admiringly. "And who's this so-called travelin' companion o' yours here? One o' your 'spiritual wives'?"

"This is, ah, Mrs. Underwood. I am accompanying her on business."

Jackson exploded in laughter. "Bidness, ma eye! I kin tell by that colored ribbon in 'er hair, she's a 'Mormon concubine'. Why, I'd just a' soon shoot you down right here, Littlefield, 'cept there's ladies present."

Just at that moment there was a clatter of horses galloping down the street. All eyes turned to the dining room window, as a troop of soldiers reined up in front of Thomas Sharp's printing office across the street.

"It's that damned Sheriff Deming again!" exclaimed Jackson, as he crouched down and drew his revolver.

Out in the street, Sheriff Minor Deming and about fifty Quincy Militiamen had dismounted outside Sharp's office. With them was William Marr.

"Come on out, Sharp, you're under arrest!" Marr shouted half-heartedly.

"I'll see you in Hell first, and then I won't!" Sharp shouted back from inside. "I've got ten armed men in here with me, and we'll make it hot for you if you try!"

Marr threw up his hands and turned apologetically to Deming.

"Shucks, Sheriff, it don't look like Mr. Sharp cares to come with us today. I'll just have to tell the Governor he's indisposed."

About this time, Littlefield and Mrs. Daniels took advantage of the diversion to slip out the back door. In a few minutes, they were on the stage and safely on their way to Nauvoo.

NEW YORK CITY, Wednesday, September 25

Just after six in the evening, William Smith cleaned out his desk and left the office. But instead of heading downstairs to the front entrance as usual, he quietly slipped down the hall to the typesetters' room. He peeked carefully around the door.

No one here – good, he thought.

Can't put it on the front page – that would be too obvious, he thought.

He checked several of the typesetter's desks until he found one that suited him. There was a partially completed rack of type on the desk, filled with short advertisements and personal messages.

Ten point, duodecimo font, he thought. Nothing too bold.

He quickly went to work, carefully inserting the tiny lead slugs into each stick of type from right to left, reading backwards as he went.

If this works, it should hit the streets of New York tomorrow, he thought. It may be the only way I can atone for the damage I've done to Joseph, and by then I'll be long gone.

NAUVOO, Thursday, September 26

Joseph wrote in his journal:

I held a council at the temple office and appointed four watchmen to watch the temple tonight. Some of the mobbers have come to town and they report that they have come to deface the capitals placed upon the columns of the temple and burn the lumber around the temple.

Following their return from Warsaw, the Quincy militia were escorted about town by the Nauvoo Band.

NEW YORK CITY, Thursday, September 26

When William Smith failed to show up for work, his absence was not noted for some time. It was mid-afternoon before someone pointed out to Horace Greeley the unusual personal message that had been slipped into the fourth page of the Tribune. By the time Greeley finished reading it, he was apoplectic:

To my Dearest Brother Joseph Smith,

Though I do not know but what I have forfeited all right and title to the word brother, in consequence of what I have done, after coming to myself, and considering what I have done, I feel as though it was a duty to make a humble confession to you for what I have done. When I reflect upon the injury I have done you, I must confess that I do not know what I have been about. The words that you have read or may yet read, attributed to me in the New York Tribune, are not my own. They were inserted under my byline by Dr. John C. Bennett in an attempt to discredit you, the Church, and your campaign for President. I disavow all connection with this underhanded scheme, which was personally hatched by Mr. Horace Greeley.

I have not confidence as yet to come and see you, for I feel ashamed of what I have done; and as I feel now, I feel as though all the confessions that I could make, verbally or by writing, would not be sufficient to atone for the transgression. Be this as it may, I am willing to make all the restitution you shall require. If I can stay in the Church as a member, I will try to make all the satisfaction possible.

Yours with respect,

William Smith.

NAUVOO, Friday, September 27

A little before noon the Governor and two of his aides arrived in Nauvoo. After viewing the temple they went down towards the Mansion. About two p.m. his troops marched into the city, about five hundred in number. They had three six-pounders with them, two of which were brass. The whole company halted on the first vacant block on the flat and tarried there some time. Many of the men visited the font and the temple; they appeared astonished, but were civil.

NAUVOO, Sunday, September 29

Joseph wrote in his journal:

I attended meeting. Afternoon, I went to the Seventies' Hall and ordained the sixty-three members of the First Quorum of Seventy to be Presidents over the quorums from the second to the tenth inclusive.

I made a few remarks endorsing the sisters' penny subscription for the purpose of procuring glass and nails for the temple and requested the saints to prepare themselves to entertain the Elders who may be in attendance at conference.
CHAPTER 20

SPRINGFIELD, Tuesday, October 1

Joseph, Heber C. Kimball, and Willard Richards arrived in Springfield about 11 a.m., after two day's journey from Nauvoo.

As he stepped from the carriage, Joseph studied Abraham Lincoln's small, two story clapboard house. It was freshly whitewashed, with green shutters on the windows. In style it was similar to the Nauvoo Mansion, although less than half its size.

A rather small, dark-haired woman met them at the door. She had gray eyes and a rosy tinge to her cheeks.

"Mrs. Lincoln, I presume? My name is Joseph Smith."

Mary Todd Lincoln smiled. "Come in", she said. "Mr. Lincoln has been awaiting your arrival."

They were ushered into the parlor, where Abraham Lincoln stood to meet them.

"Mr. Smith, I'm so pleased to finally meet you", he said. "I must apologize for the lack of furnishments, but we just recently moved inta' this house from a boardin' house near th' capitol. May I introduce my partner in law, Mr. William H. Herndon?"

Joseph said, "Mr. Lincoln, may I introduce my two colleagues, Willard Richards and Heber Kimball. Mr. Richards was with me at Carthage Jail last June."

Lincoln said, "I'm honored, Mr. Smith, or should I call you Gen'ral Smith? You may call me simply Abe, if you like."

"And you may call me Joseph."

Lincoln said, "D'you know, we crossed paths in Baltimore? I was a delegate to your National Refo'm party there."

"Yes, I know, I saw you there", said Joseph. "I remarked at that time, that you stood head and shoulders above the throng."

Lincoln's parlor was haphazardly furnished, with a leather settee, a leather-backed armchair, and two padded Queen Anne chairs. Near the window was a heavy oak side table with a lyre base. The walls were covered with a floral-print wallpaper. Lincoln took the armchair, Willard the settee, Heber one of the Queen Anne chairs and Mr. Herndon the other.

Joseph sized up his new prosecutor. Lincoln was dressed casually in "Kentucky" jeans and an old checkered shirt. He was very tall, thin, and large-boned; about six foot four, Joseph guessed. He had a thin face, prominent cheekbones, and no beard. His voice was rather high-pitched and nasal, with a distinct Kentucky twang.

Joseph liked him at first sight. He thought to himself,

This is a man destined for greatness.

Lincoln warily sized up the three men before him. Mr. Richards was very large, with a jolly demeanor, and Mr. Kimball was barrel-chested, with powerful arms and large, calloused hands. A potter if ever I saw one, Abe thought. And Joseph Smith...How do I take the measure of this 'Mormon Prophet?'

Joseph finally broke the silence and said,

"Mr. Lincoln – Abe, you are acquainted with the circumstances surrounding our imprisonment in Carthage Jail last June, the assault on the jail, and the death of my brother Hyrum?"

"Yes, yes", said Lincoln, clearing his throat. "Never has a more foul deed stained our nation's soil. I have read your affidavits. I believe you have a solid case 'gainst most o' the defendants. However, you may be hard pressed to win this case in the court o' public opinion. I need not remind you, Joseph, that your people are thoroughly despised by much o' the population o' this state, nowhere more so than in Hancock County. An' not only are th' Mormons despised, but anyone who so much as whispers, 'Hurrah fo' Joe Smith', is forever afta' branded a 'Jack-Mormon'. So, you une'stand my reticence about takin' you as my client?"

"Do you think we can win this case?" said Heber, leaning forward.

Lincoln paused. "Mr. Kimball, I have pursued some difficult cases in my career. I'm known as somethin' of a defende' of unpopula' causes. I believe most fe'vently in the rights of all men, be they black, white, or red. But I'm not a popula' man. I've stood alone, or nea'ly so, many times in the state legislature in opposition t' the 'Black Laws' an' other oppressive measu'es. Though I may not agree with the p'culiarities of your 'Mormon' religion, I shall be happy t' plow aroun' it, while defendin' your rights as citizens of the United States."

He smiled. "I harbor no ill feelin's towa'ds you Mormons for votin' for Mr. Ralston ovah me four yea's ago. As you may recall, I labored untirin'ly in the legislature at that same time t' pass your Nauvoo city cha'ter. I have always believed that unda' th' umbrella of civil libe'ty, civil prosperity must inev'tably follow. It would appear that yo' Nauvoo experiment has proven me right."

Joseph replied, "Yes, I concocted that charter for the salvation of the Church, and on principles so broad, that every honest man might dwell secure under its protecting influences, without distinction of sect or party."

Abe leaned back in his chair and looked off in the distance.

"I have followed very closely the recent case of Chism vs. Benton here in Springfield. As a young man, I witnessed a most dreadful spectacle in New O'leans. I watched as a young Negro man was tied t'a tree an' then burned to death. I swore at that time that if I ever got a chance t' hit th' institution of slavery, I'd hit it hard. And I will, someday. I feel that Divine Prov'dence has fitted me for this task."

Joseph studied Abe for a long moment. Then he said,

"Mr. Lincoln, may I say something to you that I said not long ago to your colleague, Stephen A. Douglas?"

"Say on."

"In Ramus just last year, I prophesied that Judge Douglas would aspire to the Presidency of the United States."

Abe smiled. "No big prophecy, that. Mr. Douglas has aspired t' high offices since befo' I first met 'im."

Joseph continued. "I also told him, that if he ever turned his hand against me or the Latter-day Saints, he would feel the weight of the hand of the Almighty upon him. Mr. Lincoln, one day you too will aspire to the Presidency. If you defend the Latter-day Saints now, you will be forever after condemned for it by your detractors. Do you think you can carry this cross?"

"Joseph, please do not misunde'stand me", said Lincoln, spreading his hands. "I do not 'dee-fend' Mormonism, nor any other religion per se. I'm not a churchgoin' man. But I will dee-fend your rights as citizens t' my latest breath."

He laughed. "And as for th' Pres'dency, well, I conside' myself wholly unfit for th' office."

He paused, then slapped his knee and stood up.

"Joseph, would you care t' see my new home? I shall leave the financial p'ticulars of your case t' Mr. Herndon and your two friends here."

"I would be honored", said Joseph.

Abe retrieved an old slouch hat from a peg and escorted Joseph to the front door. After they had left, Willard turned to Heber and said in awe,

"Did you notice something in this room just now?"

Heber said, "Yes, I did. We have surely been sitting in the presence of the two most interesting men in Illinois, if not the nation. My head felt like a potter's wheel, as my gaze was drawn to first one, and then the other."

"I have spent many years with Joseph, listening to him speak, and I know when the spirit is upon him", said Willard. "Mr. Lincoln's presence is more physical, but just as real. Wherever he is in a room, your eyes seek him out. I find his honesty and dignity to be most compelling."

Mr. Herndon spoke. "He said he's 'not a churchgoing man', yet I know of a truth that he reads the Bible diligently every day."

Heber heard a noise outside and glanced out the window. A small crowd of children had gathered in the middle of the street. In the middle of the crowd, Heber was astonished to see Joseph and Abe seated on the ground facing each other, pulling at a stick. Heber, Willard, and William ran for the door, just as Joseph went sailing over Abe's head.

Joseph picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off. He said,

"Abe, you are a tenacious stick-puller, and the first man to ever best me at it."

Willard ran up and said, "Joseph, are you all right?"

Mr. Herndon whispered something in Abe's ear, and his face showed immediate concern.

"Joseph, I must apologize. I had no ideer your colla'bone had been broken at Ca'thage!"

Joseph smiled and patted Abe on the shoulder. "I am well enough by now, I daresay. But I must demand a rematch, at my convenience of course. Mr. Lincoln, I would be honored to see you visit our fair city of Nauvoo. Peradventure there, you will find that we are not such a bad people after all."

"I look forward to the priv'lege", said Lincoln, as he shook Joseph's hand.

NAUVOO, Sunday, October 6

General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Two o'clock p. m. – The meeting was opened as usual by singing; and prayer by Elder W.W. Phelps, after which Elder John Taylor arose and addressed the people. He said it was with peculiar feelings that he arose to address the congregation.

"This is t' fairst general conference that 'as been 'eld, where your beloved Patriarch is nae present. When I look at the many difficoolties an' severe trials we 'ave passed through, it fills me wi' peculiar feelings. I feel 'appy t' see that t' people still seems detairmined t' hold on t' those principles which 'ave been gi'en t' us thro' revelation. Nothing shall separate us frae' those principles which we 'ave imbibed, naither life noor death. By t' voice of Jehovah we 'ave been sustained an' will be sustained so long as we put oor troost in 'im.

Elder Taylor exhorted the saints to be virtuous, humble and faithful, and concluded by blessing the saints.

NAUVOO, Monday, October 7

The general conference of the Church continued.

President Joseph Smith stood and proceeded to select men from the high priests' quorum, to go abroad in all the congressional districts of the United States, to preside over the branches of the Church.

President Smith explained the object for which these high priests were being sent out, and informed them that it was not the design to go and tarry six months and then return, but to go and settle down, where they can take their families and tarry until the temple is built, and then come and get their endowments, and return to their families and build up a stake as large as this. He concluded by saying,

"I believe this people is the best people of their age that ever lived on the earth, the Church of Enoch not excepted. We want you to come on with your tithes and offerings to build this temple, and when it is finished we want you to spend a year in it and we will tell you things you never thought of.

"In relation to those who give in property for the temple, we want them to bring it to the proper source, and to be careful into whose hands it comes, that it may be entered into the Church books, so that those whose names are found in the Church books shall have the first claim to receive their endowments in the temple. I intend to keep the door at the dedication myself, and not a man shall pass who has not paid his tithes and offerings."

NAUVOO, Wednesday, October 9

Joseph Smith received the following letter:

State of Illinois, Executive Department,

Springfield, October 9th, 1844.

To Lieutenant-General Joseph Smith of the Nauvoo Legion:

Sir: It may be probable that there may be further disturbances in Hancock County by those opposed to the prosecutions against the murderers of Hyrum Smith. They may combine together in arms to subvert justice and prevent those prosecutions from going on. They may also attack or resist the civil authorities of the state in that county and they may attack some of the settlements or people there with violence.

The sheriff of the county may want a military force to guard the court and protect it or its officers or the jurors thereof or the witnesses attending court from the violence of a mob.

In all these cases you are hereby ordered and directed to hold in readiness a sufficient force under your command of the Nauvoo Legion to act under the direction of the said sheriff for the purposes aforesaid:

And also to suppress mobs which may be collected in said county to injure the persons or property of any of the citizens. In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed the seal of state the day and year first herein above written.

Thomas Ford,

Governor and Commander-in-Chief.

When Brigham Young read the letter, he said to Joseph in exasperation,

"The Governor disarms us, disbands us, and now he leans on us to maintain civil order. I declare, he is a most difficult man to please, wouldn't you say?"

NAUVOO, Friday, October 11

From the Nauvoo Neighbor on this date:

BURNING WELL

A correspondent of the Cleveland Plain Dealer gives an account of a burning well that may be seen at Southington Centre, in Trumbill county, Ohio. The well is 91 feet deep, all but 24 feet through sand-stone, quick sand and hard rock, through which a steel bit that was used for boring could not penetrate. When it was withdrawn, a peculiar odor accompanied by a rushing sound, was perceived. Suspecting the presence of inflammable gas, Mr. Wannemaker, the owner of the well, lowered a lamp into it. A violent explosion, that did some injury to the by-standers, was the consequence, and the gas still continues to burn. It is doubtless carburetted hydrogen.

NAUVOO, Wednesday, October 16

In the morning Joseph was at work in his garden, digging his potatoes. He was wearing striped pantaloons, a linen jacket, and had a beard of some three days' growth. He had just filled his second bushel basket when young Joseph the Third ran up and said breathlessly,

"Papa, Mr. Lincoln is coming down the road from Carthage to see you!"

His father dropped the basket and replied, "Quickly, now! Help me wash up!"

Joseph stuck his head under the pump while his son worked the handle, and then they switched positions and repeated the process.

"That's better... grab that bushel there, son", Joseph said as he ran his fingers through his thinning hair.

They hauled the potatoes into the house and dumped them in the kitchen, and Joseph hurried to the front door just in time to hear someone knocking. He opened the door and saw Abraham Lincoln and William Herndon standing there.

"Good mornin', Mr. Smith", Lincoln said with a smile, as he extended his hand. "I'm here t' take you up on th' offer you made me in Springfield – not t' pull sticks! – but t' come an' see your fair city of Nauvoo."

"God bless you, to begin with! And now come, both of you, into the house!" said Joseph.

Abe was somewhat surprised at the size of Joseph's house. He looked in admiration at the bar-room on the left, and the parlor on the right, and the large kitchen beyond.

Joseph said, "Come, let me find a place where we can speak in privacy."

Joseph opened the door of a room on the left, then shut it again. "Occupied..." he said. He ran upstairs, calling upon the two men to follow him, and threw open a door in the second story. It was also occupied, by three men in three beds.

"Maybe here..." Joseph said as he opened another door. "Ah! here we are." He ushered Lincoln and Herndon into a small bedchamber. Joseph took a seat on the edge of the bed, and the two men sat facing him.

Abe Lincoln got right down to business. "Ahem... Joseph, I'm havin' considerable difficulty roundin' up non-Mormon witnesses who'll testify at th' upcoming trial. Any po-tential Mormon witnesses are unlikely t' be believed, an' the, ah, 'Gentiles', as for some curious reason you like t' style the non-Mormons, are either too afraid or too guilty o' the deed themselves. 'Bout the only bodies I can skeer up are William Daniels, who marched with the mobbers; Canfield Hamilton, who runs a hotel in Warsaw; and Eliza Graham, who may've overheard th' men boastin' o' th' deed later on in Warsaw. Ratha' slim pickins if you ask me."

"Daniels may be no good to us", said Joseph. "He just published a rather sensational pamphlet about the attack, and he has recently been baptized into the Church."

Lincoln groaned. "That leaves Miss Graham an' Mr. Hamilton." He leaned forward. "Joseph, there are still three livin' eyewitnesses who've not yet been subpoenaed."

"And who might they be?" Joseph said warily.

"Yourself, Willard Richards, an' John Taylor", Lincoln replied. "You all had ringside seats t' the affair, if I may say."

"You want us to testify?" said Joseph. "That is out of the question. John Taylor is still badly shaken by the affair, and has said he'd sooner die than go back to Carthage. Willard could go, but to my recollection he was behind the door during most of the attack, so he probably never saw the mobbers face to face. And as for me..."

"Joseph, I realize how hard this is fo' you. But if you are lookin' fo' justice, it may be your only choice. If'n you decline, I'll be forced t' go with the hotelier, the pamphleteer, an' the ba'maid. It's up t' you."

"Let me think on it", Joseph replied. He stood up. "And now come with me, and I will show you my 'fair city', starting with the curiosities."

So saying, he led the way to a lower room, where his mother Lucy was sitting.

"This is my mother, gentlemen. The curiosities we shall see belong to her. They were purchased with her own money, at a cost of six thousand dollars."

Joseph showed them the Egyptian parchments inscribed with hieroglyphics. They were preserved under glass and he handled them with great respect.

"That is the record of Abraham, the Father of the Faithful", said the Prophet, pointing reverently. "Here we have the earliest account of the creation, from which Moses composed the book of Genesis. And on these parchments here, we have the record of Joseph who was sold into Egypt."

"How very intriguing", said Mr. Herndon, looking around idly. "And do you also have the Gold Bible stashed away here somewhere?"

"No, the angel took the plates back once I was done translating them", Joseph replied. "But if you wish, I can give you a copy of the translation."

"Perhaps some other time", Herndon said politely.

"Come gentlemen, there is still time to see the temple before dinner!" the Prophet said. He called young Joseph to him.

"Son, would you go fetch Porter and have him prepare the carriage for us?"

"Sure thing, Papa", said young Joseph, and ran off.

In a few minutes the three men were seated in Joseph's carriage, and Porter guided them slowly up Main Street. Lincoln was astonished at the size of the city, the neat rows of brick homes, and the general order of the people.

"An' you say, this was jist a swamp five years ago?" he said in amazement as they rode past the Masonic Hall. "Why, Springfield is not half this la'ge!"

They turned right at Mulholland Street and rode slowly up the hill to the temple. The white limestone edifice was now built up to the third floor, and workmen were busy all around the temple site shaping timbers for the attic story.

Near the entrance to the temple, Charles Lambert was laboring upon his third huge sunstone, which he had chiseled from a solid limestone rock.

"General Smith", said Lambert, looking up from his task, "t' second stoone went up wi'out a 'itch. I noo pairsonally inspect t' derricks before raisin' each stoone. I doon't care t' repeat that affray!"

"Nor do I", Joseph said with a smile.

"This is a rema'kable structure", said Lincoln, "Unlike any I've seen before. It's not exactly a cathedral, yet there is somethin' of th' Almighty in it. Tell me, what is its purpose?"

"It is a place of worship and instruction", said Joseph, as he escorted the two men to the reviewing stand on the east side of the temple. "And a testament to the immortality of the human soul."

Several companies of the Nauvoo Legion had been hastily assembled, and the three men watched as they passed in review.

"Did you know, Joseph, that I fought in th' Blackhawk War near here?" said Lincoln. "I never cotched me any Injuns, but I did kill some fee-rocious skeeters!" Joseph laughed at this.

Lincoln continued watching the parade for a time, then he said softly,

"I have often thought, that war would be such a splendid spectacle, if only no one were eva' kilt nor maimed..."

Following the passing in review, the Nauvoo Brass Band and choir serenaded the crowd that had assembled. Mr. Lincoln was visibly moved as Brother John Kay sang "The Last War of Nations" in his rich baritone voice:

O, the last war of nations,

I wish it was done,

That a peace everlasting

Might greet ev'ry one.

So that angels and spirits

Might mingle with men,

As they do with our Father

In glory, again.

And the last sin of Satan,

I wish it was gone,

For the hour of redemption

So brightly doth dawn.

That the angels are whisp'ring

Glad tidings again,

And the spirit of Zion

Refreshes like the rain.

And the last noble system,

I wish it success

As a plan of the prophets

To gather the best,

As the true sons of Joseph,

With banners unfurled,

And a priesthood with power,

To bless the whole world.

As John Kay finished the song, Joseph turned to Abe and said,

"Mr. Lincoln, I have decided. I shall appear at the coming trial in Carthage. I owe it to my brother Hyrum's memory."

NAUVOO, Thursday, October 17

William W. Phelps returned from the east and reported excitedly that Senator Daniel Webster was now actively stumping for Joseph Smith's election. The Senator had made a circuit of the New England states, giving speeches in behalf of the National Reform Party and their slate of candidates. Joseph was elated with this news.

"This is better than I could have hoped", he said. "With Webster, Arlington Bennett and Birney in our camp, I can feel the tide turning in our behalf."

The Nauvoo Neighbor announced that true bills of indictment had at last been found against several persons of Hancock county, for the murder of Hyrum Smith on the 27th of June last. Among the most conspicuous are, Colonel Levi Williams, Thomas C. Sharp, Mark Aldrich and Jacob C. Davis – the latter a Senator in the legislature of Illinois.

NAUVOO, Friday, October 18

At 10 a.m. the Nauvoo Literary Society met at the home of Hiram Kimball. Present were Hiram's wife, Sarah M. Granger Kimball; Emma Smith, Eliza R. Snow, Elizabeth Ann Whitney, Sarah Davenport, Mary Ann Weston Maughan, Mary Elizabeth Lightner, and Prudence Bigelow.

"For those amongst us who may be new here, we have been reading the book Emma, by Jane Austen", said Eliza R. Snow. "We are essaying to learn the customs and morés of upper-class English society, in order that we might apply them to our own refinement. Two of our sisters here – Sara Worthingham Davenport and Mary Ann Weston Maughan – are from England, and we hope they can acculturate us to the English way of life. Sister Whitney, you may begin your reading."

Elizabeth Ann Whitney picked up a copy of the book and began reading aloud:

"Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side, as there could be any occasion for. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would not add. His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner, since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of his growing attachment."

Elizabeth Ann closed the book with a sigh, turned to Sarah Davenport and said,

"Now tell me, Sister Sarah – do the English really speak in paragraph-long sentences like this? It sounds so, so, pretentious to me!"

Sarah Davenport smiled and said, "England is a very formal and genteel place. The first sign of good breedin' there is a mastery of proper speech and etiquette. Indeed, these are the chiefest distinctions between the social classes. I am continually amazed at how easily you Americans comprehend one another, despite the violence you have done to our mother tongue. Your new English dialect, outlandish as it may sound to my ears, has become a great equalizer here. In contradistinction, if a Geordie from Newcastle and a Cornishman from Plymouth were to meet here, they would scarcely understand each the other's speech."

Sarah Kimball said, "Tell us about these 'social classes'. What is it that distinguishes one class from another? And is it possible for persons to move between classes?"

Mary Ann Weston Maughan, who was from Gloucester, spoke up and said,

"There be many distinctions – parentage, lands, money, an' livelihood for th' most part. And no, t'is nigh onto impossible t' change yair' station in life. In England, one is always born into a sairtain class, an' there he shall most likely dee."

"So, it's sorter like us white folk an' the slaves, or the Injuns?" Prudence said, puzzled.

Flustered Mary Ann said, "Well, nay, not precisely..."

Sarah Davenport jumped in. "The English are very proud of their heritage", she said. "If they can trace their ancestry back to some Duke or King, why then it makes them feel as thoo' they be part o' the royal family – the 'family' of England, if you will. A gentleman, in the true English sense, is any man who bears a coat of arms, or whose ancestors have been freemen. A gentleman who bears a title is considered to be of the nobility. Conversely, a yeoman is in a class below the gentlemen, and hence is anyone with no title or royal lineage, typically a common laborer, if ye will."

"Oh..." said Prudence, baffled. "We don't cotton ta that no-bility truck here... 'less'n you counts Martin Van Buren. We's all equals hyeer in 'merica, 'ceptin thems 'at thanks they's more equal 'an ever'one else."

At this juncture, Eliza R. Snow stepped in. She suddenly stood up and said cheerily, "Well sisters, we thank you for enlightening us! I, for one, feel quite refined and uplifted by this discussion! Now remember, next time we meet each of us is to bring a craft or handiwork for display. Until next time!"

NAUVOO, Sunday, October 20

Joseph wrote in his journal:

A call was made by request of the major-general for thirty wagons and teams to be in readiness at the Seventy's Hall by daylight tomorrow, with three days' provisions and horse feed sufficient for the journey. This call was made to convey witnesses to Carthage in safety, and for protection during the trials at court, as one of our best men was murdered in Carthage in June and that too under the faith and pledge of the state and since caution is the parent of safety, it was deemed inadvisable to venture upon the pledges and promises of others.

CARTHAGE, Monday, October 21

About 150 brethren went from Nauvoo to Carthage early this morning and encamped near Crooked Creek; although they exhibited no arms their appearance created much excitement. The company consisted of the city council, police and those concerned in abating the Nauvoo Expositor nuisance with the witnesses and others who had business in Carthage. By encamping they avoided the necessity of paying hotel bills to enemies and the risk of being murdered in their beds.

Joseph Smith and his brethren arrived near Carthage at about 11 a.m. and camped on the south side of town, on the same field that the mob had assembled in on that fateful June 27th. Joseph and his friends then rode into town to make their appearance at the courthouse.

Joseph dismounted in front of the courthouse and tied up Joe Duncan, his horse. Several loafers on the courthouse steps eyed him coldly, and Joseph's lifeguards gathered around him.

"I never imagined I would be back here, face to face with my enemies again", he said sadly, as he walked up the front steps of the courthouse.

Carthage Greys Captain, Coroner and Justice of the Peace Robert F. Smith met them in the clerk's office. The two Smiths eyed each other coldly. Joseph placed his subpoena papers on the Justice's desk, stepped back and said,

"Understand me clearly, sir: This is not an attachment or mittimus. I am appearing as a witness in this trial, of my own free will. This time around, I refuse to be arrested or holden against my will by the likes of you, or any man in this city or state! Good day."

Joseph turned on his heel and walked out of the courthouse, followed by his lifeguards. He walked past Joe Duncan and started across the street.

"Joseph, where you headed?" said Porter. He had never seen Joseph this grim before.

"It's a personal matter", Joseph replied over his shoulder.

He continued on down the street to the jail house and knocked on the door. The jailer, George Stigall, opened the door and looked at Joseph in dumbfounded surprise.

"What, you back here? Whadda you want?" he said, frightened to death.

"George, this is not about you. I'm a witness to a crime", Joseph said simply. "I'm here to view the scene of the crime. Please stand aside."

He pushed past Stigall and walked up the narrow staircase to the upper landing, followed by Porter Rockwell, and then both men paused to look at the door. The powder burns and bullet holes on the door were still clearly visible, and Joseph almost imagined he could still smell the acrid, sulfurous smoke of that afternoon.

He carefully extended his finger and touched one hole in the door, about four feet high, that had probably received the shot that killed Hyrum. The memories flooded back to him: The muzzles poking through the door, the blast and roar of the muskets, Willard Richards repeatedly throwing his weight against the door, and the sight of Hyrum falling backwards, crying: I am a dead man!

Joseph cautiously pushed open the door and looked in. The walls had been plastered over and whitewashed, and the bullet-scarred furniture and window casings had been replaced. The one thing plaster and paint could never erase was the bloodstains on the floor, in three areas: Under the bed where John Taylor had hidden, in front of the window where Joseph had been struck, and in the center of the room where Hyrum had fallen.

Joseph knelt in front of the center bloodstain and bowed his head for a moment, praying quietly. Then he said, almost in a whisper,

"Hyrum, your work was cut short here, and mine is not yet completed. Your blood, and the blood of all the saints under God's altar, cries for justice against your accusers. When justice has been served here, then, at the last, I will be ready to join you."

Joseph rose from his knees with a sigh and said to Porter,

"I despise this place. Let's go."
CHAPTER 21

CARTHAGE, Tuesday, October 22, 1844

On this day the trial of People vs. Levi Williams opened at Carthage. A correspondent wrote from Carthage to the Nauvoo Neighbor as follows:

Court is in session. The mob is here but not in great numbers. They are fierce and vindictive and disposed to do harm if they dare. They had a violent warlike meeting in the courthouse last night, in which they tried to get up a story that there was two hundred Mormons and three hundred Indians encamped near this place in hostile array for the purpose of an attack on the town. They passed panic resolutions, advising the court to adjourn and threatened if that was not done that they would raise an armed force as they say to protect themselves, but as all know, for the purpose of awing the court and juries and driving off witnesses.

Rosevelt, Aldrich, Williams and company were the leaders in getting up the excitement. They hope to get it believed abroad that they are about to be attacked by the Mormons as an excuse for some outrage which they wish, but have not the courage to perpetrate.

Early in the morning the circuit lawyers for the trial had begun arriving – most notably Orville H. Browning and Abraham Lincoln. Browning had the unenviable task of defending the four men accused in the murder of Hyrum Smith; Lincoln had the thankless task of prosecuting them.

"I haven't had much luck in this courthouse", Lincoln had said to Joseph Smith. "Last time I was here, I was obleeged t' defend a murderer, William Fraim. After a one-day trial, he was found guilty. Three weeks later, they hanged him 'bout a mile southeast o' here."

"That's not very reassuring", said Joseph. "As you said once before, this trial will be fought in the court of public opinion. Try to give it your best shot, Abe."

The courthouse was the largest building in Carthage, and the centerpiece of the small town. It was a two story brick building, with four rooms on the first floor and a single large courtroom and two jury rooms on the second floor. When the double doors to the courtroom opened at five minutes to nine a.m. there was a mad rush for the spectators' seats, and within minutes the room was packed. The lawyers and their clients took their places inside the fenced off area nearest the judge's bench, apart from the spectators.

"All rise!"

Judge Richard M. Young entered the Hancock County Courtroom from the adjoining jury room. He sat down behind the bench and went right to business:

"You may be seated. Our first order of business, the case of People vs. Levi Williams is now in session."

Judge Young looked around the packed courtroom and then focused his gaze on the mostly empty seats in the defense and prosecution areas. He scowled at the state's chief prosecutor and said impatiently,

"Mr. McConnell, where are your witnesses?"

Murray McConnell stood and cleared his throat. "Ahem, ah, Your Honor, of all the witnesses I have subpoenaed, only one has appeared – Mr. Joseph Smith."

The Judge was not pleased. "Mr. McConnell, you gave me a long list of witnesses whom I was led to believe would at least show their faces here. Must I go out and drag them in here myself?"

McConnell spread his hands. "I'm sorry, Your Honor, I tried."

"Let's see if the defense is any better prepared. Mr. Browning, where are the four defendants?"

Orville H. Browning stood up and rather sheepishly said,

"Your Honor, none of the defendants is present. Nor the witnesses for the defense, for that matter."

"None?" said Judge Young, now thoroughly annoyed. "Well, where the hell are they?"

"Ahem, ah, Mark Aldrich has left the state, near as I can tell. Jacob Davis is serving in the State Senate, which is now in session. The Senate has passed a resolution of acquittal in his behalf. William Grover told me he would shoot the first man who attempted to serve a writ on him. Levi Williams told me he was too busy this week working off his road tax. And Governor Thomas Ford said he is, ah, indisposed."

"And Thomas Sharp?" said the Judge.

"-has also left the state, your Honor. Last I heard, he was Horace Greeley's new ink-boy in New York City. In truth, sir, none of the defendants has been formally served yet. I'm sorry."

"I see..." said Judge Young.

Browning said, "Your Honor, under the circumstances I move that this trial be carried over against the next spring."

"It appears I have no choice", said the Judge. He looked at his docket list. "In the mean time, we have several cases of chicken-stealing and public drunkenness to attend to, so my day's not a total waste. Oh yes, by the way..." He looked at his papers. "I have examined the Nauvoo Expositor case, and I find it wholly without merit. I hereby release Joseph Smith, the Nauvoo City Council, and all others charged in this case without prejudice."

He banged his gavel. "The case of People vs. Levi Williams is continued to the next term of this court!"

"So, that's it?" said Joseph in surprise. "Justice is delayed another six months?"

"At the least", Lincoln said glumly. "By then, there may be no one left who keers one way or t'other."

"I care", Joseph said earnestly.

Orville H. Browning smiled as he passed the two men. "Sorry, Abe", he said. "I'll see you again in six months – per'aps."

NAUVOO, Friday, November 1

Joseph wrote in his journal:

Rumors are sweeping the county that the mob has vowed to prevent the Mormons from voting in the national election next week. I told the brethren to ignore the rumors and to vote as they see fit, that the Saints are American citizens and can vote as well as any man.

CARTHAGE, Monday, November 4

Today was National Election Day in most of the States. Joseph Smith led a large number of the Mormon men – perhaps as many as three thousand –to the county seat at Carthage to cast their votes.

"What is it that keeps drawing us back to this jerk-water, stump-in-the-road slough?" exclaimed Brigham Young, as they approached Carthage around eleven a.m. "It's surely our misfortune that this flyspeck of a town is the county seat, and not Nauvoo."

"Our fathers bled and died to give us this franchise", Joseph remarked to Brigham. "Let it never be said of the Mormons, 'They never cared about politics'. Our fate as a people may depend in great measure on how we cast our votes this day. This may very well be our last hope for redeeming this nation from its God-ordained fate."

As they neared the Hancock County Courthouse, where the case of People vs. Levi Williams had been postponed just a week before, they took in the view. The town of Carthage consisted of just a few dozen frame and log houses, a hotel, a jail, and the courthouse. On the courthouse steps, a few men were lounging around, passing a jug of hard cider. Several hound dogs completed the tableau. At this early hour, there was little sign of anyone voting.

Joseph spied a familiar figure sitting in the doorway of the courthouse: Carthage Greys Captain, Coroner and Justice of the Peace Robert F. Smith, who on this day was also the County Election Supervisor. As the two Smiths spied each other, Captain Smith rose to his feet, brandishing his musket.

"It'll be a cold day in Hell afore another Mormon sets foot in my courthouse", Captain Smith loudly declared from his doorway. He was backed up by a half dozen blue-shirted Carthage Greys, also holding muskets.

Lyman Wight had had more than his fill of Captain Smith's outrages, in particular his complicity in the assault on the Carthage Jail just down the street, five months previous. Lyman rushed at the Captain with the intent of braining him with his musket, just as Joseph and Brigham Young grabbed him and pulled him back to a safe distance.

Joseph tried to relieve the tension.

"Captain Smith, we are peaceable citizens of this state and country, and we have a perfect right to vote for whomever we please. You shan't deny us the vote this time, as you attempted in August! Besides, as Lieutenant General of the Illinois Militia, I think I outrank you by a notch or two. Stand aside!"

Captain Robert F. Smith spit out a chaw of tobacco and replied coolly, turning to his hound dog, "Well, let's jist see 'bout that. Field Marshall von Blücher here outranks the both'n us, I reckon. Whaddaya say, Ol' Blu?"

"Roof!" replied the hound dog.

"There, ya see? Request denied", said Captain Smith.

Brigham replied, "Bob, whether Joseph outranks your dog or not, we certainly outnumber you. If you oppose us, we'll just step over your dead bodies and vote anyhow. The choice is yours."

Captain Smith glanced nervously at the long line of well-armed Mormons stretching beyond the tree-line. Then, having second thoughts, he snarled at Joseph and reluctantly motioned to his men to stand aside. Joseph and Brigham entered the courthouse, followed by Lyman Wight, who growled back at Ol' Blu as he passed him.

"Speakin' o' rank, why, Joseph's dog Major could have ya fer breakfast..."

Joseph was the first to cast his ballot, and the long line of men slowly began snaking its way through the first floor office and out the side door. The voting continued all day in an orderly manner. With nine electors listed for each of the six presidential and vice-presidential candidates, the balloting was often confusing and slow. The Mormons set up camp on the south prairie, as they waited their turn to vote.

Joseph sat quietly in a corner of the office, observing the endless procession of men as they entered, voted, and left. The few hundred or so male citizens of Carthage, Warsaw, La Harpe and Green Plains who also voted were practically lost in the constant stream of Mormons, which only increased Captain Smith's ire – however, he had little choice but to allow everyone the franchise.

When the polls finally closed after sundown, Joseph insisted that a company of the Nauvoo Legion should escort the ballot boxes on their way to Springfield, lest any mischief should befall them on the way. He was not about to allow the ballots to fall into the hands of the Carthage Greys, nor any other local militia that might conveniently "lose" them on the road. Captain Smith complained loudly, but finally relented to this precautionary move.

"I can only hope that our three thousand 'Mormon' votes make a difference", Joseph said. "However, I have no pretensions of winning this election outright. There are some ninety thousand eligible voters in Illinois alone, and nearly three millions in the entire Union, therefore if I win but one tenth of one hundredth of the whole electorate, well, I'll nevertheless consider myself well-served."

NAUVOO, Tuesday, November 5

Today was national election day in Delaware, Louisiana, Tennessee, Vermont, and New York.

John Taylor attached a large signboard to the "Stick of Strang" outside the new Times and Seasons office. On it he listed all the states of the Union, their electoral votes, and the results as they were received from each state:

"Na', we'll lairn a thing air' two aboot this mystarious American Electoral College!" he said. "T' mysen, 'tis fair simpler t' ken th' British parliament'ry system!"

NAUVOO, Thursday, November 7

Extracted from the Nauvoo Neighbor on this date:

ARRIVAL

RECEIVED, by the Steamers Osage, and St. Louis Oak, at Lyon's New Brick Store, on Hotchkiss streets, between Main and Carlin streets, a splendid stock of New and Genuine GOODS, direct from the City of New York, and Philadelphia; and now offered low for cash at wholesale, and retail. The stock consists in part as follows. Dry Goods, Groceries, Crockery, Glass, and hard-wares. Books and Stationery, Drugs and medicines, Paints and Dye stuffs; Boots, Shoes, Military Goods; and a thousand other articles too numerous to mention. Those wishing to make good investments with their money will do well to call at Lyon's cheap cash store, on Hotchkiss streets, between Main and Carlin streets, at the New Brick Variety Store (sign of the Lion.)

NAUVOO, Saturday, November 9

Joseph wrote in his journal:

I met with the city council. They passed an ordinance to prohibit the vending of spirituous liquors in the city under a penalty of not less than $25.00.

NAUVOO, Sunday, November 10

Joseph wrote in his journal:

I preached about two hours to the Saints at the meeting ground; many present; had a good time.

NAUVOO, Monday, November 11

Today was National Election Day in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. In South Carolina, the only state still without a popular vote, the state legislature met and cast their ballots for the states' nine electors.

Election results were received in Nauvoo from six of the nearest states. Joseph came down to the Times and Seasons building and observed the results. He said,

"Well, it's about as I'd expect at this stage. The states nearest to us are among the least favorable to our cause. I don't expect to get many votes from the South, but we must win New York or Pennsylvania in order to secure a majority of the Electoral College. Remember, these are nothing but pledges, not actual votes. When the electors finally convene in December in each state, they're free to vote for whomever they please."

CHAPTER 22

NAUVOO, Monday, November 18

At 10 a.m. the Nauvoo Literary Society met at the Mansion. Present were Emma Smith, Eliza R. Snow, Mary Ann Weston Maughan, Sarah Davenport, Abigail Pitkin (wife of Heber C. Kimball) and Prudence Bigelow.

Emma, seated in a comfortable chair, called the meeting to order.

"You must forgive me for not rising to the occasion", she said. "But my deliverance is nigh." The other women giggled politely at this.

"In pursuance of our chartered goal of cultural refinement, and the assignment made at our last meeting, I have collected a list of those who wish to share their talents with us this day. We shall start with Sister Abigail Pitkin, who has a poem to recite."

Abigail stood and cleared her throat.

"Ahem... A poem, by Abigail Pitkin:"

"Our dwelling measures thirteen feet,

With walls rough-hewn and whitewashed neat.

With chairs we're blessed with only two,

Missouri claims the remaining few...

On shelves our dishes are ranged neat

By pegs supported, quite complete.

For old Missouri's wicked clan

Our cupboard kept and warming pan...

And many old trunks scattered round,

In which our cabin doth abound...

Our bed springs up against the wall

Because our room is rather small;

Our table measures just three feet,

With falling leaves and varnished neat."

Abigail made a slight curtsey and sat down to polite applause.

"Thank you, Sister Pitkin", said Emma. "Next, Sister Bigelow has something to share with us."

Prudence stood up and apologetically drew a pine board out of a burlap sack.

"Ah ain't much at needlework nor rhymen', but sich as ah have, ah'd like ter share wif y'all." She held up the board.

"This year'sa Nor-weejun-style tole paintin' ah made o' the temple, leastways how it'll 'pear when hits all done. Bre'r Weeks showed me a skitch o' the buildin', an' ah tuk it fum there. Ah foun' me an ol' pine plank, an' smooved'er down real good wif ma late husbin's draw-knife. Then ah made me some paints outen, oh, various truck, sich as min'ral oil, wha't lead, bark an' berries what ah foun'."

In the center of the board was a white rectangle with six black dots in a line.

"Them's the round winders Bre'r Weeks dee-signed, and this year's the spa'r", Prudence said, proudly pointing to the spire.

Painted in black near the bottom of the plank were the words,

HOLENES TU THE LORD

"Ma son George, he he'ped me wif the spellin'. He's a real good speller na', thanksta Miz Snow!"

Eliza smiled modestly. She was puzzled by two white bat-like figures that hovered over the temple.

"And what are those?" she asked politely.

Prudence smiled. "Wha', them's the cherry-beans an' sarry-feens, what watches over God's temple day an' nah't!"

Emma spoke. "Thank you, Sister Bigelow. We shall see to it that this painting is hung in a, ah, prominent place in the temple."

Prudence beamed as she handed Emma her painting.

Emma set the painting down and continued.

"Now, I believe we have another poem, presented by Sister Eliza Snow."

Eliza stood solemnly, struck a dignified pose and began to recite extemporaneously:

"Ye heavens attend! Let all the earth give ear.

Let God and seraphs, men and angels hear –

The worlds on high – the universe shall know

What awful scenes were acted here below!

Had nature's self a heart, that heart would bleed

At the recital of that horrid deed;

For never, since the Son of Man was slain

Has blood so noble flowed from human vein

As that which now on God for vengeance calls

From freedom's ground – from Carthage prison walls,

Now Zion mourns – she mourns an earthly head;

Our Hyrum dear, the Patriarch is dead!

Ye Saints! be still, and know that God is just –

With steadfast purpose in his promise trust;

Girded with sackcloth, own his mighty hand,

And wait his judgment on this guilty land!

The noble martyr now has gone to move

The cause of Zion in the courts above."

Eliza smiled and sat down. All the women were deeply moved by this recital, but apparently none more so than Emma. Mary Ann Maughan looked at her and said,

"Sister Emma, art thou well?"

"I think so... I'm not certain..."

Her face was pale, and her breathing was hard.

"I... I think it's time... Joseph! Joseph, come here!"

Young Joseph came running into the room, looked at her and said, "Ma, what's wrong?"

Emma winced. "Your brother David is coming, that's what! Quickly now, go fetch your father! I believe he's up at the temple site!"

Young Joseph took off for the temple at a dead run, as the other women helped Emma into a back bedroom and laid her on the bed.

Twenty minutes later, a breathless Joseph the Third arrived at the temple site. He looked desperately for his father in the crowd, and finally spied him near one of the derricks.

"Pa, you gotta come!" he gasped.

His father looked at him, alarmed. "What is it, son?"

"The baby... He's coming... Ma's at home... Hurry!" he panted.

"No time to waste..." said Joseph. He quickly mounted his horse "Joe Duncan", and lifted his son up in front of him. The two of them rode off at a gallop for the Mansion. When they reached the house, the elder Joseph jumped off before the horse had come to a stop, then he bounded up the front steps with his son close behind. The moment they entered, they heard a piercing wail from the back of the house.

Joseph found Emma in the back bedroom, surrounded by adoring women. Emma was holding little David in her arms and cooing to him. She looked up at Joseph and said, smiling,

"Well, Joseph, true to form, you missed the birthing again. What think you of your new son?"

"He's strong", Joseph said, gazing at David in wonder. He lightly stroked David's head. "David Hyrum Smith, thou art one of the Lord's chosen. I believe he has my forehead and eyes, wouldn't you say?"

Later in the day, John Taylor posted the latest election results outside the Times and Seasons office. Election returns were now arriving from many of the Southern States. As expected, the Democrats were sweeping most of the South. Polk and Clay were nearly tied for the lead, with Van Buren a distant third:

Joseph was disappointed by the results so far, but not surprised. "Truth will prevail", he replied optimistically.

NAUVOO, Friday, November 22

From the Nauvoo Neighbor:

We have received reports that the Governor of South Carolina intends to call a state convention for the purpose of voting to secede from the United States. Several other states are said to be contemplating the same action, in particular Alabama and Georgia.

William Gist, the Governor of South Carolina, has vowed, in a paraphrase of Andrew Jackson's famous words, to "hang the first abolitionist he sees, from the first tree he finds", if an anti-slavery President is elected. We can only hope that cooler heads prevail.

John Taylor received the final electoral dispatches in the mail. As he tallied the numbers, his heart sank. He stepped outside to chalk the last numbers onto his board:

When Joseph came down to the Times and Seasons office and saw the results, he did some quick arithmetic in his head, then he gave a whoop and threw his hat in the air. He grabbed John Taylor and danced around with him several times.

John finally broke loose from Joseph's grip and said, "Joseph, air ye addled? Accordin' ta this, yair'a distant foorth, wi' not e'en ena' votes ta make it ta th' Hooses o' Congress!"

Joseph pointed at the sign and replied excitedly, "John, look again. If Birney throws his electors to me, as he promised, why, it gives me 44 electors, just one more than Van Buren, lifting me into third place! I'm in, John, I'm in! Daniel Webster and my Green Mountain Boys came through! And New York split three ways!"

Later that day, Joseph called a meeting of the Council of Fifty to prepare for the possibility that he might actually win the election in the U.S. House. He said,

"I want men in place, ready to assume the functions of government, as soon as Inauguration Day arrives next March the fourth. The states are in grave danger of drifting apart, and we must be ready to preserve the Union at all costs, even by force of arms if necessary."

Joseph chose the following men as his potential future Cabinet:

Secretary of State: Orson Hyde

Secretary of the Treasury: John Neff

Secretary of War: James Arlington Bennett

Attorney General: Orson Spencer

Secretary of the Navy: George C. Anderson

Ambassador to England: Wilford Woodruff

In addition, Jonathan Browning was appointed pro tem Chief of the Bureau of Ordinance, to oversee the national arsenals at Harper's Ferry, Charleston, Norfolk, and elsewhere.

William Clayton was assigned to write a letter to James Arlington Bennett informing him of his potential appointment. Joseph also wrote to the potential Vice-President elect, John S. Reid, in New York.

"I have good reason to believe that many in the President's cabinet and in Congress are conspiring to draw away the Southern States from the Union", said Joseph. "We must not allow that to happen! I want all of you to become a 'shadow government', as it were, and attach yourself to your present cabinet member like a sticking plaster! That way, you will also gain experience and be the better prepared to assume your official positions come March 4th. May God bless you in your new callings, and may God bless the United States of America."

Last of all, Joseph dispatched W.W. Phelps to Albany to make sure that James Birney made good on his campaign pledge to cast his electors to Joseph Smith if he, Birney, lost.

WASHINGTON, Friday, November 22

Orson Hyde called upon Secretary of War William Wilkins at his office. As directed by Joseph Smith, Orson offered the services of the Nauvoo Legion to the United States, to guard the Oregon Trail. Mr. Wilkins was skeptical.

"Nauvoo Legion, eh? There must be at least a thousand town-square 'armies' across this country, of fifty or a hundred Minutemen, most of whom don't know which end of a musket to hold onto! I must've spoken to at least a dozen parade-ground 'Napoleons' already this week, including one from your neck of the woods, a Major Aldrich of the Warsaw Rifles. Every one of these men is in a lather to 'Head fer the South an' ketch 'em some Rebs', as they put it. Tell me, Mr. Hyde, what is it you want from me, a commission in the real Army?"

Orson took all this in stride. "Mr. Wilkins, the Nauvoo Legion is not your average town-square militia. We are a well seasoned, disciplined state militia, and we are offering our services to defend the United States if required."

"Do tell", said Wilkins. "And just how many 'Cousin Jonathans' are you offering me?"

"About five thousand", Orson said with a smile.

Wilkins' jaw dropped. "Did you say five thousand? Do you realize, the regular U.S. Army only numbers – "

"- about eight thousand. I know", said Orson.

"And near half of those are expected to side with the Southern States", said Wilkins, rubbing his chin. "Tell me, who is the commander of this, er, 'Nauvoo Legion'?"

"That would be Lieutenant General Joseph Smith, the candidate for the Presidency of the United States."

Wilkins pondered all this for a minute. Then he stood up, pumped Orson's hand and said,

"Thank you for your generous offer, Mr. Hyde. You shall hear from me in a few days."

NAUVOO, Friday, November 29

From the Nauvoo Neighbor:

MORE SOUTHERN STATES PLANNING SECESSION

Several of the Southern States have carpe diem seized the moment as it were, while the national election is deadlocked, and are calling for conventions in order to separate themselves from the Union.

Our latest reports now indicate that South Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and Louisiana either have called or are calling conventions. The South Carolina legislature is said to have already passed a resolution calling upon all the Southern States to "dissolve the constitutional union and form a new confederacy", as they term it.

The South Carolina Navy and the state militia have seized Fort Moultrie near the mouth of Charleston Harbor.

We can only pray that wisdom will prevail, and that the Union may be preserved intact until Joseph Smith, our new President, is inaugurated next March the fourth.

NAUVOO, Monday, December 2

The Times and Seasons printed the following –

A Voice From The Temple

By the Temple Committee.

We would say to all those who wish to bring tithes for the building of the temple in the city of Nauvoo, that we have deemed it wisdom to remove our office, for the better accommodation of business, and of all who visit us on business, to the new and commodious brick store of Elder Parley P. Pratt, situated one block north from the west end of the temple; at which place we will attend every day in the week (Sunday excepted) from morning till evening, to receive donations for the temple and also attend to all other matters of business pertaining to the Trustees.

We publish this notice that the brethren may not need to inquire where they shall deposit their donations. We have only one place of deposit in the city of Nauvoo and that is the above mentioned brick store.
CHAPTER 23

WASHINGTON, Monday, December 2

The 28th Congress reconvened in Washington City for its second session. This promised to be the most raucous and divisive "lame duck" session in U.S. history, with a deadlocked presidential election and the nation on the brink of splitting asunder. For the first time in history, party loyalties were clearly drawn between the North and the South, instead of between the East and the West as in the past. Both major parties – the Whigs and the Democrats – split nearly evenly north and south. The result was utter bedlam on the floors of the House and Senate chambers.

ALBANY, Wednesday, December 4

On this day, the Electoral Colleges convened and cast their votes in each state of the Union.

An exhausted William W. Phelps had arrived the previous night in Albany, New York, after traveling nonstop for ten days from Nauvoo. Early this morning, he called upon James Birney and reminded him of his pledge to Joseph Smith. Birney, true to his word, promised to try and persuade his electors to throw their votes to Joseph.

"These men have fought long an' ha'd to see me all the way to Washin'ton", he said. "They don't easy change loyalties. But a vote for me counts for nothin' now, anyway. They'll understand."

The two men rode together in a carriage to the State Capitol building to view the electoral proceedings. As they rode, William turned to Birney and said,

"Did you know that I had a bright political future here once? In 1830, I was well on my way to becoming Lieutenant Governor here in Albany, on the Anti-Masonic ticket, when I read the Book of Mormon and joined the Latter-day Saint Church. I left off politics from that time, but it still has a fascination for me."

As one of the oldest and wealthiest cities in America, Albany had a genteel, mature dignity that was lacking in younger towns west of the Alleghenies. William admired the stately Colonial Dutch mansions along Market Street and Water Street. As they ascended the hill along State Street, he gazed at the beautiful chestnuts and elms lining the way, in their late autumn yellow, red and golden splendor. Near the top of the hill, he recognized the Federalist-style State Capitol building.

"I could have served here", he exclaimed. "Instead, I gave this up for corn pone and buttermilk, beatings, imprisonment, and house-burnings. And do you know, James? I have never regretted a moment of it. I was always a better poet than politician, I'll wager."

"You Mormons truly are a p'culiar lot", said Birney. "I'll never understand you."

As William took in the view of Albany, he realized that it bore a striking resemblance to another river town.

"Change the name of Mulholland Street to State Street, and Nauvoo could easily be Albany in ten or twenty years", he said. "Both are river towns that slope gradually up to a natural prominence, capped by an important edifice – either a capitol, or a temple."

The electoral proceedings were scheduled to take place in the Assembly Chamber of the Capitol. The building was crowded with senators, assemblymen, five former governors, and the thirty-six New York electors chosen by three different national parties. William recognized many of his old political friends and foes: Former New York Governor and President Martin Van Buren; former Governors Granger, Throop, Marcy, and Seward; and the current Governor, William C. Bouck. Thurlow Weed was there, as well as Senators Wright and Dickinson, and Congressman Millard Fillmore.

Before the meeting began, the men partook of a splendid Pennsylvania Dutch repast laid out on a long side table in the Senate Chamber: crumb cakes and schwingfelder cakes, hutzel brod, crullers, spaetzle and pot roast, sausages and gravy, sauerkraut and dumplings, pig's knuckles, stuffed tripe, fried potatoes, spiced peaches and apples, and an endless variety of cheeses and wine.

William W. Phelps was just tucking into his third cruller when he spied Martin Van Buren approaching him.

"Mister Phelps! I always knew you'd make your way back to politics!" Martin said unctuously, while pumping William's hand. "So tell me, are you contemplating another run at the lieutenant-governorship? I admired your pluck, when you stood for office back in 'thirty. As I recall, I was stepping down as Governor here just as you began your campaign. I never heard, what was your denoument?"

Martin Van Buren was the king of glad-handers, and William knew it. He contemplated the irony of this moment; then he decided to lay his cards on the table. He took another bite of his cruller, washed it down with a swig of red wine, then replied,

"Mr. President, I'm back in politics for but a moment, sad to say. In truth, I'm here at the behest of the candidate of the National Reform Party, General Joseph Smith."

Van Buren recoiled as if stung by a bee. "Smith! That damned rascal! Last I saw of him, he was headed to The Tombs. How did he get out..."

He scowled at William and poked him in the chest with his diamond-studded cane. "I'm disappointed in you, Phelps. I see now you're no better than that Smith chap. You tell that no-good fugitive from justice that if he ever so much as sets foot in New York again, I'll clap him in irons till doomsday!"

He turned away and took several steps, then paused and looked back at William with a quizzical expression.

"I'm curious, Phelps... Why would you travel all the way from Illinois, in winter, to represent a fourth-place candidate who has already lost the election?"

William thought quickly, then he replied blandly,

"I owe Joseph Smith that much. And since you asked, I suppose I'm also here to see the fulfillment of Joseph's prophecy to you, sir, when you turned your back on him in 1840. As I recall, at that time he said in effect, 'May you never be elected again to any office of trust or power, by which you may abuse the innocent and let the guilty go free!' So I'm just doing my part here, you see." He polished off the last bite of his cruller.

Van Buren was furious, but all he could mouth was, "hmph!", then he turned and stomped off.

After the repast was finished, the men adjourned to the Assembly Chamber, where the Secretary of State, John Canfield Spencer, called the meeting to order. He read the Certificate of Ascertainment – a list of all the "successful" state electors, as determined by the statewide voting the month previous. As he read each of their names, the electors replied,

"Present."

After the roll call, the three groups of elected electors were sequestered in separate conference rooms to fill out their ballots. William W. Phelps met with George W. Goforth and the fourteen National Reform electors in one room, while James Birney made his way to another conference room to caucus with the twelve successful Liberty Party electors. The Van Buren electors occupied a third conference room. The unelected Polk, Clay, and Tyler electors, as well as the remaining Van Buren, Smith and Birney electors, were obliged to cool their heels in the Assembly Chamber until the voting was completed.

In the National Reform conference room, William explained the new turn of events to his electors, who were elated at the news.

"Mind you, it's not a done deal yet", he said. "It all depends on Mr. Birney's ability to persuade his electors to jump ship. We'll just have to wait and see if he succeeds."

In the adjoining conference room, Birney addressed his troops.

"Well, boys, t'was a good run", he said, shaking hands all around. "Who would'a thought we'd ever win twelve electoral votes? Why, in 1840, I received just seven thousan' votes nationwide. The abolitionist movement is spreadin', I tell you, and one day soon an abolitionist will be President, mark my word, but not this year. And now, I have somethin' to discuss with you."

He sat down at the head of the table and carefully framed his words. Birney's quorum listened expectantly as he said,

"As you know, the national 'lectoral tally is thus: Clay leads with 87, followed closely by Polk with 84. Neither has a majority, so this 'lection will be decided in the House. Next comes Van Buren with 43, Smith with 32, Tyler with 17, and lastly myself with 12.

"The Twelfth Amendment stipperlates that in the case o' no majority, the three leadin' presidential candidates are voted 'pon by the House, and the two leadin' vice-presidential candidates by the Senate. That leaves me out in the cold, in sixth place. As 'lectors, you're now irrelevant – unless, and hear me out – we give our 'lectoral votes over to another of the candidates."

There was grumbling from the twelve men.

"But James, we're pledged to you", said William Seward. "What are you getting at? Would you mind telling us which of the other candidates you think we should fall in with?"

"The National Reform Party – Lieutenant General Joseph Smith", Birney replied.

The men were thunderstruck. Francis Granger, who was from Canandaigua and knew the Smiths, laughed uproariously.

"You can't be serious", he said, wiping his eyes. "The Gold Bible candidate?"

"As I said before, your votes 'r good as dead", said Birney. "You can either plow ahead an' vote for me, a futile gesture – or you c'n fall in with the candidate who most closely agrees with our own platform. In all candor, I truly believe that man is Joseph Smith."

They still weren't convinced. "How much did he pay you for our votes, Jim?" said Hamilton Fish.

"You know me better'n that, Ham! Think about it – Smith is anti-slavery, favors prison reform, supports the Homestead Act, and is for annexin' Oregon and Texas! Who else can you sidle up to? That fop, Van Buren? Or 'Young Hickory' Polk, the slave-driver? Or per'aps Tyler, the 'man without a party'? Or, God forbid, Henry Clay, who believes that the 'Negroes never could amalgamate with the free whites of this country'? Now, you tell me, who does that leave us?"

Birney looked around the room for support, and seeing none, he continued.

"Gentlemen, try to see past Mr. Smith's p'culiar religious views, an' look rather at what he could do for our cause, and how he could heal this country p'litically! We're not electing a pastor, but a President! As I see it, we have no choice other'an to support him."

A sullen silence still pervaded the room. Finally, William Seward spoke.

"Shoot...You're right, James. No one else will do. E'en with our votes, Smith prob'ly doesn't stand a chance, but at least we will've tried an' made a difference." He stifled a laugh. "I don't recall another time in our history when an entire crew of electors mutinied like this. But the Constitution does give us that right."

"Are we agreed, then?" said Birney, his hopes rising. Raising his hand he said,

"All in favor, say aye." Twelve hands slowly went up.

"Then mark your ballots."

After the electors had recorded their votes, Birney collected the ballots and tallied the results on the Certificate of Vote, listing the number of votes cast for President and Vice-President. Five copies of this certificate were tallied and signed by all of the electors. The three sets of certificates from the three national parties were then collected by the clerks, and the meeting reconvened in the Assembly Chamber.

"Electors, have you made your decision?" Secretary of State Spencer intoned.

"We have", the thirty-six electors replied as one.

"Very well", replied Spencer. "I shall now read the electoral results for the State of New York:

"For the Democratic Party: No votes for James K. Polk.

"For the Democratic Party: Forty-three votes for Martin Van Buren." His supporters clapped and cheered loudly.

"For the Whig Party: No votes for Henry Clay.

"For the Whig Party: No votes for John Tyler.

"For the National Reform Party: Fourteen votes for Joseph Smith." Joseph's electoral quorum cheered.

"For the Liberty Party..."

The Secretary of State paused, then he checked another certificate, then another.

He cleared his throat. "This is highly irregular... For the Liberty Party, we have, ahem...

"Twelve votes for Joseph Smith."

Instantly the National Reform electors were on their feet, stomping, cheering, and shouting "Hurrah for Joseph Smith!" It took a moment for the magnitude of this tidal shift to dawn on the rest of the assembly. With their quorum suddenly increased by twelve, and assuming all the electors in all the other states held true, Joseph Smith had forty-four electoral votes, to Martin Van Buren's forty-three, vaulting Joseph into third place.

Van Buren was madly scribbling numbers on a scrap of paper, and came to the same conclusion at about that same moment. He rose to his feet, all five-foot-three of him, with his face beet red, pointed at James Birney and bellowed,

"You traitor! I'll have your head, you scoundrel! You shan't get away with this unconstitutional ploy! I'll see it to the Supreme Court, you'll see!"

He turned and made a lunge at William W. Phelps with his cane, but was restrained by some of his fellow Democrats. All of a sudden, he was seized by a violent fit of trembling, then he stiffened and fell to the ground senseless.

At this, the chamber erupted in complete bedlam, with Van Buren's electors laying into the Smith and Birney electors. Fists flew, chairs were thrown, and several shots were fired into the air. In the midst of this mêlée, William ducked as one of the Van Buren electors took a vicious swipe at him with a cane-knife. William avoided the blow and pressed his way through the mob to Van Buren's side. The former President's eyes were glazed over, and he was breathing heavily. William slapped him lightly on the cheeks, and getting no response, he said,

"It's apoplexy. Let's get him into the side chamber, there, away from the tumult."

They carried Van Buren into one of the conference rooms, laid him on the table, and loosened his cravat and vest. In a few minutes, he appeared to be reviving slightly.

William quickly returned to the Assembly Chamber and gathered his troops. By now, the rioting had largely died down. Once order was restored, the electoral tally for Vice-President was read. Not surprisingly, John Reid, Joseph's running-mate, received the twelve electoral votes that had originally gone to James Birney's running-mate, Thomas Morris.

"Boys, our work here is done", William said wearily. "I suggest we all return home to await the final decision from Washington."

William was just leaving the room when Thurlow Weed and Millard Fillmore came up to him. Weed shook his hand.

"I misunderestimated you in Baltimore, Phelps", he said, grinning. "Ye do have a ken for politics. Cadgin' Birney's electors, an' fugglin' Van Buren out o' the runnin', why, ye skelped 'im good. Ye'll go far in this bidness."

"Thank you, Mr. Weed", said William. "But, truth be told, I'm not cut out for this rough-and-tumble. If this is a fair sample of how politics works, it could get me kilt. Good day, sir."

"An' you too, Phelps."

Thurlow Weed turned and surveyed the wreckage of the New York State Assembly Chamber, spread his arms and loudly declared,

"Now, this is what I call an election!"

NAUVOO, Friday, December 6

The placing of the last capital on the temple, as reported by the Times and Seasons:

The last of the capitals has been placed on the walls of the temple. There are thirty capitals around the temple, each one composed of five stones, viz. one base stone, one large stone representing the sun rising just above the clouds, the lower part obscured; the third stone represents two hands each holding a trumpet, and the last two stones form a cap over the trumpet stone, and these all form the capital, the average cost of which is about four hundred and fifty dollars each. These stones are very beautifully cut, especially the face and trumpet stones, and are an evidence of great skill in the architect and ingenuity on the part of the stonecutters. They present a very pleasing and noble appearance, and seem very appropriate in their places.

NAUVOO, Thursday, December 12

On this day, William W. Phelps finally arrived from Albany with the official election results. There was great rejoicing in Nauvoo as the announcement was made that Joseph Smith was still in the running for President.

Orson Hyde also arrived from Washington City. He brought word that one of the first items of business discussed, as soon as Congress had reconvened, had been the repeal of the treaty of joint-occupancy of Oregon. He observed,

"It is difficult to predict what the outcome of this may be. Perhaps they are merely trying to balance Oregon against Texas. It may be just another example of Congress 'pulling on the British Lion's tail'. However, if Parliament really gives a fig for Oregon, it could bring down the whole wrath of Great Britain upon our nation."

Orson delivered the following letter to Joseph, addressed to him from Washington City:

UNITED STATES WAR DEPARTMENT

CONFIDENTIAL

To Mr. Joseph Smith,

Nauvoo, Illinois

November 22, 1844.

Dear Sir,

I spoke with your colleague Mr. Hyde today. He informed me that you are the commander of a large, well-armed militia in the state of Illinois. Until this time, I had never heard of the 'Nauvoo Legion.'

Congress has recently passed a Volunteer Enlistment Act, calling for 20,000 men to serve in the U.S. Army for a period of six months. Your Nauvoo Legion is requested to become the 9th through the 12th Illinois volunteer regiments of the regular U.S. Army, under the command of the 3rd Military Department, Western Division, General Stephen Kearny commanding.

Each private under his command will receive seven dollars a month pay, along with all the necessary uniforms, weapons, and other accouterments. All officers will be paid in accordance with the ranks appointed them, after your militia is reorganized to meet official Army regulations.

Would you please inform me at the earliest, as to your decision in this matter. I am most respectfully,

William Wilkins

United States Secretary of War

P.S., I intend to resign from this office when Congress adjourns. If you have any recommendation as to who should replace me, I am willing to consider submitting his name to Congress for their approval as well.

Joseph and William Clayton immediately sat down together, and Joseph dictated a letter to the Secretary of War respecting the upcoming vacancy in his office.

"It's James Arlington Bennett, or nothing", said Joseph. "I know of no man who is better qualified."

Following this, Joseph called a meeting of the Nauvoo Legion general staff, and instructed them to comply with the Volunteer Enlistment Act. When General Hosea Stout heard the news, he remarked anxiously,

"Brother Joseph, is there not a danger here in drawing all the able-bodied men away from Nauvoo? The city will be completely open to attack by mobs."

Joseph replied, "If the mob comes there will only be women and children to fight, and the mobbers will be ashamed. And anyway, the mobbers are all busy enlisting, too. In a few months there will scarcely be an able-bodied man left in all of Illinois, not just Nauvoo."

At a reception at the Mansion that evening, Joseph made a few remarks. He said,

"My friends, I thank you for your support in this great endeavor. However, I must remind you again that I have not won a majority. It's all in Congress's hands now. This deadlock has only occurred twice before in our history, and both times there was great uncertainty over the outcome, for many months."

He raised his glass. "But may the best man win!"

His friends cried,

"Hurrah for Joseph Smith!"

"Hurrah for Joseph Smith!"

"Hurrah for Joseph Smith!"

NAUVOO, Friday, December 13

This evening, Joseph was in his office in the Red Brick Store along with William Clayton, packing to return to Washington City. At about eight o'clock the front doorbell jingled, and Joseph looked up to see Emma and young Joseph the Third entering.

Joseph paused in his work. "Emma, my dear! And my young Joseph!" He wrapped his arms around them both.

"Joseph my husband, I have a request to make of you", Emma said nervously, as she took a seat in the office. She seemed anxious and careworn.

"Yes Emma, what is it?" Joseph said as he sat down facing them.

Emma drew young Joseph to her side, looked at her husband and said,

"I want you to ordain young Joseph to be the next Prophet, Seer and Revelator to the Church."

William Clayton dropped the stack of books he had been carrying with a loud thud.

"So sorry", he mumbled as he scrambled to retrieve them from the floor.

Joseph was astonished. He said,

"Emma, I can't do that. We have discussed this before. You of all people should know how succession in the priesthood works. The Presidency of this Church is not a dynasty. It is ordained of God, and only the Twelve and I hold the keys."

Suddenly the words flooded out of Emma.

"Joseph, you must do it! If anything happens to you, the priesthood line of authority will be forever lost! Worse yet, there will be no Trustee-in-Trust! The Church property will be broken up and scattered by our enemies. They will seize our home and farm! Are you willing to risk all that? I have begged you for years to choose a successor from among your brothers, and now they are all gone, save William! If you are taken, what will become of me and my children?"

Joseph was heartbroken by this tirade. He said sadly,

"Emma, I have already blessed our son to this calling, but it is conditioned upon his faithfulness. As I said in that blessing,

'...he shall be my successor to the Presidency of the High Priesthood: a Seer, and a Revelator, and a Prophet, unto the Church; which appointment belongeth to him by blessing, and also by right.'

"If that day comes, and God calls him, these promises shall be fulfilled. It is a spiritual, and not a temporal blessing and has nothing to do with the Trusteeship. It is not my decision to make, but the Lord's."

Emma would not be put off. She said sternly, "Joseph, I want you to inquire of the Lord."

"I shan't do it."

"You must! You must! You must!" she shouted at him red faced, pounding her fist on the desk.

Joseph was near tears. Young Joseph just stood awkwardly next to his mother with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.

Suddenly, Emma jumped to her feet. "If you won't ordain him, I'll find someone who will!" she cried. She turned and stalked out of the store, pulling the front door closed with a bang.

William Clayton was still standing with his mouth open, clutching his pile of books.

Joseph's grief was palpable, as he hid his face in his hands. Young Joseph walked around the desk to his father, put his hand on his shoulder and said sadly,

"It's all right, Papa. She's been like this a lot lately, since the baby was borned."
CHAPTER 24

NAUVOO, Saturday, December 14

Joseph Smith left Nauvoo for Washington on the steamer New Hyrum Smith. With him were William Clayton, Orson Hyde, John Neff, Orson Spencer, Hosea Stout, and George C. Anderson, Captain of the Hyrum.

As they were parting, Joseph shook hands with Brigham Young and said,

"Farewell, Brother Brigham. You preside here in my absence, so try not to let Sidney Rigdon or James Strang browbeat you overmuch."

The weather was fair but cold; no ice had been observed on the river yet.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, Joseph looked wistfully at his city, leaned on the main deck railing and said to William Clayton,

"I tell you William, it tears at my heartstrings to leave Emma and the children like this. Would to God I could pitch this whole campaign and flee back to her side! But the kingdom and this nation require my services yet again. I pray God to bless and preserve my wife and family, until I shall return to them and to Nauvoo."

"Amen to that", William replied.

NAUVOO, Monday, December 16

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

A few days ago the Twelve and the Temple Committee counseled together on the propriety of employing a suitable number of carpenters this winter to prepare the timbers for the temple, so as to have them all ready when the stone work was finished. They concluded to employ fifteen persons steadily as carpenters, and that the architect be authorized to select such men as he has confidence in – men who are well qualified to do the work that is wanted. It was also concluded to fix up a shop in the temple for the carpenters to work in. Accordingly the south side of the lower story was weather-boarded around and a convenient shop made of it on Saturday, and today, the men have gone to work.

Joseph Smith and his party arrived at Quincy, Illinois.

COLUMBIA, Friday, December 20

On this day the legislature of South Carolina voted to secede from the United States. Under the urgings of John C. Calhoun, who several times before had nearly succeeded in pulling his native state out of the Union, the following "Declarations of Secession" were passed at Columbia:

South Carolina Declarations of Secession

THE PEOPLE of the state of South Carolina, in convention assembled, on the 20th day of December, A.D. 1844, declare that the frequent violations of the Constitution of the United States by the federal government, and its encroachments upon the reserved rights of the states, fully justify this state in their withdrawal from the federal Union.

We, therefore, the people of South Carolina, by our delegates in convention assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, have solemnly declared that the Union heretofore existing between this state and the other states of North America is dissolved; and that the state of South Carolina has resumed her position among the nations of the world, as a separate and independent state, with full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do.

NAUVOO, Wednesday, December 25

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

In the evening I spent an agreeable time at Brother Coolidge's, in company with Elders Heber C. Kimball, George A. Smith, A.M. Lyman, John Taylor and their ladies. The band was in attendance. We partook of a substantial dinner; after which I made a few remarks expressive of my good feelings and love to my brethren. I remarked that the Lord would never suffer us to overcome our enemies while we cherished feelings of revenge, when we prevailed over our enemies it must be from a sense of duty and not of revenge.

At about one o'clock in the morning, Brigham Young awoke to the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow outside.

Couldn't be the police out there, he thought sleepily as he stumbled to the window of his upstairs bedroom. I gave them the day off for Christmas.

Miriam mumbled from the warmth of their bed, "What is it, Brigham?"

"I dunno", Brigham replied, as he tried to rub the frost off of the window. "There appears to be a company outside our front door. They seem to be well-mannered, thus far."

Brigham was about to light a candle and head downstairs when he heard the music begin:

Mortals awake! With angels join,

And chant the solemn lay;

Love, joy, and gratitude combine

To hail th' auspicious day.

In heav'n the rapt'rous song began,

And sweet seraphic fire

Through all the shining legions ran,

And swept the sounding lyre.

With joy the chorus we'll repeat,

"Glory to God on high;

Good will and peace are now complete

Jesus was born to die!"

Hail, Prince of Life, forever hail!

Redeemer, brother, friend!

Though earth, and time, and life should fail,

Thy praise shall never end.

Miriam joined Brigham at the window just as the singers were finishing their carol. She clapped her hands and cried, "Oh, how splendid!" as Brigham threw open the window and leaned out.

"Merry Christmas to all!" cried Brigham. "I bless you in the name of the Lord! It sounded so heavenly to me, why, I thought at first that a cohort of angels had come to visit us!"

Sister Lettice Rushton, who was blind, smiled up at Brigham and Miriam and said,

"Thank you, Brother Brigham. Our performance last Christmas was so well received by Brother Joseph and Hyrum that we decided on a return engagement this season. It has been our distinct pleasure."

WHEELING, Wednesday, December 25

Joseph and his party arrived at Wheeling, Virginia. The weather was bitterly cold and large sheets of ice could be seen floating down the river. Ice was building up on the Hyrum's paddlewheels, and it was only with great difficulty that Captain Anderson was able to dock the steamboat at the landing at Wheeling.

"Cain't go no futher", he said. "From here on, the river's impassable. I'll send the Hyrum back to St. Louis fer' the winter, but it looks like we're travelin' by land the rest o' the way."

Later that day, the brethren boarded the stage at Wheeling and headed for Pittsburgh.

NAUVOO, Thursday, December 26

Dedication of the Seventies' Hall.

A hymn composed by Elder John Taylor for the dedication of the Seventies' Hall was sung by Elder John Kay, assisted by the band, entitled 'The Seer':

The Seer; – the Seer; – Joseph the Seer -

I'll sing of the Prophet ever dear,

His equal now cannot be found,-

By searching the wide world around.

With Gods he soars in the realms of day;

And men he teaches the heavenly way.

'Mid the foaming billows of angry strife -

He stands at the helm of the ship of life.

The earthly Seer; the heavenly Seer,

I love to dwell on his countenance dear; -

The chosen of God, and the friend of men,

He brought the priesthood back again,

He sees the past, and the present too; -

And opens the heavenly world to view.

PITTSBURGH, Friday, December 27

Joseph and his party arrived in Pittsburgh. There, they boarded the trains for Washington City.

WASHINGTON, Monday, December 30

Joseph and his friends arrived in Washington City, where they took lodging at a boarding-house on the corner of Missouri and 3rd Street.
CHAPTER 25

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, December 31

Joseph Smith and William Clayton called upon President Tyler at the Executive Mansion. They met the President in the second floor Oval Parlor, and he was not in a conciliatory mood.

"What've you done?" he shouted at Joseph. "Don't you see, everthin' has played out just as I predicted last summer – th' Union is dissevered, Congress is in turmoil, Mexico is threatenin' us from th' south, an' there are even rumors that Great Britain is preparin' an attack on our coasts! I must congratulate you, Mr. Smith. At one blow, you've undone twenty years of careful, painstakin' diplomacy an' compromise. Have you any idea just how much toil an' effort has been expended durin' that time in orda' t' pree-serve th' Union? Men such as Webster, Clay, Jackson, an' Benton have labored long an' ha'd t' hold this nation togetha'. Then you, Mister general-prophet-presidential pretender, with one sweep o' your golden Bible, have made a shipwreck of it all!"

Tyler was just getting warmed up.

"An' futhe'more – y'all 'ave made such a fracas o' th' election, that God only knows how it'll sort itself out! I heard all 'bout how you shamelessly stole Birney's votes in Albany, an' th' disgraceful battle royale that ensued! You stole th' election out from under me, and d'you now expect me t' just stand up an' meekly say, 'Here's yo' chair, kind sir?'"

By now, Tyler was apoplectic. He pointed at the door and cried, "Git out, I say, an' trouble me no more!"

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, January 1, 1845

Joseph Smith met with his potential future Vice-President, John S. Reid, at Joseph's boarding-house. Reid had just arrived in Washington from his home in upstate New York.

Reid pumped Joseph's hand. "Joseph, congratulations! Who could have thought, six months ago, that you and I were destined for the two highest offices in the land!"

"Now, all we must do is to convince Congress", Joseph said ruefully.

"I have a plan for that", John said, leaning forward in his chair. "Many of the Southern delegations are threatening to leave, if the Northern states press the slavery issue too hard. I say, let them go. If they don't show up for the roll calls, you and I are a shoo-in!"

Joseph was aghast. "John, you can't be serious. Would you actually risk sundering the Union, just so you could win the Vice-Ppresidency?"

John gave him a surprised look. "Why, of course I would! And anyhow, I see the rift as inevitable. Once in power, we can force the states back together, if necessary by blood and iron. Don't you see, Joseph? It will be a new United States, a new birth of freedom."

Horrified, Joseph said, "John, I can't sanction this. What ever happened to 'The Union or Nothing'?"

Reid looked at him condescendingly. "You are new to politics, aren't you Joseph? Do you really expect that Polk and Dallas will lift a finger against the South? Or Clay and Frelinghuysen? They're all mugwumps – they sit on the fence, with their mug on one side, and their 'wump' on the other. No, if anyone is going to save this nation, it has to be you and me. But we may have to destroy it first, in order to save it. I am determined not to let this opportunity pass me by. Are you with me or not?"

Joseph looked him straight in the eye and said,

"As I said before, I cannot sanction this. And I will do all in my power to prevent it."

John leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I am sorry, Joseph. I hope you have been reading the Constitution lately. I not only cadged your thirty-two electors and Birney's twelve, I also took Maine, giving me fifty-three in all. That puts me in second place for the Vice-Presidency, ahead of Benton. I may be closer to the Presidency than you – I only need a simple majority vote in the Senate to become Vice-President. And then if the House cannot decide on a President by March 4th, well then, I shall become the next President. Good bye, Joseph."

John Reid smiled at Joseph, and without another word, picked up his hat and left.

NORFOLK, Friday, January 3

Jonathan Browning and Captain George Anderson arrived at the Gosport Naval Shipyard early in the day. As their buggy approached the long line of warships docked along the river, Anderson looked at the forest of masts and said in awe,

"Holy Moses... I never dreamed I'd ever see any ships bigger 'an a steamboat again, Jonathan. Look, there's the ol' USS Constellation, and the Congress, and the Savannah... An' that one's gotta be Old Ironsides herse'f, the Constitution, just back from her voyage round the world under Captain 'Mad Jack' Percival! Kin you believe, they may be makin' me Sec'tary of all this?"

Browning replied with a smile, "I know, it is rather hard for me to believe. Keep your eyes out for the Princeton, George."

The line of frigates, brigs, sloops, and lesser ships seemed to extend forever. George pointed again.

"Lookee there, John! There's the sloop Washington, what captured the slave-ship Amistad up on Long Island Sound six years ago!"

Finally they spotted a medium-sized sloop-of-war. It was the Princeton. It looked somehow odd to George, with a single tall smokestack but no paddlewheels. To a seasoned riverboat captain, this was rather disconcerting.

The two men dismounted, tied up the buggy, and approached the dock. George admired the ships' fine lines.

"Clipper hull, built for speed, 'bout 1600 tons I'd guess... She's a fine ship, Jonathan."

At the top of the gangplank they met Commodore Robert Stockton. He was a gruff, stern-looking old salt, obviously of the old school, with long sideburns that flowed into a handlebar mustache.

"Mr. Browning, Mr. Anderson, I'm pleased to meet you", he said. "I'll get straight to the problem. The reason I've called you here is to try and make sense of this brobdingnagian ship that Mr. John Ericsson has contrived."

Browning's eyes brightened at this name. "I had been corresponding with Mr. Ericsson", he said. "Tell me, what ever became of him?"

"Follow me and I'll tell you", said Stockton. He led them over to the pilothouse and ushered them in through the hatch. Inside was a large table covered with sheets of paper and various drafting tools.

"He's left the country, gone back to Sweden I presume", said Stockton. "He was widely blamed for the Peacemaker explosion, though unfairly I thought. I'm the father of this whole misbegotten project, from the laying of the keel to the launching. I even named the ship myself, after my home town of Princeton. But Ericsson is the mad genius behind the design, in particular his novel screw propulsion system. The Secretary of the Navy has ordered me, as an act of penance I suspect, to make this wreck seaworthy again. I have one month to complete the task."

"And if you don't succeed in that time?" Browning inquired politely.

"I daren't think about that" Stockton snapped. "They'll probably bust me down to Seaman Second Class and ship me off to the Upper California, or God forbid, Russian America."

"So why do you need us, sir?" said Anderson.

Stockton waved at the pile of papers on the table and replied, "You see gentlemen, this ship is jam-full of curious devices, most of which I don't understand. Every time I turn around, some infernal contraption either shocks me or scalds me or explodes in my face. That's where you come in, Mr. Browning. You see, when Ericsson left he took most of his plans with him, but he spoke very highly of you. Your assignment is to determine what Ericsson's intentions were, and to make this boat shipshape again."

Jonathan picked up an illustrated piece of paper from the table. It was labeled, "Rifled cannon, 7 inch caliber, 120 lb." Around the breech of the cannon was an iron hoop. He said in astonishment,

"Why, this is based on my prototype!"

Stockton smiled and said, "We were planning a more conventional armament, say perhaps twelve smoothbore 64-pounders, when Mr. Ericsson approached me with your novel design. I must say I was skeptical at first, after the Peacemaker fiasco, but our field tests have proven you right. Come, I'll give you a tour of the ship."

Commodore Stockton led them out of the pilot house onto the main deck. A long V-shaped canvas awning stretched nearly the length of the deck. Beneath the awning, Browning and Anderson could see the destruction wrought by the Peacemaker's explosion. In the center of the main deck the planking was completely gone around the iron ring that had once supported the huge cannon, so that the men could see down through the joists to the gun deck below. The railings were scarred and splintered, and the masts, smokestack and deckhouse had been pockmarked by the shrapnel from the explosion. Just forward of the Peacemaker's pivot ring was another, identical ring that had supported the other 12-inch cannon, the Oregon. That cannon had also been removed.

Looks like I have my work cut out, Browning thought.

Stockton took them down a gangway to the lower gun deck. By most ship's standards it was spacious. While the ship had been designed for twelve medium-sized smoothbore cannon, only six of the gun positions were now occupied – by the most enormous guns Browning had ever seen.

"T'is a far cry from your little brass three-pound prototype, John", Anderson said, impressed.

"Indeed", said Stockton. "I hate war, but if Britain declares war on us, we may have no choice but to use these. Mr. Ericsson once said to me that he 'wished to make war so fearsome and so terrible that all nations would renounce it forever.' I'm not as sanguine as he. I only hope to protect the United States from invasion. I was an eyewitness to the British attack on Baltimore in 1814, and I never wish to see it repeated."

The three men moved aft to the engine room, where Stockton showed them the steam plant. Jonathan marveled at the efficiency and the compactness of Ericsson's two vibrating-lever steam engines. Stockton seemed unimpressed.

"Can you imagine, drilling a hole in the sternpost just so you can fit an, ah, screw propeller shaft through?" he said as he guided them back up to the main deck. "What's wrong with paddlewheels?"

By now they had reached the ship's wheel near the stern of the ship. Browning pointed to an odd-looking contraption near the binnacle and said, "What's that?"

It was a plain wooden box, about five feet high. On top of the box at eye level was a rotating platform with two eyepieces and a small crank. In the center of the platform was a small spirit compass.

Stockton said, "I'm not certain how it operates, but Ericsson called it a diasporometer, or 'distance-finder'. You look through that eyepiece and turn the crank on top, and somehow it tells you the range to the target. But that's not all. You see these knife switches here? Inside the box is a pendulum connected to an, ah, 'electric accumulator' I believe Ericsson called it. When the ship rolls level, the pendulum closes an electric circuit, and the guns fire instantaneously. At least, according to Mr. Ericsson. I haven't dared to try it yet, for fear of blowing up my gun crews. Every time I touch it, it shocks me."

Stockton turned and looked hard at the two men.

"Mr. Browning, Mr. Anderson, do you think you are equal to the task? For if you are not, this ship is headed straight to the breakers for salvage."

Browning was thrilled at the opportunity. "Commodore Stockton, I assure you, in less than a month we can put this ship to rights."

NAUVOO, Sunday, January 5

Brigham Young wrote in his diary:

I went to the stand and addressed the Saints on the necessity of having more order and putting down iniquity, and exhorted the brethren to rise up en masse, and put down the thieving, swearing, gambling, bogus-making, retailing spirituous liquors, bad houses, and all abominations practiced in our midst by our enemies, who, after they could not live among us any longer would go out to the world and publish that these things were practiced by us.

I severely rebuked the civil authorities of the city for their want of energy in the discharge of their duty, and censured parents and guardians for not keeping their children from prowling round the streets at night; and remarked that if we did not as a people uproot such things, they would uproot us, and we would have to leave before we had done the things the Lord had commanded us to do. Elder Kimball followed me, treating on the same subject; a large congregation – pleasant day.
CHAPTER 26

WASHINGTON, Monday, January 6

In the morning, Joseph Smith and his party rode down to the U.S. Capitol Building to observe the proceedings of the 28th Congress, second session. Joseph had an appointment with Judge Stephen A. Douglas, who had been elected to Congress from Illinois in 1842. Later in the day, Joseph and his friends would observe the final tally of the electoral votes in the Hall of the House.

The Capitol Building itself had undergone many changes since George Washington laid the cornerstone in 1793. By 1810 the Senate, House, and Supreme Court were all meeting in their respective chambers, but in 1814 the Capitol was burned by the British. By 1824 the center part of the building was rebuilt, and a grand reception was held in the rotunda for the Marquis de Lafayette. By 1829 the building was essentially complete, including the low, hemispherical wood and copper dome that covered the rotunda.

Stephen A. Douglas pumped Joseph's hand and said ingratiatingly,

"General Joseph Smith! What a pleasure to see you here, Mister next President! I wish you to know, I supported your cause untiringly before Congress and in the recent election in Illinois."

"I am grateful Stephen", Joseph said cautiously.

Douglas continued. "You should be aware also, that Secretary of War Wilkins just spoke to me this morning. He informed me that he is retiring soon, and that you have recommended James Arlington Bennett as his replacement. I shall be more than willing to present his name to Congress this very week."

Joseph knew how to reply to a bon mot when he heard it. He said,

"Thank you very much, Judge Douglas. I shan't forget your kindness after the inauguration. Tell me, what is the climate in Congress?"

"Utter and complete bedlam. Come, allow me to escort you to my office."

As they walked through the Rotunda and down the marble corridors of the House wing, Douglas said:

"The situation is this: Congress is afraid to certify the election results, on account of the secession movement. However, constitutionally they have no choice – it must take place at one p.m. today. Calhoun is packing to leave, as is Benton, and most all of the Southern members of the Senate. If they leave, there is a Northern plan afoot to disfranchise the slave states, in effect making them territories, not states. That way, the Northern states can ramrod through whatever anti-slavery legislation they please, and the South be hanged."

Joseph said anxiously,

"Stephen, do any of them blame me for precipitating this conflict? What is the sentiment?"

"Some blame you, but only to cover themselves", Douglas said with a shrug. "Most of them feel that the rupture was inevitable, sooner or later. The pressure has been building for many years now, as you know."

Joseph seemed relieved. He said,

"So, the Presidency issue is on hold for now. What about the Vice-President?"

"I believe that the Senate is close to scheduling a vote. Unlike the House, the Senate only votes on the two leading candidates for the Vice-Presidency, and each senator has only one vote. So, it only takes twenty-seven votes to decide. Less than that, actually, as several seats are vacant. However, we have no serving Vice-President to break a possible tie, if it should come to that.

"The House on the other hand must choose betwixt you, Polk, or Clay. Each state delegation has one vote. If no President or Vice-President is chosen by March 4th, the Constitution does not say what is to be done. Presumably, the new Congress could carry on for the next four years with no President, in a quasi-parliamentary fashion.

"But the situation is even more complicated, for if the Southern States are disfranchised, the whole legality of the election process is brought into question. We could even end up with, of all things, the Supreme Court deciding the election. Or it could all devolve into anarchy. No one knows."

Douglas paused for a moment for all of this to sink in, and then he leaned forward and said,

"There is another matter which concerns you and your followers more particularly, but which is now at the bottom of Congress' list of priorities. That matter is Oregon and California. Joseph, I would resign my seat in Congress if I could command the force that you do, and I would be on the march to Oregon in a month! If the government were to pass an act establishing a territorial government west of the Rocky Mountains there will be at once a tremendous rush of emigration; but I hardly expect them to take up the matter this session. I would equally as soon go to that country without an act of Congress as with, and in five years a noble state might be formed; and then if they would not receive us into the Union, we would have a government of our own."

Joseph was intrigued. He replied,

"Judge Douglas, this is a matter which has weighed upon my mind for many years now. Several times I've attempted to mount an expedition to explore the Rocky Mountains, but each time I've been prevented from carrying it off."

Douglas said, "The President is required to give notice to the British Government before the discontinuance of the treaty of joint occupation of Oregon; otherwise Congress violates the treaty. If the Southern States go their own way, I have no doubt but what the Northern states will be in a rush to abolish the treaty. This could have dangerous repercussions with respect to Great Britain. If that happens, we want to be sure that we have enough settlers in Oregon to establish squatters' rights there."

Douglas reached over to his desk and picked up a large leather folder, and handed it to Joseph.

"This is a map of Oregon, drawn by Captain John C. Frémont of the Corps of Topographical Engineers. Captain Frémont is Senator Benton's son-in-law. I borrowed it of Mr. Benton, but I was not to tell any one in this city where I got it. You are free to examine or make a copy this map, on condition that you return it to me promptly. Mr. Frémont is in the process of compiling an account of his explorations, which he intends to publish later this year. If you wish, I can direct you to him."

"I am most grateful for this information", Joseph said. "We shall examine this map very carefully."

Joseph and his friends stood up to leave, and Joseph shook Douglas' hand.

"Just remember me when you choose your cabinet", Douglas said with a wink.

At one p.m. the House and Senate reluctantly met to fulfill their constitutional duty. The meeting took place in the Hall of the House. Since there was no Vice-President, the President of the Senate, Willie P. Mangum presided from the seat of the Speaker of the House. On a table in front of the podium were two mahogany boxes, containing the Certificates of Vote from each of the 26 states. Two tellers were appointed, one for each box. One of the tellers would read the results from the certificates in his box, and the other teller would verify that the results matched from the other box. The states' results were announced in alphabetical order:

"Alabama: nine votes for James K. Polk."

"Agreed."

"Arkansas: Three votes for James K. Polk."

"Agreed."

"Connecticut: Six votes for Henry Clay..."

In the end, the results were identical to the projections made back in December, after James Birney's votes were shifted to Joseph Smith:

Polk:84 votes

Clay:87 votes

Smith:44 votes (12 from Birney)

Van Buren:43 votes

Tyler:17 votes

Since there was no majority, the top three candidates would be voted on by the House.

The vice-presidential count followed a similar pattern:

Dallas:82 votes

Reid:53 votes (12 from Birney)

Benton:48 votes

Frelinghuysen: 48 votes

Mangum:44 votes

Since there was no majority, the top two candidates would be voted on by the Senate.

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, January 7

Joseph Smith, William Clayton, Orson Hyde and John Neff traveled to the Capitol building to observe the case of Benton vs. Chism in the Supreme Court chamber. As the group reached the Rotunda, William Clayton said,

"Hold up, Brother Joseph. If it be right by you, I should like t' look in on t' Senate. I'll catch up t' ye later."

"Very well", said Joseph. "We shall most likely be in the Supreme Court Chamber downstairs."

William headed down the hall to the Senate wing, accompanied by John Neff.

The Senate Chamber was a large, semicircular room with a half-domed ceiling. Around the circular back of the room was a balcony for spectators. Spanning the front of the room was a long marble colonnade. In the very center of the room was the ornate Vice-President's chair, which was mounted on a raised platform. Over the chair was a canopy of scarlet silk, with a large gilded eagle projecting out in front. Facing the chair in a semicircle were the desks of the fifty-two senators.

As soon as the two men entered the balcony, they could see that a very heated debate was in progress on the floor below.

Senator Willie P. Mangum, President Pro Tempore of the Senate, was banging his gavel and calling for order. Most of the senators were doing their best to ignore him as they shouted at each other from opposite sides of the chamber.

Mr. George McDuffie of South Carolina had the floor. He was arguing that state's case for seceding from the Union.

Senator Silas Wright of New York jumped to his feet and said,

"...What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this Declaration of Secession? I reject, with scorn and contempt, your black scratches and your baby lines in the fair records of this country!"

William Clayton and John Neff sat down next to a distinguished-looking Army captain and his attractive, dark-haired wife.

Mr. McDuffie continued reading his speech. "The laws of the general government..."

"Black lines! Black lines!" Wright interrupted, waving his arms.

"...The laws of the general government, have ceased to effect the objects of the Constitution", read McDuffie.

Wright put his hands on his hips and shouted him down sarcastically:

"...And hereafter, some future American monarch, in gratitude to those by whose means he has been enabled, upon the ruins of the Constitution, to erect a throne, and to commemorate especially this Declaration of Secession, may institute a new order of knighthood, and confer on it the appropriate name of 'the Knights of the Black Lines'!"

Mangum banged his gavel again.

"Mister Wright, the senator from South Carolina has the floor!"

Silas Wright sat down in a huff.

The Army captain's wife leaned over to William Clayton, and with just a hint of a Southern accent said, waving her fan,

"You see that han'some gentleman in the second row, third from the left? That's ma' fatha', Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri."

William did a quick mental association. Then he put his hand out to the captain and said,

"Captain John Frémont , I presume? My name is William Clayton, an' this be my friend John Neff. We're here fro' Nauvoo, Illinois."

"Pleased to make yo' acquaintance, suh", Frémont said stiffly. "An' this is ma wife, Jessie Benton Frémont."

John Charles Frémont was every inch a soldier and a Southern gentleman. He was a handsome man of thirty-two years, with a full, close-cropped black beard and moustache.

Mr. McDuffie continued reading:

"The states of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Indiana and Michigan have enacted laws which either nullify the acts of Congress or render useless any attempt to execute them. In many of these states the fugitive is discharged from the service of labor claimed, and in none of them has the state government complied with the stipulation made in the Constitution."

Mr. Frémont said, "An' what occasion has brought you to the fair city of Washington, Mr. Clayton?"

"We're here at t' behest o' Mr. Joseph Smith, t' next president-in-waitin', or so we hope."

"Ah, the Mormon Prophet!" said Mrs. Frémont. "Tell me, does he really have fifty-"

"No, he does not", John Neff said quickly.

Down on the floor, old John J. Crittenden of Kentucky, who had served in the Senate since 1817, struggled to his feet and pointed his cane at McDuffie, saying,

"So, the deed is to be done – that foul deed which, like the blood, staining the hands of the guilty Macbeth, all ocean's waters will never wash out. Proceed, then, to the noble work which lies before you, and, like other skillful executioners, do it quickly!"

Mangum banged his gavel again, to no avail. Crittenden swung his cane around and waved it at the President Pro Tempore.

"Stand down, Tarheel, I ain't finished yet!"

He turned to face McDuffie again and continued,

"...And when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and tell them what glorious honors you have achieved for our common country. Tell them that you have extinguished one of the brightest and purest lights that ever burned at the altar of civil liberty. And, if the people do not pour out their indignation and imprecations, I have yet to learn the character of American freemen!"

Crittenden sat down to loud and partisan applause. McDuffie soldiered on with his speech:

"In the state of New York even the right of transit for a slave has been denied by her tribunals; and the states of Ohio and Iowa have refused to surrender to justice fugitives charged with murder and with inciting servile insurrection in the state of Virginia. Thus the constitutional compact has been deliberately broken and disregarded by the nonslaveholding states; and the consequence follows that South Carolina is released from her obligation."

Senator James Buchanan of Pennsylvania jumped up and cried, pointing at McDuffie,

"Then there is nothing more to be said. As Cromwell said to Parliament, so say I to South Carolina: 'In the name of God, go!'"

This was more than the Southern Senators could take. As a body, they stood up and started to leave the chamber: Lewis and Bagby of Alabama; Ashley and Sevier of Arkansas; Berrien and Colquitt of Georgia; Atchison and Benton of Missouri – Even the President Pro Tempore himself, Willie Mangum of North Carolina, banged his gavel one more time and cried,

"Sold! To the lowest bidder", then he headed for the door.

Mrs. Frémont turned to William and said,

"Mr. Clayton, ah should be pleased to introduce you to ma fatha'. If we hurry, we can just catch up to him. Come, John" she said with a smile, extending her arm to her husband.

John Frémont ignored his wife's blatant breach of social etiquette and escorted her down the stairs, grumbling under his beard. William Clayton and John Neff followed close behind them.

Just outside the Senate cloakroom, they caught up with Jessie's father. Senator Thomas Hart Benton was a stocky, 63 year old man with just a few wisps of graying hair left over his ears, a long, prominent nose, and beady eyes set rather too close together, William thought.

Mrs. Frémont said,

"Fatha', I would like to introduce to you Mista' William Clayton an' Mista' John Neff, of Nauvoo, Illinois."

Benton pulled his hand back as if scalded and said,

"Mormons! Ah knew it! What you boys think you're doin', stirrin' up the nation an' foisten yo' so-called 'prophet' on us, an' cheatin' me outa the Vice-Presidency? Ah bin in the Senate twenny-one years, an' does Mr. Joe Smith think he kin just roll right inyear an' call hissef President? You go tell that boy ta pay his poll tax, an' in twenny-one years mebbe he kin siddown in this year chambah!"

Benton turned as if to leave, then he turned back and waved his finger at the two men.

"An' anotha' thang, ah don't care what the Supreme Court downstairs deecides one way or 'tuther! Mark ma words, ah'm gitten ma slave Chisum back from y'all, come hell or ha' water!"

Senator Benton stomped off, fuming. Jessie turned to her two guests and said,

"Sirs, ah must apologize. Ma father has been very pressed with business lately, and..."

"No apology necessary, ma'am", said William. He turned to Captain Frémont and said,

"But there be one matter 'at I should like t' discuss wi' you, sir. I hear 'at you're writin' a book describin' yair recent travels in t' west. Would it be possible far us t' see this book, or obtain a copy of it?"

Frémont stiffened. "Theah ah no copies", he said curtly. "Theah is only the manuscript, still in draft. It is completely out of the question. Come, Jessie, we have detained these two gentlemen fah' too long. Suhs, if you will excuse us, please?"

Frémont bowed, Jessie curtsied, and in a moment William and John were left standing by themselves in the hall.

As William Clayton and John Neff observed the debacle in the Senate Chamber, Joseph Smith and Orson Hyde were entering the Supreme Court Chamber directly below the Senate. At this session of the Court, the Justices were deliberating on one of the most momentous cases in U.S. History.

The Supreme Court Chamber was smaller than the Senate's, but just as elegantly furnished. The ceiling was a ribbed, semicircular vault, similar in shape to the Senate Chamber although not as high. Along the east side of the room was a row of Doric columns. In front of the columns on a raised platform were the desks and chairs of the nine Justices. In the center of the room were four mahogany tables, used by lawyers presenting their cases before the court.

When Joseph and Orson entered, the court was in recess and the room was nearly deserted. Orson spied something across the room and said to Joseph,

"Look, Brother Joseph! There's the other end of the electric telegraph that I showed to you in Baltimore last year!"

And so it was. Dr. Morse's telegraphic apparatus was sitting on a small table in one corner of the room, gathering dust.

Just at that moment there was a stir in the room, and the two men heard the call,

"All rise!"

Joseph and Orson hurried over to a row of settees reserved for visitors, and stood obediently as the nine justices of the Supreme Court slowly filed in. They were a dignified, somber group of men in their black robes. Leading the group was Chief Justice Roger B. Taney, easily the most dignified and somber one of them all. Following him were the Associate Justices: Henry Baldwin, John Catron, Peter V. Daniel, John McKinley, John McLean, Joseph Story, James M. Wayne, and the newest member of the court, Levi Woodbury, who had just been sworn in on January 3rd.

Orson leaned over to Joseph and whispered,

"I'm really glad they don't wear those silly horsehair wigs, like the British justices do. Ben Franklin once said he thought they looked like 'rats peeking out of oakum'."

A lawyer turned and scowled at Orson, and he stood at attention again, his eyes straight forward.

Filing in behind the justices were Attorney General John Nelson, the court clerk and deputy clerk, and the court reporter, who all took their places below the mahogany railing that separated the justices from the rest of humanity. Last of all, the lawyers for the plaintiffs and defendants in the case filed in and stood just in front of the spectators. The justices sat down, their robes making a soft rustle like bats' wings. The Marshall cried,

"You may be seated! This Court is now in session!"

At that moment, Senator Benton slipped in the back door and took a seat next to his Missouri attorneys. Orson leaned over to Joseph and whispered,

"Where's Chism? I thought that under habeas corpus, every citizen had a right to defend himself in court."

Joseph replied, "That, my dear Orson, is precisely what this court is deciding today. Is Chism a citizen, or is he an item of property? Against the time this court decides otherwise, no Negro slave is allowed to take the stand in this country."

The Clerk of the Court stood and intoned,

"Chism, plaintiff in error, versus Senator Thomas Hart Benton, in Supreme Court of the United States of America, January 7th, in the year of our Lord 1845, and of the independence of the United States the sixty-ninth."

Chief Justice Roger B. Taney shuffled a handful of papers and cleared his throat. A hush fell over the room as he began speaking.

"This case has been twice argued. After the argument at the last term, differences of opinion were found to exist among the members of the court; and as the questions in controversy are of the highest importance, and the court was at that time much pressed by the ordinary business of the term, it was deemed advisable to continue the case, and direct a reargument on some of the points, in order that we might have an opportunity of giving to the whole subject a more deliberate consideration. It has accordingly been again argued by counsel, and considered by the court; and I now proceed to deliver its opinion:

"A free negro of the African race, whose ancestors were brought to this country and sold as slaves, is not a "citizen" within the meaning of the Constitution of the United States.

"The plaintiff having admitted, by his demurrer to the plea in abatement, that his ancestors were imported from Africa and sold as slaves, he is not a citizen of the State of Missouri according to the Constitution of the United States, and was not entitled to sue in that character in the Circuit Court.

"This being the case, the judgment of the court below, in favor of the plaintiff on the plea in abatement, was erroneous.

"If, therefore, the facts he states do not give him or his family a right to freedom, the plaintiff is still a slave, and not entitled to sue as a 'citizen,' and the judgment of the Circuit Court was erroneous on that ground also, without any reference to the plea in abatement."

The Chief Justice's voice dropped to a whisper, as if he was aware of the enormity of the decision he was delivering, and its consequences for the nation. The people in the room strained to hear him as he said,

"Upon the whole, therefore, it is the judgment of this court, that it appears by the record before us that the plaintiff in error is not a citizen of Missouri, in the sense in which that word is used in the Constitution; and that the Circuit Court of the United States, for that reason, had no jurisdiction in the case, and could give no judgment in it. Its judgment for the defendant must, consequently, be reversed, and a mandate issued, directing the suit to be dismissed for want of jurisdiction."

Joseph Smith looked at Orson Hyde in horror.

Taney concluded his remarks by saying,

"Justices Taney, Catron, Wayne, McKinley and Daniel concurred in separate opinions for the majority. Justices McLean, Story, Woodbury, and Baldwin dissented in separate opinions for the minority. Case dismissed."

The Marshall cried, "All rise!" and the nine Justices stood up and began filing out.

Orson looked at Joseph in astonishment and said, "So, that's it? Chism's case is dismissed, without him even being permitted to appear?"

"It's far worse than that, Orson. This court has just undone the Missouri Compromise of 1820. They have said, in effect, that slavery is legal and permissible in every state and territory of the Union. Oh, weep for this nation, Orson. Weep bitter tears for her, for this court has just damned her to utter destruction."

As they were leaving, the two men overheard a snippet of conversation between Senator Benton and the Marshall of the Court. Benton was jubilant at the court's decision. He said,

"Whaddo ah want done with 'im? Why, sell'im, of course. That boy's been nothin' but trouble fo' me since the day ah bought 'im."
CHAPTER 27

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, January 7

Orson Hyde called upon the man he expected to replace as Secretary of State, Senator John C. Calhoun.

Senator Calhoun was nearing the end of a long and distinguished career in the U.S. government. He was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1811, and along with Henry Clay had helped persuade Congress to declare war on Great Britain in 1812. He served as Secretary of War from 1817 to 1825, and was elected Vice-President in 1824. In 1832 he resigned the Vice presidency and was appointed to the U.S. Senate by South Carolina.

Because of his seniority, Calhoun had been allowed to keep his office in the Senate wing of the Capitol Building even after being appointed Secretary of State on March 6th of 1844. Orson Hyde found him there, busily packing thirty-four years worth of memorabilia before heading south to join the new Republic of South Carolina. Calhoun's office was a bedlam of crates, boxes, upended furniture, stacks of books, and clerks and black servants running to and fro.

Calhoun had his back turned as Orson entered. Orson overheard him say, "...an' make sartin' you git all the furnishments, raht dah'n ta the bar walls! Ah wants this orfice stripped pufeckly clean afor ah leaves fer Charleston! Ah'm headed dahn ta the cashiea' ta collec' mah pay an' steshnary. Ah'll be back mebbe one, two 'clock."

"Yassuh", "Yas, Massa" the servants replied obediently.

Orson knocked timidly on the doorjamb. "Excuse me, Mr. Calhoun?" he said.

Calhoun turned. "Yes, what is it?" he said crossly. "Cain't yew see ah'm busy?"

John C. Calhoun was a fierce looking man, with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a shock of white hair that made him look like a bald eagle.

"My name is Orson Hyde, Sir", Orson said as he extended his hand. "I've, ah, been nominated by the National Reform Party to, ah, replace you as Secretary of State. I'm here to observe and learn."

Calhoun turned beet red and ground his teeth. Orson thought he could almost see steam hissing out his ears. Then he pointed at Orson and roared,

"Obsarve this, yew no-good sonfabitch cah'pet-bagga! What gives yew th' gall ta' come in year an' take ovah mah orfice? It tuk me tweny-one yeersta arn this orfice, boy, an there ain't enuff sand'n y'all ta sarve as mah pepaweight! Ah wudn't piss on yew if y'all wuz on fa'r! Na' git OUT!"

Orson beat a hasty retreat. After he was gone, Calhoun turned to one of his slaves and said,

"Bo, foller 'im. Ah wansta' fin' out whar this prophet-boy Joe Smith is stayin'. He's upta' no good, I tell ya."

Later that afternoon Orson Hyde returned to the boarding-house, where he reported to Joseph Smith on his less-than-cordial encounter with John C. Calhoun. He finished by declaring with disgust,

"You might as well drive a musket ball through a cotton bag, or the Gospel of Christ through the heart of a priest, case-hardened by sectarianism, bigotry and superstition, or a camel through the eye of a needle, as to drive anything through Congress that will operate against the popularity of politicians!"

"I agree", said Joseph. "We have all had our fill of politicians. Even John Reid has abandoned me. But I tell you Orson, in just a few short years we shall be entirely quit of politicians, and of this nation to boot. There is another way. The Lord shall free His children from bondage, even as the Children of Israel was freed from slavery in Egypt."

Joseph abruptly turned away from Orson to face the main center of interest in the room – Frémont's map of western America, which was lying on the table before them. Orson Spencer was trying to sketch a copy of it, but William Clayton and Hosea Stout kept pulling it away from him to examine one feature or another.

The map was beautifully drawn, and showed the western portion of North America from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean. Every river and mountain range was meticulously detailed, right up to the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. West of that was a large blank space simply labeled "Upper California". The sole feature in that huge expanse was an oddly-shaped lake symbol, with four tiny dots representing islands.

"That's it", said Joseph, pointing. "That's your destination, the Great Salt Lake. According to Mr. Lansford Hastings, the land around the lake 'has some tolerably, and some very rich valleys and plains'."

Hosea Stout looked at the map and said,

"But Joseph, you're proposing a westward migration of nigh onto fifteen hundred miles, by twenty thousand souls! That's quite a leap from Nauvoo to some little speck on a map! How do we know what's in between?"

Orson's mind was reeling. What happened to the election? He thought.

Joseph traced his finger across the map and said softly, almost to himself,

"Nauvoo is the place of general rendezvous. Our course from thence would be westward through Iowa bearing a little north until we came to the Missouri River, leaving the state of Missouri on the left, thence onward, until we came to the Platte, thence up the north fork of the Platte to the mouth of the Sweetwater river in longitude 107 degrees, 45 minutes west; and thence up the Sweetwater river to the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, about eleven hundred miles from Nauvoo; and from the South Pass, in latitude 42 degrees 28 minutes north, to the valley of the Great Salt Lake, is about three hundred miles, making the distance from Nauvoo to the valley one thousand four hundred miles."

Joseph abruptly turned to Hosea Stout, who was wearing his new Army uniform, and said,

"Hosea, I want you to fetch Captain Frémont's book. Tell him we will pay whatever price he asks, but we must have that book. Will you do this for me?"

Hosea said, "Brother Joseph, how am I to proceed? I don't know where to look for this Captain Frémont , nor even what he looks like! And he wouldn't know me from Nephi!"

"That could be to your advantage", said Joseph. "And besides, you're a soldier, he can relate to that. The Lord will direct you, Hosea."

Hosea scratched his head for a moment, then he stood up and replied, "I will go and do this thing as you command. For you, Joseph."

WASHINGTON, Tuesday, January 7, evening

Mephibosheth, or "Bo" as his master called him, had been an obedient servant to John C. Calhoun for over twenty years. He knew instinctively how to do his master's bidding: discreetly. After Orson Hyde left the Capitol Building, "Bo" followed him at a safe distance to Joseph's boarding-house on the corner of Missouri and Third Street. He made note of the address, and then he waited patiently a few rods down the street.

About a half hour later, "Bo" saw an Army officer leave the boarding-house, climb in a carriage, and head south on Third Street. "Bo" followed him again at a safe distance, and was surprised to discover that the man was returning to the Capitol Building.

"Bo" broke off his pursuit, continued south on Third Street and tied up in front of the Capitol. Then he ran up the stairs and reported all he had learned to Senator Calhoun.

Dusk was falling as Hosea turned west onto Constitution Avenue, then south on First Street. As he rode along, he thought,

On the face of it, this is about the grandest wild-goose chase I have ever been in. But I've never known Joseph to steer me wrong, nor the Lord for that matter...

He tied up his carriage at the back entrance to the Capitol Building and walked in the second floor entryway, following his nose as he went. He followed some stairs down to the first floor and reached the circular crypt directly under the rotunda. So far, he had not seen a soul.

Where to go, he thought. He turned left and followed the main corridor for awhile, underneath the Senate wing, as he guessed. Then he turned left again into a side hall which was dimly lit by a single oil lamp. To his surprise, in the gloom he saw a man's body lying sprawled on the floor.

Cautiously, Hosea approached the body. The man was dressed in an army officers' uniform, with captain's bars on his shoulders. Hosea rolled him over and immediately he could smell whisky. The man's eyes were rolled back and he was obviously very far drunk.

Why, he looks rather like me! Hosea thought. Same chin whiskers, at any rate...

Hosea looked around for help, but he and the drunken man were alone.

Hosea grabbed the man by his shoulders and dragged him over to the wall, and leaned him up against it. Then he fished in the man's pockets for some kind of identification. In an inside coat pocket, he felt a letter and a set of keys. He pulled them both out and read on the front of the envelope,

BREVET CAPTAIN J. C. FRÉMONT

U.S. ARMY TOPOGRAPHICAL BUREAU

This can't be happening, Hosea thought. A moment later, far down the hall he heard a loud slap followed by a woman's cry.

Hosea stood up and cautiously made his way down the darkened hall. It sounded like an argument was going on between a man and a woman inside one of the offices. As he reached the door to the office, Hosea read:

U.S. ARMY

BUREAU OF TOPOGRAPHICAL ENGINEERS

From inside the office he overheard,

"Ah'll warn ye agin, yew go neah' them Mormons an' ah'll whip you! An' don't thank yer precious lil' toy-sojer husbin'll pertec' you neitha'! Ah made'im, an' ah kin break'im if ah needs to!"

Hosea felt as if he were being swept along against his will in some kind of dream. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A very startled older man and a young woman turned and looked at him in the semi-darkness. The man had just raised his hand again to strike the woman, who was now lying on the floor. She scrambled to her feet and ran to Hosea, then she flung her arms around him saying,

"Oh, John, John! Ah knew you would come back!"

John? Hosea thought. John who? Just who does she think I am? And who is she?

He cautiously embraced the woman and said the first thing that came to his mind:

"There there, ah, my dear, don't you worry yourself. I'm here now." He stroked her hair for effect.

Hosea's mind was racing. What have I walked into? He thought.

The man appeared to be about sixty-five years old, with thin, graying hair. He was still acting defiant, but Hosea knew genuine fear when he saw it. The old man backed slowly across the room and sat down hard in one of the office chairs. He had a bottle in his right hand.

Senator Benton! Hosea realized with a start. And this must be his daughter! He wracked his brains. What did Orson say her name is?

With a shock he realized, They think I'm John Frémont!

Hosea looked closely at Mrs. Frémont. She was petite and dark-haired, about twenty years old, he guessed, with a rather round, pleasing face. She had a large red welt on her left cheek.

"Ah din't strike 'er", mumbled Benton. Hosea guessed that he had been drinking heavily, too.

She blubbered, "John, ah merely su-suggested th-the propriety of-of loanin' yo' ma-manuscript to those two fine gentlemen fro-from Nauvoo, an-and fatha' flew inta' a rage, an'..." She buried her head in Hosea's shoulder and sobbed.

Hosea was starting to recognize his cues. He peeled Mrs. Frémont loose, strode smartly across the room, pulled his riding glove out of his belt, and cuffed Benton hard across the face with it.

"How dare you strike my wife, suh! You shall answer to me fo' this outrage! Senata' or no, I swear I shall see you publicly horsewhipped!"

Hosea knew better than to push his luck. He turned quickly to face Mrs. Frémont and said,

"My dear ah, – my dear ah, wife, would you please fetch the manuscript? I'm taking you home."

He held out Frémont's keys to her, and she took them and walked over to a locked bureau drawer. She threw an angry glance back over her shoulder at her father, who was still cowering in the corner. Then she unlocked the drawer and pulled out a thick, leather-bound manuscript and handed it to Hosea.

"Goodbye, father", she said coldly, and held out her arm to Hosea. He took her by the arm and escorted her out of the office, closing the door behind him. He led her carefully down the corridor in the opposite direction from the real Captain Frémont; then he looked around in bewilderment.

How do I find my way out of this warren, he thought.

He let Mrs. Frémont take the lead slightly, and she steered a path up some stairs and out a doorway in the north side of the building. Hosea led her around the northeast corner of the Capitol and back towards his carriage. The sun was just setting, and the lamp lighters were just starting their rounds as a light snow began falling.

She was regaining her composure. "Ah just thought that if ah loaned the manuscript out fo' a few days, it might help those poor Mormons find a place to live away out west. Ah neva' dreamed that my fatha' would fly inta' such a rage ovah the suggestion."

"I always thought better of him than this", Hosea said carefully. "Apparently I was mistaken in my estimation."

He helped her into the carriage, then walked around the back and climbed onto the seat next to her.

How long can I maintain this burlesque? He thought. Is this how Nephi felt, while fetching the Brass Plates?

He guided the carriage north up First Street and crossed over Constitution Avenue.

"John, where are you goin'?" she said anxiously. "Our home is in Arlin'ton..." She took a closer look at him, then she shrieked:

"Who ah you? What ah you doin'? Where ah you takin' me? What have you done with mah husband?"

That tears it, Hosea thought. He wrapped his right arm around Mrs. Frémont's waist, whipped the horses, and the two of them went careening down First Street, with Hosea holding on for dear life and Mrs. Frémont trying to break free of him and jump out of the carriage.

"Let go of me!" she cried, beating him with her fists, as the carriage bounced and swayed down the road. Hosea just braced his feet against the dashboard and held on tighter. He shouted to her between bounces,

"As the Lord lives, and as I live, Mrs. Frémont, if you'll harken to me you shan't be harmed! I'm not your enemy!"

"Then why ah you abductin' me?" she shouted back as they tore madly through the intersection at Massachusetts Avenue. The horses veered to the right to miss an oncoming wagon, and the carriage nearly overturned.

"This is no abduction! I was sent to beg the manuscript from you! I had no idea the affair would play out like this! I swear to you, I had no inkling!"

She stared at him in shock. "Who ah you?"

The carriage slowed, and Hosea released his grip on her a little. "My name is Hosea Stout, Madame. I'm a General in the Nauvoo Legion."

She stared at him in disbelief. "The Nauvoo what? Wha' din't you tell me?"

"As I stated, I had no idea this would happen! But in hindsight, would you rather have your father know who I really am?"

She pondered this for a moment. "No, ah daresay ah would not..."

A few minutes later, Hosea pulled the carriage up outside the boarding-house on Missouri Street and tied up the horses. He helped Mrs. Frémont dismount from the carriage, and escorted her inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness in the front room, she saw four men sitting around a table, apparently studying some kind of map.

Ma husband's map! They smouched it! she realized with a shock.

The man at the far end of the table, who was hidden in shadows, spoke to her and said,

"Good evening, Mrs. Frémont. I have been expecting you. My name is Joseph Smith."

She started trembling again, and looked around the room in fear. "Wha' have you brought me heah? What is t' become of me? Ah've heard tales 'bout the Mormon Elders, roamin' the countryside an' stealin' women, but ah nevah put much stock in them."

"Nor should you", said Joseph. "Mrs. Frémont – Jessie, you are free to leave at any time. I only ask that you not reveal where we are, nor what we are about here."

"An' just what maght that be?" she said anxiously. "An' what are you doin' with ma husban's map?"

"Please, be seated. There is much to discuss."

Hosea pulled a chair out for her, and she carefully settled herself into it, arranging her skirts. Joseph continued,

"My campaign for the Presidency has suffered a setback. I can accept that. However, as a Prophet of God I also have heavy responsibilities. The greatest of these, at this time, is to find a refuge for my followers from the mobbings and persecutions they have endured for fifteen years. That is what this meeting is all about."

Jessie relaxed a bit. She replied,

"Ah've always felt a certain sympathy for yo' people. Ah remember when ah was a young girl in Missourah, just a few years back. The Mormons were bein' driven from Missourah at the time, an' fo' weeks there was a constant stream of refugees passin' by ma fatha's home in Palmyra. It broke ma' young heart to see them sufferin' so, they were dressed in rags an' barefoot an' so hungry. Ah wanted ta help them, but ma fatha' fo'bade me. He told me that Missourah was better off without them. Once ah smouched a piece o' corn-dodger an' gave it to a poor widow-lady, when papa wasn't 'round. The servants told him about it, an' he gave me a lickin'."

"That was a noble deed, Jessie. So, you understand our plight", said Joseph. "If my campaign for the Presidency fails, the storm of persecution against my people will only increase. For many years now, I have felt inspired to seek a refuge for them, a refuge so far away that no one would come to hurt them or make them afraid. That's where your husband's book comes in."

"Ma husban's book..." she said softly, then she sat up and wrapped her arms around the book. "Mistuh' Smith, would it surprise you to learn that ever' word of this book was written by me? Captain Frémont is a great explorah', but he can scarcely write a complete sentence. He dictated this entire manuscript to me, based on his recollections an' on journals written ba' his fellow explorahs."

"Indeed..." Joseph said, surprised. "I have some experience with dictating manuscripts..."

She looked at him and said earnestly,

"Please sir, do not misunda'stand me. Ma husband is a noble an' a brave man, an' quite fearless. He could not have survived the many privations his travels have brought him, were it not for his unflinching courage an' strength. And yet, ah have scarcely been with him six months since we were married. He is hea' in Washin'ton now fo' only a few weeks, and then he is off to the west again... We have a three year-old daughta' who scarcely knows him."

"I am truly sorry", said Joseph. "Mrs. Frémont , I have a favor to ask of you."

"And what maght that be?" she said cautiously.

"Would you give us the loan of your manuscript for a day or two, so we can copy it? I promise you we shall return it to you promptly. If this causes you any inconvenience, I withdraw the request."

She thought for a moment. Then she shook her head and said,

"Ah truly wish ta help you, but this could place me in grave danga'. If ma husband or ma fatha' finds out, ah tremble ta think what they might do ta me. May ah have till the morrow ta consida' it? You shall have ma ansah' in the mornin'." She took the manuscript and stood to leave.

"Very well", Joseph said reluctantly, as he stood and took her by the hand. "Hosea, would you please escort Mrs. Frémont safely to her home? And please, not a word of this to anyone."

She smiled at him. "Sir, you have ma word on that. Gentlemen, good evenin' to y'all."

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, January 8

At daybreak, Hosea Stout rode back to Arlington and cautiously parked the carriage a few rods distant from the Frémont house; then he waited. It was snowing lightly. A few minutes later, he saw Jessie quietly emerge from the house, along with a black servant lady and a young girl. Jessie was carrying two traveling bags, and the servant was struggling with three. Hosea ran up to assist them and asked,

"Mrs. Frémont ! Why all the baggage?"

"Ah shall explain in a moment. Mista' Stout, this is ma nurse, Harriot, and ma daughta', Elizabeth."

She looked at him earnestly. "Mista' Stout, ah've made several difficult deecisions this past night. Ah'm not comin' back here. Ah've had ma fill of Washin'ton society, of the constant va-et-vient of ma husban' 'The Pathfinder', an' of raisin' Lily alone. Ah've left a note fo' ma husban', who is gone off to Baltimore fo' a week, as ah believe. Mista' Stout, ah want to go to Nauvoo."

Hosea was just hefting two of the bags into the carriage. He dropped them on the ground with a thud and said,

"You want to what?"

"Y'all heard me right. The Mormons have been greatly on ma' mind of late, an' yo' attempted abduction o' me last night merely gave the spur, so to speak, to ma sentiments of altruism."

"I see..." Hosea mused. "And does this, ah, constitute the sum of your feelings in this matter?"

She feigned surprise. "Why, Mista' Stout! It's not propa' fo' a married woman to speak to a stranga' in such a way." She smiled sweetly. "Why, ah should report this indiscretion of yours to ma fatha'."

"I rather doubt you shall", Hosea said, blushing and turning away. He picked up the two bags again and heaved them into the back of the carriage.

Jessie looked back over her shoulder at the house. "Come, Lily, we must go now."

"Mommy, where ah' we goin'?" Elizabeth asked, as her mother helped her into the carriage.

Jessie wrapped her arm around her daughter. "To a wonderful place, fa', fa' away", she said.

About an hour later, the carriage pulled up in front of the boarding-house.

From about a hundred feet away, Mephibosheth awoke with a start and looked up. He had camped out in his buggy overnight, watching the boarding-house on Missouri Street. Far down the street, he saw a carriage approaching the same address he had observed the day before. An Army General, a white woman, a black woman, and a child emerged from the carriage.

Mista an Missus Frémont! he realized with a shock. Whaddo dey have ter do wid de Mormon Probbet?How'm I gonter break de news'ta Mars Calhoun, an' ter Senertor Benton, beesides?

He flicked his two horses with the whip, and sped off in the direction of the Capitol.

Hosea assisted Jessie, her nurse, and Lily into the boarding-house, where they explained the new situation to Joseph. He was surprised but pleased at Jessie's decision. Joseph said,

"I must presume that since you left a note for your husband, that the game's afoot now. You will not be safe here. I will see to it that you are safely escorted to Nauvoo, as soon as possible."

Jessie was relieved. "Ah'm deeply indebted to you, suh. An' here is the manuscript. There is just one otha' matta' which ah would wish to discuss with you."

"Of course", said Joseph. "And that would be..."

She explained her plan to Joseph, who immediately replied with a smile,

"You have my blessing. Go, and may the Lord protect you."

Hosea and Jessie took the carriage south again back to the Capitol Building, which they reached at about nine a.m. As they pulled up outside the east entrance, Hosea turned to her and said,

"Are you sure this is safe?"

"Ma' fatha' neva' arrives at his office afore ten o'clock in the mornin'", she replied. "He is nothin' if not punctual. And besides, the Senate is in recess today."

They went in the east entrance and up a long flight of stairs to the third floor, then they proceeded down a long marble corridor lined with office doors. Jessie paused outside one office. An ornate brass sign on the door read,

SENATOR THOMAS HART BENTON

MISSOURI

She pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the door. The office was unoccupied. Jessie went immediately to a large roll-top desk and unlocked a lower drawer, then she pulled out a sheaf of papers.

"Ah was a secretary to ma fatha' fo' several years", she said. "Ah know exactly where he keeps all his papers, both pussonal an' public." She gave the papers to Hosea, who slipped them into the pocket of his army overcoat.

She reached into the large sleeve of her riding coat and pulled out a leather purse, and counted out three hundred dollars in coin. She wrapped the coins in a note which she had written previously, and placed the note in the drawer and locked it. Finally, she wiped her hands and said with distaste,

"There, fatha', you have yo' thutty pieces o' silva'. We can go now, Mista' Stout."

They quickly retraced their steps back to the carriage. Jessie provided directions while Hosea steered the carriage east along Independence Avenue for about two miles, until they approached the Anacostia River.

"Ova' theah", she pointed. Near the riverbank was a nearly windowless, fortress-like brick building. A wooden sign over the entrance read,

ANACOSTIA SLAVE EXCHANGE

"Ah despise this place, and all like unto it", said Jessie. "Yo' Mista' Smith will do us a great service by abolishin' these filthy baracoons."

The sole entrance to the building was guarded by two soldiers, a sergeant and a private. Hosea parked the carriage, got out, and showed the two soldiers the papers which Mrs. Frémont had given him.

"Y'all may pro-ceed", said the sergeant, and the private lifted the bar from the door and opened it with a wrenching screech. Hosea and Jessie ducked their heads and entered the prison. The first thing that assailed them was the numbing cold, followed by the overpowering barnyard stench of the place. Jessie gasped, and tried her best not to breathe in. Hosea's eyes were watering, and he had difficulty seeing.

As their eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, they saw row upon row of black men and women, all chained to poles set in the ground. They were lying on the ground in their own filth; most were thinly clothed and shivering. A perpetual keening moan arose from the host of human cattle. Jessie was nearly overcome by the sight, and she felt the urge to flee the building, but she stayed close to Hosea and followed him.

The private looked at Jessie's ownership papers and compared them with a list of his own. Then he turned to the right, stepped over several bodies and pointed, saying,

"This'n heah the one?"

A young black man looked up at her in disinterest, then his eyes widened. It was Chism.

"Mis' Jessie!" he said, shocked. "What you doin' year? This ain't no place fo'a propa' white lady ter come!"

"I'm here to take you, Chism", she said. Then she lied, "My father wants you back".

Chism slumped back against his pole and looked down. "Ain't much of'er choice, am it? Don' madder one way or t'other, he still own me. The S'preem Court sez so. No madder what state I'se in now, som'un allas own me."

Without looking up, he reluctantly held out his manacled wrists to the private, who unlocked one wrist and handed the loose end of the chain to Hosea.

"That won't be necessary", said Hosea. "Please remove all the shackles."

The private shrugged. "He's yo' bo'", he said as he removed the chains.

The private and Hosea helped Chism to his feet, and he slowly made his way down the aisle, stepping around and over the other slaves that were chained there. As he passed, they reached up longingly to touch him.

"'Don' fo'git us, Chism." "Load' bless you, Chism" they said softly.

Hosea, Jessie, and Chism stepped through the prison door, which closed with a screech behind them. It was snowing softly, and they were momentarily blinded by the light. Chism was shivering, and Hosea went and fetched a blanket from the carriage and wrapped it around him, then helped him up onto the seat.

Once they were safely on their way back along Independence Avenue, Jessie turned to Chism and said,

"Chism, there is somethin' ah wish to tell you."

Chism just gathered his blanket around him and looked away in silence.

"Chism, listen to me. Y'all are a free man now." He turned and stared at her blankly, not comprehending.

"I bought yo' freedom today. D' you understand? No one owns you anymo'. Not ma fatha', nor anyone."

As this knowledge slowly sank in, Chism buried his head in her lap and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Free at las'? Lord a'mighty, I'se free? Oh, t'ank you, Mis' Jessie!"

That evening Hosea, Jessie, Harriot, Chism, and Lily all rode to the Washington Depot and boarded a train for Philadelphia. Chism was overjoyed to be reunited with Harriot, his wife.

WASHINGTON, Thursday, January 9

Early in the morning Joseph's scribes were hard at work copying Captain Frémont's manuscript. Joseph had promised Jessie that he would return the original to the Captain, and send the copy to her.

In the mid-morning William Clayton took a break from writing and went down to the Post Office. He returned with a bundle of newspapers and letters, which were received gladly by the other men.

"A Nauvoo Neighbor... a letter for thee, Brother Neff... an' thee, Orson... an' a letter fro' my wife... ah! An' three for thee, Joseph."

Orson Spencer picked up a copy of the local newspaper and scanned the front page:

THE WASHINGTON UNION

January 8, 1845

DECISION OF THE CHISM CASE.

\-- Washington, January 8. -- Chief Justice Taney delivered yesterday the opinion of the U. S. Supreme Court in the Chism case. The points are that Chism is not a citizen; that he was not manumitted by being taken by his master when a slave into the then Territory of Illinois, and that the Missouri Compromise was an act unconstitutionally passed by Congress.

It is no novelty to find the Supreme Court following the lead of the Slavery Extension party, to which most of its members belong. Five of the Judges are slaveholders, and two of the other four owe their appointments to their facile ingenuity in making State laws bend to Federal demands in behalf of "the Southern institution."

Joseph eagerly broke the wax seal on his first letter and found that it was addressed to him by Eliza R. Snow. He was surprised to see that the letter was addressed from Montrose, not Nauvoo.

Montrose, December 25

My Dearest Brother Joseph Smith,

I write to you in haste and in all secrecy, praying that you handmaid's humble letter will not be lost or waylaid before it reaches you. The posts are unreliable as always here, and I shall take the precaution of sending two copies of this message to you, lest one or the other should fail in its course.

Our dear Sister Emma is not well. You are cognizant that ever since the birth of your son she has been listless and moody, and given to sudden outbursts and irrational behavior. Her condition has not improved since your departure. This past fortnight she spent in large part wandering the halls of the Mansion like Lady MacBeth, wringing her hands and crying. We, her sister-wives, have attempted to console her but to no avail. Dr. Richards fears for her sanity, but I reassured him that this is often "the curse of Eve" following a difficult childbirth, and that we almost always recover within a few months.

If this were the only ill tidings concerning Emma, I would forbear. But this morning during breakfast, on the sudden she announced to us all that she had decided to "pack her belongings and take her children with her to Washington, to live with her husband the President in the Executive Mansion, as it was her right and duty." She has now begun to style herself the "First Lady", and insists that we treat her as such. Where it will all end, I know not. We have succeeded for now in dissuading her from leaving Nauvoo in the dead of winter with her son of but one month, by advising her that you shall return promptly and convey her to Washington yourself.

I pray your forgiveness for my being the bearer of such sorrowful news, most especially in this season of your triumph, however I felt it my duty to apprise you of Emma's precarious condition. I must close quickly, as Emma grows suspicious of me. I shall essay to post this letter from a neighboring city, as the mails into and out of Nauvoo have nearly been stopped of late. Sister Mary Elizabeth Rollins sends her regards.

I am,

Yours eternally in the Gospel,

Eliza R. Snow

Joseph buried his head in his hands and sighed wearily.

"What am I to do? Brethren, what do you suggest I do?"

Orson Hyde was startled. This was not like Joseph, to throw up his hands. He said cautiously,

"Brother Joseph, the election is in God's hands now, or at any rate, in Congress's hands. I feel that your work here is done, and that you should return with all haste to Nauvoo."

William Clayton said, "I agree fullock wi' Orson. From Nauvoo, ye can take command o' the Legion an' proceed as the War Department 'as directed us. Ye can also begin ta' organize that expedition o' your'n ta' th' West."

Orson Spencer said, "I too agree. Your 'shadow cabinet' is already in place here, on the off-chance that Congress ever decides on the Presidency. I shall be happy to remain here and report to you as the affair plays out."

"Very well", Joseph said with a sigh. "I shall leave tomorrow." He picked up the second letter and looked at it dejectedly, then opened it.

January the 6th, 1845

To Mr. Joseph Smith, Washington.

Dear Sir,

I write to you in utmost confidentiality, to solicit your views on the current state of affairs with respect to our national government. As you are quite aware, I am sure, the recent election results have precipitated a deadlock in Congress over the issue of the presidency. Coming at so critical a juncture, with the South breathing secession and Mexico threatening Texas, and Great Britain hinting at invasion, I feel it is fair to say that our nation has never before been in such a precarious state of affairs.

It is with the greatest delicacy that I approach the subject of the chief magistracy of our Union. As no end is in sight to the stalemate in Congress, I have taken it upon myself to write to a few of the leading candidates for the presidency, with the suggestion that we meet to discuss this crisis. Time is of the essence; the longer we dally, the graver the situation shall become.

With these views in mind, and with the approbation of Mr. Tyler, we design to convene at the Executive Mansion at two o'clock on January the tenth. I have written to Mr. George Dallas, Mr. Henry Clay, and Mr. John Reid, inviting them to this conference as well.

Permit me to remind you again, these proceedings must be kept in the strictest secrecy. If word of this meeting gets out, the results could be catastrophic.

As an aside, I am pleased to inform you that Mr. James Arlington Bennett has been appointed Secretary of War, to replace Mr. Wilkins.

With hope for the future of our nation, I am most respectfully yours,

Congressman James K. Polk,

Speaker of the House

Orson Hyde said, "It looks like Wilkins and Douglas made good on their promise to appoint Arlington Bennett."

"Well, this is an interesting turn of affairs", said Joseph, rubbing his chin. He thought for a moment. "William, kindly write to Mr. Polk and thank him for his gracious invitation. Tell him that I must respectfully decline, as I have pressing business back home, et cetera."

Joseph picked up the third letter and opened it, then gazed at it in silence for some time. William and Orson moved around behind Joseph to read it with him:

UNITED STATES WAR DEPARTMENT

CONFIDENTIAL

To Mr. Joseph Smith,

Washington City, corner of Missouri and 3rd St.

January 7th, 1845.

Dear Sir,

As my first act as Secretary of War, I am pleased to offer you a regular commission in the United States Army. As there is no presently constituted rank of Lieutenant General in the U.S. Army, it will require an act of Congress in order for you to transfer your present militia rank to the regular army. I am prepared to make the case before Congress that unless you are continued as a Lieutenant General, the Nauvoo Legion will refuse to enlist. I think that by this means I can persuade enough in Congress to accept your commission – They must swallow the "whole medicine" or none at all.

Would you please inform me at the earliest, as to your decision in this matter. I am most respectfully,

James Arlington Bennett

United States Secretary of War

"Again, my answer is no", said Joseph, looking up. "This is precisely what my enemies have accused me of seeking. Well, they don't know me. A lesser man would leap at the chance to command the entire army of the United States, but I have no such pretensions. William, when you have recovered from your writer's cramp, would you please inform the new Secretary of War that I respectfully decline his gracious offer as well, et cetera."

NAUVOO, Thursday, January 9

Brigham Young wrote in his journal:

I met in council with the Twelve. The subject of sending a company to California was further discussed; also the propriety of sending to the branches of the Church abroad for teams to help the expedition.

CHARLESTON, Thursday, January 9

Shortly before midnight, the sloops Edisto and Catawba quietly rode the tide out of Charleston harbor under the command of Captain Raphael Semmes. Two things made Captain Semmes well suited to the task ahead of him: Earlier he had directed the seizure of Fort Moultrie, and he was from Maryland.

As soon as they were well clear of Fort Moultrie, both ships turned north and hoisted the new battle flag of the Republic of South Carolina – a white background, with a green rectangle in the upper left, emblazoned with the palm tree and crescent moon of South Carolina.
CHAPTER 28

WASHINGTON, Friday, January 10

Joseph Smith and William Clayton arose early and began packing for the long journey back to Nauvoo. After they had packed their bags, the two men sat down and Joseph dictated several letters – one to the Secretary of War, another to Jonathan Browning, and a third to General Stephen W. Kearny at St. Louis.

Just as William was finishing up the last letter there was a noise outside. William glanced out through the curtain just in time to see a heavy, four mule-team wagon come rumbling down the street, loaded with furniture and other household items. Following behind the wagon was a large coach.

Coor, 'at mule-skinner looks familiar, William thought. The man had long, scraggly black hair tied in a ponytail, and a full black beard.

Oh, no... he thought.

"What is it, William?" said Joseph.

William's jaw dropped and he said, "Joseph, I think ye better 'ave a look at this."

The wagon halted just outside their front door, and the mule-skinner jumped down. It was Porter Rockwell. He limped back to the coach, opened the door, and out stepped Emma holding little David, followed by Joseph the Third, Julia, Frederick, and Alexander.

Joseph rubbed his eyes and looked again, but his family was still there. He stood up, tried his best to compose himself, and walked briskly to the door and opened it.

"Emma, my dear, what a pleasant surprise!" he said, holding out his arms to her.

They embraced, and the children crowded around him and hugged him. Little Alexander wrapped his arms around Joseph's leg and held on tight. Joseph noticed that Frederick was shivering, and he picked him up and held him close.

Emma was beaming. "Joseph, I am so proud of you! My husband – Mister President of the United States!" she squealed.

Joseph looked over her shoulder to Porter, who pointed at his head and made a stirring motion.

"Come in, come in!" Joseph said, escorting them into the front room. He set Frederick down in front of the fireplace and wrapped a blanket around him, then he hurried back to hold David, now two months old.

Emma gave David to him, then she looked around in surprise and said, "Why, Joseph, whatever are you doing still living in this dreary boarding-house? Why haven't you yet moved into the Executive Mansion?"

"There have been several, ah, affairs of state that I had to attend to", he said hastily. "But I am, ah, headed directly to the Executive Mansion this afternoon! Perhaps we can arrange a, ah, tour for you and the children!"

She gave him a puzzled look. "A tour? Why, I should think so, and more! We have a great quantity of furniture to unload there. I nearly emptied our old mansion of furnishings in expectation of filling up our new one." She smiled at him sweetly.

Porter Rockwell rolled his eyes, then he left to tend to the mules.

William Clayton smiled and said, "Brother Joseph, d'ye wish me ta tear op those letters ta Mr. Polk an' Mr. Bennett?"

David looked up at Joseph and cooed. Joseph scowled at William, then he said,

"Yes, it appears that I am trapped here for the duration. You, on the other hand, are already packed. I have some letters for you to carry to Elder Young in Nauvoo. You shall leave this afternoon."

At about one o'clock Joseph packed his family into the carriage and headed south toward the Executive Mansion. They left little David in the care of the boarding-house mistress. As they rode down 16th Street and the Executive Mansion came in sight, Emma gasped and said,

"Oh, Joseph! I never dreamed it was so large... Why, it puts Solomon's palace to shame. However shall we fill up all those rooms, with our one wagon full of furnishings?"

Joseph said to her dryly, "I believe the previous occupants have done a fair job of furnishing it already, my dear."

Joseph dismounted from the carriage on the north lawn and helped Emma and the children down, then he turned to Porter and said,

"Port, the stables are just around the side there. We shall look for you around four o'clock."

"Sure thing, Joseph", Porter said. Emma whispered something in Porter's ear, and he rode off.

As they entered the circular Diplomatic Reception Room, Emma was ecstatic. "I just never imagined it could be this splendid..." she breathed.

Alexander ran over to examine the wallpaper – a panorama of thirty-two different block-printed scenes entitled "Views of North America". "Look, Papa, boats!" he cried, pointing to a scene of Boston Harbor.

An elegant young woman in a full-skirted white silk dress appeared and said, "May I assist you?"

Joseph bowed and said, "Mrs. Tyler, as I recall? My name is Joseph Smith, and this is my wife Emma, and our children – Joseph, Julia, Frederick, and Alexander."

Julia Tyler smiled delicately and said, "Of course I remember you. My husband is expecting you."

At the age of twenty-four, Mrs. Tyler was one of the youngest First Ladies to ever grace the Executive Mansion. The "Lady Presidentress" had married Mr. Tyler on June 26 of the previous year, shortly after the death of her father aboard the steamship Princeton.

"Mrs. Tyler, my wife is most anxious to see this great mansion. Would you be so gracious as to arrange for her a tour of the building? I have an important conference to attend."

"I would be pleased. Your conference, Mr. Smith, is in the Cabinet Room, directly up those stairs and to your right."

Joseph said, "Emma, my dearest, I shall meet you here when my business is completed. Now, if you will excuse me?"

He turned and headed quickly for the stairs to the main-floor cross hall.

Julia Tyler took the two eldest children by the hands and said, "Come, young Julia and Joseph, and I shall show you the house of the Presidents!"

Joseph hurried up the Grand Staircase to the marble-columned main floor. He thought:

How many times have I been down this hall? It almost feels like home...

Instantly, he dismissed the thought. He passed the door to the Blue Room and approached a liveried servant standing guard outside the Cabinet Room. Joseph showed him his carte-de-visite, and he was silently ushered into the room.

Surrounding a long, ornate walnut table were six of the most powerful men in America: President John Tyler; Congressman James K. Polk and his Vice-Presidential running-mate George Dallas; Senator Henry Clay and his former running-mate Theodore Frelinghuysen; and John Reid, Joseph Smith's running-mate.

"Ah! Mr. Smith, come in!" said Tyler. He had obviously mellowed to Joseph since their last encounter. "Please, do be seated."

Joseph took a seat at the end of the table. There was an uneasy silence, as the seven men eyed each other. Finally Tyler said,

"Y' know, this reminds me of nothin' so much as a game o' whist. Gentlemen, I suggest we all lay our cards on th' table."

Henry Clay snorted. "It seems t' me, Mr. President, that you hold th' weakest hand. In two months, yo' name'll be history – that is, if any one even cares to rememba' you. Pussonaly, I don't."

"Maybe so", Tyler said defensively, "But I still have friends in Congress, an' I can sign a veto faster 'an you can say Andrew Jackson."

Polk laughed derisively. "Do you honestly believe, 'Your Accidency', that you can still rely on your dwindling coterie of friends in Congress? Why, they very nearly impeached you two years ago! You are a chameleon, a 'Whigocrat', a weathervane!"

Tyler said acidly, "Then permit me t' show you my hand. If a new President isn't chosen by March the fourth, I have enough votes lined up in Congress t' pass a continuin' resolution, which would maintain me in office from month t' month, indefinitely!"

He smiled at them haughtily. So there... he thought.

John Reid scoffed. "Continuing resolution? I know of no such provision in the Constitution. Or have you taken upon you the mantle of Chief Justice, as well as chief cook and bottle-washer?"

Clay said, "I agree with you, Reid. That dog don't hunt. I was ten years old when th' Constitution was written, an' I have long since committed most of it to memory. Th' American people will not accept a rotatin' leadership or 'timocracy', such as the ancient Greeks toyed with."

"I'm reminded of a more recent event", Frelinghuysen said darkly. "Namely, the French Revolution. Just fifty years ago, the Committee of Public Safety attempted to restore order to France. The powers of the committee were renewed monthly by the National Convention from April 1793 to July of 1794. T'was a classic timocracy, that."

"A period known to history as the Reign of Terror", said George Dallas with a shudder. "The Jacobins, Girondists, Montagnards, and other parties fairly drenched France in blood. Have we come to this pass, do you think?"

"We may 'ave", said Tyler, leaning forward. "Where once we had two parties nicely balanced 'gainst one 'nother, we now have a baker's dozen."

He ticked them off on his fingers.

"No'thern Whigs, Southern Whigs, No'thern an' Southern Democrats, National Reformists, th' Libe'ty Party, Barn-burners, Hunkers, Know-nothin's, Native Americans, Copperheads..."

Henry Clay said glumly, "I wish ol' John Marshall was here, he'd know what to do. Or even ol' Dan Webster..."

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Tyler entered. She said nervously,

"Sirs, I apologize for the intrusion. Mr. Tyler, Sir, there is a wild man out on the south lawn with a wagon load of furniture. He says he is here to deliver it."

President Tyler raised an eyebrow and said, "Fu'niture? I don't recall orderin' any fu'niture. Tell 'im t' stack it in the East Room. An' Julia, kindly see to it that we ah' not disturbed."

Mrs. Tyler excused herself, and a gloomy silence fell upon the room. Finally, Tyler turned to Joseph Smith and said,

"Mr. Smith, you've had nothin' t' say thus fa'. Tell me, what would you suggest we do?"

Joseph had been distracted by thoughts about the East Room and his old four-poster bed. He realized with a shock,

They don't have a clue how to proceed! They are looking to me for answers! Tyler has as good as abdicated!

He cleared his throat and said,

"Gentlemen, permit me to wear my prophet's hat for a moment. As I look around this room, I am reminded not of a whist-table, but of a scripture in the Bible:

'For wheresoever the carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together.'

"Twelve years ago, I prophesied that 'The Southern States shall be divided against the Northern States, beginning at the rebellion of South Carolina'. At that time, Mr. Clay, as you well recall, South Carolina was embroiled in the Nullification issue, and there was a very real chance of civil war. Fortunately, President Jackson quickly ended the rebellion."

There was another knock at the door. Tyler said crossly, "Yes, what is it now?"

Emma opened the door. Behind her, Joseph could see a rather disheveled Julia Tyler waving frantically. Emma said excitedly,

"Joseph, I have found the perfect place for our bedstead on the second floor! May I show you?"

"Not now Emma, but later, thank you. Would you kindly excuse us?"

Emma shut the door. The other men looked at Joseph curiously. Joseph tried to pick up the threads of his conversation.

"Ahem... Ah, gentlemen, I am not the cause of the present difficulties; neither is it my place to say, 'I told you thus and so'. But if I may, I would like to delineate for you the long and tortuous path that has led us to this crisis."

Joseph turned and faced Henry Clay. "Mr. Clay, you have been present at every twist and turn of that long road, ever since our founding fathers ratified a Constitution that sanctioned slavery. You know that path better than any living man! You, as a slave-holder, have acquiesced, apologized, compromised, and rationalized slavery at every step of the way. The Missouri Compromise of 1820, which some consider your crowning achievement, merely delayed the inevitable. You were not alone in these deliberations, but you laid the bricks and mortar for most of them."

Henry Clay was not used to being spoken to this way. He bristled and said,

"How dare you address me this way, you impertinent rube! I was practicin' law afore you were born! I will not sit here another minute an' listen to some backwoods muggins lecture me on the Constitution!"

Clay reached for his hat and began to stand, but Tyler reached over and restrained him.

"Oh, come now, Henry, even a muggins may have somethin' wise t' say now an' then. Let's withhold judgment 'till Mr. Smith has said his piece. As you may ree-call, I opposed th' Compromise o' 1820 in Congress, an' I was not alone."

Clay sat down again, fuming.

Joseph stood and faced the men. He spread his hands and said,

"Rather than mollifying the various pro and anti-slavery factions, these ill-conceived measures have only served to aggravate them. The recent Supreme Court decision of Chism vs. Missouri is the very capstone of that misguided policy. Well, the crisis is upon us."

He paused, looked around the room and said,

"Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand."

There was a muffled crash from the Blue Room across the hall.

Joseph sat down. He spread his hands again and said, "Gentlemen, the issues before us transcend petty jealousies and regional differences. The occasion is piled high with difficulty. As Benjamin Franklin put it, 'We must all hang together, or we shall all hang separately'. If we don't save this nation, who shall? Congress?"

"Not likely..." John Reid mumbled.

"Mr. Frelinghuysen, I believe there is much to recommend in your idea of a presiding committee or council, ad interim. But it must be carried out in the broad light of day. Without the consent of the governed, we shall become just another secret combination to be stamped out! We must not sidestep Congress, nor the people."

By now, Joseph could see that he had their full attention, if not their full agreement – Henry Clay was still scowling. President Tyler nodded his head and said,

"Mr. Smith, I believe this idea has merit; at any rate, it may be th' best we can hope for at this time. I would be happy t' draw up a bill an' pree-sent it befo' Congress. But I see no reason t' hurry th' matter, as I am still th' President 'till March th' fourth. 'Till that time, I'm sure y'all understand that this is an advisory council only, a sort o' shadow cabinet."

Suddenly, young Joseph the Third burst into the room, followed by his younger brothers Frederick and Alexander. Young Joseph cried excitedly,

"Papa, Fred just busted Columbus' head all to flinders!"

"Did not!" bawled Frederick.

"Did so!"

"Boys, come here", Joseph said firmly. He put his arm around young Joseph and set Frederick and Alexander on his lap, then he said gently,

"Now, not another word until I'm finished." Frederick stopped sniffling. Joseph said,

"Gentlemen, behold the future of our nation."

This brought chuckles from several of the men; Polk could hardly restrain himself.

Joseph continued, "I am reminded of an old story about Benjamin Franklin. After he signed the Constitution, he looked at a carving of the sun on the back of George Washington's chair and said, 'I have often, in the course of the session, looked at that sun behind the President without being able to tell whether it was rising or setting. But now at length I have the happiness to know that it is a rising and not a setting sun.'

"I feel more hopeful for our nation now than I did even an hour ago. Gentlemen, may we agree to meet again as a committee, this next Monday?"

As the meeting adjourned and the men went their separate ways, Julia Tyler grabbed her husband's arm and hustled him off to a private corner.

"John, are you insane?" she hissed. "That crazy woman, Mrs. Smith, intends to move in with us along with her husband and her bratty children! She thinks this is a boarding house! You must put a stop to this!"

John Tyler pondered this for a moment, then he laid his hand on her shoulder and smiled.

"Look, my dearest – In two months we'll be gone from here backta' Sherwood Forest in Virginia. If Mr. Smith wants t' install himself an' his family here, it's all right by me. He's as deservin' of it as any o' these other men, at any rate, an' this is a large enough house fo' all of us."

Porter Rockwell shuffled past them, trying to balance Emma's large spinning wheel on his back.

"Where's she want this?" he puffed.

"Up those stairs, straight down the hall to your left", Julia pointed in resignation.

WASHINGTON, Saturday, January 11

Shortly before noon, Orson Spencer returned to the boarding-house with a letter for Joseph. As Orson handed it to Joseph, he noticed with a start that the red wax seal bore the elegant imprint of the United States Capitol building.

Joseph broke the seal and began reading aloud:

IN CONGRESS, January the tenth, 1845

AN ACT,

For the establishment of the rank of Lieutenant-General in the United States Army, and the commissioning of officers thereunto,

WHEREAS,

The U.S. statute at large dated May 8, 1792 established the rank of major general as the supreme rank in the United States Army, and,

WHEREAS,

President John Adams commissioned General George Washington a lieutenant general and commander-in-chief of said army on July the third, 1798, thereby contravening the provisions of the statute of 1792,

BE IT KNOWN THEREFORE,

That the statute of May 8, 1792 is hereby amended to include the following language:

The supreme line officers' rank of the United States Army shall be that of lieutenant general, said rank to be bestowed at the pleasure of Congress at such times and places as necessity shall dictate. The President of the United States shall have sole power to withdraw this appointment, and that only for sound and just cause, including but not limited to treason, high crimes and misdemeanors.

BE IT KNOWN FURTHERMORE,

That under the provisions of this act, Congress has appointed Mr. Joseph Smith, Jr. of Illinois to said rank, with all of the rights, duties, and emoluments thereunto appertaining.

DONE, this tenth day of January, 1845, and of the independence of the United States the sixty-ninth.

John Tyler

President of the United States.

When Joseph had finished reading, the room was silent for a minute as each man pondered the implications. Finally, Orson said in awe,

"Joseph, do you realize what this means? You will be the highest ranking officer in the United States Army. Why, no one since George Washington has ever held the rank of Lieutenant General. You will be unimpeachable. As a matter of fact, there is only one man in the entire nation who will outrank you, and that is the President of the United States – at least, until March fourth."

"The Lord's hand is in this", Joseph said softly. "The Constitution is now hanging by a thread, and it may be only the Elders of Israel who can save it. I never wished for it, but God has ordained me to this calling."

Later this day Joseph Smith met with Secretary of War James Arlington Bennett and Secretary of the Navy John Y. Mason in the first floor Map Room of the Executive Mansion. Also present were Generals Winfield Scott and Zachary Taylor, as well as George Anderson, Joseph's future Navy Secretary; Commodore Matthew Perry, and Jonathan Browning. General Taylor was accompanied by his young Adjutant, Lieutenant Robert E. Lee.

The Map Room was elegantly decorated in the Chippendale style, with richly upholstered Queen Anne chairs and walnut map cabinets. On the east wall hung a map of Colonial America which had been charted by Thomas Jefferson's father, Peter Jefferson, in 1755.

As soon as Lieutenant Lee entered the room, he froze in his tracks and pointed at Joseph Smith.

"You!" he said. "Whea's ma steamboat money?"

Joseph blushed as the other men turned to face him, puzzled. Joseph explained,

"Ahem... Gentlemen, Lieutenant Lee and myself are in litigation over the fate of a steamboat, the Des Moines, which I purchased from him several years ago for five thousand dollars. Shortly after the purchase, the steamer, renamed Nauvoo, was wrecked on a shoal. About that same time I filed a writ of bankruptcy with the State of Illinois, in the expectation that I would be cleared of the steamboat debt, amongst others. Lieutenant Lee disputes that claim."

General Taylor pondered this for a moment, then he harrumphed. "Very well... Now, can we get back to the war at hand?"

Joseph cast his gaze around the room, painfully aware that nearly every man save him was a graduate of West Point or had come up through the ranks of the Navy. He said,

"Thank you, General Taylor. We have much to discuss. First of all, I readily concede that although I now outrank all the military men here present, any one of you easily exceeds me in military experience. These four stars on my epaulettes can scarcely take the shine off of Generals Taylor and Scott here, who have both served our nation faithfully since I was but an infant. General Taylor is a veteran of the War of 1812, and knows the field of battle better than any man in America. I shall rely heavily on your collective wisdom, gentlemen, but as always in military matters, the final decision shall rest with myself and the President."

Joseph turned to face Zachary Taylor. "General, what is the situation in the South at this time?"

"Ahem, ah, difficult to say", said Taylor. "So far, only South Carolina has formally withdrawn from the Union, but most of the Southern States are sympathetic to her. Georgia is teetering on the brink. All of the Federal fortifications in Georgia and South Carolina have been seized, including Fort Moultrie in Charleston harbor, and the still incomplete Fort Pulaski."

Lieutenant Lee spoke up. "Ah was the commanda' in cha'ge of the con-struction o' Fort Pulaski, dah'n neah' Savannah. We av' spent sixteen yeah's buildin' that fort, an' beggin' yo pa'don suh, hits a damn shame ta lose hit this close'ta hit's com-pletion."

General Taylor continued. "Numerous militia units are on the move towards South Carolina from various states, some from as far away as Louisiana. So far, there is no concerted effort to form a unified army command. The North on the other hand, can easily put 75,000 men into the field in under six months. We have a unified chain of command, starting right here, and even a plan of action – I call it my 'Anaconda Plan' – to squeeze the South until they surrender."

Joseph was impressed. "The sooner we move, the better. I don't want this rebellion dragging on for four or five years. If we hesitate, more states are likely to join South Carolina, making the task that much more difficult."

"Then I suggest we proceed with my 'Little Anaconda' plan" said Taylor, pointing to a map of South Carolina. "If we try to march an army through Virginia and North Carolina, we risk alienating those states as well. General Scott here has devised a plan for an amphibious landing at Port Royal, South Carolina. This would cut the rail line between Savannah and Charleston. We swing left and capture Savannah, then right and capture Charleston. From there, the army will sweep north towards the state capital at Columbia.

"At the same time, a flotilla of steamboats will transport another army up the Tennessee River as far as Chattanooga. This army will cross the Great Smoky Mountains and attack Columbia from the northwest. If we're fortunate, we might even catch ol' John Calhoun with his pants down."

"And how long would this campaign last, in your estimation?" said Joseph.

"Six months at most, probably less", Taylor replied confidently, leaning back. "Of course, nothing can happen until Congress authorizes the funds to pay for all this. Not a single bean, bullet, or bandage can be procured without their approval, you know. And that will never happen, in my estimation, until all diplomatic efforts have failed."

WASHINGTON, Saturday, January 11

The Daily National Intelligencer

ANOTHER MORMON SPIRITUAL WIFE ABDUCTION

MRS. FRÉMONT SEIZED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT

We are informed that Jessie Benton Frémont, wife of the distinguished explorer and cartographer, Captain John Charles Frémont, was abducted in broad daylight from Washington on the 8th inst. along with two Negro slaves, by agents of the "Mormon" prophet, Joe Smith. A black servant of Senator John C. Calhoun witnessed the whole dastardly deed, which he reported immediately to the authorities. He reported that Mrs. Frémont put up a brave resistance to this unlawful act of kidnapping, but that she was ultimately overpowered.

We can only assume with horror and trepidation that General Joe's rowdys have spirited her off to the prophet's harem in Nauvoo, Illinois, where she will be obliged to join her other "sister wives" there in submitting herself to this charlatan's blandishments.

We call upon the authorities of this city and nation to finally put an end to these repeated and outrageous abductions by Mormon elders. It is high time that the "Modern Mahomet" Joe Smith was called to account for his monstrous acts. Until that time, we fear for the safety of every female who walks the streets of this city.

WHEELING, Sunday, January 12

Hosea Stout, Jessie and Lily Frémont , Chism and Harriot all paused in Wheeling for the day. Hosea found a comfortable hotel near the Ohio River steamboat landing, and he and Jessie had their dinner in the main dining hall at about six p.m., while Lily ate with Chism and Harriot in the kitchen.

Hosea stuffed his napkin into his shirt as a bib, and eagerly tucked into his plate of mutton stew with his knife. Jessie sat unmoving, observing him.

Hosea paused and looked up, his mouth full.

"Forgive me ma'am, do I offend you?" he mumbled.

"Ah suppose not", she said airily. "In Savannah and Richmond, it is considered propah to place the serviette upon one's lap, an' to raise the fork to one's mouth, not the knife. But west of the Alleghenies, per'aps different customs prevail. As ma mother would say, chacun a son gout."

"Shockin aso goo?" he responded, puzzled.

She ignored him and motioned delicately to the waiter.

"Garcon, a glass of red wine, please?"

The waiter rolled his eyes and mumbled something, then he returned in a few minutes with a dusty red bottle which he placed still corked on the table.

Hosea smiled. "Now where I come from, that would be a true indiscretion."

"What, the corked bottle?"

"No, drinking wine or any other spirituous drink. Our Brother Joseph Smith has advised us against imbibing such things."

"I see", she said as she struggled with her knife, levering the cork out of the bottle with a pop.

"An' what other worldly pleasures has yo' Mista' Smith placed his seal of interdict upon?"

"Tobacco, for one", he said, looking around the room. Several men were lighting cigars, and the air was quickly turning blue with smoke.

"Now there, we ah in agreement", she said, sniffing the bottle with distaste. "Ah may be a Virginian, but the oda' of tobacco has always nauseated me."

She poured a glass of wine and sipped it delicately, then wrinkled her nose.

"Sour?" he asked.

"Pure vinegar", she said with a shudder, setting the glass down. "Ah should have known, this is bourbon country, not the French Champagne."

Hosea went back to eating with his knife. Presently Jessie said,

"Tell me, Mista' Stout, what is yo' occupation – that is, when you are not impersonatin' a soldier or some strange woman's husband?"

He smiled. "I'm the Chief of Police in Nauvoo. It's not a particularly hard occupation; Nauvoo is such a peaceful, orderly place, our chief difficulties come from outside the city, not from within. I make the daily rounds of the city, meet with the policemen and give them their assignments, and occasionally stand watch. All quite routine."

"Do you have a family?" she said.

He paused. "Why yes, I do..."

"Oh..." she said, lowering her eyes.

"I'm quite happily married now, to my second wife", he said, lowering his voice.

"So, you are divorced and remarried?" she said.

"No, my first wife Sumantha died shortly after we left Missouri. My second wife's name is Louisa. We have been married a little over four years. We have two sons, William and Hyrum. We had a daughter, Lydia, who died in 1842."

"Ah'm so sorry... ah mean, uh, about your, ah, first wife", she stammered, blushing.

He looked at her with a puzzled expression, then he went back to eating with his knife.

NAUVOO, Sunday, January 12

Elder Heber C. Kimball preached to the Saints in the Concert Hall on the subject of increase and expansion. Elder Orson Pratt advanced an idea pertaining to the magnitude of the planetary system, illustrative of the enlargement of the Saints.

WHEELING, Monday, January 13

Early in the morning Hosea walked down to the boat landing to see about obtaining passage down the Ohio River. He found that the docks were empty, the few remaining steamboats were laid up for the winter, and the river was nearly frozen over. Disappointed, he returned to the hotel.

"We may have to travel overland", he said, rubbing his hands to warm them. "Either that, or we wait here until the spring thaw. Neither prospect appeals to me."

"What shall we do?" Jessie said anxiously.

"The overland route is too treacherous this time of year", he replied. "It could take us a solid month or more. I won't risk your safety, nor Lily's for that matter. I suggest we wait here a few days."

"An' in the mean time?" she asked.

"We pray for an early spring thaw", he replied matter-of-factly.

WASHINGTON, Monday, January 13

The Executive Committee re-convened in the Cabinet Room for their second "unofficial" meeting. Several rules of procedure were voted on and approved, to wit:

1. All official decisions of the Committee, subsequent to March 4th, must be unanimous.

2. Each man on the Committee shall serve as Chairman for one month, rotating in alphabetic order starting with Henry Clay.

3. The Committee shall strictly adhere to the powers and limitations of the Presidency as set forth in the Constitution, with respect to the other two branches of government and the people.

4. President John Tyler is and shall be the President of the United States, with all powers thereunto appertaining, until the 4th of March 1845. This Committee shall have no authority to override his decisions so long as he remains in office.

Henry Clay seemed to relish his new role as the near quasi-president of the U.S. – a position he had coveted for decades.

"Let's get down to bidness", he said, rubbing his hands. "Mista' Smith, I un'erstand 'at you met with the War Depa'tment last week? Fo' what pu'pose, may I ask?"

Joseph paused, then he said cautiously,

"I discussed with Generals Taylor and Scott a general plan of military action, in the event that force is required to preserve the Union."

A frosty silence fell upon the room.

Clay drummed his fingers on the table. "Mista' Smith, look around this room. How many Southern, pro-slavery men d'you count?"

Joseph did a quick calculation. "Three, at the least."

"D'you really expect to get th' approval o' this committee so's you can go marchin' off through Virginia an' North Carolina at the head of the Grande Armee, like Bonaparte through the steppes of Russia? My God man, if Congress gits wind o' this you just might git yo' wish! The Southern States will not submit to bullyin'!"

"I am prepared to use whatever means are necessary to preserve this country, force included!" Joseph replied stoutly. "We cannot woo South Carolina back by singing lullabies to her. In my estimation, we have waited far too long as it is. I sincerely hope it shan't be necessary for us to use force; however as Lieutenant General of the Army I now have full authority to pursue whatever military action is appropriate to put down this rebellion."

"He's got y' there, Henry", said John Tyler. "General Smith doesn't need this committee's authorization t' field an army – only Congress's, an' only the President can impeach him. And I'm the President, remember?"

Clay scowled. "Very well!" he snapped. "But I warn you, General Smith, you ah pursuing a very dangerous course! What started out as a simple disagreement ova' states rights is fast becomin' an armed insurrection. What d'you intend next, Bonaparte, a coup d'etat?"

"No, but I shall keep you informed if I do", Joseph replied dryly.

BALTIMORE, Monday, January 13, evening

At about 9 p.m. the sloops Catawba and Edisto quietly sailed up the Patapsco River towards Baltimore. About two miles east of Fort McHenry the two ships parted ways. The Catawba continued on and tied up at the dock directly north of the fort, while the Edisto proceeded into the inner harbor and docked at the foot of Russell Street.

As soon as the Edisto was docked, 200 South Carolina Marines quietly debarked and fanned out through Baltimore to secure the city. With the help of pro-slavery sympathizers, they quickly seized the railroad depots, city hall, the arsenal, and the Merchant's Shot Tower.

Another 200 Marines debarked from Captain Semmes' flagship Catawba and slipped noiselessly up to the main entrance to Fort McHenry. As it was peacetime, the fort was only occupied by a small garrison of about fifty men, and the gates were wide open. The Marines stormed the entrance, fanned out across the parade ground, and in a few minutes the fort was theirs.

Captain Semmes' first act, upon seizing the fort, was to raise the South Carolina palm-and-crescent battle flag up the same flagpole that had carried Francis Scott Key's famous Star-Spangled Banner, just thirty-one years before.
CHAPTER 29

WASHINGTON, Monday, January 13, evening

Late in the evening Orson Spencer rode down to the Capitol Building in Washington to return Captain Frémont's original manuscript to the Topographical Office. Joseph had advised him to return it quietly, if possible, but as always to let the spirit guide him.

Orson tied up his horse on the east side of the building at about 10 p.m. and quietly approached the entrance. There was no night watchman in sight, so he boldly walked through the second floor entrance and descended the stairs to the crypt. Following Hosea Stout's directions he looked around, crossed the circular crypt and headed north until he found the cross hall and the office of the Bureau of Topographical Engineers.

Orson listened carefully for a moment. No one home, he thought.

He used Jessie's keys to open the door, entered, and quickly found the bureau drawer where the manuscript belonged. He replaced the manuscript and locked the office door behind him.

There, that's done, he thought, relieved.

Orson was just crossing the crypt again when he heard a soft clicking sound.

Woodpeckers – in a marble building? he thought.

The sound was coming from a room just off the south side of the crypt. Curious, he walked towards the sound, and found himself outside the double doors of the Supreme Court Chamber.

Click-click... click, click... click-click... click, click... The sound was too repetitive for a woodpecker.

Orson looked around, tested the door, and found it was unlocked. He entered the darkened chamber and the sound immediately increased in volume. It was coming from the far corner – from Dr. Morse's electric telegraph.

I thought they had dismantled that contraption. What is going on?

Orson approached the machine and watched the electric relay move up and down:

..--.. ..--.. ..--..

Someone in Baltimore must have something very important to say, if they would chance sending it here to an empty chamber at this time of night, he thought. What does it mean?

He turned a gas lamp up slightly and looked around the table. He opened a drawer in the table and found a piece of paper glued to it which said,

Dr. Morse's Telegraphic Code

Now we're getting somewhere, he thought. What does ..--.. ..--.. ..--.. mean?

He scanned down the sheet until a pattern caught his eye:

..--.. QUERY (Question mark)

They're waiting for someone to answer! he realized with a shock. What do I say?

He wound up the clockwork recording mechanism, released the catch, and a long strip of paper began slowly unwinding from the machine. Now, the ..--.. pattern was imprinted on the paper.

He scanned the code sheet again, then he hesitantly pressed the send key four times:

-.-- Y

Instantly, a stream of dots and dashes flooded out of the machine:

.-. . -... . .-.. ... .- - - .- -.-. -.- -... .- .-.. - ..

Suddenly the clicking stopped. Orson could hear his own pulse beating.

I don't have time to decipher this, he thought. But it must be terribly important.

He pressed the send key again:

-.-- Y

That's the best I can do for him, he thought.

He stared at the first few sets of hen scratches on the paper, then he tried to compare them with the code sheet.

Come here, Mr. Morse, I need you...

Aha! dot-dash-dot: the letter R.

A single dot – that's easy, the letter E.

In less than a minute he had the first word: R E B E L

He stared at the word for a moment, his mind racing. Suddenly there was a thump at the double doors to the chamber, as the night watchman checked to see that they were closed. Orson quickly doused the gas light and waited until the watchman had moved on, then he tore off the strip of paper and quietly exited the building. He mounted his horse and galloped up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Executive Mansion.

When Orson Spencer was finally admitted to the second floor of the Mansion, he found Joseph and Emma comfortably seated in front of the fireplace, with their children gathered around them. Emma was rocking young David in a chair, and Joseph was reading from the Book of Mormon:

"Wherefore, this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring. And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them; wherefore, they shall never be brought down into captivity;"

Joseph looked up, startled. "Brother Orson! What's wrong?"

Orson panted, "I don't know... was leaving the Capitol... found this..."

He handed the roll of paper to Joseph and collapsed into a chair, completely winded.

Joseph squinted at the marks on the paper. "Now this is curious..." He looked up. "This must be from Dr. Morse's telegraph, is that correct?"

Orson had regained some of his composure.

"It was clattering away when I passed the Supreme Court chamber, and I didn't know what else to do. Joseph, it must be important – the first word is 'REBEL', I think. But there can't be more than a half dozen people in the world who can decipher the rest of the code. I couldn't bring the decoding table with me. What should we do with this?"

Joseph smiled. "It can't be all that complicated... Mind you, it's not Reformed Egyptian, but something rather like. Let me study it."

Joseph sat down at a table with the strip of paper in front of him and bowed his head for several minutes. Then he took up a pencil and began writing letters above the marks:

REBELS ATAK BALT FT MCHNRY SZD RAILS CUT WIL SEND TIL FOUND WHO U? MORSE

Joseph and Orson stared at the message. Emma came and stood behind Joseph and looked over his shoulder.

"Joseph, what is it?" she said anxiously.

Joseph turned to Orson and said, "I want you to tell the President. He should be down the hall there, on the left. Don't let anyone stop you, and tell him it is urgent. I'll go and find the Secretary of War."

At about 11 p.m. Joseph Smith reached the home of the new Secretary of War, James Arlington Bennett. The Secretary was not at all pleased at being roused from bed, until Joseph explained the situation to him.

"And you tell me this strip of paper says, 'Rebels attack Baltimore?' I've worked with ciphers before as a newsman, but I've never seen the likes of this. Wherever did you come by it, Joseph?"

"It's a long story", said Joseph. "Suffice to say, this message was sent by Dr. Samuel Morse from Baltimore scarcely over an hour ago. He was, or rather is eyewitness to the whole event. If we can maintain contact with Morse, it could be a great advantage to us."

Bennett stared at the strip of paper. "This isn't much to go on... I'll try to scare up an operata' for this 'telegraph' contraption. In the mean time, we must see to the defense of Washington. For all we know, there could be more of these 'rebels' out there just waiting to seize this city, too." He paused, then he squinted at Joseph.

"And just how did you manage to decipher this message?" he said.

"Again, that's a very long story", Joseph replied. "Very long, indeed..."

BALTIMORE, Tuesday, January 14

When the citizens of Baltimore awoke this morning, they found a strange new flag flying over all the public places. Several regiments of Maryland militia had mutinied and gone over to the rebel side. Together with Captain Semmes' Marines they had seized control of the city, including the docks, railroads, gasworks, city hall, the Shot Tower, and all of the harbor forts, including Forts McHenry, Covington, Wood, and Babcock.

There was much surprise at this turn of events, but little opposition, as Baltimore was one of the staunchest states-rights, pro-slavery cities in the U.S. Within a few hours several impromptu parades had been organized, and the few remaining federal officials and sympathizers had been run out of town.

All but one, that is. Samuel Morse was still hunkered down inside his booth at the Mount Clare Railroad Station. Every so often he would emerge and casually wander around town, and then he would return to his booth and secretly rattle off a short stream of code to Washington. By now there was an operator on the other end who could decipher his dots and dashes, and the messages painted a grim picture of the situation in Baltimore.

In Washington, Joseph Smith called a meeting of the War and Navy Departments in the Map Room of the Executive Mansion.

"This was a very shrewd plan", Secretary Bennett said to him. "In a single stroke, South Carolina has succeeded in enveloping Washington and cuttin' it off from the northern states. Where the next blow will come from I can only speculate, but I'm reasonably certain the rebels hope to seize Washington. That would be an incredible fait accompli, one from which the North could not possibly recover."

"How many troops do we have here in the District?" Joseph Smith asked.

"About one regiment of regular Army, a reasonably trustworthy lot. But we're surrounded by Virginia and Maryland state militias with decidedly mixed loyalties."

"I want a loyalty oath to be administered to every regular soldier and officer", said Joseph. "I shall draw it up myself. If they refuse to sign, drum them out of the Army. This is no time to be swapping knives. I would also suggest that you post a platoon of soldiers near the Capitol and the Executive Mansion."

"A very prudent suggestion, General Smith. I'll see to it immediately", said the Secretary. "I think by now we can all see the utility of this new electric telegraphic device. I'll see to it that the lines are extended from the Capitol to the Executive Mansion and the War Department Building next door to it, as soon as possible."

Joseph said, "I want the Corps of Engineers to immediately draw up a plan for a ring of fortifications surrounding Washington City. I have a vision of this plan, based on an ancient city far, far south of here, that should work equally well in our day.

"My final task is to inform the press concerning this crisis. I'm reminded of a similar event that took place on this continent many centuries ago, and of one man's patriotic response to it."

At 10 a.m. Congress convened. Word of the rebellion in Baltimore had quickly spread, and the House and Senate chambers were in turmoil. Some Southern congressmen were quietly exultant at the news, while others feared a Northern backlash. Without exception, the Northern congressmen were furious at the audacity of South Carolina. Several actions were hurriedly proposed by the various factions:

Evacuate Washington.

Fortify Washington.

Declare war on South Carolina.

Sue for peace with South Carolina.

Emancipate all the slaves in the District and draft them into the Army.

Send a delegation to Baltimore to negotiate peace with the rebels.

On the floor of the Senate Chamber the wrangling was intense, and it was not long before President Pro Tempore Willie Mangum lost all control of the proceedings. Before very much longer, the Senators left off trading insults and began trading blows.

Senator Bagby of Alabama drew his hickory cane and took a vicious swing at John Fairfield of Maine. Fairfield parried the blow but fell to the floor, and Bagby swung at him again. George Evans came to Fairfield's aid, and Haywood of North Carolina waded in. Berrien of Georgia drew a boot derringer and fired at Semple of Illinois, wounding him in the arm. The brawl quickly spread, and soon the Senators were crashing over desks, throwing inkwells, and swinging fists, canes and umbrellas at each other in a grande melee. When word of the altercation reached the Hall of the House, another battle erupted there.

When the dust finally settled, the Northern "Conscience Whigs" had clearly carried the day. About half the Southern Senators, nearly all of them Democrats, picked up their belongings and left the Senate Chamber en masse. In the Hall of the House, a similar Democratic exodus took place.

Suddenly, the whole political balance in America had shifted. What once had been a near even deadlock between Whigs and Democrats was now reduced to 14 Democrats, 21 Whigs, and one Liberty Party man in the Senate, and 74 Democrats and 145 Whigs in the House.

This was exactly what the pro-Union, anti-slavery factions had been waiting for. Their first act was to overturn the hated House Rule 21, also known as the "gag rule", which had prohibited even the discussion of abolition and slavery in the House since 1836. Next, they quickly ramrodded a set of bills through both houses which outlawed slavery in the District of Columbia, authorized the enlistment of 75,000 soldiers and sailors for six months, and declared war on South Carolina.

The Senate went one step further, and passed a bill prohibiting slavery in any future states admitted to the Union. They also selected George M. Dallas as the next Vice-President.

WHEELING, Wednesday, January 15

There had been no break in the cold weather since Hosea and Jessie arrived. They were just sitting down to breakfast this morning when Hosea heard a crunching and grinding sound outside near the riverboat landing, followed by the cheerful toot of a steamboat whistle. Overjoyed, he sprinted for the hotel door and ran outside. Sure enough, a small steamboat was just tying up at the landing – the General Brooke.

Hosea was not the only person looking for passage downstream, and a small crowd quickly formed at the landing. As soon as the gangway was lowered there was a great clamor to board the steamboat, but at that moment an army captain came down the gangway and waved his arms.

"Sorry folks, this here ain't a packet boat. We's here on gov'mint bidness fro' Pittsbug, roundin' up re-cruits fo' the U.S. Army an' the Re-public o' Texas. Nah, 'less you wants ta take orders from me er' ol' Sam Houston fer the next six months, you'd best wait fer the next boat."

There were groans of disappointment from the crowd, and most of them drifted back to the warmth of the hotel.

Hosea had a flash of inspiration. He approached the army captain, saluted him and said,

"Excuse me, sir. I'm a general in the Illinois Militia, and I urgently need to return to my unit. Are you by chance headed to St. Louis?"

The captain looked at Hosea's uniform and saluted him back.

"Gen'ral, huh? Wha', son, we got a special cabin made up jist fer m'litia gen'rals, rah't up thar on th' Texas deck!"

Hosea was a bit surprised by his sudden good fortune. "I, ah, also have several others in my company here", he said cautiously.

"So much the betta'!" grinned the captain. "Bring 'em on dah'n, an' we'll 'nlist 'em too!"

Late that evening, Hosea brought the rest of his "company" down to the landing and managed to slip them aboard the General Brooke. The army captain was not pleased when he found out some time later that Hosea's "company" consisted of a white woman, two slaves, and a three year old girl, but he considered it a fair trade for one general, even if he was only a militia general and not the real article after all.

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, January 15

On this day, word reached Washington that the General Assembly of the State of Georgia had voted to secede from the United States and join South Carolina in forming a "Confederacy".

The Executive Committee met again at the Executive Mansion. Theodore Frelinghuysen and John Reid were conspicuously absent, since the election of George Dallas as Vice-President had made their presence superfluous. The committee was thus reduced to five men: John Tyler, James K. Polk, Henry Clay, George Dallas, and Joseph Smith.

President Tyler read part of the Georgia Articles of Secession to the other committee members:

Milledgeville, Georgia, January 8th 1845.

Resolutions to send Delegates to the Columbia Convention.

The Joint Committee on the State of the Republic, to whom were referred certain resolutions of the members of the Legislature of the State of South Carolina, and other resolutions introduced in the House of Representatives of this General Assembly, relative to a proposed Convention of the people of the slaveholding States, recommend the adoption of the following resolution:

Resolved, That this General Assembly regard most favorably the recommendation emanating from the people of South Carolina, that the people of the slaveholding States meet in Convention at Columbia on the fourth of March next, as eminently conducive to harmonious and efficient action among them in defense of the institution of slavery, and all the rights incident thereto, guaranteed by the letter and by the spirit of the Constitution.

"What a complete pack of blow-hards", exclaimed John Tyler, dropping the paper on the table.

"God willing, this war will be over before they have a chance to meet", said Joseph Smith. "The sooner we can head off these states' defections, the better. I would much rather deal with two slave states than twelve."

President Tyler looked around the room and said, "Well, Mr. Smith, it appears that yo' irresistible force has overcome th' immovable Congressional object. Congratulations, y' now have yo' war, as well as th' means t' pursue it! Tell me, what is yo' plan?"

"For the moment, nothing", Joseph replied, looking carefully around the room.

Who can I trust here, he thought.

"We are assembling our forces from across the nation and planning for a counterattack on South Carolina. Washington appears to be in no danger at present. We suspect that South Carolina was counting on the support of Maryland and Virginia to envelope this city and cut it off, but that support has not materialized yet.

"We will deal with the insurrection in Baltimore very soon, I hope. The amphibious assault we had contemplated for Port Royal must now be directed at Baltimore instead. It will follow pretty much the same plan as the British invasion in 1814, though I hope with more salubrious results."
CHAPTER 30

NAUVOO, Thursday, January 16

Brigham Young received a letter from Almon W. Babbitt, in Springfield, with the information that he had met with the Legislative House Committee on Banks and Corporations pertaining to a bill for the unconditional repeal of the Nauvoo Charter:

Jacob A. Davis had made a strong anti-Mormon speech before the House Committee and presented them with a full file of the Nauvoo Neighbor containing the ordinances passed by the city council. Mr. Backenstos was also before the Committee and pleaded like an apostle for the rights of his constituents. The committee inquired of me as to 'bogus-making' – spiritual wife doctrine – and whether I believed in Joseph Smith's revelations. I have made two speeches before the committee, but I believe they will recommend the passage of the bill to repeal the charter.

Respectfully,

Almon W. Babbitt

Brigham Young was livid when he read the letter.

"The Legislature of Illinois can all go to hell, and I hope their governor takes first passage!" he said. "There is not one scintilla of evidence that the citizens of Nauvoo are making bogus or breaking the law. If they repeal our charter, they'll have to repeal Springfield's too, for they were enacted by the same legislation."

GALLIPOLIS, Friday, January 17

The General Brooke reached Gallipolis, Kentucky. Hosea Stout had struck up a friendship with several of the other officers aboard the steamboat, but he was careful not to reveal yet that he was enlisted in the Nauvoo Legion. He also was content to let the other men assume that Jessie was his wife, for the time being.

WASHINGTON, Friday, January 17

The following broadside appeared in the Washington Union, the Boston Bee, and in about a dozen other newspapers across the northeastern United States – but not the New York Tribune, which turned it down:

IN MEMORY OF OUR GOD, OUR RELIGION,

AND FREEDOM, AND OUR PEACE,

OUR WIVES, AND OUR CHILDREN

Behold, this is a CHOSEN LAND, and the land of LIBERTY. Surely GOD shall not suffer that we, who are DESPISED because we take upon us the name of CHRIST, shall be TRODDEN DOWN AND DESTROYED, until we bring it upon us BY OUR OWN TRANSGRESSIONS.

Behold, whosoever will maintain THIS TITLE upon the land, let them COME FORTH in the strength of the Lord, and enter into a covenant that they will maintain their RIGHTS, and their RELIGION, that the LORD GOD may bless them.

The UNITED STATES is calling for 75,000 men to serve in the U.S. ARMY for a minimum of SIX MONTHS, to aid in PUTTING DOWN the REBELLION in SOUTH CAROLINA and GEORGIA.

AMERICA, shall we falter in such a NOBLE CAUSE? On, on to the VICTORY!

Joseph Smith met with Generals Taylor and Scott in the Map Room. He looked with satisfaction at a copy of the broadside and said to the other members of his staff:

"Now, we'll see if the spirit of the Green Mountain Boys still beats in the heart of this nation. I predict that we shall have our 75,000 volunteers within the month."

He laid a map of the District of Columbia on the table.

"The Corps of Engineers has submitted their proposal for a ring of fortifications surrounding our capital city. I was immediately struck by the similarities between this map, and the line of defenses that surrounded another capital city on this continent long ago."

The other officers looked at Joseph in bewilderment.

"Never mind, I shall explain as I go", he said as he pointed to the map.

"Washington is in precisely the same orientation as Zarahemla, with the Potomac River representing the River Sidon. Zarahemla was surrounded by what we today call 'moat and bailey' fortifications – wooden palisades with a dirt embankment on the outer face. These can be quickly and easily constructed, and offer superior defense against cannon fire, as well. The Chief Engineer of the Army informed me that we shall need about six major forts surrounding Washington, with smaller batteries interspersed, and I concur. These I have named as follows:

Ft. Middoni in Alexandria,

Ft. Ammonihah near Little Falls on the Potomac,

Ft. Gideon near Rock Creek,

Ft. Moronihah near Silver Springs,

Ft. Nephihah in Anacostia, and

Ft. Alma across the Potomac from Alexandria.

"The Corps has promised me that they can have these fortifications completed in about six weeks, at the latest. Only then will we feel secure enough to mount our counterattack on the Lamanites – er, should I say, the Confederacy."

CHARLESTON, Friday, January 17

As soon as word of the capture of Baltimore and Fort McHenry reached this city, "Hermes", the editor of the Charleston Mercury, printed the following doggerel based on the old tune "Anacreon in Heaven", in mockery of the "Star Spangled Banner":

To JOHN CALHOUN in Charleston, where he sat in full glee,

A few sons of CAROLINA sent a petition,

That he their Defender and leader would be;

When this answer arrived from the Jolly Old Patrician,

"Gun, Rifle, and flute,

"no longer be mute,

"I'll lend you my Name and inspire you to boot,

"And, besides, I'll instruct you like me to make sport

"With the Sons of Carolina in Baltimore's port.

The news through OLYMPUS immediately flew;

When OLD TYLER pretended to give himself Airs

"If these rebels are suffer'd their Scheme to persue,

"Then CALHOUN a God will prevail above the Stars.

"Hark, already they cry,

"In transports of joy,

"Away to the Sons of MARYLAND we'll fly,

And there, with good Fellows, they'll dare to transport

The Palm of Carolina to Baltimore's Fort.

Ye sons of CAROLINA, then, join Hand in hand;

Preserve Unanimity, Friendship, and Love!

'Tis your's to support what's so happily plann'd;

You've the Sanction of Gods, and the FIAT of Jove.

While thus we agree

Our toast let it be:

May THE SOUTH flourish happy, united and free!

And long may the sons of CAROLINA support

The Palm of Carolina on McHenry's Fort.

Hermes.

NAUVOO, Friday, January 17

At three p.m. Brother William Player finished setting the last trumpet stone on the capitals of the pilasters of the temple. All the capitals and trumpet stones were now safe on the walls, which was a matter of rejoicing to all who loved to witness the prosperity of the work. The weather had been sometimes very cold and at other times very windy, so that it was impossible for the hands to continue on the walls, much of the time of late.

Elder Orson Pratt contributed these interesting facts to the Times and Seasons for publication:

DISTANCES OF THE PLANETS FROM THE SUN.

The vast extent of the solar system is but vaguely to be conceived from the ordinary mode of stating it in millions of miles. To demonstrate it in a more striking and impressive manner, a continental astronomer has proposed, or rather renewed the proposal, that the computed distances of the planets be measured by comparison with the velocity of a cannon ball, rated at 1 1/2 German miles per minute. With this velocity a cannon ball fired from the sun, would reach the planet Mercury in 9 years and 6 months; Venus in 18 years; the Earth in 25 years; Mars in 38; Jupiter in 130; Saturn in 238; and Uranus (Herschel) in 479 years. With the same velocity a shot would reach the moon from the earth in 23 days, little more than three weeks.

NAUVOO, Saturday, January 18

In the morning, General Jonathan Dunham called a meeting of the officers of the Nauvoo Legion at the Masonic Hall. He read Joseph's letter to them respecting their enlistment in the U.S. Army, and also their new orders received from the War Department.

"We have been ordered to re-organize in accordance with U.S. Army regulations", said Dunham. "All former 'Generals' in the Nauvoo Legion, myself excepted, will become Lieutenant Colonels in command of their respective regiments. As Division Commander, I have been demoted to the rank of full Colonel, acting directly under General Stephen W. Kearny."

Dunham pointed to a map of Missouri and said,

"Our first order of business is to assist in securing the U.S. arsenal at St. Louis. After that, we are ordered to outfit and equip the Legion, that is, the new 9th through 12th regiments of Illinois Volunteers, and wait for further orders. Our soldiers are permitted to keep their personal side-arms, but we will receive new shoulder arms in St. Louis."

Colonel Stephen Markham turned to George Miller and whispered,

"Let's hope we get something better than those old Model 1816 smoke-poles Governor Ford unloaded on us..."

Dunham continued. "One other thing... Our Prophet has ordered me to form a new Battalion from Companies A through E of the first Cohort and send them directly to Washington with all haste. Brother Joseph says he has a 'special assignment' for them there. I want to call a general muster of the Legion at two o'clock this afternoon, at which time we will call for volunteers. Any questions? Gentlemen, you are dismissed."
CHAPTER 31

CINCINNATI, Sunday, January 19

The General Brooke reached Cincinnati, Ohio. Hosea found a small branch of the Church here, and he and his companions attended Sunday services with them. This was the first time that Jessie had ever attended a Latter-day Saint meeting, and she was generally pleased with the proceedings. She was also touched by the kind treatment that Chism and Harriot received from the members.

"It wasn't nearly as mystical an' strange as ah'd heard it made out to be", she said. "More like a ol' time camp meetin'."

When they returned to the steamboat in the afternoon, they found that it was quickly filling up with recruits eager to join either the army of Texas or the United States Army. By this time the question of rank aboard the boat had become hopelessly muddled. The true "regulars" of the U.S. Army sneered at the bloated ranks assumed by the state militiamen.

One regular First Lieutenant declared, "Wha, ah hear tell they's got more so'called m'litia gen-rals in Pike Cah'nty 'an in the whole damn U.S. Army", as he pointed to the insignia on his shoulder. "An' fum whut a's seen, one Fust Lieutenant ina' real army's wuth 'bout ten m'litia gen'rals." The other regulars around him laughed at this, but Hosea tried to take the ribbing in stride.

"Yeah", said an army corporal. "Wha, ah hear tell, up in Illinois they's a state militia'r that's commanded ba' a Loo-tenant Gen-ral, no less – the fust 'un since George Washin'ton!"

A Second Lieutenant pointed to Hosea Stout, who had long since shed his insignia.

"Hey, Stout, what rank you givin' up?"

"Brigadier General", Hosea said ruefully, trying his best to restrain himself. The other men guffawed at this.

"Ooh, ah am im-pressed", said the lieutenant mockingly. "And jist how many toy sojers did you usta' command, Gen'ral Bonyparte?"

This was finally more than Hosea could bear. "About two thousand and five hundred, or half of the entire Nauvoo Legion", he said with a tight smile. "And that Lieutenant General you mentioned was my commanding officer, General Joseph Smith."

The cabin fell deathly silent. "Five thousand men..." one of the soldiers breathed. "Why, that's more'n half the en-tire reg'lar U.S. Army..."

"Indeed it is", said Hosea. "Gentlemen, I thank you for your time. Good day."

NAUVOO, Monday, January 20

The First Cohort of the Nauvoo Legion assembled on the parade ground to depart for St. Louis and Washington. Colonel Stephen Markham would lead the Second Battalion to Washington, while Colonel Dunham led the First Battalion to St. Louis.

Brigham Young met with the officers and instructed them to be as fathers to their men and to remind them to pray always. He promised the men that if they were faithful in their duties, not one of them would fall in battle with the enemy.

The wives and children of the volunteers were on hand to bid them a tearful farewell.

Sarah Davenport hugged her husband and said, "Goodbye, my Charles... Prithee come back to me in one piece. I shall be awaiting thee."

As the companies formed up and marched down to the steamboat landing, led by Colonel Dunham, the brass band played a lively rendition of "The Girl I Left Behind Me". The band members were the last to board the steamboat Sunflower, before it and the Amaranth cast off and floated slowly down the Mississippi River. The last strains the women of Nauvoo heard from the band as it drifted south were the tune, "Farewell my Native Land, Farewell."

LOUISVILLE, Monday, January 20

The General Brooke reached Louisville, Kentucky. To his dismay, Hosea was beginning to discover that he had a lot less friends on board since revealing who his commanding officer was. In fact, many of the soldiers were now openly hostile to him, and several times he overheard veiled threats against himself and his companions. As a result, he mostly kept to his small cabin along with Jessie and the others. Unfortunately, he found that the private cabin was another source of friction between him and the other soldiers, as most of them were obliged to sleep in the open on the main deck. As they sat in their cramped cabin after dinner this evening, he discussed the situation.

"When I venture out, I am continually roughed up by this anti-Mormon faction", he complained to Jessie. "If I keep to my cabin, they accuse me of cowardice. I will be only too glad to leave this boat, once we reach St. Louis."

"As will I", said Jessie. "Poor Lily ha'n't been outside fo' days now – she's too afraid of the men out there. An' Chism an' Harriot are frightened, too. Ah never knew people could be so mean ova' religion, an' here ah'm not even a Mormon!"

"Believe me, as a policeman I've seen more than my share of this", Hosea said ruefully.

"Mommy, when kin I go outside?" Lily said plaintively from her small cot.

"Soon, dear. Now go to sleep." Jessie soothed her daughter's brow and sang softly to her until she fell asleep:

Oh, dear, what can the matta' be?

Oh, dear, what can the matta' be?

Oh, dear, what can the matta' be?

Johnny's so long at the fair.

He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbons,

He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbons,

He promised to buy me a bunch o' blue ribbons,

To tie up ma' bonny-brown hair.

NORFOLK, Tuesday, January 21

The newly refitted Princeton put to sea this day from Gosport Naval Yard, carrying the newly appointed ambassador to Britain, Wilford Woodruff, as well as diplomatic mail for Great Britain. Also on board was Jonathan Browning, who had overseen the refitting of the ship.

Wilford escorted his wife Phoebe and their children, Wilford Jr. and Amelia, up the gangplank onto the main deck of the ship. Phoebe was carrying little Susan, who was not quite two; she was also expecting another child later in the year. Wilford dropped his bags and paused to speak with Commodore Stockton.

"Our instructions are to make all haste to reach London before Parliament passes a declaration of war", Wilford said to Stockton. "We don't need a British invasion on top of the civil war now brewing."

Jonathan Browning came up the gangway from the engine room, wiping his hands on a rag. "Will we be using the boilers during the crossing?" he said.

"Not unless the wind dies", said Stockton. "We have just enough coal to make the crossing without sail, if necessary, but I rather think the winds will favor us most of the way."

Four-year-old Wilford Jr. looked up in awe at the great ship, with its three masts and huge black smokestack. Then he stared up at Commodore Stockton and said, wide-eyed,

"Mister, is this your steamboat?"

Stockton smiled. "Yes, son, in a manner of speaking. It's sorta on loan to me, you might say, from my Cousin Jonathan."

Wilford senior gathered his brood. "Come Phoebe, children, I will show you our quarters for the next month."

He picked up his bags and led them down a narrow gangway to the gun deck, then aft to a tiny compartment in the ship's stern. As he opened the door, Phoebe stared in disbelief at the tiny space – barely five feet wide by eight feet long. Two narrow folding bunks were attached to the bulkhead, and the only light came from a small round stern-port in the ship's transom.

"Yes, well... I suppose it will have to do..." she said quietly.

"Lieutenant Young was kind enough to give us his own quarters", Wilford said. "I'm sorry if it seems a bit cramped, but this is a warship, not a packet. We'll just have to fare the best we can."

ST. LOUIS, Tuesday, January 21

Companies A through D, the First Battalion of the 9th Illinois Volunteers – the former Nauvoo Legion – arrived in St. Louis aboard the steamboats Sunflower and Amranth. Jefferson Hunt, Captain of Company A, was the second man off the steamboat after Colonel Dunham. He formed his men up on the landing and cried,

"Company A, prepare to move out!"

Bandmaster Levi Hancock shouted, "The Spirit of God, new tune!" and the men started marching slowly down Front Street in time with the booming, honking and tootling of the band. The weather was chilly, and a light drizzle was falling. As they proceeded down Front Street, Colonel Dunham noticed a stone monument on the side of a building. He paused to read it:

Highwater June 27th, 1844

There was a chisel mark on the placard about eight feet above the street level. Dunham pondered this for an instant, then he quickly cried,

"Company, halt! Right face!" The band fell silent.

He drew his sword, pointed out the monument to his men and said,

"June 27th, 1844... That was the day when this generation rejected the Prophet of God, and when his brother Hyrum, the Patriarch, was murdered at Carthage jail by a wicked mob, and this was the day when the waters overflowed the Missouri at the highest... I want you men to always remember why we are here, and to never forget who our Commanding General is. Captains, you may proceed."

The soldiers continued through the city to Jefferson Barracks, headquarters of the 3rd U.S. Military Department. As they approached the camp, Captain Jefferson Hunt turned to his second in command, Lieutenant George Oman, and said,

"Looks like we're not the first to arrive here."

A muddy "ragtown" of tents stretched before them as far as the eye could see. There were dozens of militia units from Illinois, Missouri, and Iowa already camped out. The Nauvoo Legionnaires were a motley sight – they still had no shoulder arms or uniforms – and as they passed the tents of the 4th Missouri, the catcalls began.

"Well, lookee thar, hit's the Mor-mons! Hey boys, where's your guns?"

"Ain't you heard? When they drops their drawers an' the rebs sees their guns, why, them rebs'll skeedaddle alla way backta' Caroliner!"

"Looksta me like ol' Joe sent suma'is hay-rem ta do th' fightin', n'steada 'is boys!"

"Yeah, all four hun'erd of 'em!"

"Eyes forward!" cried Captain Hunt. "Quiet in the ranks!"

The soldiers ignored the jeering Missourians and sloshed on through the mud until they reached their designated campsite. It was nothing but a muddy field – no tents, fire pits, latrines, not even a stick of firewood in sight.

Colonel Dunham came up along with Captain Jesse Hunter's Company B. He quickly sized up the situation and said,

"This is simply intolerable! Captain Hunt, Captain Hunter, will you see to your companies' needs as best you can? I'm going to have a word with the Quartermaster."

Dunham stomped off through the mud, fuming, toward the Division Headquarters. When he finally reached the eastern side of the camp, he found a spacious log compound with stables on one side and a supply depot on the other. He found the Quartermaster's office and entered. The room was bright and cheery, with a roaring fire in the fireplace. Two men were sitting with their feet propped up on a table, smoking cigars and playing cards – a First Lieutenant and a Second Lieutenant.

"Ten-HUT!" roared Dunham. "Who's in charge here?"

The two men put their feet down, but did not stand. "Why, nobody I s'pose", said the First Lieutenant. "Who in hell are you?"

"Colonel Jonathan Dunham, 9th Illinois Volunteers. My men just arrived, and they need tents and supplies."

The two men looked at each other and snickered.

"The Mormons... Well, ain't that a shame. I'm Lieutenant Hawkins, 4th Missouri. Why, we're just plumb out o' tents and supplies, ain't that right, Ulysses?"

Lieutenant Ulysses Grant smiled and said, "Ayup." He was a man of few words.

"What about shovels?"

"Nary a one."

Dunham looked at the long rows of shelves and cabinets behind Hawkins and thought, He's lying...

"Any provisions?"

"Not a bean to be had."

Lieutenant Hawkins stood and faced Dunham.

"Look, mister, mebbe you just don't git it yet. We chased you Mormons outten Missouri once't, an' we sure as hell ain't invitin' you back! Either you skeers up yer own tents an' provisions, or you kin jist run backta Nauvoo, hear?"

Dunham was furious. "Then I'll take it up with General Kearny!"

He clapped his hat back on his head, turned and stomped out. The two men went back to their card playing.

"Call", said Hawkins.

"Two pair", said Grant, stubbing out his cigar.

"I'm busted."

General Kearny was sympathetic, but had little to offer.

"Colonel Dunham, I'm sorry, but we've had a lot more volunteers than we counted on. This could turn out to be a very popular war. We really are seriously short of food, but I'll see what can be done about your equipment."

Dunham replied, "General Kearny sir, the situation of my men is acute. Had we known this, we would have brought our Legion equipment with us, and food besides. I have five full regiments on their way here, over four thousand men!"

Kearny raised his hands. "We're expecting a supply shipment from New Orleans in a few days. For now, I can only suggest that you throw yourselves on the mercy of your fellow Mormons here in St. Louis."

"We've done that before, 'bout six years ago", Dunham said grimly. "We brought our brass band with us. Perhaps we can play for our supper."

"The one thing we are not short of is cash", said Kearny. "I shall see to it that your men are all paid their first month's wages."

"Thank you, sir", said Dunham, relieved. "We'll put it to good use."

"And one more thing", said Kearny, smiling. "You, as Division Commander, are fully authorized to make requisitions of my quartermaster for what little supplies we may have on hand. Never let them fool you with that old song and dance that 'the pantry is empty'. Dismissed!"

As Dunham recognized his carte blanche, he smiled and saluted. "Yes, sir!"

As he returned to his campsite, Dunham found that his men had managed to scrape up some firewood and build a few small fires. Most of the soldiers were crowding around the fires, trying to find some warmth. Dunham called out his four captains and had them order their men to assemble. He looked over his new command and was dismayed by what he saw. The men were a pathetic sight – cold, wet, shivering, and covered with mud. He thought,

They look just like the poor wretches that left this state six years ago. Come to think of it, a lot of them were those poor wretches...

"Men, we're gonna get our equipment!" he cried. "Forward, march!"

The four companies started a quick march through the mud and rain, back toward the Division Headquarters. As they arrived at the compound, Dunham took the steps two at a time, burst open the door and said,

"Boys, help yourselves! Just make sure you sign for it!" He brushed by Lieutenant Grant, stepped behind the counter and opened the first cabinet.

"Well, what do you know, boots!" He threw a pair to Captain Hunt and said, "Here, try these on."

Captain Nelson Higgins opened the second cabinet and whistled.

"Commander, lookit this! Brand new, model 1841 Mississippi rifles! Must be a hun'red of 'em right here..."

"Keep looking", said Dunham. "They've probably got uniforms squirreled away here, too." He wandered back through the rows of shelves. "Sure could use some tents..."

Captain Daniel Davis of Company E shouted back from the front counter,

"Commander, look at this!" Dunham came forward and Davis showed him a heavy, locked cash box.

Dunham hefted the box and eyed Lieutenant Grant suspiciously. "What's a Quartermaster doing, salting away this much cash?"

Grant just looked at him sullenly and stubbed his cigar.

"Let me guess. Profiteering, selling U.S. government property to soldiers and likely to civilians... You run a real nice business here, Corporal Grant."

By the time the First Battalion of the Ninth Regiment left the depot, they were the smartest-looking and best equipped soldiers in Missouri, and Quartermaster U.S. Grant had been reported to General Kearny for theft of government property.

CAIRO, Wednesday, January 22

The General Brooke reached Cairo, Illinois. Hosea, Jessie and the others went ashore for a few hours to stretch their legs. At about two o'clock they reboarded the General Brooke and proceeded slowly up the Mississippi River, with Missouri now on their left and Illinois on their right.

NAUVOO, Wednesday, January 22

Brigham Young met with the High Council and read a letter he had received this day from Bishop George Miller:

Congressman William P. Richards

Macomb, Mcdonough County, Illinois

Dear Bishop Miller:

I have petitioned Congress for a grant of land twenty-four miles square in the Pineries of Wisconsin or other uninhabited portions of public domain, to be set apart as a reserve for the Latter-day Saints, granting you power to make your own local arrangements, and enact laws not repugnant to the Constitution of the United States. I consider this necessary in consequence of the irreconcilable feelings of the public in relation to you as a religious body.

Brigham dropped the letter on the table in disgust and looked around the room.

"Brethren, it should be clear to all of us by now that this nation views us as little more than savages, to be shut up on a reservation like they have the Cherokee and Seminole. No, the Lord and Brother Joseph have a better plan for us. We shall make our own 'reservation', as big as we please and as far away as we can get from this nation. Are you with me in this?"

On this day the last Company of Nauvoo Legion volunteers shipped out for St. Louis. By now there were scarcely five hundred men left in Nauvoo, and many of those were aged or infirm. A dreary, ghostly quiet settled on the city. With the city's population cut by more than a quarter there were now sufficient provisions to see the women and children through the winter, although the prospects for the coming spring were not good.

ST. LOUIS, Thursday, January 23

Late in the afternoon, several more companies of soldiers arrived at Jefferson Barracks and set up camp just to the north and east of the Nauvoo Legion. To his dismay, Colonel Dunham found that these new units included some of the bitterest enemies of the Mormons – namely, the Warsaw Independent Battalion, the Carthage Greys, and Captain Dunn's cavalry troop from Augusta, newly reconstituted as Companies G and L of the Illinois 2nd Cavalry Regiment.

"It's too late to change bunks now", Colonel Dunham said somberly as he watched the former Carthage Greys stumble through their musket drill. "I should have anticipated this. We'll just have to keep our noses clean and remember that we're all on the same side now. In the mean time, I want the guards doubled around our own campsite."

That night, the Colonel and his aides watched somberly from a distance as the Warsaw troops lit huge bonfires and drank the night away, singing ribald songs, firing their weapons in the air and making catcalls in his direction:

Oh, we're the Warsaw Rifles, a damn fine rifle platoon,

We're off to Caroliner, to catch ol' John Calhoun,

We'll string him up an' tickle him, until he splits his sides,

Then we'll come home an' punch a hole, in ol' Joe Smith besides!

"I know some of those men", the Colonel said in disgust. "Look – There's Levi Williams whooping it up, and Mark Aldrich, and Sylvester Bartlett, and Jacob Davis... Every one of them was in the mob at Carthage last June 27th. I can't believe we're entrusting our nation's liberty to the likes of these. Well, justice will prevail, someday... Wait, what's this I hear?"

Colonel Dunham was infuriated to hear the former mobbers take up the same "Hebrew Children" ditty they had sung in Carthage:

What shall we do with the Mormon prophet?

What shall we do with the Mormon prophet?

What shall we do with the Mormon prophet?

Blow him straight to Hell.

ATLANTIC OCEAN, Thursday, January 23

The Princeton was about 250 miles east of Delaware Bay when the lookout spotted a sail on the eastern horizon.

"Ship ahoy!" he cried. A few minutes later he spotted another sail, and then another. Before long, he had counted over twenty great ships, all bearing down on the solitary Princeton.

Jonathan Browning came on deck to observe. "What's happening?" he said to Lieutenant Thomas Young, who had the wheel.

"I don't know... It seems to be a convoy of some sort..."

Commodore Stockton took the spyglass and scanned the ocean for a time, and then stiffened. "I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," he breathed. "Looks like the whole bloody British Navy is bearing straight down upon us... I count at least fifteen ships of the line, plus frigates and transport ships. What in Queen Victoria's name are they up to?"

Lieutenant Young said nervously, "Sir, wouldn't you advise sounding general quarters?"

"By all means", said Stockton. "No sense wandering into that herd of elephants, until we learn if they're friendly or not. But keep the gunports closed for now. And fire up the boilers and give us some steam."

The Bosun's Mate piped general quarters, and instantly the ship was a beehive of activity as the three 120-pound Browning rifled cannons on the port side were loaded. Black smoke began billowing from the stack.

"Down mainsail! Ahead full!" shouted Stockton. "Mr. Young, keep your distance from them. Try to beat around them. Remember, we are on a 'diplomatic' mission."

The British ships were tacking upwind, and making slow progress. The winds were light, and Stockton estimated the ponderous ships of the line were making three knots at best. One of the frigates in the lead suddenly jibed and headed straight for the Princeton.

Stockton looked through the spyglass again, and his jaw dropped.

"I don't believe it. These are the veterans of Trafalgar... Look – There's HMS Defiance, and the Royal Sovereign, and the Agamemnon, and the Britannia, and the Prince of Wales..."

About that time, Wilford Woodruff came forward. "What's happening?" he inquired, then he turned and gazed at the British flotilla.

"Oh my..." he said.

"Mr. Woodruff, I suggest you get below and stay there", said Stockton. "I have no time or space to share with diplomats just now."

Wilford obediently headed back down to the gun deck.

Lieutenant Young had relinquished the wheel to the Second Mate, Mr. Robeson.

"Sir, what are your orders?" he said nervously to his captain.

"We'll be hard put to work around them now", said Stockton. "We can outrun them, but only by turning back. Neither choice is very appealing to me. Damn... We still don't know their intentions yet, neither."

The British frigate had closed to within about two miles of the Princeton. Browning watched as a string of signal flags snaked up her rigging. Stockton looked through the spyglass and said,

"It's the frigate Warspite, 36 guns. She's signaling us to heave to and prepare to be boarded. I'll see her in Halifax first! Signal her, 'U.S. Navy Sloop Princeton. We are on a diplomatic mission'."

The signalman complied, and a minute later the Warspite repeated her first signal. She was still tacking for position, and slowly closing the distance between the two ships.

"Apparently they don't take us seriously", said Stockton. "Signal her, 'Do not approach, or we will fire'. That should give them a good laugh."

Another string of flags went up the Warspite's rigging.

"'U.S. and Britain at war. Prepare to be boarded'", said Stockton as he collapsed the spyglass. "Well, that corks it. No more diplomatic niceties. Fire a round across her bow, Mr. Young."

Lieutenant Young had already gone to work with Ericsson's distance-finder. He checked his firing tables.

"Two thousand yards... Fifteen degrees elevation. Bearing, zero-five-two degrees. I'll need to lead 'er a bit."

He set the handle on the gun-deck telegraph to "15", and waited until the chief gunner signaled back "ready" from below. Then he watched the compass until the ship's heading reached 142 degrees, and closed the knife switch. An instant later port cannon number one roared, and the crew watched as a solid shot arced gracefully across the water, splashing down mere feet from the Warspite's bow.

"Good shooting, Mr. Young", said Stockton. Still the frigate slowly bore down on them.

"They don't know what they're up against", Browning said, shaking his head sadly. "We have twice the speed, and our guns have thrice the range of theirs. We can easily outrun them upwind, downwind, or no wind at all."

Commodore Stockton reluctantly replied, "Mr. Young, you may fire at will."

Lieutenant Young set to work with enthusiasm.

"Port battery, prepare to fire! Twelve degrees elevation, solid shot! Helmsman, come about to one-one-seven degrees!" He took another quick glance through the distance-finder, then he closed the switch.

BOOM BOOM BOOM the port battery thundered, and the Princeton rolled to starboard under the recoil. Three black specks flew across the gap between the two vessels and homed in on the Warspite. A few moments later, the crew of the Princeton watched in amazement as the Warspite's mainmast fell with a wrenching crash. At almost the same instant, the Warspite's port side erupted in smoke as she fired a futile broadside with her 36-pound smoothbore cannons. All seventeen rounds fell harmlessly about 500 yards short of the Princeton.

"Hard to starboard! Up mainsail! Bring the starboard battery to bear!" cried Stockton. "Load shells!"

The starboard gunners bent to their task, ramming charges and explosive shells into the three guns. Smoke belched from the chimney as the steam engine rumbled beneath them, and the ship heeled to starboard in a graceful pirouette, turning away from the Warspite. Sailors scurried up the ratlines to furl the mainsail. Less than a minute later, the starboard battery was aimed squarely at the hapless Warspite.

"Fire!" cried Stockton, and Lieutenant Young closed the switch again.

BOOM BOOM BOOM.

The first explosive round splintered the Warspite's foremast. The second round destroyed the ship's wheel and deckhouse. The third landed amidships, where it plunged deep into the hold. An instant later, there was a tremendous explosion as the Warspite's powder magazine detonated, breaking the ship's back.

Browning and Young gazed in awe at the flaming wreck.

"Just six rounds..." Jonathan whispered.

The Warspite slowly folded in two, and the bow and stern slipped beneath the waves.

The entire engagement had taken less than five minutes. In the mean time, the van of the British fleet was slowly bearing down on the Princeton. The lead ship of the line was HMS Defiance, now about two thousand yards away.

"Taking on a 36-gun frigate is one thing", Stockton said anxiously. "The old Constitution used to have 'em for breakfast. A 74-gun ship of the line is an entirely different matter."

A string of signal flags went up the Defiance's rigging. Stockton gazed at them through the spyglass for a minute, then he shook his head sadly.

"'England expects that every man will do his duty.' Lord Nelson's rallying cry at Trafalgar. A futile gesture... You may commence fire, Mr. Young, and send this reply: 'I have not yet begun to fight.' John Paul Jones was one of my boyhood heroes."

BOOM BOOM BOOM the three port guns bellowed again, and the rounds made a tearing sound as they arced across the water toward the Defiance. The British ship responded with a full broadside – nearly forty cannon, and a tremendous hail of 42-pound solid shot rose into the air and then fell with a series of splashes, about a half mile short of the Princeton.

One of the Princeton's rounds overshot the Defiance. The second one gouged her 12-inch thick oaken flank, and the third struck the main deck. Still she ploughed slowly ahead.

"This is futile", said Stockton. "We could peck away at her all day like this. At this range, we don't have the smashing power we need, and if we close, we risk dueling it out, seventy-four guns to six. Mr. Young, commence raking her masts and rigging with explosive shells."

"Aye, sir", said Young. "Helmsman, come about!"

While the Princeton was occupied with the Defiance, another frigate on the far side of the British line, to the northwest of them, had changed course and headed in their direction.

Lieutenant Young pointed and said, "Sir, I think that frigate plans to cut through the line and engage us."

BOOM BOOM BOOM the starboard battery roared, and a few moments later there was a grinding crash as the Defiance's foremast and bowsprit slowly toppled into the water. The ship lost headway and veered to starboard as the tangle of sails and rigging slowed her down.

Just a few cable lengths behind the Defiance was the Royal Sovereign. As the Defiance lost headway, the crew of the Royal Sovereign scrambled frantically, dropping sail and tacking to port to avoid colliding with her. At the same time the frigate Ramillies was attempting to cross the line between the two ships. As the gap closed, there was a slow, grinding crunch as the Royal Sovereign ploughed directly into the port side of the Ramillies. This threw the whole British line into confusion, and ships began veering in all directions to avoid collision.

"Hell, why don't we just let them fight it out?" Stockton said with glee.

Suddenly there was a muffled boom from below deck, and a huge cloud of steam billowed up through the main deck hatch. The Princeton slowed and then stopped dead in the water. An instant later the escape valve just forward of the smokestack erupted with an ear-splitting roar, blowing a plume of steam half as high as the mainmast.

Stockton shouted into the engine-room speaking tube, "Engine room, report!" but he couldn't hear anyone over the din from below.

"Mr. Browning, get below and find out what's going on. I have a feeling Mr. Ericsson's fancy steam machinery just failed us", he growled.

Jonathan leaped down the gangway to the lower deck and found himself in the middle of a Turkish bath. Through the haze of steam, he could see two men sprawled on the deck unconscious. Steam was billowing with a deafening roar directly out of the top of one of the engine's two cylinders.

"What happened?" Browning shouted to the Chief Engineer.

"We lost a cylinder head!" the Engineer shouted back to him, pointing up. Embedded in the decking above them was a dinner-plate sized iron disk. "We were just cracking on full steam when she blew!"

He turned a steam valve and the din abruptly ceased.

The ship's surgeon had just arrived and started working to revive the two crewmen.

"They're a bit scalded, but they'll recover", he said hopefully.

"Can you repair it?" Browning shouted to the Engineer.

"Sure thing, but it'll take at least an hour!" was the reply. "The engine's too hot to even touch just now!"

"I'll go tell the Commodore", Browning said mostly to himself, as he climbed the gangway.

Stockton was not pleased. "Hells bells!" he growled. "Good thing we still got ol' fashioned sails. Let's just hope the Brits didn't notice that steam eruption. We may have to break off this little tête-à-tête."

Lieutenant Young had been observing the signal flags on the British ships through the spyglass. The Ramillies and the Royal Sovereign had managed to back sail and disentangle themselves. Suddenly, Young straightened and said,

"Something's happening. The Defiance is signaling 'Line abreast to starboard'."

Slowly, ponderously, the whole ragged line of ships turned to the northwest until they were all broadside to each other, facing away from the Princeton.

"By all that's holy..." Stockton said in astonishment. "They're disengaging. The whole, bloody British Navy is running away from a six-gun sloop! Wait'll the Queen hears about this!"

"Wait'll America hears about this!" Browning responded with glee. "I don't think the British will be invading us any time soon."

"I rather think we had little to do with their tacking", said Mr. Young. "More than likely, they are beating up the east coast to some port of call in Canada, perhaps."

"I think we should shadow them and find out where they're headed", said Stockton. "Gentlemen, I don't think we'll be going to England today. I believe Mr. Woodruff's diplomatic mission is at an end."
CHAPTER 32

NAUVOO, Thursday, January 23

Early in the morning, Sarah Davenport and Prudence Bigelow trudged through the snow up to the temple, carrying a basket of food. They found the temple grounds silent – no chinking of chisels against rock, no whipsaws cutting timbers, and no sound of hammering. Sarah knocked on the door of the foreman's shack and heard a muffled, "Come in."

The two women entered and found the temple foreman, William Player, huddled in front of a small pot-belly stove.

"We brang ya some vittles, Brotha' Player", said Prudence, giving him the basket.

"Why, thank you, sisters, and God bless you!" said Player. "I'm nearly famished this morning. Since the Legion men left, the temple donations have nearly dried up. Not only that, but work on the temple has completely ground to a halt."

He bowed his head sadly. "We are so close to finishing it... Is this war so important to Brother Joseph that he would delay finishing the House of the Lord?"

Sarah could only reply, "The Lord, e' works in mystarious ways, Brother Player."

There was another knock on the door.

"Come in", William said dejectedly.

It was Brigham Young. He kicked the snow off his boots, entered and said,

"Good day, Brother Player. I hope you don't think we have forgotten you."

"Forgotten me? No... Shanghaied my men, yes", William said mournfully. He spread his hands. "Brother Brigham, what am I to do? I can't build this temple all on my own."

"Nor should you be expected to", Brigham responded with a smile.

He pulled out a large leather bag and poured the contents on the table – hundreds of gold coins, more than William Player had ever seen in his life.

Prudence gasped. "Lookit all them yaller-boys", she breathed.

"This is the first month's wages of the Nauvoo Legion volunteers", said Brigham. "Over twenty-five thousand dollars. Do you think this will help, Brother William?"

William Player was speechless. "I, uh, indeed it will... I don't know what to say... But where will we get the hands to finish the construction? It's workmen we need right now, even worse than cash."

"Shucks, ah kin swang'a hammer wif th' best on'em", said Prudence, grinning. "Mah husbin' larned me a thang 'er two 'bout wood-workin' afore he died. They's gotta be lotsa womenfolk here what kin paint an' plaster, an' sich. If they don't, ah kin larn'em to."

Sarah Davenport said excitedly, "And I be skilled in embroidery and other forms of needlework. Why, I could organize a tatting and knitting circle!"

Brigham smiled. "Well William, it looks like you and the women have your work cut out for you. Good day."

WASHINGTON, Thursday, January 23

Samuel Morse was still sending occasional covert messages from Baltimore to Washington via the electric telegraph. The naval blockade of Baltimore had prevented any more South Carolina reinforcements from arriving. He reported that there were probably no more than 400 Carolinian soldiers in the city, as well as several battalions of local militia.

General Taylor pondered the news, then he said,

"This is good... It may make the land campaign all the easier for us. However, we still have to defeat Fort McHenry. Remember, it only takes sixty soldiers to man that fortress."

"And it's a lot tougher nut to crack now than it was thirty years ago", said Commodore Perry. "Lieutenant Robert Lee just completed renovating the batteries and replacing the guns. It's a far cry from when I was a young Master's Mate there in 1814 under ol' Commodore Rodgers. There are now guns pointing landward as well as seaward. But I may have a little surprise for these rebels, anchored up in Hoboken right now."

ST. LOUIS, Friday, January 24

General Kearny had scoured every mile of the Missouri, Illinois, and northern Mississippi Rivers for steamboats to transport his Army of the West. This was not an easy task in winter, as most of the boats had moved south into warmer and safer waters. In the end he succeeded in assembling a motley flotilla, including side-wheelers and a few of the newer stern-wheelers, as follows:

Belle of the West

Sultana

J.M. White

Duke of Orleans

Congress

Ben Franklin

Sunflower

Chicago Belle

St. Louis Oak

St. Croix

Mermaid

Waterproof

Louis Phillipe

Amaranth

Saluda

Colonel Dunham prevailed upon General Kearny to place the Warsaw Rifles and Carthage Greys on separate boats from the Nauvoo Legion. "Otherwise", he said, "There could be bloodshed."

The General allowed as how, if he had known the shameful history of those two units he would not have accepted them into his army, but he was powerless to drum them out now. He said,

"I know something of your people's history, but I was unaware of this sorry chapter. Why d' you think I'm sending the Missouri Volunteers to Texas? So I can put as much distance between you and them as possible. I don't need mutiny in the ranks, but at the same time I must work with these volunteers as best I can. You'll just have to peaceably work out your differences with your fellow Illinoisans, Colonel. We leave tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir", Dunham replied, saluting.

KASKASKIA, Friday, January 24

Hosea Stout awoke at dawn to a loud pounding on his cabin door. Jessie sat up with a start and peeked over the top of the blanket-wall that separated them.

"What is it?" she mumbled sleepily.

"I don't know", he replied, "But I don't like it. Just stay calm, everyone." He slipped on his boots and went to the door.

By now Chism was on his feet too. "Keerful, Mars Hosea", he whispered. "Ah don' like der soun'o dis."

"Who is it?" Hosea shouted through the door.

"Neva' you mind!" someone shouted back angrily. "Jist you open up now, hear?"

"Hosea, what should we do?" a terrified Jessie whispered.

At that instant the door crashed open and a dozen soldiers crowded into the small cabin. Before they knew it, Hosea, Jessie, Chism, and Harriot found themselves swept up and carried outside onto the Texas deck. Last of all, one of the men grabbed Lily screaming from her cot and carried her out, too.

"Damned polygamizin', slave-stealin' Mormons!" the mobbers cried. "We'll larn ya' ta steal passage on'a gummint boat!"

"Whad'l we do with'em?" one of the men said ominously.

Hosea's feet hadn't touched the deck since he was dragged from the cabin. His arms were pinned behind his back, and four strong men had hold of his legs. He looked around and quickly sized up the situation. They were surrounded by about twenty soldiers, mostly regulars he noticed, and he could tell they weren't here to swap war stories with him this time. Many of them were armed with rifles and clubs. He noticed that several whisky bottles were passing around freely. His policeman's instincts told him: This is not a good time to resist.

"Ah say we string'em up rah't heya!" cried another soldier.

One of the soldiers stuck his face in Hosea's and spit at him. "You 'member me from Gallatin an' Crooked River, Stout? Ah shore as hell do, an' now you gonter' pay me back fer' hit!"

"Ah say we baptize these Mormons ina' river!" shouted another.

"Yeah!"

"Pitch 'em overboard!"

"Dunk'em!"

Hosea looked helplessly at Jessie, who was wide-eyed with terror. "Help me!" she screamed.

Several of the men began fondling her and trying to kiss her.

"Concubines is fair game!" one of the men whooped, as he shoved his face in hers and tried to kiss her.

"Slaves takes first passage!" someone shouted, and with a wail and a cry, Harriot and Chism were pitched over the railing into the freezing river. Hosea heard them hit the water with a loud splash.

"Now it's your turn!" cried one of the men holding Hosea. He lashed out with his foot and caught the soldier on the chin, knocking him sprawling. The other men tightened their grip on him and wrestled him over to the railing. He desperately locked his feet around the railing and held on for dear life. One of the soldiers aimed a vicious blow at Hosea's shins with his rifle butt, and with a cry of pain he tumbled over the railing into the river twenty feet below.

He surfaced with a gasp just in time to see the larboard paddlewheel bearing down on him. He swam with all his might to avoid the thrashing blades just as Jessie too went over the railing with a shriek. He swam over to her and pulled her to safety just as the huge paddlebox brushed by them, nearly dragging them under.

"Nits grows inta' lice!" shouted the man who was holding young Lily, and he pitched her overboard too.

Jessie screamed, "Oh, Lord my God! No!" as her daughter landed directly in front of the paddlewheel and was swept underneath. A moment later they caught a brief glimpse of her broken body floating downstream.

The men on deck laughed uproariously as they pitched Hosea's and Jessie's bags overboard. The General Brooke churned past them, and then it was gone.

Jessie had gone limp in Hosea's arms. He looked up quickly and saw to his relief that Chism and Harriot had nearly reached the Illinois shore. He swam desperately through the freezing, muddy water until he felt his feet touch bottom. He stumbled up the muddy bank carrying Jessie, laid her with her face down and pressed on her back.

"C'mon, Jessie, don't die on me here!" he sobbed.

She rolled onto her side with a retching cough, and struggled to sit up. Then she looked around in terror and collapsed into his arms, trembling and sobbing.

"Oh, no, no, ma' poor Lily, oh ma' God, oh why did they do this..." she whimpered, then she fainted again.

Chism and Harriot approached them along the riverbank. They were both soaking wet, and Harriot was trembling with cold as they sat down next to Hosea and Jessie.

"If we stay here, we'll die!" Hosea said through chattering teeth. "We must find shelter and warmth!"

Chism looked around. There was no sign of civilization, other than a muddy road along the riverbank.

"Good ting dey din' pitch us ober onde M'ssourah side" he said, trembling. "Ah gots flin'an steel. We kin make'a lean-to, an ah kin bil'a bomfar."

The three of them half carried, half led Jessie up the bank to a more sheltered area near a large cottonwood tree. Chism set to work collecting kindling for a fire, and Hosea gathered some long branches and laid them in a fan shape against the tree. He stripped off Jessie's wet outer garments and skirt and laid them over the branches, then pulled her inside the shelter.

It was not long before Chism had a small fire burning just in front of the shelter. Harriot returned from scouring the riverbank with two of their bags in tow.

"Ah foun'em!" she exclaimed.

"Good, good..." Hosea muttered as he pulled the carpet bags open. "Let's hope they're not too damp inside."

Most of the clothing was wet, but he found an extra overcoat which he wrapped around Harriot, and a fairly dry pair of army trousers and boots which he gave to Chism. He spread the rest of the clothing over the top of the lean-to, then crawled in next to Jessie. She was still trembling and her teeth were chattering.

Chism stoked the fire, and gradually the weary travelers felt some warmth seeping back into them. Jessie finally stopped trembling and fell into a fitful sleep, as Hosea held her close to him. About an hour later, she suddenly sat up with a scream.

"Wha' happened? Where am ah?" she shrieked. "Ah must find Lily! She's out there some'ere, callin' to me." She flailed around, then stood up and looked around wildly, nearly demolishing the small lean-to in the process.

"Oh..." she moaned, then she sat down and buried her face in her hands and wept again.

Hosea put his arm around her. "Jessie, it's all right, we're safe here. And Lily..." he choked back his tears. "Lily is safe now, too."

Late in the afternoon, the exhausted travelers finally made their way to nearby Prairie du Rocher, where they put up at the local tavern.

VALMEYER, Saturday, January 25

In the morning, Hosea Stout was able to hire a man who agreed to drive them in his wagon as far as Valmeyer. Jessie was still deeply despondent and inconsolable over the loss of her daughter. As they were riding along in the back of the buckboard, Chism looked out across the river and exclaimed,

"Whoo-ee! Look-ee dar, Mars Hosea!"

Sailing down the river were more steamboats than any of them had ever seen at one time. Hosea started counting but quickly gave up. They were all headed downstream in line astern.

"Wonder what they're up to?" said Hosea. "This is hardly the season for steamboats, and I doubt they're on a pleasure cruise. They seem to be headed somewhere in a hurry... That one there looks an awful lot like the Amaranth..."

He scanned the line of vessels again, then he said in astonishment,

"Why, that one's gotta be the General Brooke! Is this an army flotilla?"

The long line of steamboats continued steaming south until they were out of sight, and the travelers continued on their way.

After they had settled into their room at the River Road Tavern in Valmeyer that evening, Hosea pulled out his still-soggy Book of Mormon and read to the others. He was searching for some way to comfort Jessie, who was still very withdrawn.

"Listen to what the Prophet Mormon says here", he said.

"...But little children are alive in Christ, even from the foundation of the world; if not so, God is a partial God, and also a changeable God, and a respecter to persons; for how many little children have died without baptism!"

"Ah remember when Lily was just a tiny baby", Jessie said wearily. "John an' I took her to church in Savannah an' had her christened. Ah thought at the time, 'What if she needs it, or what if she don't?' Leastways, it can't hurt. Ah never knew children were sinless, like it says in that book of yours, but ah always sorta felt it anyway."

Hosea said, "Brother Joseph has told us that there is a way for fathers and mothers to be reunited with their children and each other beyond the grave. I don't comprehend it all yet, but it has something to do with the temple we're building in Nauvoo."

He looked down at Jessie, who had just fallen asleep on his lap.

CAHOKIA, Sunday, January 26

Hosea, Jessie, Chism, and Harriot finally arrived at Cahokia, Illinois, opposite St. Louis. The weather was chilly, with a light drizzle and occasional snowflakes.

"We're almost home", said Hosea. "From St. Louis we can take passage straight to Nauvoo on a steamboat – That is, if there are any available this time of year."

He said half to himself, "That is, also, if I can scare up the fare..."

He felt around in his pockets, then sheepishly turned them inside out.

"Sorry, I'm busted", he said sadly. "I think the rest of my cash is at the bottom of the river."

Jessie looked at him, then she turned away from him and reached into her bodice. She extracted a small leather bag and opened it, then dumped out four ten dollar gold pieces and several smaller coins.

"Will this do, Mister Stout?" she said archly.

"Indeed it will", he said, his eyes widening. "I never knew..."

"There are certain matters that respectable women just don't discuss with gentlemen", she said with a sniff.

They walked down to the riverboat landing and secured passage on one of the ferryboats along the wharf. Jessie thought the fare of twenty cents per passenger was exorbitant, but the ferryman just shrugged it off with the usual "If'n y'all don' lak hit, y'all kin lump hit."

They cast off, the ferryman and his partner laid into their sweeps, and about an hour later they landed along Front Street in St. Louis.

Hosea looked up and down the docks in bewilderment. There was not a single steamboat in sight.

"Well, this is a fine howdy-do", he said in irritation. "I know it's the off season and all, but still..."

He walked over to the office of the Riverboat Pilot's Association and knocked. An old man wearing an eyeshade answered the door.

"Yes?" he said, looking up and down at Hosea's rumpled army uniform.

"Ah, excuse me", said Hosea. "But my friends and I would like to take passage north to, ah, Des Moines."

The old man's eyes widened, and then he cackled. "You-all must be new 'roun' heah, heh heh... Wha', they ain't a workin' riverboat within two hun'red mile'o heah. They all up an' left yestiddy."

"Who left?" Hosea said in puzzlement.

"Wha', the en-tire Army o' the West. Don' ye' know they's a war on?"

General Doniphan and his Missouri Volunteers reached Napoleon, Arkansas on this day. General Kearny's Army of the West passed Paducah and steamed up the Kentucky River as far as Johnsonville, Tennessee.

ATLANTIC OCEAN, Sunday, January 26

The Princeton had been playing cat and mouse with the British fleet for five days now, responding to their every tack. From time to time, several of the swifter British frigates would veer off in pursuit of the Princeton, in an attempt to box them in, but Commodore Stockton was always able to outrun them.

All this time, the fleet had been running cross-wind in a northwest line. At about noon this day, Lieutenant Young noticed that the British ships had missed a tack to port. He watched for a few minutes longer to be sure, then he sent for Commodore Stockton. The Commodore took a bearing on the ships with the distance-finder, watched them for a while, and finally declared,

"Tom, I think you're right. They're bearing two-seven-zero degrees, due west now. Take a sighting and tell me where we are."

Young took a sun sighting with the sextant, checked the ship's chronometer, and after checking the chart he said,

"Our line of position is 37 degrees 17 seconds north, 50 miles east of Chesapeake Bay – almost back where we started."

Stockton scratched his beard and said,

"I don't think these blokes are headed to Canada. Remember those signal flags, about a 'state of war' between us and them? I think they were dead serious about it. Gentlemen, I believe you are witnessing a repeat of the British invasion of 1814."

CHATTANOOGA, Monday, January 27

General Doniphan and his Missouri Volunteers reached New Orleans.

General Kearny's Army of the West arrived just south and west of Chattanooga, Tennessee. The General assembled his troops on the riverbank near Chattanooga and gave them a short speech. He said,

"Boys, you've had a free ride up to now. But it's time for you to act like soldiers, not cargo! You see that mountain to your east? That's Lookout Mountain. Beyond that's Georgia and South Carolina. You follow my orders, we'll be home afore breakfast. If'n you don't, well, I reckon it'll take a bit longer to put down this damned 'Confederacy'. Let's move out!"

CHESAPEAKE BAY, Monday, January 27, midnight

From the foredeck of his flagship, the Royal Sovereign, Admiral Sir Charles Ogle gazed out at the vast Chesapeake estuary that opened before him. In the dark, off his port bow, he could just make out the coastline around Norfolk. Ogle turned to his second in command, Horatio Collingwood, and said,

"I recall in 1813, I was a young midshipman aboard the HMS Leopard. It was right about here that we nearly ran the USS Constellation to ground. All through that year we staged raids all up and down this bay – burning shipping, shelling towns, and raiding villages – and all for naught, in the end. But this time, we shall catch the Yankees with their britches down."

He thought, That is, assuming that gadfly American sloop hasn't raised the alarm. If that's the best the Yankees can throw against us, I shan't have any difficulty completing what we began here so long ago.

The ship's chaplain approached the Admiral. "We are ready, sir", he said. He led the assembled sailors in Admiral Nelson's prayer, given at Trafalgar just 40 years previous:

"May the Great God, whom I worship, grant to my Country and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory: and may no misconduct, in any one, tarnish it: and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet.

"For myself individually, I commit my life to Him who made me and may His blessing light upon my endeavours for serving my Country faithfully.

"To Him I resign myself and the just cause which is entrusted to me to defend.

"Amen, Amen, Amen."

During the night, the Princeton had been shadowing the British Fleet all the way up Chesapeake Bay. Commodore Stockton watched with ever-increasing anxiety as the huge armada slowly lumbered up the channel in the dark, in double line astern. In the cold, moonless night, he could barely discern the dim red stern-lanterns of the great ships. He found himself repeatedly wondering where they would strike.

Newport News? Washington? Cambridge?

As they passed Smith Island and the mouth of the Potomac, his fury rose. He thought,

Baltimore. It's Baltimore again, just like in 1814. Not on my watch, by God...

"Boys, it's time to raise the alarm", he announced. "Remember Lord Nelson at the Battle of the Nile? He slipped inside the French line and pounded them from both sides. We're gonna steam right up the middle and pound them from inside. Then we'll alert Baltimore. Battle stations! Raise steam! And douse the lanterns!"

Lieutenant Young was at the wheel. "Run straight between those two red stern lanterns", Stockton said. "With any luck, they'll never know we're coming. And if they do fire, they're as likely to hit each other as they are us."

He's mad as a hatter, Young thought. There are over eight hundred guns in that fleet, compared to our six.

He carefully lined the Princeton's bowsprit up with the gap between the two trailing British ships and said a prayer. By now the Princeton was making over ten knots under steam, compared to the British Fleet's leisurely four knots under sail, and they were closing rapidly. The ship trembled as the steam engine pounded away and the screw propeller drove them forward.

"As we come abreast, prepare to fire explosive shells!" Stockton announced. "No need of electric firing mechanisms or distance-finders, this is a point blank, old-fashioned naval slugging match! Full speed ahead! 'We have engaged the enemy, and they are ours!' God help me, but I love it!"

Lieutenant Young carefully threaded the needle between the two trailing ships, the Agamemnon and the Britannia, with about twenty yards to spare on either side. When they were precisely line-abreast, Commodore Stockton cried,

"NOW!"

BOOM BOOM BOOM thundered the port battery.

BOOM BOOM BOOM replied the starboard battery.

The sound was deafening. Wilford and Phoebe Woodruff and their children had been sleeping in their tiny cabin astern, when they were thrown to the deck by the concussions.

Dazed, Phoebe reached for Wilford in the dark and cried, "What's happening?"

"I don't know", was his reply. "I think we're in some kind of battle. Amelia, Will, get down on the floor with us here."

Little Susan was crying in her cradle, and Phoebe reached up and drew her down close by her.

This time, the port and starboard batteries fired nearly simultaneously:

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

Phoebe covered her ears and cried, "Please, make it stop!"

The first two fusillades from the Princeton caught the British ships of the line HMS Agamemnon and Britannia completely by surprise, as six 120-pound rifled shells tore into their twelve inch thick oaken flanks at the water line and exploded. The two old ships, built in an earlier age to deflect 42-pound iron roundshot, were simply no match for the Princeton's six huge guns.

On deck, Commodore Stockton watched Agamemnon and Britannia as they fell astern. Both ships had been holed at the water line and were foundering. In a futile gesture, the two ships fired their small bow-chasers at the nearly invisible Princeton, to no effect.

By now, the whole British Fleet was in an uproar, as guns were loaded and run out, sharpshooters swarmed up the ratlines, and signal lanterns were frantically exchanged.

The next two ships in line were HMS Prince of Wales and Royal Sovereign.

"Steady, boys", said Stockton. "They'll be waiting for us this time."

A crackle of musket fire echoed across the water, as the Royal Marines briefly caught sight of the mysterious ghost ship in their midst. As the Princeton came abreast of the Prince of Wales and the Royal Sovereign, Stockton again cried,

"NOW!"

BOOM BOOM BOOM went the starboard battery.

BOOM BOOM BOOM replied the port battery.

A few moments later, a rippling chain of explosions could be heard all over the Prince of Wales, followed by one tremendous, volcanic eruption amidships as the powder magazine detonated. The night sky was lit up by the brilliant explosion, throwing the Princeton into stark relief against the other ships. The concussion echoed far across Chesapeake Bay as the Prince of Wales heaved up, heeled over to starboard and broke in two in a sea of flaming wreckage.

The Princeton's crew had little time to examine the carnage they had inflicted. Still racing along at twelve knots, they quickly closed on the Leviathan and the Colossus. By now, the Princeton was clearly visible by the light of the flaming Prince of Wales, but the closing speed of the low-slung American ship made it nearly impossible for the British gunners to hit it without hitting each other. Below deck, Wilford and Phoebe covered their ears as another volley erupted from the Princeton's batteries.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

BOOM BOOM BOOM

The British Royal Marines on the Leviathan and the Colossus opened fire and poured a hail of lead onto the Princeton's deck. Fifty-eight caliber lead balls slapped and thudded against the sides of the ship. The stern-port just above Phoebe's head splintered and flew apart, showering glass on her and the children. Above their heads, it sounded as if a hailstorm was sweeping the main deck.

Next there was a sound like tearing cloth and a 24-pound roundshot from HMS Dreadnought struck one of the lifeboats, crashed through the sterncastle above their heads, and exited aft through the ruined transom, demolishing the folding bunks just above them. The children were screaming, baby Susan was wailing, and all Wilford and Phoebe could do for them was to burrow down in the wreckage and pray.

Wilford gritted his teeth and waited for the next fusillade from the Princeton's guns.

And waited.

And waited.

The hailstorm of lead above their heads slowly subsided. The main guns were silent. Still, the ship trembled and throbbed as the steam engine drove it forward at full speed. Wilford sat up and cautiously peered out through the wrecked sterncastle. The British fleet was quickly falling astern.

The Princeton had successfully run the British gauntlet, but at a heavy price. Commodore Stockton and Lieutenant Young were dead, as well as nearly all of the main deck crew. The deckhouse, capstan, binnacle, and wheel were smashed. All three masts were gone, reduced to stubs. The smokestack was lying flat on the deck, riddled with holes, while smoke still belched into the air from the stokehold below.

In spite of the damage, the ship was still watertight, and pounding along at twelve knots with no one at the helm. By now, the British ships were several miles aft of them.

Second Lieutenant Robeson took command and set a course for Baltimore, where they arrived at about six a.m. As they approached Patapsco Bay at dawn, the crew of the Princeton was astonished to see yet another fleet occupying the harbor – but this time, the flags were all American, except for one: Waving above Fort McHenry was the green palm-and-crescent flag of the State of South Carolina.

"This must be nearly how Francis Scott Key viewed it, but in reverse", Wilford said in awe, wiping away his tears. "O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave."

After the battered, dismasted Princeton finally tied up next to the flagship Roanoke, Lieutenant Robeson made his report to Commodore Matthew Perry.

"Commodore Stockton stood his post to the end", he said. "Never have I seen a more unflinching example of courage in battle. His last words were, 'Don't give up the ship'."

"My uncle's Oliver's battle flag carried those words at the Battle of Lake Erie", Perry said, wiping a tear. "I am honored."

"Now, we still have the pressing issue of the British Fleet that is bearing down on us", said Robeson. "The Princeton may have bloodied their royal noses, but they haven't turned back. They should arrive in about four hours, by my estimate."

"Yes, but I think we shall be ready for them this time", Perry replied with a smile. "When they catch sight of my little fleet here, I don't think they'll be quite so eager to tangle with us again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must change ships."

BALTIMORE, Tuesday, January 28, dawn

The much-anticipated Union counterattack on Baltimore began this day. General Winfield Scott had made careful preparations for his amphibious assault. Several hundred "surf boats" had been built – small, flat-bottomed boats that could carry fwenty men each. They were built in three sizes, so they could be stacked one inside the other like dishes on board the transport ships.

The Chesapeake Flotilla included twenty warships, seven of them steam powered, and twelve transport ships containing nearly 3,000 troops – the New York 4th and Massachusetts 7th and 8th Volunteer Regiments, under command of General Scott.

At dawn the assault on North Point began, at exactly the same location where British troops had landed 31 years before. The landing was a complete surprise to the few platoons of Maryland militia camped on the peninsula, and the landing came off without a hitch. By 10 o'clock the entire brigade had assembled, and they began their march towards Baltimore.

The biggest surprise of all was reserved for Fort McHenry. At the dawn's early light, the rebels peered over the ramparts of the fort at an astonishing sight. Floating in Patapsco Bay about two miles east of them was a long, low armored hull with an iron casemate mounted on the deck. This was the "Stevens Battery" – the world's first armored warship. It was 300 feet long, with two tall black smokestacks poking up through the deck. It had four and a half inches of armor on the bow and three inches on its sloping sides, and carried twelve ten-inch Browning rifled cannons. There was not another ship in the world that could defeat this floating fortress in battle.

Commodore Perry peered through the forward gun port of the Stevens Battery and estimated the distance to Fort McHenry.

"We don't want to get too close", he said. "The fort has a mixed battery of 24, 32, and 48 pound smoothbores, which we can easily outrange. We'll just drop anchor here and start the festivities."

He peered again at the palm-and-crescent battle flag floating over the fort, and ground his teeth.

"I never imagined I'd be back here, trying to retake the same fort we defended against the British so long ago... Gunners, you may commence fire."

Perry plugged his ears and closed his eyes as a gunner pulled the lanyard on port battery number one. The concussion was tremendous inside the giant metal box, as the huge gun recoiled and the ship rolled slightly. Perry shook his head to clear it and peered out at the fort for about 15 seconds, as the 150 pound solid shot flew towards its target. There was a puff of smoke and dirt as the shell landed on the peninsula beyond the fort.

"Overshot the mark", said Perry. "Gunners, adjust your range and commence firing at will." He quickly retreated below deck to escape the hammer blows of the guns.

"Armored warships... what a ridiculous idea", he grumbled to himself as he descended the gangway. "I feel like I'm in an iron coffin, and someone is nailing the lid down. All it needs is six silver handles... Give me a tall ship any day over this infernal contraption."

The assault on the forts lasted about two hours. Forts Covington and Babcock were the first to surrender, after the other ships in the flotilla moved in and pounded them. Midway through the battle, a solid shot from the Stevens Battery made a direct hit on Fort McHenry's powder magazine. A tremendous cloud of smoke and flame billowed skyward from the fort, and the concussion rocked the ships anchored out in Patapsco Bay.

Commodore Perry smiled grimly as he viewed the blazing fort. "That magazine was always a weak point. I remember in '14, a British shell buried itself in the side of the magazine but didn't explode. If it had, I probably wouldn't be here today."

Lieutenant Robert E. Lee was attached to General Scott's Army command. As he looked down from the hills just beyond North Point through his spyglass, he winced at the destruction taking place on Fort McHenry. Every time a solid shot struck the walls of the fort, he cringed as a ten foot wide crater was blasted in his brickwork.

"We just completed th' improvmints ta the water bat'ry an' rampa'ts", he said plaintively to General Scott. "Wha', the mortar's har'ly dra' on the mas'nry yit. It'sa cryin' shame ta knock da'n ah' own fort afta' all that laybah, ain't hit?"

"Aye, that it is ", General Scott replied. "But I'm determined to remove that cursed flag, even if I have to level the fort to the ground."

The land assault was a complete success. By noon, General Scott's troops had reached Hampstead Hill, and by six o'clock that evening the occupation of Baltimore was complete. Captain Semmes and a few dozen of his soldiers barely managed to escape the advancing Union troops, and disappeared into the Maryland woods.

Near sundown, General Scott assembled his troops on the parade ground inside the ruins of Fort McHenry, waved his hat over his head and said,

"Boys, you done well here, but this was just a warm-up. We're heading south! Hurrah for the Union!"

"Hip-hip, hurrah!"

"Hip-hip, hurrah!"

"Hip-hip, hurrah!" The soldiers cried.

The bugler and drummer sounded "To the Colors" as Mary Pickersgill's old 15-star battle flag was slowly raised up the flagpole. Then, one of the men began singing Francis Scott Key's stirring hymn. The other soldiers gradually picked up the strain, and soon the whole army was singing,

Oh, thus be it ever, when free men shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!

Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land

Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must,

When our cause it is just,

And this be our motto: "In God is our trust!"

And the Star - Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

HARDINVILLE Illinois, Tuesday, January 28

Hosea, Jessie, Chism and Harriot rode the stagecoach as far as Hardinville, Illinois. After their unsuccessful attempt to find a riverboat heading north from St. Louis, Hosea had decided that they should hang the expense and get to Nauvoo as quickly as possible. After three weeks of traveling and a harrowing brush with death, the other three travelers were in full agreement with him.

"I've heard of this town – My father and my brother Allen stopped here on their way to Texas in 1831", Hosea said to Jessie. "With luck, your forty dollars should just get us to Nauvoo. I figure four, five days at the most."

WASHINGTON, Wednesday, January 29

There was general rejoicing throughout the North as news spread of the recapture of Baltimore and Fort McHenry. President Tyler proclaimed a day of thanksgiving and prayer in Washington. Joseph Smith addressed a large congregation of Saints and Gentiles, where he spoke of the sacrifice made by their fathers and grandfathers to found this great nation.

"Shall we squander the legacy they bequeathed us, which was so dearly bought? No, verily I say! Yon banner which so proudly floats over Baltimore's harbor again, shall soon be hoisted as a title of liberty in every hamlet of this land!"

The New York Tribune published this extra:

GREAT VICTORY IN BALTIMORE

FORT MCHENRY RECAPTURED

REBELS ROUTED WITH NO UNION CASUALTIES

COMMODORE STOCKTON RUNS BRITISH GAUNTLET

On the 28th inst., General Winfield Scott and his army lanced the boil that had festered of late on the shores of the Patapsco River. In a furious seaborne assault, and without a single casualty, he utterly routed the South Carolinian rebels that had seized Baltimore two weeks previous.

In a daring raid the preceding night, Commodore Robert Stockton ran his sloop Princeton directly up the center of the Royal British Fleet in Chesapeake Bay, inflicting heavy damage. The brave Commodore was killed in the exchange. When British Admiral Sir Charles Ogle's battered fleet reached Patapsco Bay, on viewing the immense American fleet waiting to greet him, he thought better of the plan and sued for peace.

In a single blow, General Scott has done much to restore our dissevered nation and redeemed the blood our fathers shed at Fort McHenry! We now await the final blow which will crush this Southern rebellion at its source, and restore peace and tranquility to our troubled land! On, on to Columbia!

And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph shall wave,

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

That evening, the Executive Committee met in the Cabinet Room. They discussed the recent victory in Baltimore and General Scott's plan to encircle and defeat the Confederacy.

"I am convinced that Captain Semmes' seizure of Baltimore and the British attack were not coincidental", said the General. "Based upon the evidence, it now appears that South Carolina is in league with Great Britain in this rebellion. By throwing up a blockade all along the Carolina coast, we can cut off the rebels from their British benefactors, and bring this rebellion to a swift conclusion, I expect."

Joseph Smith thought to himself: I've forseen this very event since 1832:

And the Southern States will call on other nations, even the nation of Great Britain, as it is called, and they shall also call upon other nations in order to defend themselves against other nations; and then war shall be poured out upon all nations.

He looked around the room at the other men and thought,

There's a Judas in our midst, and I now know who he is.

QUINCY, Friday, January 31

Late in the afternoon Hosea, Jessie, Chism, and Harriot reached Quincy, Illinois.

"If it's not too much of an imposition, ah should like to cross the river again an' visit ma' mother in Palmyra", said Jessie. "Ah have not seen her fo' several years now. Ah could sleep in ma own bed instead of on the floor of yet another dismal road house, an' save us all th' expense to boot."

Hosea readily agreed with her.

The upper Mississippi River was less than a mile wide here, and they hired a man to row them across in a skiff for two cents a passenger. Then they walked south and west for several miles to Palmyra. There was an inch of snow on the ground, and Hosea shivered as he viewed the rolling plains around them.

"This was the Mormon trail of tears six years ago at this very time", Hosea said, looking somberly at Jessie. "We could follow the tracks of the Saints by their bloody footprints in the snow, and Joseph Smith was still languishing in Liberty Jail. My brother Allen and my first wife Sumantha escaped from Missouri together along this very road."

"Yes, ah was ashamed at the treatment your people received at the hands o' the Missourians, ma' father included", Jessie said. "But ah was too young'ta do much about it."

Near sunset they finally reached the plantation of Thomas Hart Benton in Palmyra. It was a substantial log and frame house with numerous outbuildings, befitting one of the most prominent senators in America. Jessie's mother Anne must have seen them through the window, for she came running out to greet them. Anne Beverly Benton was a short, rather stocky middle-aged woman with a round face and graying hair.

"Oh, my darling Jessie! Whatever are you doing here? How did you get here? Why didn't you write and tell me you were coming? And Chism and Harriot too?" she babbled.

She paused and looked at her daughter's bedraggled appearance, then she looked Hosea up and down and sniffed.

"Jessie Ann Benton Frémont , what on earth are you up to?" she said sternly, her hands on her ample hips. She pointed her finger at Hosea. "And who is this hobbledehoy you're traveling with?"

Jessie said nervously, "Mother, this is General Hosea Stout of the Illinois Militia. He's been ma' escort from Washin'ton City."

"General my eye, he looks more like a drowned polecat, and so do you! Now out with it, girl! What happened to you? And where is your husband John?"

Jessie hesitated. "Mother, ah'm estranged from Captain Frémont."

She could see that this did not go over well.

"And...?" Her mother said, scowling at Hosea again.

Jessie's eyes dropped. "An' Mr. Hosea, uh, Mr. Stout an' me are headed to, ah, Nauvoo, in Illinois."

Mrs. Benton looked completely flabbergasted, then she exploded.

"Are you completely out of your head, girl? Nauvoo? The Mormons? Those damn Yankee, wife-stealin', slave-freein' trash? I swear I won't hear another word about it! You get yourself in that house right now an' clean yourself up! Chism, go stoke the fire! Harriot, draw a bath for Jessie, an' make it quick!"

Chism and Harriot glanced at Jessie, then they just stood mute.

"Well, did you hear me?" Mrs. Benton said crossly. "Now git!"

Jessie said, "Mother, Chism and Harriot aren't slaves any more. Ah bought them their freedom in Washington."

Hosea thought that Mrs. Benton was about to bust a blood vessel.

"You WHAT?" she shrieked. "But we already own them! How could you do such a numbskull thing?"

Jessie was taken aback by this, but she stammered,

"A-As ah said, they're now free people of color. They're no longer yours or father's to order around."

This was simply too much for Mrs. Benton, and she unloaded both barrels at her daughter.

"Why, you ungrateful little hussy! How dare you do this to your father an' me? After all we've done for you since birth bringing you up in the true faith feeding you clothing you sending you to school an' takin' care of that mulletheaded husband of yours an' what makes you think you can..."

She was turning quite red, so she paused to take a breath and reload.

"...How could you shame us like this? Get out of here, and never come back! And furthermore, I'll see to it that you're disowned, if your father hasn't already seen to it!"

Hosea tried to step in. "Mrs. Benton, if I may..."

"You may not, you wife-stealer! Now git off my property, all four of you!"

She turned and stormed back into the house and slammed the door. Jessie was left standing in the path weeping, with her arms outstretched.

"Oh, mother, if y-you only knew w-what ah've been through..." she wailed. "Ah've lost ma father, then Lily, and now you..."

Hosea wrapped his arms around her and tried his best to console her.

"I'm so sorry, Jessie... I should have foreseen this. I've seen it happen far too many times before."

After standing in the road like this a few minutes, the four travelers turned and slowly retraced their steps towards Quincy.

END OF BOOK TWO

~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like this book? Please rate it or review it.

Then check out Kurt Kammeyer's other publications here:

The Clan of the Stone series:

The Clan of the Stone

The Defender of God

The Empress of Edom

By Ailad's Bootstraps (Short story)

The President Elect series:

Book One: Joseph Smith the Prophet

Book Two: Joseph Smith the Candidate

Book Three: General Joseph Smith

The Rejuvenated

The Last Stradivari (Short story)

Bath-time Anomalies (Junk science at its best)

