Part 8

All that night I lay awake. I knew then they intended to move and take me with them, and then I would never see my father and mother again. My heart was heavy, and all night I kept praying that God would help me to go to my own home. Mrs. Shepard had a sister living near, and next day I went to her, telling her I had not seen Mr. Crane and I feared I was to be taken away to another place and would never see my people again. She was a dear, kind lady, and she said, "I will see my sister about this," and she came right home with me. She talked with her sister for a long time. I did not hear their conversation, only I saw Mrs. Shepard was displeased. When Mrs. Robinson left she kissed me. I saw tears in her eyes. She had been so kind to me all winter. It was the one bright spot in that winter's life for me. The next morning we were to start for Willoughby. As I went to my room my heart was heavy with trouble. I took my doll Jane, telling her my sorrows and fears, but somehow Jane could not comfort me. I said to her, "It is because you don't know anything about my people. You have never been to Beaver Island." The moon was shining bright into my room. I lay a long time thinking and saying, "Oh, what shall I do!" I got out of bed and knelt beside it praying as I had never prayed before. I told God all about my sorrows, saying, "Oh won't you help me and take me home to my father?" My heart felt lighter. With Jane in my arms I lay me down to sleep and never wakened until Mr. Shepard called. We hurried our breakfast. Mrs. Shepard appeared nervous. My heart felt lighter than it had for many a day and I kept listening for carriage wheels which I felt sure would come. One load of goods had gone to the depot, the dray had just left the door with another and there were just a few things left for the last load. Our wraps lay on a chair.

A CHILD'S PRAYER ANSWERED.

Mr. Shepard had gone to the postoffice. A carriage drove up and stopped before our door. A lady came quickly in. I looked and saw it was Aunt Margaret, Mr. Crane's sister. I threw my arms about her, saying, "I am so glad to see you. Will you take me home?" She said, "Do you want to go?" "Yes, I want to go." She turned to Mrs. Shepard saying, "I see you are moving. I am Mr. Crane's sister. He was not able to see this child this winter. He sent me as the time is drawing near when my brother returns to the Island. He promised this child's father to bring her back if she wants to go." Mrs. Shepard told her she would have no interference and would keep me. "No," said Aunt Margaret, "Your letter reads the child could go home and come again if all was agreeable. And she says she wants to go and I shall take her. Elizabeth get your things on." I just flew I got my trunk, the lady putting it into the carriage. I was following her when Mrs. Shepard said, "Child aren't you going to kiss me and the children?" I put my arms about her neck, kissing her and caught the children in my arms with a hug and a kiss, then ran to the carriage.

Aunt Margaret lifted me to the seat, took the lines, and our horse just flew down the plank road till we arrived at Mrs. Matthews, where Mr. Crane was waiting for us. He came, saying, "Dear child how I have worried about you. When I saw I could never get to see you I sent sister Margaret and now you can go home on the steamboat Michigan." Oh what a happy child I was! All the sad, gloomy, lonesome days were forgotten. I was going home. Home to my father and mother. Going to my island home.

We soon started for the Headlands once again. The horses' hoofs clattered over the road to Fairport. We crossed the river, and in a short time were at Mr. Crane's house, where all the family met me with greetings of love. I entered school; Miss Marion Brooks was my teacher. I was at the Headlands three weeks when a letter came from the Captain of the steamboat Michigan to be ready at a certain date to meet the boat at Fairport. Mr. Crane made preparations, and on the date mentioned in the letter we were all in Fairport to take the steamboat. My brother had come from Cleveland.

HOMEWARD BOUND ON STEAMBOAT MICHIGAN.

How my heart swelled with joy when I heard the Michigan's whistle and saw the steamer nearing the dock. Mr. Crane's people were sad to have them go, but all was ready, good-byes were said and again the old familiar sound of "all aboard" was heard. We stepped upon the gang-plank. Jane met us with her pleasant greetings, lines were cast off, our boat was moving, we steamed out upon the waters of Lake Erie with many blocks of floating ice about us, and the sea gulls were again soaring high above us, uttering their shrill cries, as if they, too, were glad to have the spring time come. We reached Cleveland, where several families took passage for the island, some of whom were our boarders of the year before. At Detroit more came on board. Among the rest Mr. and Mrs. Loaney. They had been to Toronto, Canada, for the winter. There were many fishermen returning to the island on this first trip. More would follow later. The weather was fair. Our steamer had been repaired since that terrible trip in December.

The Captain said to me, "Little girl did you get lots of patience this winter?" At first I could not remember what he meant. Then it flashed through my mind and I answered, "Yes sir." He said, "Well child, I told you this old steamboat would carry you home and now you will soon be there." Jane was glad to see us all again, the tears ran down her face when I told her how homesick I was and what a comfort my Jane had been to me. It was pleasant enough for us to be on deck after we left Detroit. We stopped at almost every port. Lake Huron was calm and quiet this time with just a ripple on Saginaw Bay, but we could feel the motion of big swells, which sent many to their state rooms.

AT MACKINAC ISLAND.

We passed Bois Blanc, and were soon at the dock at Mackinac Island. This time green trees greeted our view, but the white fort on the hill with the flag waving over it looked just the same. The people were all out to greet the first steamboat of the season, it being sometime about the middle of April, 1852, old grandpa being among the rest. He was glad to see us, but sorry Charley was not among us. Again we walked the streets and climbed to the fort. The grass was springing up in the yards, and all nature told us spring had come. There were happy, cheerful smiles on people's faces, children were playing in the sunshine.

We had now left the dock and again there was waving and singing on the dock to cheer us on our way. Our boat moved out past Round Island. There were great blocks of drifting ice on every side. Near the little island of St. Helena we almost stopped to keep clear of the ice. We steamed past Hog Island, with little Hat Island looking white with ice packed about it. Over to the northward was all ice, which had not yet broken to drift. We soon were at the McKinley dock at the harbor; freight was taken on for Green Bay, again the "all aboard" was called and we steamed along past Big Sand Bay. We could see all the little homes that would soon be occupied by summer people.

HOME AGAIN.

Brother and I saw our home, with father, mother and John standing in the door. We waved to them; they saw and answered. Our boat was landed; father and John were there to meet us with other friends. I could scarcely wait for the gang plank to be put out. Ah well, the home coming was almost worth the waiting for. As soon as I had greeted father and John I ran up the dock for home, my little dog chasing after me. I met Mr. Cable hurrying down. As I ran past without stopping, he said, "Aren't you going to shake hands?" "Oh yes, but I am in such a hurry to get home," I answered. Oh the joy to be once more at home! I took both hands and dashed the water up into my face as I ran along the shore to our house. The sound of the waves seemed welcoming me home. I looked back once toward the boat and saw father with Elizabeth and the rest coming. I ran almost breathless into the house saying, "Mother I have come home." She hurried toward me saying. "Charley." Then she caught at the back of a chair. Her face was so pale I thought she would fall, and I gave her water to drink. She kissed me with her eyes full of tears. I whispered, "No, Charley has not come."

The rest came in. Mr. Crane's people were to stay with us until their house was ready. We were a happy family around our table at supper time.

I was now home and yet there was a sadness about it. We were not all together as we once had been. Father and mother had grown thin and pale. John said he could never tell how much we children had been missed. He had read his books, sung his songs and told his stories to pass away the winter evenings, and they had all worried much about the Michigan, knowing that we were out in that terrible storm when we left in the fall. I was busy for a few days visiting our neighbors and telling them about my trip and where I had been. My little friend Rose and her mother were glad to see me, as I could tell them about their people on the Headlands. Their Aunt Mary Snell and Cousins Andrus, Alva and the rest. There was a sweet little babe at Cable's. They called her Cora, and I was so glad, because now I could help take care of her. Somehow life had changed. Before going away the world did not seem to reach out very far beyond our island home, now it began to seem like a great big world to me, and many were the questions I asked John, which he was always glad to answer. Once I said, "John were you ever homesick?" After a minute he answered, "Yes, sometimes." I said, "I know what homesick means now."

A MOTHER'S LONGING TO SEE HER BOY.

Though life was busy with us, we missed Charley. Brother Anthony had returned from Green Bay, being delighted with his school, his uncle and aunt were so kind to him. One evening I went to the beach to sit beside the water. I wanted to hear its soft low whisperings again. I was not there long before I heard some one sobbing. I turned and mother was beside me. She said, "I came to look for you and I was thinking that perhaps Charley may never come home." She sat beside me silent for a time and then said, "Now we must not spend our time in sorrow. Sometime Charley may come." And she told me how anxious she was about a sick neighbor she was caring for, saying, "I shall depend on you, Elizabeth, to help me, and I want you to be careful never to repeat anything we talk about. There is much trouble among the Mormons themselves. Strang has been gone all winter, and some of the apostles refuse to obey the laws of polygamy. There are spies all about us and the Mormons are not our friends any more." I promised her I would be careful. She said, "Mr. Sinclair is afraid of his life, as he knows he may be made an example of for refusing to obey Strang's laws. I have many things to think about and do for this sick woman. And I want to tell you something else. Elizabeth Crane is going to be married in June. Charles Angel will come after her. Then her home will be in Saginaw and her sister Jennie will come in her place to keep house for her father. So now do not worry Elizabeth about anything, for she has lots of sewing and we must help her all we can."

Life was busy; our summer people were with us. Elizabeth Crane had left us never to return. Mr. Angel and she were married at Mackinac Island. When the boat came back her sister Jennie, a beautiful girl of nineteen, came to remain until fall, when she, too, married Mr. James Corlette of the Headlands. Mr. Crane, with others, left the island early in September, as the Mormons had taken every boat along the shore below Cable's dock, with the nets from the lake and fish from their fish houses. They left the island, never coming back again, just a few months before we, too, were obliged to leave or become Mormons.

MENOMINEE INDIAN FAMILY.

Sometime in June there came a canoe of Indians to our shore. They made their camp near us. Mother went to see them. When she came home she told us they were Menominee Indians come to fish for a time. They had been over to Cross Village visiting some friends. Their home was in Green Bay county. There were two small children, the Indian and his wife. The Indian woman was a pretty woman with jet black hair cut straight across the forehead, this being the fashion with Menominee squaws. Their wigwam was always nice and clean. She was a nice sewer, piecing pretty bed quilts, which always looked clean. Often when mother got in a hurry with her work she hired the Indian woman to scrub and wash, and other times to do some sewing. She was always smiling, showing her pretty white teeth.

One morning when I awoke I found father and Mr. Dora, a neighbor, had gone to Mackinac Island. They were gone about three days. When they came home father had clothing for mother which Mr. Cable did not keep in his store. Among the rest was a great quantity of bright colored glass beads and many yards of colored ribbon, which she put away in her trunk, saying to me, "Do not speak about what I have put away." Mother and the Indian woman were often together speaking softly, so I never knew what they said. Mother seemed anxious, and the Indian woman also seemed quiet and thoughtful.

Soon after father's return mother said to me, "Elizabeth I want you to let all your other work alone and string beads for me." I was delighted, for if there was anything I loved to do it was to string the pretty colored beads. So I began at once, each color on a strong thread. After stringing a great quantity in this way, then I made many strings in different colors, mixing the beads. As much as I enjoyed it I got very tired, and whenever I went to the camp the little Indian children were stringing beads and their mother was sewing, making deerskin moccasins, on which she sewed the beads, which were so pretty when finished. She made many pairs of them. Sometimes the Indian woman came to our house, helping mother and me to string the beads, which she did so fast, and talked so pleasantly in her own language, mother speaking her language as well as the other tribes' that lived around us. There were several camps of Chippewa Indians that lived along the shore that helped the fishermen clean their fish, and the women made oil from the fish refuse which sold for one dollar a gallon or more, according to quality. Most of these Indians came from Garden Island.

THE ROBBERS' DEN.

Our Mormon friends who used to come to our house did not come any more. There were two who sometimes came in a few minutes, but never remained long. Everybody was anxious to know what the king would do about his people when he came back. Many of the Mormons believed Strang would take no notice of the refusal of some of his elders to practice polygamy, while others thought that the man who hoped to have Strang's place would influence him to make them suffer the penalty, which the Mormons themselves told us was death, this elder contending severe measures was the only way to enforce obedience to the law.

Having already organized a band of forty thieves, these men were being trained to go out and do all the robbing from the Gentiles they saw fit to do. The two men who headed the band were brothers and were large and powerful men, Isaac and John Pierce. They were well suited to do such work. The place they chose to secrete their stolen goods was a long point at the lower end of Beaver Island, distant about three miles from the harbor. This place was called by them "Rocky Mountain Point." Being an out-of-the-way place they would not be seen secreting much of their plunder.

WAKING AND SEEING INDIANS IN MY ROOM.

One night I was awakened out of a sound sleep by hearing footsteps in the room. I opened my eyes and saw mother with the Indian woman and another woman going up stairs. I waited sometime for them to come down, but fell asleep before they came. I was awakened again. There was a very dim light in the room. I saw a tall Indian who seemed to walk about very feeble as if sick. His black hair was pulled over his eyes and he held his hand up as if to shade his eyes from any light. There were two Indian women in the room, one the Menominee woman, the other was a stranger but she wore her hair cut across the forehead. She seemed young and was dressed very beautifully. Her moccasins were trimmed with pretty beads, and many strings of bright colored beads were about her neck, and I thought she must be a princess, the daughter of a chief. She and the Indian walked about the room several times, while mother and the Menominee woman spoke to them in their language, they answering in the same. I saw father nod and smile, at which they all took up parcels and small bundles from the table and walked out in single file.

DEPARTURE OF THE INDIANS.

I waited some little time, and hearing nothing I got frightened, thinking father and mother had gone away and left me, I got up, ran out of doors and met mother. She took a blanket from my bed, saying, "Come Elizabeth and see the Menominee Indians, they are going away. They must go home and see to their crops and cannot stay here any longer." I said, "Where did the other two come from?" She made a quick motion, putting her hand over her mouth, which I understood was to be silent and ask no questions. We were both speaking in French. I followed her to the beach, where a large birch bark canoe was packed. I saw four little children packed away Indian fashion, each had a little black puppy dog in his arms. The tall sick Indian got in first, seating himself and smoking his pipe, then the young Indian woman followed, then the Indian and his wife. There were many "bou shou's" (good-byes) spoken in subdued tones. The Indian and his wife took the paddles, father gave one hard push and away sped the bark canoe over the blue water. The sky was just getting red in the east, little birds were twittering in the branches of the trees, we all stood watching the fast receding canoe, which soon looked a speck upon the water. I ran to the house and crept into bed, and when I awakened the sun was high. I asked mother where the Indians were now; she answered. "They are far away." All day she seemed cheerful, and I heard her sing for the first time since I came home from Ohio. I wandered down to the Indian camp and all I saw was just a few marks where the wigwams had stood. No rubbish was lying about. They had vanished as if they had never been. Surely "They had folded their tents like the Arabs and as silently stole away."

THE APOSTLE AND HIS FAMILY AMONG THE INDIANS.

It was eight years afterward when I learned just who it was that stole away on that quiet morning in the bark canoe. I was living for a short time in the Green Bay country. I was invited out one afternoon to a quilting party. The men were to come for supper and a lady was to play for us on the violin, she being an accomplished musician. She had come there from Baltimore for her health. As we sat at our quilting in the afternoon, one of the women asked the lady of the house why it was they had settled there near the Menominee Indian reservation, and if they were not afraid to be killed sometime by the Indians. Then the lady of the house explained and told her story of how her husband, herself and children had been saved by one family of these Indians with the help of a white family, and this was why her husband was devoting his time to preaching among the Indians. I, being a stranger in the place, had not met this family before, but had been invited to their home with others. Before she had finished I seemed to understand it all. I knew now what all the beads and bright colored ribbons were used for and I knew who the tall sick Indian was with the pretty young Indian woman and the two little children with the others in the canoe. When I made myself known to the lady and her family they were overjoyed to see me. I met them several times afterward, and she told me how they crossed over to the north shore and kept along close to the shore, camping many times where the Indian and his wife set their net and caught all the fish they needed to eat, all the time teaching them to speak their language. They did not go direct to the Indian settlement until fall, then her husband concluded to settle among them and act as a missionary to them. Never very strong in health he had grown stronger in the open air life. Their children were educated at Green Bay.

I will try to tell just a little of this woman's story. Of how they came to Beaver Island with many others, and how they got away from the Island after much sorrow.

THE APOSTLE'S WIFE'S STORY.

Our home was in a small town in New Jersey. We had a little farm and were very comfortable. It was spring time, our crops were planted and growing. It was told us one day two men had asked for our little church to hold a meeting in for a couple of evenings and the whole neighborhood was invited to attend. My husband being an elder in our little church we, with many other neighbors went to hear the men speak. They were both good talkers and we were all greatly interested. They continued the meetings a week and we all became so interested they were invited to remain longer. One claimed to be a minister, the other an elder. They told a great deal about the Land of Promise they had found. My husband's two brothers were ready to join and prevailed upon my husband to come with them. About thirty were ready to follow the new preaching. They left us to go to other parts and told us to be ready at a certain time, when they would come back and take us with them. We sold our little farm and stock at a great sacrifice, keeping only our bedding and clothing, as they told us it was a long journey. We waited for them to come until November and had almost given up in despair, when one day they came. When we started there were twenty-five grown people with their children. We had two small children, twins, a boy and a girl. Our hopes were high, we were going westward they told us. We took a steamboat at Buffalo, as they told us no railroad had yet been built to reach there. The trip was hard, cold and tedious. Not one of us had ever been on the water before. We were afraid and we were all sick, but we stood it as bravely as possible and hoped for better times.