Mary Sabin Powell's Story ... continued

page 7

Thus at quite a sacrifice of our worldly goods we left the old country. Father and Mother felt that they had found the Pearl of Great Price for which they were willing to relinquish all.
Lady Hall said, "Poor John, all that's the matter is his mind is turned by Mormonism."
Father being witty said, "That's a true remark."

Before leaving Wales we visited our relatives and bade them a fond goodbye. We also visited among the Saints. They, of course, rejoiced with us in that we were leaving for Zion. The saints from Abigaveni [sic] took us up to the station in an omnibus.

I shall never forget the morning we took the train for Liverpool. A host of loving friends were at the station to see us off. After one week's stay in Liverpool we went on board the large American sailboat "The Enoch Train." There were five hundred and thirty-seven saints in our company. The ship's crew numbered thirty.

The House Flag of the Enoch Train Shipping Company

On shipboard there was singing and laughter and loud jesting among the crew; somehow the excitement seemed to turn me sick. Father said that I was as white as a sheet.
The Captain of the vessel stopped to talk to father. "You had better take your little girl down below," he said.
They gave me a dose of medicine consisting of brandy and sea water; it put me to sleep. About midnight I awoke and lay observing my new surroundings. A large light shone in that archway. My two sisters were sleeping peacefully beside me in the birth [sic].

How strange to find ourselves out in the big ocean next morning. Some members of the ship's crew were at work cleaning the floor of the boat. I took notice of their method - first scraping, next sweeping, then mopping. In this manner they cleaned the floor.

There was a stove on the boat called "the passengers' cook stove." Upon it the passengers were allowed to cook things, each in turn. In order to make Mother a cup of tea, Father took up a teakettle to the passenger cook stove. He put his name on it - John Powell. From time to time all day long I was sent to ask the cook, "Will you please tell me if John Powell's teakettle is boiling?" Toward late afternoon I met a couple of scotchmen who laughed uproariously at my question. I ran back and told Father that he would have to fetch it himself. It took until five o'clock to get that cup of tea for Mother.

After this experience Father made arrangements with the Captain's cook to boil the water on his stove. We were now able to get Mother's cup of tea on short notice.

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