AN IRREVERENT COMPANY OF PASSENGERS--SICKNESS AND A HORROR OF LIFE
FALL UPON ME--A "HELPFUL VISION"--"ONLY BE TRUE"--INVOKING THE
NAME OF CHRIST--A JOLLY SINGER AND A JOLLY SONG--LANDING AT PORT
LITTLETON--STRANGE RECOGNITION OF BROTHER NORDSTRAND--HIS DREAM
CONCERNING ME.
On board the _Wakatipu_ was a large company of worldly people,
representing nearly all professions and stations in life. The majority
of the people were extremely sociable, and very soon after we got out
into the open water a number of passengers gathered in the cabin with
musical instruments, to while away an hour and to banish sadness. They
made a great medley of their pleasures; and some of them were decidedly
irreverent. A portion of the party wished to dance, and the man who
supplied the music claimed to know but one tune. This was:
"Sweeping through the gates of the New Jerusalem,
Washed in the blood of the Lamb."
And to this very strange "schottische" some of them danced a
merry-go-round.
Notwithstanding the gaiety on board, the feeling of dread grew upon me.
It seemed to possess my very soul. Probably I had given way too much to
sadness in gazing upon the distant lights of Sydney, and now I could
not banish the evil thoughts which thronged my mind.
All manner of gloomy forebodings oppressed me. While I remained in
Sydney, I felt that there was some tie between myself and my companion;
but now I felt that I had cut myself adrift even from him.
This was the first time in my life that ever I felt how completely
alone a man can be when surrounded by joyous company. I tried to
think of comfort and companionship at the end of my voyage; but the
reflection proved to be an unfortunate one, because I knew no soul in
all New Zealand. Death must actually be something to dread for any
person to whom it will bring the appalling loneliness which possessed
me at this hour.
I retired to my berth, as you may imagine, in no pleasant frame of
mind. The next morning, Friday, I awoke and found myself in a raging
fever. I was not sea-sick, and, though I am subject to this trouble,
during this entire voyage I felt no touch of it. The fever increased
during the day, until it seemed as if my whole body were being consumed
in a furnace.
No one came to enquire for me, or to offer aid; for I was not only a
total stranger, but a steerage passenger--two things which, united,
shut me out from help or sympathy. On Saturday morning I was worse. My
tongue was swollen until it filled my mouth; it was as dry as a piece
of tinder. With the intense heat of my body my teeth crumbled at a
touch.
On Sunday morning I was worse; though probably the fever had not
increased in intensity, because it could not; but I was very much
weaker. That afternoon a passenger came to the berth, and offered me a
glass of water. I took it gratefully; and this was the sole attention I
received during four days.
Naturally I felt dispirited. I had not even the advantage of delirium,
which accompanies most serious fevers; I was constantly awake to the
full appreciation of the torture which my mind and body were enduring.
Tempted by the destroyer, I felt that death would have been a welcome
release from my pain. The horror was almost unbearable.
On Sunday night, the entire company of passengers, with the exception
of myself, gathered in the main cabin, upon invitation of a jolly
doctor, who held what he called:
"A Saturday Night at Sea."
To every person who could sing or make a speech, some part was assigned
for the general amusement. From my berth in the steerage--by drawing
away the curtains, I could look out upon the festive scene, in which I
could bear no part, for I was helpless and speechless.
The doctor had been a surgeon in the hospitals of England, and also in
the Crimean War, and he opened the entertainment by a lecture upon the
strange experiences of a British army surgeon and hospital physician.
While he was talking upon this suggestive subject, my mind was led to a
contemplation of death. I felt with a kind of listlessness that I would
soon be beyond the reach of earthly physicians, unless something could
speedily be done for my relief.
After a severe struggle I so far overcame the dreadful feeling with
which the adversary had filled my heart that I was able to call upon
the Lord in prayer. As I silently communed with Him, I gained power; my
faith was restored, and my hope for life was quickened.
I asked Him in the name of the Lord Jesus to be merciful unto me;
I felt then at perfect liberty to speak to Him as a son would talk
with a good earthly father. I said that I had come into this distant
region--not to fulfil my own worldly wish, but at the behest of His
servants, to proclaim His gospel, and to build up His Kingdom. My
companion was hundreds of miles distant from me, and I was beyond the
reach of earthly help or earthly sympathy. It was my earnest desire to
be restored to life, that I might fulfil the mission to which I had
been assigned by His representatives on earth; and to this end I asked
that some aid might be given me to rebuke the devil, and to banish the
horrors which I felt would soon, if allowed to work their way, bring
dissolution.
When my prayer was ended, I heard the doctor still talking; but under
the sound of his voice I fell asleep.
I dreamed that I was back in Sydney, sick in bed. Brother May was at
a table in the room, and we were conversing. Across the room, to the
right of my bed, was an open door, which I could see without lifting my
head from the pillow.
While I lay there listening to the words of Brother May, a personage
clothed in a white robe entered the room. He appeared to be a young
man, and had a very pleasing countenance. This personage passed around
the bed and stood near the table. Brother May rose and offered the
visitant a chair, and then withdrew. The young man seated himself at
the table and opened a book. He said:
"Are you ready to report the Sydney Branch?"
"Yes, sir," I responded.
"Then proceed."
I gave him an account of all our doings in Sydney, beginning with our
first effort of reorganizing, and closing with my last act previous
to sailing--for all these things seemed plain to my mind. The recital
seemed to occupy me several minutes, and I continued to speak freely.
He wrote in the book rapidly, and never once interrupted me. I felt
that he was taking every word I uttered. When I stopped, he asked:
"Have you anything more to say?"
"No, sir," I answered.
Then he turned the leaves back, and seemed to read from the beginning.
He said:
"Very well. Now where are you going?"
"To New Zealand."
He recorded my answer in the book, and then signed his name--I could
not see the words of his name, but I felt that he was writing his own
signature. He closed the book and walked around to the right side of
the bed, shook hands with me, and said:
"Good-by; I will be there before you."
He passed from the room, and then I saw the figure of a little child
standing at the foot of the bed. I looked closely and recognized my
little brother Teddy, who had been drowned nearly twenty years before.
I seemed to know that he had come from the spirit world, and in my
anxiety I sprang from the bed, and, resting one knee upon the floor, I
gazed intently at him. He stepped near me, and I took one little arm in
my hand. Although a spirit, he seemed palpable to my touch. I said:
"I think you are my little brother Teddy; but it is so long since I saw
you that I had almost forgotten how you looked."
Then the thought came into my mind that I must ask him some question. I
said:
"Teddy, have you seen our Heavenly Father yet?"
He answered in the sweet voice of a child:
"No--but I shall see Him."
I noticed that he was trembling, and that from his eyes there went a
glance of fear to the open door. I asked again:
"Have you brought any message to me?"
To this question he answered, "Yes," shaking at the time more violently
with fear; but he turned his glance from the door and his eyes looked
straight into mine, and he came nestling into my arms. He lifted the
fore finger of his right hand toward my face and said:
"Only be true!"
He turned his head, still with that frightened glance, at the open
door, and this time I also looked. And I saw an evil spirit standing
just outside and shaking its fist at the little one, and bearing on
its face a demoniacal scowl. Its whole bearing and gesture implied the
words, "Don't you dare to give that message!"
When I saw this, I said to Teddy:
"Have no fear--I know how to drive him away."
For even in my dream I seemed to understand what power the evil one
possessed and how he could be rebuked. And I seemed now to have got
back my faith and the power of my calling. I strode to the door and
stood close to the wicked spirit. I raised my arm to the square, with
my hand open and the palm extended toward him, saying at the same time:
"In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Son of the
living God, I command you to be gone."
He looked at me with a hateful glare, but slowly walked three or four
steps down the stairway which was there. Then he stopped, folded his
arms, and, looking at me defiantly, cried:
"I will not go! I will not go! I will not go!"
I said:
"You will go."
And then I followed him down, again standing close to him. Again I
brought my arm to the square and repeated my solemn adjuration. He
walked down the stairs and took refuge in a corner. This time he
assumed a most resolute mien. His face expressed intense malice and
hatred. He cried:
"I will not go--you shall not drive me away!"
For the last time I invoked that supreme name of our Lord Jesus, and
then the demon--shaking his hands at me still in a threatening manner,
fled with a look of baffled rage on his hideous countenance.
I returned to the room and found that Teddy was gone.
Weak and exhausted I climbed back into my bed and seemed to fall
asleep; and at the very instant when I seemed to lapse into slumber I
awoke with a start and heard the sound of a jolly song.
Instead of the dry parched feeling which had enveloped my whole being
when I fell asleep, I was now in a delicious perspiration. From my face
the sweat was rolling in little streams. This seemed as pleasant to me
as a flood of water to a thirsty desert.
The singing came from the cabin. The man who was giving the song
in a full, manly voice, was so near to my berth that I could have
reached out and placed my hand upon his shoulder. The chorus of his
song went to my heart; and I afterward learned that the young man had
not been invited to sing, but had been seized with a sudden impulse,
unaccountable even to himself. To this hour I have treasured in my
recollection the comforting words of that chorus. They were:
"Never, boys, give way to sorrow,
But be up and act like men!
Look with hope for joys to-morrow--
Sunny days shall come again!"
When again I fell asleep I was comparatively happy. The following
morning when I awoke I was well, except for great weakness.
Many hours subsequently, while I lay wide-awake and comfortable in my
berth--lulled by the swirl of waters against the ship--I saw, standing
on a step-ladder by the side of my berth and looking down upon me, a
little old lady. She was short and stout, and pleasant-looking. Her
eyes gleamed with kindness, and she smiled in a most friendly fashion.
How she came there I knew not, but she seemed to feel perfectly at home.
When my eyes met hers, she began to nod at me. She continued her droll
recognition for several moments, and then she spoke in a jolly tone:
"I know you; I know you! And you shall know me when we meet again."
Then she disappeared as suddenly as she had come. But her face and
figure, her smile and twinkling eyes, and her good-natured voice
remained long with me as a pleasant memory. Before I had been a very
long time in New Zealand, I saw her again; but this next time her
presence was more than a fleeting fancy.
At ten o'clock on Tuesday morning we sighted New Zealand. At eight
o'clock that night we arrived at the port of Wellington. It was in
the ordinary time of the steamer that we should leave at four o'clock
the next morning on the voyage across Cook's Strait to Littleton, my
destination--175 miles distant.
Instead, however, of our getting away Wednesday morning at four
o'clock, at that hour a furious gale was coming up the strait. So
terrific was its power that the captain could not entertain the thought
of going out of port; so we remained over twenty-six hours, and left
Wellington at six o'clock on Thursday morning.
On Friday morning, about six o'clock, we reached Port Littleton, from
which place I had learned that a train started for Christchurch, on the
way to Rangiora, an hour later. It was my intention to go on shore with
my luggage and take a seat in this train before seven o'clock.
But, as I was about to set foot upon the gangway, I felt a sudden
prompting, as distinct as if it were a voice, speaking to me:
"Don't go ashore now. You must wait for a time."
I learned that another train would leave during the morning, and then I
went back into the cabin with my luggage and remained nearly an hour.
While waiting I seemed to hear a voice as of someone speaking behind me:
"Now is your time to go ashore."
I took all my luggage on my shoulders and in my hands, and walked
across the deck and gangway, and was just setting foot on the quay,
when a man rushed up to me and said:
"Excuse me, sir; but do you know of anyone by the name of Shreeve on
board this vessel?"
I dropped my luggage, reached out my hand, and said:
"You are Brother Nordstrand!"
He replied:
"Yes; and you are Brother Shreeve! Allow me to welcome you to New
Zealand."
I did not know at the time why I said "Brother Nordstrand." Of course
I had never seen the man before, and the only possible acquaintance I
could have had with his name, was, that I had glanced once or twice,
some weeks previous, at a report which contained the names of the New
Zealand Saints. Paying but little attention to this matter at the time,
I did not remember that Nordstrand was among these names, even if I
saw it. I had no idea that any person would come to meet me. And yet I
spoke his name and reached out my hand to him with as much confidence
as if we had been old acquaintances, only separated for a year or two.
If this experience on my own part seemed marvelous to me, upon
reflection, I was still more surprised when Brother Nordstrand related
the events which caused him to meet the _Wakatipu_ at Port Littleton.
He said:
"I live at Styx. This morning in a dream, a personage--a young man
of pleasing appearance, clothed in a white robe--visited me and
instructed me to go to Port Littleton this morning and meet the steamer
_Wakatipu_, and find among her passengers a man named Shreeve, who was
a "Mormon" Elder coming to visit the Saints in New Zealand. The vision
was so vivid that I was roused from my sleep; and, when it was ended,
I sprang out of bed and looked at the clock. I found the hour to be 4
A. M. Two hours later I saddled my horse and rode to Christchurch, a
distance of six or seven miles. There I took train for Port Littleton,
nine miles away, and arrived here to meet you."
The sole information and instruction upon which Brother Nordstrand
acted was that conveyed to him in this dream. In a later conversation I
learned that in the same vision he had been shown all the consequences
which would attend upon my ministration in New Zealand. The event
proved that this dream to Brother Nordstrand was one of the greatest
blessings of my life. I encountered much tribulation in New Zealand;
no more from the bigotry of the world than from the perfidy of my own
brethren. But through all the trouble Brother Nordstrand was my devoted
friend. He had never a moment of doubt, because all which happened had
been by him foreseen.