. . . In 1856, my parents decided that the time had arrived, when we should flee to Zion, in accordance with the counsel given to my Father by Elder N.[Nathaniel] V. Jones, prior to his leaving for home.

My mother and three brothers proceeded father & I, by two months, to Calcutta, they going in July, we followed in October, and on the 10th of December 1856, we left Calcutta for New York, in the sailing ship Escort, Captain Alfred Hussey. Just after Christmas, I was taken ill with typhoid fever and was very low for many days. My parents despaired of my life, and I caught them in tears more than once, by my bedside. At last one morn, we were becalmed and our good ship rolled fearfully, and I could hear the sails flapping against the masts, [p.5] when the man at the wheel, suddenly shouted down through the skylight, Captain, there's a large shark following the ship," my heart immediately seemed to stop beating, and I made up my mind that I must die. I was perfectly conscious, but speechless. The captain was sitting at his breakfast, so also my father and brothers. My dear mother weeping by my bedside, when he jumped up, looking at me he said, "He shan't have you Harry," and at the same time reached up to the ceiling and took down a harpoon and went on deck and in a few minutes we heard a great noise of splashing in the sea and cheering by the ship's crew. My life was spared, my heart began its proper functions, and in a few weeks, I was on deck again.

The old sailor's superstition is, that if a person is sick at sea, and a shark follows the ship, that person is sure to die. I knew of this superstition, having followed the sea for two years, and believed in it, therefore I believed my time had come, but the Lord willed it otherwise, and the great shock was the turning point of the disease.

On the 28th day of March, 1857, we arrived in New York, 108 days from pilot to pilot. My father rented a house in Williamsburgh, now Brooklyn, #75 Grand Street, and we moved into it on a Saturday evening. He had also hired a servant girl, Irish, and redheaded. Sunday morning came and with it the first trial of my young life. You must [p.6] know that I was raised an Aristocrat, my beloved parents were before me, but they in their wisdom, were doing their utmost to overcome their false pride and desired that their children should follow their example, but it was born and bred in us. For instance, on this particular Sunday morning, father called me early, and requested me to go down into the kitchen, and start a fire in the stove which I eagerly started to do, as there appeared to be some fun in it, and besides that there would be no one to wit me, and touch my dignity. I got to the stove, and old fashion step stove, I found two doors in the thing, one opened into a very small place, which I afterwards learned was the fire box. I thought that was entirely too small a space to make a fire in, so I choose the larger one, the oven, and filled it as full as it would hold with paper and kindling, and set afire. You can imagine the result, my father came rushing downstairs in his nightie, "Harry, what ever is the matter." I couldn't answer for coughing and sneezing. Father was no wiser than his son, who though he knew it all. Finally the servant arrived on the scene, and when she saw what was the matter, she rushed to the door, and laughed and screamed, which made me very angry and I scolded her for her impudence, which made her laugh the more, and I began to realize that I was in the free land of America, where Jack is as good as his master. Next, father handed me two buckets, and told me to go [p.7] across the street to the pump and bring two buckets of water, for the first time in my short life, I refused to obey my father. He did not get angry, but reasoned with me, but to no purpose, finally he picked up the pails and started to go out. Oh, how dreadful I felt, to see my aristocratic father demeaning himself. So I watched him as he walked deliberately, to the pump, where a dozen or more servant girls were waiting their turn, what do you suppose that dear aristocrat, my father did? He went to work, and pumped water for all those girls, and they giggling and snickering, all the time he was pumping. It made me so mad to think that my father would so disgrace himself by pumping for those servants, but he finished his task and filled his own two pails and brought them to the house brimming full. The girl soon emptied them, and father said
, "Now my boy, you try it." Well I couldn't refuse, after seeing him do it, so I very reluctantly picked up the pails and ran across the street to the pump waited until some girls had filled their vessels, then I pumped vigorously, and filled the buckets full, and carried them on the run to the house, and when I set them down they were only half full. I had spilled half of each pail in my rush, but thank the Lord, in due time, I got over such foolishness.

Apostle John Taylor was in New York publishing "The Mormon," and was very kind to us, and the Church Meetings were held in Brooks Assembly Hall, I have forgotten the [p.8] the [SIC] name of the street, on the occasion of a sociable, given by the Saints, in this hall. Us boys saw for the first time in our lives snow. During the party a light snow had fallen, and my younger brothers thought it was sugar and shouted in Hindoostanee, Dako cheyney hai, (look it is sugar) and grabbed a handful each, but their joy soon turned to grief as the cold snow nipped their fingers. We left New York about the first week in May for Iowa City, the outfitting point. In passing through Chicago, my father purchased two wagons from Peter Schuttler, for himself and many more for other members of the company, who were on their way from Delaware, and who joined us later in Iowa City. A few days after our arrival in Iowa City, our wagons arrived by rail and were dumped out on the prairie, three miles out of town, and we had to put them together. Then our cattle arrived from Missouri, about half of them were young unbroken steers. Then the fun began matching the teams and breaking them in to work, which is due time was done and about the end of May we started on our long journey to the Valley's of the Mountains . . . . [p.9]

. . . We arrived in Salt Lake City, on the 21st day of September, 1857, and pitched our tent on the 8th Ward Square. . . [p.13]

BIB: McCune, Henry Frederick. Autobiography and diaries (Ms 2267) 1-2, vol. 1, pp. 5-9,13; (CHL)
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