Belonging to Heaven, page 17
“We will just have to make her stand on the round stone ball like my mother did with me. That way her legs will get strong.”
Kitty shook her head. “Come along, you two. Everyone is ready to go.” She reached out to take Hattie, but the little girl squealed and kicked. George brought her into his arms, and she clasped him around his neck.
“Well, Brother George, I think you have a child to care for today,” Jonathan said.
“That will be a treat for me!”
“You may not think so after an hour or two of demands,” Kitty warned.
The three turned from the room and moved outside. As soon as they stepped from the house, the low mellow thrum of conch shells sounded. Six men in native costume blew long, haunting notes on the beautiful shells as two aunties came forward, one placing a tiny feather crown on Hattie’s head and the other hanging a lei of flowers around her neck.
A fleet of carriages stood ready for the celebration guests. The people waited for Napela and his family to climb into the first carriage and settle themselves, and then everyone followed suit. George chuckled at the imperious way Hattie was acting, as though it were her tenth birthday, not her first. The little cherub seemed well aware that all the fuss was for her.
***
Hattie dug in the sand at the edge of the ocean, and George helped her make a hale out of sticks, sand, and seaweed. She toddled after an aggressive ae‘o bird, and George saved her from being pecked. She was nearly run over when the kukini, swift runners, came charging down the beach course in a very close foot race. George snatched her out of the way just in time. As the hours wore on, he helped her swim, gave her drinks of water, and made her a little canoe from ti leaves to push around in the shallows. Brother Cannon was Hattie Napela’s willing kokua—helper—and even though the tiny girl seemed never to tire, he kept close to her side.
When Kitty finally took her away to feed her, Hattie yelped, whined, and cried for the missionary, but when she was later returned to his care she’d fallen asleep in two minutes. She now lay snuggled in a cotton quilt under the shade of a pandanas tree, her feather crown crushed in her fist. George watched her, a wistful look on his face.
Kaleohano came and sat in the sand beside him. “Are you sure you want one of those?”
“Without question. Perhaps six or seven.”
“Six or seven? You are a brave man, Brother Cannon.” Kaleohano patted him on the shoulder. “But I think you are up to the task. If you can manage several hundred Hawaiian children, then you can handle anything.”
George knew Kaleohano was referencing the childlike qualities of his people: the inclination they had to cling to old ways and superstitions, to take things easy, to work, but not beyond a certain limit. And, although George knew that living the gospel brought great joy, he also knew it was demanding. He watched several men playing ‘ulu maika, rolling the stone disks, and saw the mirth in their good-natured competition. He saw the people swimming, and looked again at Hattie’s perfect face. He loved them, and he knew that God loved them. Here before him was a branch of the olive tree, and he knew the leaders of the Church would do all they could to preserve this precious part of the vineyard.
“Kaleohano?”
“Yes, Brother Cannon?”
“How do you think the members of the Church will handle trials and hardships?”
Kaleohano studied the missionary. “We have already suffered trials and hardships, Brother Cannon.” George sat silently, watching the waves, and Kaleohano sighed. “But, you think greater trials will come.”
“It is always the way, Kaleohano. The adversary sees spiritual strength growing in the Hawaiian people. Do you think he will leave that alone?” Kaleohano shook his head, and George continued. “No. The father of darkness will blow upon the faith of the people like the harsh Kona winds blow upon the banana tree.”
“And you do not expect that we will stand?”
“I think the trials will be too harsh for many.”
“But we will have the missionaries to help us.”
George contemplated this. “Yes, but what if there is a time when the missionaries are not with you?”
Kaleohano gave him a worried look. “Do you think that will ever happen?”
George decided not to burden his friend with any more of his misgivings. “No. I wouldn’t think so, but . . .”
“But trials will come,” Kaleohano finished. George nodded. “This we know, Brother George. Napela, Uaua, and I have often spoken of it—of what we can do to keep the banana trees standing.”
George grinned. He liked the thought of the three men discussing the health of the Church and the spiritual welfare of the members. Perhaps he was worrying unnecessarily. He picked up a twig and absently broke it into pieces.
Kaleohano looked at the young man with compassion. “There are some of us that will not fall, even if a hurricane comes, Brother George. The words of truth are planted deep in our hearts.”
George took a deep breath. “Thank you for that, Brother Kaleohano.”
“Now, why don’t you go and swim?”
George looked over at Hattie. “But, I . . .”
“I will watch the little queen while she sleeps. You go and let the ocean waves take away your cares.”
George nodded. He hurried across the hot sand and dove into the cool water. He joined Jonathan and Kitty in their carefree swimming, and, for a time, the responsibilities of the mission gave way to water and sky.
Note
George Q. Cannon and Jonathan Napela began the translation of the Book of Mormon into the Hawaiian language on January 27, 1852, and completed the work July 22, 1853. The final reading of the finished manuscript was accomplished January 31, 1854. The book was published in San Francisco in 1855.
Chapter 27
Wailuku, Maui
July 10, 1853
Stop counting steps! George chided himself. You will get to Wailuku in so many sweltering steps whether you count them or not. For a time he heeded his own counsel, but then the counting began again.
He had been to Kula on horseback to conduct Church business, but the beast had acquired a limp, so had to be left behind. George wanted to stay behind too. He wanted to visit with the members, eat opakapaka, and listen to the resonant Hawaiian voices singing the mele as the crescent moon sailed over Haleakala. But a strong feeling had come to him to return to Wailuku as quickly as possible, and, since a horse was not available, his feet became the painful transport.
“Now I will have a limp from walking all these miles in worn-out shoes,” George mumbled. He wiped sweat from his brow and shook his head. “Stop complaining, George Cannon. Someone seeing you now would never think you’d walked thousands of miles from Illinois to the Utah Territory.”
As he crossed the flat plain by Kahului, the prompting to hurry came again. The hills into Wailuku never looked so daunting. As he made his way up Main Street, he saw Brother Napela coming down to meet him. The skin on the man’s face was gray, and his eyes were red-rimmed and tormented. When Jonathan saw his friend, he let go a howl of anguish.
“I knew you would come. I knew you would come.” He gripped George’s arms. “I have been praying you back. Praying and praying.”
“Brother Jonathan, what’s happened?” George demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. Jonathan’s head swung back and forth as though attempting to shake away the horror that beset him. “Jonathan!” George said sharply.
“It . . . it’s . . . Hattie . . . smallpox.”
“No!” George grabbed Jonathan’s arm and dragged him along in the direction of the house.
Strangled cries issued from Jonathan’s mouth. “And . . . and Kitty . . . another seizure. I blessed her, and she’s better, but . . .”
George let go of Jonathan’s arm and ran; fatigue and battered feet forgotten for the fear that gripped his heart. He shoved open the gate and raced through the Napela’s garden. The ginger flowers and trilling apukani bird held no allure. All he could see was the yellow flag posted on the front lanai. He passed several family members and friends standing in a miserable clump a safe distance from the house. When Kaleohano saw Brother Cannon he stepped forward.
“He said you would come!”
“Where is she?”
“Bedroom. Her mother is with her.” George turned and Kaleohano grabbed his arm. “But, wait! Wait! Will you go in there with the plague?”
George did not answer, but broke free, and raced up the steps. He burst in through the front door, moving quickly to the room, and opening the door. When Kitty saw him she stumbled over and collapsed at his feet.
“Save her. Please, save her . . . and me . . . make us well. I promise . . . I promise I will believe and be baptized if you make us well.”
George knelt down and took her by the arms. “Kitty, stop. Stop! Look at me!” She did, and he was shocked by the horrible visage: eyes nearly swollen shut from crying, and a bloody lip that showed teeth marks. These features, framed by stringy, unkempt hair, assuaged his anger and frustration. His words sounded with more compassion then he’d initially intended. “Kitty, do not seek for a sign. Do not bargain with the Lord. Trust Him—trust His will and His goodness.”
The words fell on deaf ears. “Make us well,” she pleaded. “I cannot lose another child.”
Jonathan staggered to the bedroom door, and George looked at him with pity and understanding.
“Jonathan, take her to the chair.”
As Jonathan lifted his wife and moved her to the chair, George stood and went to the bedside. Hattie was not yet two, and she lay in her parents’ bed. She looked like a small doll that had been tucked in carefully by a caring child. A hook of pain caught in George’s heart and made him gasp.
No! No! Not Hattie. Not my little Hattie. His mind raced through all that he knew of the illness: headaches, backaches, high fever and chills, a severe rash, and physical disfigurement. Death. Hundreds dead in Honolulu where the scourge began. Hundreds buried in shallow graves. But that was Oahu, and Oahu was separated by sea and distance. Oahu was far away.
“She’s had fever and chills?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said in a choked voice.
“Headache?”
“Yes.”
George took Hattie’s hands and checked her palms and arms for any sign of rash. “But no rash.”
“No. No rash.”
Hattie did not move or open her eyes, and it hardly seemed she was breathing. George laid his hand on her head. It was burning with fever. He felt if he lifted his hand away, the skin would be red from the contact. Was the little angel so near death that the heat no longer caused her misery? Thoughts swirled in George’s head. The Lord can save her. He caused the blind to see, and He raised Jairus’s daughter. But what if it is Hattie’s time? What if the Lord is calling her home? He shook his head. She must have a calling to perform—a calling that will tie her to this earth. She must! Suddenly the jumble of thoughts stopped, and a peaceful assurance settled into his mind. It is not smallpox.
“It’s not smallpox.”
Jonathan started. “How do you know that?”
George shook his head. “I just know. It’s serious, but it’s not smallpox.” He turned to look at Jonathan. “Brother Jonathan, you now hold the Melchizedek Priesthood. Bring the consecrated oil and anoint your daughter.”
The suffering man staggered to George’s side and, with shaking hands, poured a few drops of oil on his daughter’s head. After he said the pray of anointing, George placed his hands lightly on Hattie’s head and pronounced the blessing. It was a powerful yet simple prayer. He called out Hattie’s full name, and commanded the destroying angel to depart. Then, after several moments’ pause, he promised the sufferer that, according to God’s will, she would live to be a joy to her mother and father. He also pronounced that many would know her name and be touched by her grace and beauty.
A stillness filled the room, and Kitty melted into tears.
George finished the blessing, and he and Jonathan slowly lifted their hands from Hattie’s head. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and though she did not open her eyes, her small hand brushed absently across her face.
***
George sat by Hattie’s cot as Jonathan and Kitty slept in the next room. An hour after the blessing, Hattie had opened her eyes and asked for coconut pudding. She’d eaten two bites and fallen back to sleep. Jonathan carried her to her cot, stumbling with exhaustion and relief, and George had sent him and Kitty off to their room.
It was just before dawn, and the house was still. George leaned closer toward Hattie and chanted. “Ua ala ‘ula mai o kua, ua moku ka pawa o ke ao; a keokeo mauka a wehe ke ala ‘ula a pua ‘lena, a ao loa.” There comes a glimmer of color in the mountains, the curtains of night are parted, the mountains light up; day breaks; the east blooms with yellow; it is broad daylight.
George ringed his finger in one of Hattie’s brown curls, smiling at the thought that someday he and Elizabeth Hoagland might have a few of these little cherubs, mixed in with a parcel of rambunctious boys. George blushed at these nonmissionary thoughts of marriage and family, and he quickly fixed his mind on priesthood blessings and the Book of Mormon translation. The Book of Mormon in Hawaiian! He and Jonathan would probably have it finished by the end of the month.
Hattie smacked her lips and opened her eyes. “Wai.” Water.
George gently sat her up and brought a glass of water to her mouth. She drank greedily, some of the water dribbling down her chin.
George moved the glass away. “Better?” She nodded. He took a corner of the quilt and dried her face. He laid her back on her pillow.
“Mama?”
“Sleeping.”
“Makua kane?” Father.
“Sleeping too.”
Hattie accepted this news without fuss, and as always, George was amazed by her unflappable nature.
She reached up and patted his mouth. “Mele. Mele.”
George smiled. He envisioned the joyful faces of Jonathan and Kitty when they awoke to find their daughter nearly back to normal. He brushed a finger over Hattie’s cool forehead and began to sing:
Lead kindly light amid the encircling gloom.
Lead thou me on.
The night is dark and I am far from home.
Lead thou me on.
As George sang, he felt loneliness, doubt, and fear float with the notes out the open window and into the soft glow of morning.
Notes
The sickness and seizures that plagued Kitty Napela were documented in several of the missionary journals, including George Cannon’s.
The smallpox epidemic of 1853 began in Honolulu, but soon spread to the other islands. It is estimated that 30 percent of the native population perished.
Chapter 28
Wailuku, Maui
October 16, 1853
Dear Mary,
Soon the whales will return to the Lahaina channel and I will say my good-byes to these islands. I do not know an exact date, but I feel that the time is growing short. Not that any of us missionaries will slack in our work, but home seems to be calling. Sister Hoagland sent a letter stating that if I were delayed much longer she was seriously thinking of packing a satchel and coming over to join me. I think she would do it. She seems to be a partner after my own heart.
Elders Tanner, Karren, Johnson, and Allred are taking well to the work. They are grateful for the intense language lessons given by Brother Napela. He says that if he can have the new missionaries for two months, he can give them a good start with the language. It is a good method and very different from how we original missionaries had to learn. I feel to give thanks every day for the blessing of learning the language so quickly. It was a miracle that I fully acknowledge.
A group of us have just returned from a trip up the mountain Haleakala to see the crater. There were fourteen of us and seven Hawaiian guides. It was a three-day trip, and we saw glorious vistas and had some adventures. I am writing the story down in my journal, Mary, and will share it with the family when I get home. Please tell the children that I could not bring them lava rocks from the volcano because our guides said it would anger Pele, the goddess of the volcano, and we did not want any bad luck.
I wrote you of the devastating smallpox epidemic, dear Mary, and it wrenches my heart when I think of the beautiful Hawaiian people suffering so from this sickness. They are like newborn babies against diseases, and thousands died from this outbreak. The board of health is estimating that 30 percent of the Hawaiian population may have perished. I know we lost about that number in the Church. Many were saved by priesthood blessings, but many died. We lost several of the strongest native elders, and many of us missionaries struggled with why the Lord would take such stalwart men—those that were needed here to fortify the Church. We think that perhaps they were taken to preach to their brothers and sisters on the other side. I don’t know. I do know that the Lord will sort everything out.
I have been to most of the major islands now in an attempt to raise money for the printing press to print the Hawaiian Book of Mormon and for passage money for the missionaries to return home. It is not an easy task as the people are mostly poor, but they do what they can. One man brought his family’s only horse and gave it to me to sell. I was moved to tears by his faith and felt impressed to bless him and promise him that he and his family would have their temporal needs met. I know the Lord does bless His children here. When I first met Brother Napela, he was two thousand dollars in debt, and they were in jeopardy of having their house taken. He has born testimony many times that the Lord told him if he would care for the missionaries, that all would be well. And so it is. He has withstood much persecution and continues to progress in the Church. He is one of the best men I have had the privilege to know, and I will miss him when the time comes to depart.
We will be going to the island of Lanai in a few days to see if it would be a good place for gathering the Saints. I will also go to the island of Hawaii soon to check on the workings of the Church and encourage the members.
