As soon as Strang was shot a great number of the people left at once, having means of their own to help themselves with. There were others who had small means. Their homes were all they had. Strang had preached and taught in the temple that no bullet could pierce his body, and strange as it may seem, there were a large part of his people who believed it. And now when they knew their king was killed, and killed by the bullet, they were prostrate with sorrow; many of them completely incapable of thinking or doing for themselves. My brother said it was a sad sight to look upon when they came to the harbor to go on board the boats. Their sorrow was great. They seemed like a people without a hope in the world. Many wrung their hands and wept with sad moanings, saying, "Our king, our king is dead." Women fainted and were carried on board; children were crying. Even men were sobbing, and two or three attempted to throw themselves from the dock into the water to end their misery. All were allowed to take their household goods, yet many did not do so. Some only took their clothing and bedding. Poor suffering people! No doubt they were afraid of the Gentiles, thinking great harm would be done to them. The feeling had become so bitter between them that in a great many cases justice was not done where it should have been. These people now had no desire to remain on the island now that their king was dead, even when going meant leaving their comfortable homes and all they had in the wide world. Those that worked the hardest suffered most. The building and making of their homes and improving their farms had occupied all their time and attention. They loved their king and their hearts were loyal to him, seeing him only in his best moods, as he was always kind and pleasant to them in his visits about the island. They knew nothing about the workings of the inner circle or private temple teachings.
TEACHINGS OF MORMONISM.
Strang knew just how to manage these hardworking, faithful people, and the reason so many were beginning to think favorably of polygamy was because they were taught that only those who were faithful could be sealed, and in this way were counted God's elect. But there were a large number of women who came to the island that had been better taught than to believe in such a doctrine, which was the reason of Strang's failure to enforce the law.
The two men who shot Strang had their own wrongs to avenge. Bedford had been whipped, he claimed unjustly. The other man, Wentworth, also had much bitterness in his heart of treatment he had suffered from Strang. So the two had planned to shoot him at their first opportunity. Immediately after they shot him they ran to the U. S. steamer Michigan and gave themselves up to the officers saying, "We have shot Strang and are willing to suffer the consequences." They were taken to Mackinac Island and put in jail, where they remained about one week. One dark night the door was unlocked and a man said to them. "Ask no questions, but hurry to the dock and go on board the steamboat that is there." They did so. Nothing was ever done in the way of giving these men a trial. Public sentiment was so great at the time against the Mormons it would have been impossible to find a jury to convict them.
FATHER AND MOTHER'S VISIT TO BEAVER ISLAND.
My brother remained with us three weeks. Father and mother thought they would like to go back to the island with him to visit many of their old-time friends, who had gone back to the island after the Mormons left. Mr. Bower, at Bower's Harbor, owned a small vessel and was anxious, as he said, "To go and see how the island looked with the Mormons gone." So, with several more friends from Traverse City and Old Mission, father, mother and Frank went to Beaver Island. They were gone two weeks. I remained with Mrs. Hitchcock, my former teacher, Miss Helen Goodale. She had gone to housekeeping in their cozy new home just built on First street. I was very contented while they were gone never thinking of such a thing that father would move away from Traverse City. When they came back I could see mother was greatly pleased with the island. There she had met so many of her old friends, and there she could talk her own language again.
A MOTHER LONGING TO SEE HER CHILDREN.
I could see when mother spoke of the island her heart was drawn to it. I said to her, "Would you leave Traverse City and go to Beaver Island?" It was dark and I could not see her face, but I knew by her voice there were tears in her eyes as she said, "Well, I don't know Elizabeth, but it seemed to me while I was there I was nearer to my boys, Charley and Anthony, and now as both are sailing they might sometime come into the harbor in a storm." I spoke with father about it. He said he knew mother wanted to go back, but he did not want to take me from school. Frank, too, said mother was anxious to go to the island, telling him there she might see her two boys who were sailing and have her oldest son with her all the time. There was nothing said to me again about it. I had forgotten all about my talk with my mother.
One morning the latter part of August Frank came and said to me, "Elizabeth you must come home. We are going to move to Beaver Island." At first I said. "No, this can't be so. I can't leave my school which will soon now begin." But I hurried home to find it was true. Packing was going on and all preparations were made to move. Mother was happy. She was going to be near her boys as she so many times said when her neighbors urged her not to go. My heart was heavy. How could I go and leave all my dear companions and my dear school, which was my greatest sorrow. Mr. Therian Bostwick had been our teacher the winter before and would be again the coming winter. He was a highly educated man and he and his wife wanted me to remain with them all winter and go to school. Father said I might if I wanted to and then I could go to the island the next spring, but I felt I could not do it. My winter in Ohio, where I had been homesick, made me timid about being separated from my parents. Dearly as I loved my young companions and Traverse City, I felt I was needed by my parents. Father's health was failing, that I could plainly see, and Frank not old enough to be much help.