Memoirs of John R. Young, Utah Pioneer, 1847

by John R. Young

Inside the fort, the water was comparatively still, so that men were able to move around as they wished; but as they approached the gate, no man unassisted could stem the current. To remedy this, a rope was passed from a tree on the outside, through the gate, and made fast to a post on the inside. By holding to this line, men could pass in and out; the women and children were then taken on the men's shoulders and carried to a place of safety.

The rescue was scarcely accomplished, before another danger faced us; for by this time the high tide of the flood had passed; and the channel of the creek, which had also become enlarged, sucked the water from the overflowed flats, strengthened the current in the creek, undermining its banks, and caving them in. Suddenly the southwest corner of the fort, Ira Hatch's home, fell into the flood, sweeping away everything he owned. Other families suffered, but he, taken by surprise, lost all.

Across the creek from the fort was a little grist mill owned by Jacob Hamblin. Father Chamberlain, the aged miller, with two grandchildren, a boy and a girl, were living in a dugout near the mill. The first they knew of it, a stream of water was pouring in upon them. They succeeded, however, in emerging from the trap, and climbing a near-by tree, where they passed the night in terror. In the morning they waded to a high spot on the mill-race, and none too soon, for both the tree they had climbed, and the mill, were carried away. It was three days before the water fell sufficiently for Ira Hatch and myself to wade across and rescue them.

During the summer preceding the flood, the Clara Indian missionaries had labored in the United Order. The northwest corner room of the fort had been used by them for a granary. Here they had two hundred bushels of wheat unsacked. It was agreed that all hands should assist in carrying out the wheat; while I stood, lantern in hand, to signal any danger from the encroaching flood. One hundred seventy-five bushels had been saved, when I gave the alarm. The men came out at once: and ten minutes later the room caved in.

We felt that we had done all that could be done; and the men being nearly exhausted, and chilled to the bone, went to their homes. The rope that was used at the gate had been taken down, coiled, and hung on Samuel Knight's gate. Jacob Hamblin begged me to hold the light, while he moved a pile of cord-wood, and said when that was done, he would go and rest. He had moved about half of the pile, when a large block of earth on which he stood, dropped into the flood.

I called for help. Joseph Knight ran to me, catching the rope in his hand as he came. At the bank I held the light so that we might peer into the seething waters below. So much earth had fallen that it pushed the water back; and we saw Jacob clinging desperately to snapping roots. Brother Knight rapidly made a noose and dropped it over his head and shoulders. Hamblin then grabbed the rope, and we pulled him from the jaws of death; for no man could have lived long in that torrent of mud and water.

During the damp and rainy weather that accompanied the flood, our little son, John T., took the croup, and after several days of terrible suffering, died. This was our first life sorrow, and the blow was a heavy one.

The old fort and town having been washed away, a new town was laid out under the direction of Apostle Erastus Snow. I secured a city lot, and some farm land, and went to work again.

In the spring of 1862 I was called by the bishop of the Clara ward to drive an ox team to Omaha on the Missouri river, to get some cotton gins and spinning jennies for the benefit of the ward. Leaving my family camped in a tent, I responded to the call, driving my own team, and crossing the plains in John R. Murdock's train.

At Omaha I found my Brother Joseph W., who had charge of the Church immigration, lying at the point of death. He had been knocked down by lightning, and nearly crushed to death by baled wagon beds that were blown upon him during the terrible storm. Under the blessing of God, and with careful nursing, his life was preserved. For three weeks I aided in purchasing teams for the immigrants, and brought up the rear end of that year's emigration. After all our companies had started back, I received orders, by telegram from President Young, to buy more teams and wagons and to clear out the Church warehouse at Florence.