1 Leaving England for America

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the eighth of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 11–13). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

As soon as we were baptized, the spirit of gathering took pos­ses­sion of us. When I first read and began to see the gospel light, I prayed earnestly that if it were true that, after we were baptized, the way might be opened for us to gather to Zion right away. And sure­ly my prayers were answered, for we were baptized on the 22nd of May and we sailed on the 18th of June [1887]. Many were the long talks and arrangements made for the eventful day.

But there were many trials to be met and trials to be over­come. My neighbor and very dear friend, when I told her I had joined the true church and gave her a tract, looked at me and said, "You, you joined such dis­respectable people as that! I am ashamed of you!" She would scarcely speak and never visited me again until the day we left. Then she came and invited us to dinner, but we felt we would have harder trials to face for the gospel's sake.

Then came the day we left Bos­combe Manor Lodge with its green lawns and beautiful trees. Good-byes were said to friends, one last look at the lodge, and off to catch the train at Pokesdour for Win­chester, my home where brothers, sisters, and friends were gathered to say good-bye. Through my head ran the tune and words of the anthem—

O Zion, lovely Zion, thou city of the faithful,
How often with rapture thy praises we sing.

At times the terrible thought would come, "Suppose you leave mother, brothers and sisters, your native land, then this gospel is not true?" One short prayer to Father to keep us faithful and all was peace again.

My mother felt so terrible. She was really ill to think her young­est girl was going to leave her and go to America. It was really more than she could stand: she could not eat; she cried most of the time, which made it hard to part. My brothers made me promise I would not break down and cry when the time came to part. I promised, but never dreamt what it meant to keep that promise.

At last the dreaded day arrived when good-byes must be said to one and all. The morning was bright and beautiful. No one hardly spoke. Our hearts were sad at the thought of parting. Good-byes were said to brothers and sisters. I never spoke, but picked up my little girl, threw my arm around my mother and kissed her, and walked away and never looked back until I reached the gate, which was quite a distance from the house. Then came a turn in the road; I looked back at Mother waving her hand­ker­chief—one last look at the dear old home and all was lost to view.

And then to Winchester to catch the train for London for a three days' visit with some of the Batt family. Good-byes were once more said, but we expected to see Sister Batt, Charles’s mother, the follow­ing spring.

We left London in the morning on the nine o'clock train going to Liverpool to get our tickets. About ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, we left the pier. There were 150 Mormons on board, and with crew and other passengers about 900 people altogether. As the ship began to sway as she was loosed from her moorings, the pilot came to take us out of the harbor. Brother Rigby, who had charge of the company of Mormons, gathered us all together, and we sang—

O Babylon, O Babylon, we bid thee farewell;
We’re going to the mountains of Ephraim to dwell.

All went well for the first two days when nearly all on board were con­fined to their bunks with seasick­ness.

On our sixth day out, one of the firemen died, which cast a gloom over all on board. We witnessed a funeral at sea. The man was sewed up in a sail, a clergyman read a few prayers, the ship almost stopped, and he was let down over the side of the vessel into the sea. All the passengers went to the side of the ship to see him buried, which seemed almost to tip the vessel on one side.

About the seventh day out, a large vessel going to England passed us. We were so glad to see someone. How we all waved and yelled to them. And they returned the compli­ment.

On the ninth day out, the pilot met us. We were so glad to see him come in his small boat to take us to the harbor. We reached the harbor about nine o'clock in the evening. We all seemed to forget the day and time; everybody got mixed up. After we had landed, we left a few hours later for Norfolk, boarding another ship which was very dif­fe­rent from the Wisconsin.