Sager Orphans - The Deaths of Henry and Naomi Sager

The Deaths of Henry and Naomi Sager

On August 23, 1844, the wagon train reached South Pass, a high plains pass that is on the Continental Divide. During the descent into the Green River valley some of the travelers fell ill due to an outbreak of camp fever. Amongst those suffering from the fever was Henry. After crossing the Green River, two women and a child were already dead, and it became evident that Henry wouldn't live through the night. He asked Captain Shaw to take care of his family and died soon afterwards. He was buried by his family, on the banks of the Green River in an improvised coffin.

Naomi, still weakened from childbirth and mourning her husband, now had all the responsibility for the seven children. Although Captain Shaw and Dr. Dagon did everything possible to assist her, the exertions were too much. Suffering from heavy fever she became delirious and finally requested Dr. Dagon to squire the children to Dr. Marcus Whitman, a missionary in the Walla Walla Valley of what is now southeastern Washington. She died near present day Twin Falls, Idaho. Her last words were "Oh Henry, if you only knew how we have suffered". As there was no lumber available, she was buried wrapped in a bedsheet. John, the oldest Sager child, carved the words Naomi Carney Sager, age 37 out of a wooden headboard and thus marked the shallow grave. The children, the youngest three months, the oldest thirteen years, were orphaned for the first time.

Read more about this topic:  Sager Orphans

Famous quotes containing the words deaths and/or sager:

    There is the guilt all soldiers feel for having broken the taboo against killing, a guilt as old as war itself. Add to this the soldier’s sense of shame for having fought in actions that resulted, indirectly or directly, in the deaths of civilians. Then pile on top of that an attitude of social opprobrium, an attitude that made the fighting man feel personally morally responsible for the war, and you get your proverbial walking time bomb.
    Philip Caputo (b. 1941)

    My sweetest Lesbia let us live and love,
    And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
    Let us not weigh them: Heav’n’s great lamps do dive
    Into their west, and straight again revive,
    But soon as once set is our little light,
    Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
    Catullus [Gaius Valerius Catullus] (84–54 B.C.)