An undated photo of Sarah Holyoak, second wife of Joseph James.

Essentials
Born: 4 August 1835; Kingsnorton, Warwickshire, England
Son of: George HOLYOAK and Sarah GREEN
Married: Joseph JAMES, 2 Oct 1854; Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah
Died: 25 October 1916; Ogden, Weber, Utah

Page contents
Life sketch
Voyage of the ship Windermere
Tossed by the sea

COMPILED BY DARYL JAMES
USING VARIOUS SOURCES, LISTED BELOW
     Sarah Holyoak was born the sixth of eight children in Kingsnorton, Warwickshire, England, to George Holyoak and Sarah Green. Her family lived in Yardley Wood, a suburb of Birmingham, in what was called Rose Cottage. The children were taught to be industrious and religious.
     The Holyoak family listened to missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, were baptized, and soon immigrated to America to join the Saints in Utah. They sailed from England in 1854 on the ship, Windermere, a double-decked packet ship that carried 477 passengers. The passenger list from this ship shows the Holyoak parents, George and Sarah, and five Holyoak children aboard, including Sarah and her sister, Ann. Sarah's eldest sister, Mary, is listed under the name Knowles with her husband, John Knowles.
     Besides Eli Daniel, who had died at about age 4 in 1838, only two Holyoak children, William and George Jr., are missing from the ship's list. William, whose first wife had died two days after delivering a son in 1848, had remarried and immigrated to the United States with his second wife by 1850. Apparently William left his son, Nehemiah, in the care of his parents because that child's name appears on the Windermere list with the other Holyoaks. George Jr. either immigrated with William or aboard some other ship ahead of his parents. His first marriage took place in Missouri in 1853.
     The journey aboard the Windermere would have been difficult for Sarah, who was 18 at the time. Passengers suffered from a violent sea storm, an epidemic of smallpox, and a fire in the kitchen that ultimately forced a reduction in food and water rations. When the immigrants reached St. Louis via New Orleans, the crew and passengers were quarantined with cholera.
     In the summer of 1854, the Holyoak family started across the Great Plains with the Darwin Richardson wagon company, which left from Westport, Mo., and consisted of about 300 pioneers and 40 wagons. In this company was a young English immigrant who was traveling alone, and he was assigned to travel with the Holyoak family. His name was Joseph James. Ancestral File records show that Joseph James had married Sarah's older sister, Ann, about 1852 in Yardley, Warwickshire, England. This seems unlikely, however, because Ann's surname listed on the Windermere records is still Holyoak. A man named Joseph James was on board, but this was a 47-year-old passenger apparently traveling with a wife (or 46-year-old sister) and a 17-year-old child.
     More likely, Joseph James met the Holyoaks in the United States and married Ann only a few months before her death from Rocky Mountain spotted fever in August 1854. Records from the immigrant ship, Golconda, list a Joseph James the same age as the man in the Richardson wagon company. This ship sailed Feb. 4, 1854, from Liverpool with 464 passengers and docked March 18, 1854, in New Orleans. The Joseph James aboard the Golconda, however, seems to have traveled as part of a family. Daniel and Margaret James, ages 48 and 46, are listed with John James, 27; Mary James, 25; and Joseph James, 23. The Joseph who married Ann was an orphan if the records are correct. His mother, Mary James, had died when he was 2, and his only surviving sibling had died when he was 7. His father, who was not married to his mother, apparently did not raise Joseph. Evidence for this is that Joseph carried the surname of his mother rather than his father's surname, Jury. It is unclear, however, who cared for Joseph during his childhood -- or if this is even the same Joseph who married Ann Holyoak.
     What seems certain is that, at some point, Sarah's sister Ann married a man named Joseph James before dying of mountain fever on the Plains of Nebraska, where she was buried. No children are listed from this marriage. Sarah's mother also died of mountain fever, an infection transmitted by ticks, about six weeks before Ann, on June 16, 1854.
     Besides the threat from mountain fever, members of the Richardson company lacked sufficient food and water and had to endure strict rationing. Nevertheless, the company arrived Sept. 30, 1854, in the Salt Lake Valley. The next month on Oct. 2, Sarah married her sister's widower, Joseph James, in a ceremony performed by Elder Sykes. Sarah and Joseph then moved to Parowan to help colonize that community. They worked for their room and board, living with a Sniffield family.
     Sarah's own first home, in Ogden, was made of sod. The family seldom had enough to eat, the children went barefoot, and they suffered severely from the cold. During the early years of Sarah and Joseph's marriage, their crops were washed away with floods or eaten by grasshoppers.
     Sarah made hats and brooms, spun yarn and knitted stockings. She worked for a man that wove cloth and gave her cloth for wages. She traded brooms and other items for fruit. Sarah planted every pit until she had a beautiful orchard.
     Together she and Joseph had 13 children in Odgen from 1855 to 1881. Joseph died in 1893 at age 63 (relying on Ancestral File records). Sarah Holyoak lived until 1916 and died in Ogden at age 81.

-- Sources: 1. "Sarah Holyoak James." Pioneer Women of Faith and Fortitude, Vol. II, pp 1,510 (Daughters of Utah Pioneers, 1998); 2. Various passenger lists from the Mormon Immigration Index; 3. Ancestral File records.

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Voyage of the Ship Windermere

CONDENSED FROM W.W. BURTON'S ACCOUNT
FROM A COPY MADE MARCH 23, 1944,
FROM BRITISH MISSION RECORDS OF 1854
BY EVELYN A. SESSIONS
     On Wednesday, February 22, 1854, the ship Windermere sailed from Liverpool with 460 passengers. As the vessel started in motion, the songs of Zion, blending in soul-inspiring harmony, thrilled the souls of the passengers and their many friends standing on the shore gazing at the departed vessel, shouting farewell, goodbye with eyes streaming with tears. Doubtless they were recalling that only the night before seven vessels, with all on board, went down in the depths of the channel. As the land disappeared in the distance the sweet singing ceased and many began to feel sick.
     About 8 p.m. the first day at sea, an old gentleman named Squires died. All that night the wind howled fiercely; the sea was rough; the ship was driven from its course towards the Isle of Atan. About 11 p.m. off Holly Head, which is a most dangerous point and the scene of frequent shipwrecks, was passed. On the morning of the 23rd Father Squires, who died the night before, was thrown overboard. The sea was still rough and the wind was blowing. During this day the Windermere sailed by the remains of a wrecked vessel. Masts, sails and other fragments were floating around. Likely, a few hours previous many despairing souls had tenaciously clung to these same objects for relief that never came. All had been consigned to a watery grave for no signs of life remained and the rolling waves swept over the bodies while the wind howled its tribute for the dead. Some were now beginning to recover from sea sickness, but many were still ill, and some confined to their berths. About this time flying fishes were seen which would rise from the water and fly a short distance and drop into the water again. Life on the Windermere was growing monotonous, for its accommodations were poor for so many passengers, and then it did not sail like the ocean steamers now do when propelled by steam. The Windermere was eight weeks, four nights, and five days sailing from Liverpool to New Orleans, which can now be made in six or seven days. We were on the Atlantic Ocean about seven weeks without seeing land. On the 12th day of March, from 7 to 8 in the morning, an exceedingly fierce storm arose. The wind roared like one of our mountain winds, the masts cracked and the sails were cut in pieces. The captain of the Windermere expressed fears that the ship could not stand so heavy a sea, and in speaking with Daniel Garn, the president of the Saints on board, said, "I am afraid the ship cannot stand this storm, Mr. Garn, if there be a God, as your people say there is, you had better talk to Him if He will hear you. I have done all that I can for the ship and I am afraid with all that can be done she will go down." Elder Garn went to the Elders, who presided over the nine wards in the ship, and requested them to get all the saints on board and to fast, and call a prayer meeting to be held in each ward at 10 a.m. and pray that they might be delivered from the danger. The waves were lashed with white foam, the storm continued in all its fury, but precisely at 10 a.m. the prayer meeting commenced and such a prayer meeting few have ever seen. The ship rolled from side to side.
     On one side the Saints were hanging by their hands, and the other they were standing on their heads. Then the ship would roll on the other side which would reverse their positions. About this time the large boxes which were tied with ropes under the berths broke loose with pots, pans and kettles and rolled with terrible force on each side of the vessel. Although the prayers were fervent and earnest, as the pleadings of poor souls brought face to face with danger and death, they ceased their prayers to watch and dodge the untied boxes, and great confusion prevailed for some time. The wind roared like a hurricane. Sail after sail was torn to shreds and lost. The waves were very large and as far as the eye could see, seemed to be one angry mass of rolling white foam. The hatches were fastened down. This awful storm lasted about 18 hours, then abated a little, but it was stormy from the 8th of March until the 18th. Observation taken by the quadrant showed that the ship was in the same latitude as it was on the 8th. On the 14th of March, which was two days after this terrible storm, smallpox broke out. Of the three sisters, one was taken down with it. She had a light attack and recovered, but her two sisters then came down with it and both died, and after that 37 others, 40 in all, came down with it. Three days after the breaking out of smallpox, the ship took fire under the cooking galley. At this time we had not seen land for three weeks or more; when the cry of "Fire! The ship is on fire," rang throughout the vessel, and wild excitement and consternation prevailed everywhere. The sailors plied water freely, all the water buckets on board were brought into use and soon the fire was under control. When the last of the three sisters, who took smallpox, died it was evening. W. W. Burton thought he would get a good place from which to see the body thrown overboard; so he got outside the vessel and seated himself on the ledge extending out from the deck, placing each arm around a rope that led to the rigging. His feet were hanging over the ocean and the ship was sailing about at 10 knots. By this time darkness was fast setting in, but here he sat waiting to get a good view when the corpse would be thrown into the watery grave, where some said sharks were constantly following for prey. Brother Burton went to sleep and the funeral passed without his knowledge. The sound of feet walking on the deck aroused him from his slumber. A chill ran through him; his hair almost stood on end when he sensed his condition. Here he had been asleep, his feet were hanging off the side of the vessel which was rocking to and fro. He wondered how he had escaped falling overboard. It was now totally dark. He climbed into the ship and resolved never to expose himself so again. About this time the stench of the smallpox was fearful in every part of the vessel. Emma Brooks was the name of the young lady just thrown overboard. Her sister Fanny had died the same day about half past one o’clock p.m., and was also thrown overboard about two o’clock. The funeral services were very impressive; a funeral at sea is the most melancholy and solemn scene perhaps ever witnessed, especially when the sea is calm. A stillness like that of death prevailed with us while an old sailor, at intervals, would imitate the doleful tolling of the bell of some old church, such as heard in some parts of England. Funerals were becoming frequent. About the time the Windermere had been about six weeks out of Liverpool and the passengers had never seen land from the time they had entered the Atlantic. The days were generally mild and the weather very pleasant. The sun set and the bright, pale moon seemed to be straight above our heads. On the 8th day of April we came in sight of the Island of Cuba. On this day, about 10 a.m., a young man named Dee, died of smallpox. At the time of his death the wind had ceased blowing, not a ripple upon the waters. The sea appeared bright and clear, and seemed as smooth as a sea of glass. The young man that had just died was sewed up in a white blanket and at the feet was placed a heavy weight of coal. A plank was then placed with one end resting in the porthole in the side of the ship and other near the main hatchway. The body was then placed on this plank. The doleful tolling of the bell began. Elder McGhee made a brief address suitable for the occasion and offered a short prayer, after which the body and bedding of the young man were thrown overboard. The ship was standing perfectly still and the body could be seen sinking in the water until it appeared no longer than a person’s hand. Some thought it was seen sinking for a full 15 minutes, others still longer; some said a half hour. The passengers of the Windermere had passed through a terrible storm, the panic created by the ship taking fire, their number decreased by smallpox, still another fearful calamity threatened them. The fresh water supply was getting short, and the store of provisions was falling. The passengers were limited to one hard, small sea biscuit for a day’s rations.
     The Captain sent some sailors in a small boat to intercept a ship that was passing in the hopes of getting more provisions, but they failed. The Windermere now passed the western points of the Island of Cuba. The passengers had a good view of the lighthouse located on the most western point. The Gulf of Mexico was before them. The Gulf Stream flowed in like a vast river. Just think of this stream 500 miles across, very deep and constantly flowing. On the morning of the 20th of April the ship entered the mouth of the Mississippi River. The passengers were more glad to look upon the plantations of orange groves that bordered the banks of the river than the great strong surging waves of the Atlantic which they had left behind them. Sometimes the Negroes would call from the shore and bid the emigrants welcome.

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Tossed by the Sea

BY WILLIAM W. BURTON
(1833-1918) FROM HIS JOURNAL
     Feb. 22, 1854, I sailed on the ship "Windermere" from Liverpool for New Orleans. We were eight weeks and five days on the way, and we encountered heavy storms. On the 18th of March we were in the same latitude that we were in on the 8th. The weather was very rough, and the captain of the vessel came to Elder Daniel Garns, who presided over the [351] Saints, and said, "Mr. Garns, I have done all I can for the vessel, and I am afraid that it cannot stand this sea. We are in great danger. I don't know, whether there is a God or not. Your people say there is, and if there is a God and He will hear you, you had better talk to Him."
     It was early in the morning; a fast was decided upon, and prayer meeting held at 10 a.m. The storm abated a little -- enough, to make us feel out of danger -- but continued in considerable force till the 18th. On the 14th (March) smallpox broke out. There were forty cases on board and thirteen funerals took place between Liverpool and New Orleans.
     On the 17th the ship caught fire under the cooking galley. Great excitement prevailed, until the fire was extinguished.
     On the 27th, the provisions and water supply failed and from that time till we reached New Orleans April 23, 1854, our ration was one sea biscuit a day.

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Sarah HOLYOAK
George Heber JAMES Jr. (living)
George Heber JAMES Sr.
Gerald Heber JAMES (living)
Joseph Henry JAMES
Joseph JAMES

CHILDREN WITH JOSEPH JAMES