Misfortune and disaster
Long sea voyages in the 19th century carried their share of risks for both vessels and passengers alike.
WHILE SHIPWRECKS WERE not as common en route to Australia as people may think, fear of them, or of attack by hostile ships, was ever-present. Ships that sailed the Great Circle route deep into the southern latitudes were particularly vulnerable. One emigrant ship, Guiding Star, disappeared completely in 1855, with 543 people on board.
Other emigrant vessels wrecked with large losses were Cataraqui (1845, 400 dead); Tayleur (1854, 340 dead); and Kapunda (1887, 298 dead). Dunbar was wrecked at The Gap, Watson’s Bay, Sydney (1857, 121 dead).
Personal disasters were also an unavoidable feature of life at sea. Some diarists penned poignant accounts of their feelings at seeing loved ones, or even shipboard acquaintances, sicken and die during a voyage.
One harrowing account by Joseph Pettingell describes the decline and death of his two-yearold daughter, Georgina, just days out of Hobart. Like others who died en route, she was buried at sea. After their funerals, the ships sailed on, leaving behind those who would never make landfall on the shore to which they were bound. brought on board to be slaughtered (albeit well away from your quarters on the upper deck). Helen Roland, travelling aboard SS Great Britain in 1861, wrote that the style of dining on board was “decidedly grand”, and “I do not know how it is that everyone seems able to eat so much”.
On other voyages even the first-class diet could be bland and unvarying. Steamships were considered to have superior food to sailing ships. Edith Gedge on SS Sobraon in 1888 wrote that “the feeding is not at all equal to that on board a steamer, water is more scarce, & the whole thing is in a different style”.This complaint did not deter Edith from reproducing a “Bill of Fare” for dinner on 23 December 1888 that included mock turtle soup, jugged hare, beef scollops, forced onions, giblet pie, stewed oxtail, curry and rice, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, roast goose stuffed with apple sauce, plum pudding, blancmange and apricots, sandwich pastry and shortbread.
All classes shared their quarters with unwelcome visitors such as rats and cockroaches. Even more sobering were the life-threatening situations that could occur. You and your loved ones could be exposed to disease or accidents. Many people died and were buried at sea (see box, left).
Passing ships could be either friendly or hostile. Long periods at sea meant being out of touch with news, and there was always the possibility that Britain might have declared hostilities against another nation. Another ship coming into view on the horizon could either be an enemy or a welcome opportunity to send mail back home. Until the status of the vessel was established, both passengers and crew had some nervous moments.
For example, John Carter, on the East Indiaman General Hewett in 1844–45, described the quandary he was in when a “rakish looking” vessel hove into view. The crew thought it might be “either a slaver, or pirate”, and “preparations were made for putting the ship in a state of defence by loading the Guns”. John added that:
“I hardly knew what to do first, whether to load my gun for a foe; or in case of her being a friend to finish my letter; however, I adopted the latter alternative, & as it turned out the wiser, & then loaded my gun, for the first time with any hostile purpose. It was a false alarm: the ship turned out to be a small Portuguese merchant brig bound for Pernambuco. Its captain proved willing to carry letters ashore for posting – and also made a present of some onions.”
BOREDOM, AND BEING CLOSELY CONFINED with other people, led at times to outbreaks of domestic violence and other anti-social behaviour. A passenger known only as ‘Mr Rankine’, on Clifton in 1838, had drunk himself into a state of delirium tremens, and began to threaten passengers and crew. After putting up with physical and verbal attacks from Mr Rankine for some days, the captain had him restrained in a straitjacket. This did not prevent him from biting “any person against whom he has taken a dislike”. Finally, he took advantage of the fact the captain and crew were at lunch to persuade his keeper that he needed fresh air.
Once on deck, he threw himself overboard and drowned. His body was retrieved and he was buried at sea.
Every journey came to an end. The Australian coast appeared, and passengers speculated about this new land. William Nicols, arriving in 1849, wrote of Sydney Harbour that “it far exceeds the grandest scene that England can produce”. William Harbottle, arriving that same year, admired “one of the most beautiful places on earth”, then wrote: “I am impatient for breakfast and then for Sydney.”
Mary McConnel, encountering Moreton Bay in 1849, wrote “It seemed really to me as if we had come to the end of the known world, and no other had dawned upon us.” Mr Barton, who came to South Australia on Irene in 1853, was far more optimistic. His last diary entry reads: “Hurrah for the land of Canaan.”
Fortunately for rat-fearing Janet Ronald in 1858, Invincible reached Melbourne a few weeks after she’d written about the war she was waging against the rodents, and all thought of the creatures was dispelled by her joy at arriving there and being reunited with her family.
The vast majority of emigrants survived the journey, endured it mostly with equanimity, and, at times, even enjoyed it. Reading their firsthand accounts allows us to share their fear, joy, boredom and wonder as they crossed oceans on the way to a new world.
LEARN more about the adventures of emigrants in High Seas & High Teas: Voyaging To Australia by Roslyn Russell, National Library of Australia Publishing, $44.99.