LIFE ON-BOARD THE EMIGRANT SHIPS

When colonists boarded the emigrant ships in Britain or Europe and set out on the 3 month journey to New Zealand, most had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. The vast majority had never seen a vessel of that size let alone undertaken a voyage on one. Full of hope for a better life in a new land across the sea, the spartan and wretched conditions of shipboard life often meant for some the end of this once-in-a-lifetime dream.

The voyages undertaken by our immigrant ancestors during the mid to late 19th century have often been so romanticised that people today have little sense of the trials and hardships they suffered. Many of the early ships were rather cramped and much of the available space was jammed with cargo. Each family was allocated tiny living quarters, sometimes only divided from their neighbours by a canvas curtain. Fresh air was ducted in from above or by way of small portholes which, in rough weather allowed in salt water as well as air. A passenger on the Palmerston, to Port Chalmers with European immigrants, described on-board arrangements as: "Our quarters, excuse me, saloon is midship about 130 feet long and the full width of the ship, 30 feet. The bunks, shall I call them beds, are on the two and two principle, one above the other, and 3feet 6 inches broad, but how long I will not mention. In front of all the beds are nice seats made of 9 inch boards, meant no doubt for comfort. The dinner tables are constructed so as to be hung up under the deck to allow more floor space when not needed to serve for our dainty menus or meals. The seats along the tables, for we have chairs, are top heavy, and cannot stand by themselves when they are not weighted by occupation, when heavy seas are running, and that is almost every day and night".

While space for accustomed movement, other than by taking a constitutional on deck, was severely restricted, the emigrants were also sometimes victims of poor food, damp conditions and illness. If the ship enjoyed good weather, the lot of her passengers was much easier, but when stormy conditions prevailed the ships of the time were ill-equipped for associated emergencies. Illness and death were frequent attendants on board ship. Such illnesses as marasmus, diarrhoea, congestion, scarlet fever and even teething took their toll of the young whilst enteric (typhoid) fever and tuberculosis amongst other diseases ensured that a number of the adult passengers were never to see their new home. Congestion and bronchial illnesses were exacerbated by the damp and cold conditions of the Roaring Forties whilst physical weakness and youth were preyed on by the sapping heat of the tropics. On some voyages one can almost map the location of the ship by the frequency and nature of the illnesses as they strike their deadly blow.

A Surgeon Superintendent (usually a fully qualified doctor) was appointed to attend the emigrants and other passengers on each voyage. While the Captain was responsible for his ship and its crew, the Surgeon held governance over the conduct, morals, behaviour, nutrition and health of hundreds of souls. To aid him in this awsome responsibility the Surgeon appointed a Matron to govern the single women and two or three Constables to keep order, distribute food and other supplies and to ensure that all on board were equally provided for. At the end of the voyage, on the consideration that all duties had been performed adequately, gratuitues were apportioned out. It ws here too that the greater responsibilities of the Surgeon were recognised. While the Captain, First Officer, Constables and Matron each received some compensation for service, the Surgeon was often given a fixed amount (determined at the time he was hired) plus an added bonus for each and every healthy immigrant landed safely. The Surgeon on board the barque Birman, for instance, received £84.11.08 for landing 169 1/6 statue adults, a £50.00 bonus and £1.00 for each of five live children born on board. Of course £1.00 was deducted for each of twelve deaths on board and on March 12th 1842, Dr Motherwell signed for the receipt of £127.11.08.

It is not easy to imagine the psychological pressures placed on emigrants, particularly those leaving family and cherished ones behind. Whilst most travelled willingly and in hope of achieving a better life for self and family they, too, had also torn themselves away from their country, family, friends and loved ones and were anxious about their future. Boredom and anxiety, too, were to take their toll. Three months on board ship with few activities to entertain oneself would sometimes lead to dangerous pursuits.

Boy swinging on rope........anxious woman put ashore before leaving.

Most parents had six to ten children, half of whom were expected to die in childhood. Each ship carried men and women who were ill, homesick and nursing some of their families. There were three consecutive entries in one diary.
"15th. One little child dead. The parents belong to Sweden.
23rd. A female dead, belonging to a Zeeland parent.
24th. One little child dead, belonging to a Polish parent."

Another diary, kept by an emigrant on board the Indiana which sailed for New Zealand in August 1858, reflected the dangers of early voyaging. "About 4 a.m. nearly ran down a schooner. 8 a.m. spoke a Portuguese schooner. She wanted the longitude. A degree out." The hazards were enormous. The Dunedin, famous for her carriage of the first full cargo of frozen meat from Otago, disappeared on her 11th voyage. Was it a collision, a fire, a storm? No one ever knew. The Indiana diary continues:
Wed 25th August. Charlotte is a little stronger today but forced to bathe the breast with hot water and poultice with Linseed Oil.
Thursday 26th August. The same as yesterday. The Captain caught a dolphin, the first on Indiana. I climbed topsail Yard. We got her up on deck in the afternoon. Not up long. Faints away. I carry her down and she faints twice I stay with her. Take babe in with me and it is very ill all night.
Saturday 28th. Charlotte is much worse, baby tolerable, calm today and yesterday.
Sunday 5th September. Babe much the same as yesterday, only falling away fast. Spoke the City of Benares for Calcutta 24 days out....Mrs Langridge baby died with thrush. Is buried the same night. Charlotte is the same..

During the next few days they battled to save the baby. Her gums were lanced. Blisters broke out in her neck. Finally, on September 17, she was christened.

Friday 10th  Grows weaker and at 5.02 a.m. she expires at the age of twelve months short of seven days. The Captain gets a nice little coffin for her and she is buried at 11 a.m. in Lat. 2.39 N. Long. 16.35 W. (about 100 miles west of Liberia)

One other reference speaks for itself. "4 p.m. Mrs Ried is buried, no coffin, no timber. Schoolmaster read."

Early on the voyage of the Philip Laing in 1848, the refractory seaman had to be imprisoned, a near mutiny broke out over the distribution of food, the water closets became blocked, and drunkenness caused difficulty. In such confined quarters a small problem became intolerable.