All at sea - Part 1

 

South Australian Government Gazette 1855.

barque Coromandel 

Left Southampton on the 20th September 1854 and arrived in Port Adelaide on the 8th of January 1855 with 289 immigrants, having made the voyage in 111 days. Four deaths and six births took place at sea. There were 105 single women in this ship, almost all Irish, a class of persons for whom there is no demand. The cook’s gallery was most injudiciously placed immediately in front of the poop, which was partly occupied by emigrants. The heat and the smoke were a constant cause of annoyance during the voyage. The people were brought out in most excellent order, and all expressed themselves satisfied. They were under the care of Dr. James Barlas, the surgeon-superintendent, it being the fifth time he has had the charge of emigrants.

http://www.theshipslist.com/ships/australia/coromandel1855.shtml

"God bless you, my children." Father Murphy's final words to the group of Irish hopefuls in front of him had barely been uttered when the parish priest changed tone and quickly ushered them out of his presence and onto the street. "Don't be a-ditherin now, get along", he kept muttering, all the while shepherding them in the general direction of Royal Pier.

The group of around fifty emigrants shuffled busily down Lower Canal Walk, then Platform Road, and Canute Road. Finally, they made their way into the cavernous Cargo and Passenger Shed beside the Outer Docks.

For the first time Edward and Catherine could get a glimpse of the other passengers. "Good lord, they're all women - young women, and Irish!" Edward muttered once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom inside the shed. "Where have they come from?" He hadn't given much thought to who the other passengers might be, but he didn't think they would all be Irish. 

Edward saw the Coromandel sign at the front of a long queue and ushered his troupe along with Bill and Mary and their tagalongs to join the line. There seemed to be people everywhere, and it was difficult to see any order in the chaos. 

Ahead of the queue, emigration officials silently checked papers and then processed passengers were directed to the open docks. After an hour in the grumbling queue all the Griffins and Murphys made it through and were able to see their home for the next three months at last. 

Bill had started up a chat with one of the crew. Catherine thought he looked like a ne'er-do-well, but he had a glint in his eye as he spoke.

"It's a barque," said Glint in his Eye. "See, three masts and fore and aft sails. An' square sails all round. Smaller, see, and cheaper to run 'cos you need not so many crew."

"Doesn't look very new", Bill said cautiously.

Glint in the Eye let out a loud laugh, and responded to a wave from aboard. He rushed off to grab a rope, still laughing.

Catherine and Mary, meanwhile, were eyeing off the other passengers as they assembled on the docks. Mary thought she recognised one or two of the single women, but wasn't sure. Catherine kept guard over little Mary who was seven years old, Thomas, six, and young Ellen, three. 

Above them, standing impatiently on deck, the Surgeon-superintendent, the man who would have charge of the health of all these hopeful emigrants, Dr James Barlas, surveyed the scene. All the passengers had had health checks, so theoretically there shouldn't be any major issues, but he had done this before - four times - and nothing could be guaranteed. Down below Matron Chivers was having a devil of a time getting all the workhouse girls together - no sooner did she think they were listening than half would take off again. "Girls. Girls!" Dr James Barlas could hear above the din. "She'll have her work cut out keeping them corralled on board," he thought to himself. "A hundred or more young single women at sea for three months... pretty clear it'll take more than Matron Chivers to preserve their moral virtue." He cast a glance at the sailors hauling cargo aboard.

Beside him, the Schoolmaster, Mr Moody, was counting heads. This was his first voyage in this role, but he was more curious than anxious. The Irish challenged him though. "They're a queer lot," he thought to himself. "Much prefer English working class stock than trying to make sense of the Irish." He could only take a maximum of twenty children at once on deck for schooling during the voyage, and that depended on the weather and the good will of the Captain. So far he had counted eighteen who looked like they might be of schooling age.

Captain Byron took little interest in his passengers, unlike his Schoolmaster, Matron and Surgeon-superintendent. He had done the run from England to the Antipodes many times, and this was to be his last, certainly with this ship. The Coromandel was launched in the Thames in 1820 and its age was showing. It had taken freight to the Far East and human cargo to Australia and New Zealand. Of late it had been transporting convicts to Tasmania, but now it was emigrants to Adelaide. It was all cargo to him - the Surgeon-superintendent can keep them healthy, the Schoolmaster can provide some education for the young ones, and Matron can look after their moral health. When he heard that he would be transporting 105 young lasses from the Irish workhouses he knew he had to get the right Matron, and Matron Chivers appeared to fit the bill. Time will tell. He was mostly concerned about the crew, especially getting enough of them. Now that England was at war in the Crimea, getting half-decent sailors was proving impossible - they had all gone off chasing glory in the British Navy. 

The Captain checked his tide chart again, and the local weather reports. Time to load them up. "We'll be off just before midnight."

Catherine Griffin's Diary

September 20 wednesday – this be the writin of Catherine Griffin passenger aboard the ship Coromandel bound for South Australia bein not used to writin the wordsll be shaky but with Gods will ill be writin what I see. today we finally come aboard an god almighty what have we done the place is a hell hole the divil be proud of. The bunks are but wooden slats how will we fit an sleep in a space less than our pigs has back home in Kerry. An dark as dark can be theres so little light for raidin and writin – an the smells by god! Well no point complainin now we made our bed so’s we may’s well sleep in it. Today we were shoved into our lodgins for the nex three months an then we waited till the tide lif the ship an we was towed out into the channel. Lots of shoutin above an feet walkin the ship squeaks and cracks as it moves.

Mary an Thomas thought they was in some sort o playground at first, peerin at this an pokin at that. Dearest Ellen held on tight, got teethin troubles. Edward and Bill tried to organise the belongins but they spilled out there’s other emigrants crammed in too lots from Ireland but can’t see any Keerrymen cept us. All the married lot in here don’t know where they’ve put all the single girls I see at the docks must be somewhere.

I does my wrtin late at night when theres all asleepin

September 21 thursday - not much sleepin last night were all tryin to get comfortble. Then the ship statred to roll an the seasickness started first one then the next I was alright but Edward threw his guts up till there was no more an then some more! Pretty soon everyone was spewin all over an we was swimmin in a sea of vomit. Poor Mary was so bad she was throwin up in her sleep poor bugger. Had to watch for chokin. Little Ellen sweet soul slept through the lot. Jesus Mary and Joseph what a nightmare we are livin through

In the mornin some of the sailors come through with buckets an mops and clean it all up. Most of the passengers were exhausted from throwin up all night an just lay there.

___________________________________________________________________________________

September 25, nearly a week out and Captain Byron  finally has the time to take a closer look at his passenger list. Till now, they were like any other cargo - assemble 'em dockside, load 'em up, find 'em space and make 'em secure. But now the ship and its crew have settled into a daily rhythm, out of reach of pernickety Harbour Masters, it is time to look at what we have here. After all, there be another three months to look forward to with this lot.

"They're a queer lot the Irish." Captain Byron sighed. "Oh well, at least I'm not being shot at by the Russkies in Crimea," he thought as he pondered the dilemmas the passenger list presented him with. He had considered an offer to join the British Admiralty in their Crimean adventure, but he hated war, and nobody - not the screaming penny dailies, the Admiralty, or any of the friends he caught up with when he was in port - could explain to him what it was all about. What has fighting the Russians - in Russia - got to do with England? He couldn't help but notice all the flags and general enthusiasm for giving the Russkies what for, but he much preferred the seagoing life with its routine and pleasures and rewards. 

But - back to the passenger list. He needed to catch up with Matron Chivers about the single women. One hundred and five, and ... (he counted them up) ...only sixteen from England. The rest are from Ireland, and most from the west of Ireland - County Clare, County Galway, Limerick, and a few others. Only a few single men - twenty two, from the same source. He quickly browsed the rest of the passenger list - lots of families, lots from the west of Ireland and from England too. "The schoolmaster will have his work cut out for him," he chuckled as he tallied the children aboard. He made a mental note - "Schoolmaster will knock on my door in next two days. Needs more room. Sorry. No more room. Suggest culling pupils." 

"How many in child I wonder?" The Captain knew from past experience that you can't transport families for months at a time at sea and not expect pregnancies aboard, and births too. They all have had a medical check, but you have to take their word when it comes down to it. "We'll know soon enough." But the single women - that's another thing. He had already received some communication that perhaps such a large number of single women may not be welcomed in Adelaide, and he doesn't want that situation made worse by a whole lot of pregnancies. His name will be scrubbed off every society invitation list in South Australia. They do think they are a bit different in Adelaide, he had heard. No convicts for them. Free settlers. Although it sounded a bit like a real estate scam to him. So he had made sure that the single women are all quartered separately in the poop, and all the single men below deck. Matron Chivers standing like the Colossus of Rhodes between them. That only leaves the crew. Any decent crew with a sense of initiative had signed up to the Crimean business. He had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find this lot. He had addressed the crew prior to the emigrants boarding, and had laid down the law with regards to fraternising with passengers - fat lot of good that will do, he concluded. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." If Captain Byron had learnt one thing from his many years at sea it was that all you can do about the inevitable is plan for it - worrying is a waste of time and energy, and he grew increasingly aware as the years had gone by that he did not have a lot of either. "One last time."

The same applied to the ship. The Coromandel was constructed in 1820 and had seen many adventures herself, but by now - September 1854 - she had definitely seen better days. She was solid, and had been regularly checked and re-tarred whenever in port, but Captain Byron knew that soon enough the vultures will circle and she'll be headed to the docks one last time for breaking up. He felt a little sorry if the emigrants thought they might be getting something more luxurious, but it is what it is, and they will endure.

But now, late on a cloudless, moonlit night, at Lat 49⁰ 4” Long 5⁰ 00”, with the English coast left behind at last, a following breeze, and the long run down the coast of Africa ahead of him, there was peace in the world, and tomorrow can look after itself. One more sherry before bed.

Catherine Griffin's Diary

October 5 thursday - two weeks gone by i think an with gods blessin this little group of pilgrims are still on this earth but only god knows how. the days are long an sometims we get to go on the deck to see the schoolmaster teachin the clann yesterday ther was a whale a whale glory be an some others have said they saw dolphins followin us an Pat Lyons from County Clare said he saw a flying fish dont be a fool his wife Mary said you been a drinkin again an Pat sweared on his heart it was true. Flyin fish - whatever next.

but the nights are terrible. Somehow the children and I fit onto a narrow board an then Ellen she snuggles atween us an Mary an Thomas jus find a place somewhere anywhere but its the same for us all so no points complainin an all you can hear is creakin and groanin from the ship an snorin an little private conversations from the poor emigrants in our deck 

ive got to know some Bill an Mary 'f course just like us squashed up on the other side an then theres the Kennedys from Tipperary with Penelope they call her Penny she plays with our Mary shes 10 an their Mary whos 3 Edward thinks he might have done a road buildin job with John Kennedy back in the day an her names Catherine as well lord it gets mighty confusin let me tell you

Then there's the other Kennedys from Clare Charles and Hannah i think her name is but they keep to themselves only young a lot of cooin an cuddlin goin on there reckon there might be a baby a comin soon the way they're goin on

Then theres even more Kennedys who are also from Clare lord help us Bridget her name is an id bet a penny to a pound shes got a young one comin shes done nothin but throw up since she got here lost a lot of weight. Patrick his name is. Poor Bridget. Looks like death warmed up. 

I'm about 4 months gone now an all seems to be well. 

Lots of rumours from the place where be the single women. Seems the galley is right next to their lodgins - they call it the poop, so three times a day the poor girls are smoked out by the kitchen, an its as hot as hades in there. The matron is doin a good job theyre sayin. Some of the girls are petrified by the sailors dont blame em when theyre allowed to go up on the poop deck for some fresh air you should hear the hootin an hollerin goin on an some of the language god help us an the schoolmaster jus below with the children then the matron appears an gives the sailors a mouthful an the girls are all sent down below again.

its thurday so tonight we all said the rosary again helps to keep the children calm thursday is the luminous mysteries of the rosary by the time were finished were all asleepin apart from the courtin couple doin other things god help us

After a few weeks the novelty of life at sea had well and truly worn off for the passengers. Apart from assigned duties such as cleaning and sweeping the men had very little to do to occupy their time, and the close confinement for most of the day was producing some mild irritation amongst the emigrants down below. The absence of grog was a big talking point for a few days among the men, but fortunately this seemed to have a positive affect generally. The children, however, were driving all and sundry around the bend.

A group of women started a regular storytime routine for the clann after dinner. 

"Who's been to Puck Fair in Killorglin?" Mary Murphy began. Without waiting for a response from the piglets-in-a-sack clann in front of her she went on. "Well, do you know why it's called Puck Fair? When Cromwell was raidin' the countryside, stealin' the pigs an cattle an goats they came to Cahirciveen. They had the dogs pushin the animals on. Well, near Cahirciveen there's used be a ford across the river - before they built a bridge - an jus when they's about to cross the ford a puck goat - a big male goat - stood in front of them an wouldn't let them cross. He was rootin' the ground with his horns, an the cattle refused to move. The soldiers set the dogs on the puck, but the big puck fought em off an the cattle took off an went home. So then the soldiers took off too, an the people brought the goat to Cnocan an put him up on show for three days an nights. So that's why Puck Fair goes for three days an three nights."

Edward Donnell from Tipperary had started to show some interest in these stories, as did some of the other men. 

"Here's a story for you." He walked over to the seated children and squatted in front of them, taking the pipe out of his mouth. "About one hundred years ago an old poet lived in Rathcabbin. His name was Laurence Dillon. He was a very witty man. It happened one time that he was lodging at the Pike, with a woman called Mrs. English."

Now you watch what you're sayin'," said Mary Murphy, suddenly alarmed at where this was going. "That's young ones right there in front of ya."

Bur Edward Donnell from Tipperary was undeterred.

"He arrived there one night very drunk, much to the displeasure of the landlady. He slept for two whole days. The woman thinking he was dead treated him as if he were a corpse. She lit candles and placed them at the foot of the bed. After a while Larry was noticed stirring. Then he awoke. He saw all that was done. As was usual with him a verse crossed his mind immediately which runs as follows:-

"English or Irish
May hell be your bed
To wake the poor poet
Before he was dead"

The men laughed. The women tsked tsked. The children weren't sure. 

"Have you heard of the Hidden Treasure of Knockanore?" Mary Walsh from County Kerry refocused their attention. "A man by the name of Dick Hayes who lived at the fort of Knockanore. He dreamt on three different occasions that there was gold buried on top of a mountain in the highest peak in a place called the Lockt. He was told in his dreams that he should dig for this money alone.
Between the two Masses on a Sunday, he was told to dig for it, and not to tell anyone. He felt afraid to dig alone so he told it to two other men. The three of them preceded with picks and shovels. They were digging for about two solid hours. One of the picks struck an iron box, and as they were clearing the clay to move the box a flock of turkeys attacked them, and they ran for their lives. The hole is there present visible to be seen, and no one has made an attempt to interfere with it since. So if Dick went alone, he had the treasure. But when he told the dream he broke the charm."

"Rawmaish!" one of the men cried. "It's not poppycock at all, ya ludder!" Mary replied.

"There's treasure about," Mary's husband John piped up. "Nobody's ever found the belt in Poll Gorm."

"What belt in Poll Gorm?" young Thomas Griffin asked, listening keenly.

Mary went on. "The story goes, that for centuries the belt of Our Lady de Bello Loco at the monastery near Milltown was used to call the faithful to worship. When the Puritans were coming the belt was thrown into the Poll Gorm well rather than let them have possession of it. Can you imagine - Cromwell having Our Lady's belt?" She paused for affect. The safety lamp above them swayed.

"This well is a short distance to the west of the ruined Monastery about a half a mile north-west of Milltown. The bell was put into this hiding place so they could recover it when the danger was past. Then and since the efforts made to do so have been in vain, because it seems the well is bottomless."

At this point a singing contest erupted. William Murphy  leapt into The Rose of Tralee, and then the men really got involved. Songs of the 1798 rebellion against the English - Ballyshannon Lane, Dunlavin Green, The Rising of the Moon - were at first sung boisterously until the Irish emigrants realised they were sharing quarters with a goodly number of English as well. So the singing switched to sea shanties -  We're all Bound to Go and Eliza Lee. 

"Lamps!"

The nightly call to extinguish the safety lamps meant all had to be in bed by 10pm, so the singing wound down. The children had long ago succumbed to sleepiness, despite the din. Idle chatter slowly dissipated, and in the darkness all that could be heard was the slap and splash of the water against the ship, and the occasional sailor's call above deck. The gently rolling ship moved on in the darkness, cradling its human cargo. 

The Surgeon-superintendent is worried. Dr James Barlas knows the signs of consumption and one of the women is showing most of them. Earlier he was doing the rounds of the emigrants quarters as he does once a day, and Matron Chivers had pointed her out. All the girls had found the first few days difficult. There was lots of vomiting and diarrhoea associated with seasickness. "Drink lots of water girls!" the Matron kept exhorting them. But the water had to last more than three months, and was rationed accordingly. Mary Barnes was her name - servant girl from Cork. Only twenty one years old - would make somebody a fine wife and mother one day, Dr Barlas surmised. But once the coughing started the signs were not good. Fever, weight loss ("Look at her, poor girl, nothing but skin and bones" Matron said) and a racking cough usually bringing up blood. The good doctor knew the cause - overcrowded living conditions with poor ventilation - but all he could do on board ship was to move the poor girl onto the poop deck so she could get some fresh air, and that depended on the weather. "Report to me daily on her welfare" he said to Matron Chivers as he departed. 

Then the Quin girl came to his notice. Again, it was the Matron who alerted him. "She's about seven months, I think". He had been expecting this, so he thought he should check his medicine chest again. He had his forceps for difficult deliveries, ergot to stimulate contractions, and opium for pain relief if necessary. He had employed bloodletting before, but it was impossible to get leeches aboard a ship. He knew that there would probably be plenty of handywomen amongst the families aboard so he might not need any of his equipment. Once he checked the Quin girl it was clear she was generally healthy otherwise, and seemed strong, so the signs were good for that one. How many more, he wondered?

Catherine Griffin's Diary

october 29 sunday - well what a to do! so this mornin the surgen comes in an says all the children have to have their hair cut off well what a consternation ther was says theres disease abord an the lice are carryin it so by end of the day it was off with the lot. We sat ther like nobodys business an then Mary Murphy pipes up an says i will in me eye you can feck off an grabs the first young one she can find. Soon enough the shebang is arguin the point an actin the maggot. So the good doctor tries explainin that the only way to get rid of the nits is to get rid of the hair. Then we all start scratchin and shufflin an the doctor leaves. Soon enough Matron arrives an says shell set up a barbers up on deck. So now Ellen, Thomas and Mary are as bald as coots an thank god i brought some warm clothin 

November 5 - "Ship ahoy!" The words rang out from the sailor scaling the rigging above, and all on deck immediately looked in the southerly direction he was pointing. Captain Byron raised his looking glass. "Looks like a barque, maybe from the Cape?" he pondered. "Seems to be heading towards us. Flying an English flag."

It was not an uncommon occurrence for two ships to meet up unannounced in the middle of the ocean. Semaphore flags were used to communicate until they got within shouting distance, when a speaking trumpet would be hauled out to amplify the voices. 

The Captain ordered the seaman up to the crows nest with the semaphore flags and within a short time he could see a response from the other ship. He then prepared his dispatches for London Office - these opportunities had to be taken as they arise, he thought. Calcutta. It was sailing Calcutta to London. He ordered the kitchen to prepare a list of whatever they were in short supply - potatoes, lemons - and semaphored off his request. Next he told the surgeon-superintendent, matron and schoolmaster to prepare immediately any correspondence they wished dispatched to London. No such offer was made to the sailors or passengers.

A large number of passengers were above deck to see the approaching ship, and the event generated intense excitement amidst the crushing tedium of daily life at sea.

It was the Southampton, and had been 63 days out of Calcutta, and nearly a full year since leaving London. Captain Barlas had put on his finest regalia to meet his counterpart. Traditional cigars were exchanged, but the potatoes and lemons were not to be seen. At first the equally excited passengers aboard the Southampton seemed keen to converse, but once it was clear that there was a vast class difference - well-to-do English gentry returning from their life abroad in India, versus Irish and English peasantry seeking a better life in Australia - this enthusiasm dissipated. Once he had handed over the dispatch and letters Captain Barlas bid his fellow captain adieu. Ropes were detached and sails reset. Within a few minutes the two ships were once again specks on a vast ocean drawing quickly apart.

Catherine Griffin's Diary

November 7 - Ah lackaday what a sad day for us all. poor Katie Donnell only a baby left this life yesterday an we saw the poor thing wrapped and sent down below forevermore an what of poor teddy and catherine from Tipperary they are losin a child is a wicked thing you shoulda heard the wailin an keenin through the night. The doctor said she died of diarea which is true from what we all could see poor catherine was forever needin new sheets an wraps an now the poor things gone. They have two other clann Dennis and James they seem like big strong lads. Holy mary mother of God pray for us all. 

An then when we all thought that was over another one! Young billy fox we all worried about him he was all of three months old when Gustavus and mary from County Wicklow carried him aboard poor thing you could see he was strugglin from the beginning. Mary was beside herself an was always goin up to Mary Murphy wantin advice an Mary Murphy did what she could but he was coughin an coughin his little heart out an last night it stopped poor thing so we called the doctor who couldn't do anything so we had two burials at sea in two days. Thank God he was baptised so hes off to join the eternal souls in heaven. There's no catholic priest aboard so my Edward's tryin to remember what you say at a burial an hes doin a good job too, but i hope to God above hes not needed anymore to read the funeral words Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace. tonight we said our rosary for poor billy an katie. You could hear mums catherin an mary sobbin their hearts out in the shadows twas a gloomy time

Name	Age	Date of Death	Cause of Death	Where buried
Donnell, Catherine	1	November 6th, 1854	Diarrhoea	at sea
Fox, William	5mo.	November 6th, 1854	Thrush & pneumonia	at sea

http://www.theshipslist.com/ships/australia/coromandel1855.shtml