The Immigrants

A new life

The Real First Peoples

First Peoples

Surely, one of the most remarkable stories of human history in the world is that of the Australian Aborigines, who have, for 40,000 years, lived happily in and become perfectly adapted to one of the harshest environments the planet has to offer.

An Empty Land?

Most of us in these pages have our roots in Western European cultures. Some of our ancestors were the first Europeans to settle in North and South America, New Zealand and Australia. We arrived in ‘new, uninhabited places.’ We were ‘pioneers’ in an ‘’empty land.’ It is a great lie, of course, yet the lie continues today, amply demonstrated in the tragic, unforgivable way we still treat indigenous peoples. Those were not empty spaces. There were peoples in those places with families of their own, peoples with sophisticated, sustainable cultures, flourishing and at one with their environments, peoples who had inhabited those lands for, not hundreds, but thousands of years.

We did not ask if we could share a bit of their space. None of us settled ‘new worlds.’ We displaced those who were already there. We over-ran them, subjected them to discrimination, persecution, slavery and genocide, and reduced those who survived to abject poverty, rendering them still, inconsequential and dispensable.

Outback

In 1967, when I was 20, I hitch-hiked through the centre of Australia to Darwin. When I got to Darwin, I was short on cash (an understatement) and found work with a company called VB Perkins, which, with a curious cadre of converted sailing ships and World War II landing craft, ran supplies to isolated communities along the north coast of Australia. In Western Australia we delivered wholesome dry goods and basic toiletries to the Catholic mission, perched upstream on a tropical river. At the mouth of the river was a classic, rough hewn Aussie outbacker, 40s something, building, incredibly, his own steel landing craft, like ours, probably 80 feet in length. And he was doing it, hundreds of roadless miles from anywhere. His supplies? Construction materials, of course, canned food and dozens of 24 packs of beer. East of Darwin, we entered Arnhemland, an enormous Aborigine reserve, then, only accessible to non-Aborigines by permit (Now, they fly tourists into those places). There, we stopped at missions (run by religious orders) and settlements (run by the government). On one such trip, we stopped at Maningrida, a government settlement. The administrator had time to kill and showed me around. He explained that their work involved, first off, convincing Aborigines to stop their wanderings and settle at Maningrida. Here, he said, we teach them to grow their own food, read and write, dress appropriately in western garb, be taught a useful occupation with which they could find work in Euro-settlements and otherwise, be productive members of society.”Ours is not easy work,” he blurted, “you have to get used to failure. Do you see those two fish boats out there in the bay? They’re a good size, right? Inboard motors, wheelhouse, nets, the works. In a day, two of the men could catch more fish than eight of them fishing from canoes could in a week. The fish boats? Never been used. Can’t get Aborigines to go near them. They cost a pile of money and they’ve been sitting there for months and months. You know, we put a ton of effort into giving these people what they need to get along in Australian society. But despite all our efforts, every one of them, once a year, tosses their western clothes, grabs a spear and dons a loin cloth, and for three months, they’re gone — men, women, children. They’re gone.“ The administrator paused for a minute, then said, “You know, we desperately need a purchasing agent. Interested?” I respectfully declined.

Hard Times

In 1849, some 70 years after our young convicts landed at Botany Bay, more of my ancestors arrived in Australia, this time at Melbourne and this time, as immigrants by choice (Read the tale ‘The Convicts’ about my ancestor James Bloodworth, who was among the first European settlers in Australia). The story of our voluntary immigrants began in London, where James Lawrence, a builder, had, for some time, been struggling to make a living. Then things got worse economically, much worse. James was the first of his family to leave his home town and venture forth to London. Since at least, the mid 1600s, his family had lived in Great Wratting, Suffolk (southeast England). They had urged him not to go, but James was chasing possibility. That was his nature. Now, full of regret for placing his family at risk, James pondered returning to Great Wratting. Could he stand the humiliation? He might not have a choice.

The Great Migration

The Enclosures Act had forced thousands of wretchedly poor Scots and Irish from the land and obliged them to seek menial and dangerous factory work in the towns and cities of England where the Industrial Revolution was in full swing. It was a time of enormous social and economic change. The outlook for James and his young adult children was grim. At the same time as conditions for the already poor were declining, profits for the already rich were increasing exponentially. The rich were stupendously rich. The poor helplessly poor. The gap between the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ was beyond comprehension. The Brontes, for example, were considered lower middle class with a 200 pound annual income, the equivalent of $500,000US per year today; Upper middle class folks like Charles Darwin and John Stuart Mills were obliged to live on a paltry $2.5 million US per year. The wealth generated by slavery, mass production, and cheap labour — the colonial machine — was not percolating down to the masses, who remained poor and illiterate. For James Lawrence and his family and millions like them, the writing was on the wall— head for the colonies. The Great Migration was underway.

Let’s Go

The decision was made. The choice: Melbourne, Australia. The entire Lawrence family opted to go, except Mary. Three years earlier, in 1846, she married Francis Williams Mitchell in London and they were headed to Hong Kong where Francis had secured a position with the Hong Kong Post Office. The Lawrences would emigrate to Melbourne in two waves: George (25), William (24), Elizabeth(27) and Rosa (23) would go first to find jobs and places to stay. Their sister Catherine White, her husband George and their son might also have been aboard. As well, Elizabeth’s husband William Sloane and their son Alexander were likely the passengers with those names travelling on the ship Victory; if all went well, James (58), Mary (64), James Jr (30), his wife Jane and their young son would follow the next year. The Medway was leaving in five weeks, time enough to book passage, sell their possessions, pack and say goodbyes. This was it.

Departing

London docks. 2pm, 28 Apr 1849. A warm spring breeze was blowing up the river Thames, boding well. A crowd of well-wishers on the dock were hollering and waving vigorously, the second contingent of Lawrences among them. The waves of James and his wife Mary seemed half-hearted though, their smiles strained, as they stared lovingly at their young offspring. Their cherished ones were leaning over the Medway’s rail, waving, calling back and grinning. Fears were coursing through Mary’s mind. Had they done the right thing? Were they sending these lovely, young, innocents, full of hope and enthusiasm, to a terrible fate? Would they survive the journey? Would they ever see them again? The lines were cast. The Medway eased free from the dock and the current caught her keel. Hurried last goodbyes. In minutes, their young adventurers were too distant to discern and finally, they were gone. On board were 45 married couples, 48 single men, 37 single women, 77 children and 10 infants.

The Route

To reach Australia would take the Medway months. Unless provisions ran out or a calamity struck requiring repairs, this was a non-stop express. Medical emergencies must be dealt with on board. Any dead, with ceremony, would be dropped over the side. Voyaging was no place for the weak of heart.

Like all ships of her day, the Medway was obliged to go with the prevailing winds. Thus, from England, she sailed south, moving fast in strong Westerlies (winds are named by the direction from which they come, currents by the direction in which they are headed). Once the Medway was south as far as the Canary Islands, the Westerlies gave way to the Northeast trades which took the ship close to the equator. Here, calms prevailed. Vigilance and quick action was required by the Medway crew to take advantage of every wisp of wind and pull of current. Gradually, the ship idled south until at last, the first whisper of the Southeast trades caught her sails. The Lawrences were on their way again, heading south still until at last, the Medway and her anxious human cargo reached the Southern Ocean and its notorious winds, the Roaring Forties. These west-to-east winds were the strongest on the planet, capable of terrifying storms and unbelievably high and dangerous waves. Here, the wind and waves had their way. Unlike elsewhere on the planet, no continents stood in their path to break their force. These seas were accountable to nothing and nobody. It was a rough ride. “It always is,” said the ship’s surgeon. But now, they had the wind at their backs. Running downwind, the Medway made good time with good weather. The second contingent the following year was not so fortunate. Past the Cape of Good Hope they went, past India, past Perth, Australia, and past Adelaide, arriving, finally, at Melbourne.

Accommodations

A small number of passengers could afford to pay their own way and therefore got cabins. The cabins were private, had comfortable berths and were located at deck level where these fortunates had access to the deck and thus to light, fresh air, games and room to exercise. The young Lawrences, as subsidized passengers, were ushered below deck level to steerage, also called ‘tween decks, along with the great majority of passengers. There, people were assigned to one of three compartments. Each compartment was accessed by a separate hatchway. Single men were forward next to crew quarters, married couples and children were amidships and single women were aft. Headroom in ‘tween decks was 5’11.” Three tiers of berths, allowing impossibly little headroom lined each side of the compartments with tables and seating for a few in the middle. Berths had thin mattresses but no bedding was provided. Every effort was made to keep single men from fraternizing with the single women, to preserve the dignity and reputation of the latter. Efforts were also made to allow family members in the same compartment to have adjacent berths. Thus, the Lawrence girls in the female section and the Lawrence boys in the male section secured berths, one above the other.

The Class System

The rigid British class system continued aboard the Medway during the initial few weeks. The architecture of the accommodations supported that and some of the human occupants were keen to do the rest with strategically chosen comments and body language. Others of the cabin passengers, however, were not interested in such silliness and quickly made friendships with the less privileged. Then more joined in. It made for a much happier, more interesting shipboard experience and allowed the days to pass more quickly.

Illness

Children were the most at risk on these long voyages. In the 1840s, one infant in 4 or 5 died aboard. In those days, people lived in great fear of an outbreak of infectious disease such as scarlet fever, diphtheria, whooping cough or measles. With good cause. If one of these highly contagious diseases broke out on board, deaths among children and adults alike would be devastating, exacerbated by the cramped quarters and poor quality of the food. This voyage was lucky. Lucky also, to have an excellent surgeon, who insisted on good hygiene and provided scrupulous care of his charges. There would be no outbreaks and only two deaths, a woman of 70 years and a child, a notable achievement for which the surgeon received commendation upon arrival.

The Surgeon

The surgeon was a key figure aboard. His medical skills and organizing abilities could make or break a voyage. Besides looking after the physical health of passengers, his job was to maintain order. To that end, he appointed responsible volunteers to carry out the required duties. William Lawrence watched with interest as the surgeon selected matrons to look after the moral welfare of the single women, constables to keep discipline among the single men and teachers to provide schooling for the children. Thanks to this man’s good work, the passengers of the Medway faired well.

High Spirits

The wisdom ’help others’ had been firmly implanted in the Lawrence children by their father James. George and William decided to be shipboard helpers. They made it known among the passengers that they were there to help anyone with anything. Soon they were writing letters to family back home, scribbling notes to be passed to family and friends in other compartments, making small repairs, helping the infirm to reach the head (washroom) and re-assuring the fearful. Within a few weeks, their services had become legendary, so much so that they were invited to extend help to folks in the other compartments. Elizabeth and Rosa caught on and joined the team. One woman donated wide blue ribbon, a substantial gift, which the Lawrences made into armbands to indicate they were available to help.

The four youth became known as the Blue Angels. They worked every day in 3 hour shifts, circulating among the passengers to make themselves available. Together, they provided an extraordinary service which raised spirits and encouraged others to help their neighbours. It was a lesson about how to be in the world which the Lawrences and no doubt others aboard carried with them for life.

Several of the cabin passengers began mixing freely with ‘tween decks folks early in the voyage. No-one minded, for they organized choirs and concerts, taught people to play chess and bridge, put on readings of novels and children’s books, and all in all, were a tremendous asset to the voyagers. Once, in the southeast trades, the Medway and a passing ship hove to and exchanged mail for ‘home.’ But in the Southern Ocean, ship sightings were a rare occurrence and mail exchanges, out of the question.

Landing

As the Medway closed in on Melbourne, excitement mounted. Passengers lined the port rail at dawn on the expected day, waiting for the first sighting of land. And then it happened. A seaman in the crows nest hollered “Land Ho, ten degrees to port, sir.” A huge wahoo! and much clapping erupted from the passengers at the rail. The following morning, on 9 August, 1849, their 102nd day at sea, the Medway’s lines were snugged to the pier in Port Henry, Melbourne.

Settling In

Once landed, the young Lawrences quickly found work and places to stay. Rosa’s first job took her to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) for 7 months. William fell in with London friends and worked with them. Elizabeth found work as a house servant and George secured bricklaying work. Seven months later, George did an odd thing. He caught a ship back to London, then the following year, joined the remaining family on their immigration to Australia. We don’t know why he returned to London. Perhaps he was anxious to help with their journey.

Lost Souls

On 21 January, 1850, the remaining Lawrences, including George set off for Australia on the Lady MacNaughten. She was a much larger vessel than the Medway and on this voyage, carried a good deal of cargo, which left the passenger quarters less crowded. That might have made for a more pleasant voyage, but fate intervened:
4 May, 1850 1500 hours. Three hundred sixty-seven miles south of the Cape of Good Hope. Lady MacNaughten is making 8 knots running in high seas.
[Lookout, yelling] Man overboard, 40 degrees off the starboard bow, Captain
[Captain to Lookout, speaking loudly and quickly] Smith. Point at him, keep your eyes on him and count the seconds.”
[Lookout to Captain] Aye, aye sir.
[Captain to First Mate] Mr Pritchley. Toss buoys. All hands on deck. Strike the squares, then come about
[First mate to Captain] Aye, aye, sir
[Captain to Helmsman] Watson, prepare to come about. Wait for Mr Pritchley’s order
[Helmsman to Captain] Aye, aye sir
[Captain to Lookout] Smith, have you still got eyes on him?
[Lookout to Captain] Just lost him sir.
[Captain to Lookout] Damnation. What’s your count Smith?
[Lookout to Captain] 32 seconds, sir.
[Captain to Helmsman] Watson. On Mr Pritchley’s command, come about to starboard, tack for 1 minute, then tack to port for one minute, then call the minute.
[Helmsman to Captain] Aye, aye sir.
[Captain to Second Mate] Mr Sorensen. Prepare to lower a longboat, starboard side, 4 to the boat, 4 to lower. Prepare the drogue and when Watson calls the minute to port, deploy the drogue off the bow and hoist a rider. Look lively.
[Second Mate to Captain] Aye, aye sir.
[Captain to First Mate] Who is he Mr. Pritchley?
[First Mate to Captain] Young Samuel Morley Sir. He was greasing the mast. I reckon he lost his footing sir.
[Captain to First Mate] God almighty. Such a fine boy.
[First Mate to Captain] Aye sir, that he is. May God bless him.
The first longboat lowered was stove in by heavy seas and sunk. The second boat was successful but no sign of young Morley was seen and for the safety of the crew, the search was called off. Samuel Morley, age 16, was lost at sea.

Losing young Morley was more than enough tragedy, but there was more to come. A violent storm snapped the mizzen mast. The topsails were lost. Quick action by the crew saved the mast and rigging, but their loss slowed the progress of the Lady MacNaughten significantly. The damaged ship pulled into Port Adelaide to effect repairs. Arrangements were made to transfer passengers to the Sea Queen for the remainder of the journey to Port Melbourne.

Then tragedy struck again. While passengers were lining up to move to the Sea Queen, George Lawrence, possibly intoxicated, stepped from the Lord Ashburton to the Sea Queen, lost his footing, fell overboard and drowned. Days later, George’s body was recovered downstream but by then the Lawrence family were obliged to leave with the Sea Queen and carry on to Melbourne.

The Lawrence family grew and thrived in Australia. Many remained in the Melbourne area and are still there today. Many others, of course, formed a grand diaspora which spans the continent. A remarkable, comprehensive work entitled Fleet Street to Fleet Street, an Historical and Genealogical Record of a Lawrence Family, compiled by Janelle A. Lawrence-Parnaby and edited by A. E. Lawrence details the growth of the family since 1849.
What happened to Mary Lawrence, who married Francis Williams Mitchell and went off to Hong Kong? Well, it’s a long story. Please see the tale “Lost.”

Truth and Fiction

The description of the Medway’s accommodation is general and may not be entirely accurate for the Medway
All descriptions of passenger behaviour onboard are fiction, including that of the Lawrence youth (the Blue Angels did not happen)
All else is true as reported in published historical references.