The Journey Across the Seas

As for Francis, there were times, as the distance became greater, when he felt a deep remorse at having left his family to voyage to such a distant country. If only they could all have left together. But at that he would quickly change his thoughts to what his father had said—that they would follow as soon as possible—and Mama had said, “within the year”.

Then his mind turned to his new country and the scanty bits of knowledge he had of New Zealand. Many things had been told to him that he dared not repeat to his own parents or brothers. He knew it was right that the Māori had practised head-shrinking and cannibalism and wondered how it could have been wiped out so quickly. Sometimes these thoughts almost sent him into despair, but then he would make himself believe this was very vague and improbable. He would overbalance all this with the wonderful thoughts of the farmland which he was about to take up, and all that he hoped to accomplish before his family arrived. A deep pleasure then overtook all other thoughts.

Francis tried faithfully to keep to the writing of his diary, but soon found this almost impossible when, for days on end, storms and sickness did not allow writing at all. His promise to his mother that he would write often had prompted him to keep a diary as his letters home, but the experiences he had already had soon changed his mind. The account of storms and sickness must never reach them—otherwise they could change their minds about coming out to New Zealand. Some of his diary read as follows:

July 12th, 1848. This is our fifth day out. We are now feeling much more cheerful as the weather has improved. It is sunny with a fair wind blowing so we couldn’t wish for more. The third day was bad. A gale blew up in the afternoon and worsened by night. Everybody was horribly sick, especially Aunt Emma and baby Felicia, but they are much better now.

July 22nd. This is one of the days I wished I had never left home. The storm on the 11th was just nothing compared with what we experienced today. Poor Aunt Emma is still in her bunk. My worst fear is that the Bernicia will break up. I daren’t think past this for all of us on board. Aunt Emma lies as though she is dead. Uncle has to take her drinks of ship’s lime juice. He says sick people must take lots of drink. Poor baby Felicia does not improve much. She just cries weakly all the time. I was very sick for a while but have been able to throw it off quickly. It is a good thing because Uncle and I have to do everything for all of them. Young Francis and Harriet are only a little bit sick at times.

Aug 2nd. Everyone is well again. It is a lovely day and we have all been on deck enjoying the sun. I have been looking after Felicia who is weak but much better. We were told that even the doctor was very ill and not able to see anyone.

Aug 19th. This is our saddest day. A little girl called Dora, aged five years, died in the night. Dora had developed the frightening chest trouble and could hardly breathe. We all went on deck and attended the funeral. “Buried at sea” is just something that can never be forgotten. Dora was an only child and I thought for a while that her poor mother was going to jump overboard. Friends had to restrain her and lead her away.

Aug 26th. We have all regained our strength and are very happy again. Today we played games with the children in the limited space we have. I even made a kite and everyone went up on deck to see it fly. It was going well when a sudden gust of wind took it out of my hands and off it went in a westerly direction. It bobbed up and down and then landed in the water.

Meals have become a bit monotonous. I don’t think I will ever want bully beef again after this voyage. We are told to keep drinking lime juice for good health. The ship’s biscuits, which at first I liked, now seem thick and dry. We have enough food. There is plenty of canned milk, but when we are sick that is intolerable. The fresh fruit I brought is almost gone, as well as a lot that Uncle brought. We hope to call at the Cape where we can buy some more. If ships on the homeward trip pass close by, mail can be transferred and sent home quite quickly. I have saved every apple and pear seed as well as plum and peach stones to plant when we arrive. Uncle Francis is keen too, so we share them.

Sept 12th. Lately I could not take a pen to write as we have had more terrible storms. It was so bad for such a long time I thought the end was near. As the storm raged, the whole ship creaked continually as though it was being torn apart. The sea roared as it washed over the deck. No one dared so much as to look out. Seasickness has become just something we expect as soon as the wind gets to gale force, but nobody complains. During the earlier part of the night the gale almost turned our ship over, and suddenly water came pouring into our cabin. Everyone and everything was thrown around and I expected at any moment to find myself in the raging sea. After about two hours it steadied and the wind dropped. There was an awful mess to clean up. There was much damage to the ship and repairs had to be done. We hove to for a time while the sailors worked. Three men brought out fishing lines and began to fish. They caught a lot of good fish, mainly snapper and cod. They seemed to be pulling in the lines as fast as they went out, so we shall have fresh fish for a change. While we were watching, a flying fish landed near us. The captain said, “They are good eating also”.

Sept 14th. Two more ‘Burials at sea’. It is just so terrible to witness. They were young children and again the doctor said they had ‘chest’ troubles, but I will say no more on that.

Sept 27th. It was wonderful to pull into the Cape, and to be able to walk on solid land again. Even there I still felt I was on a rocking ship. I must have looked drunk. We were all glad to be able to buy supplies of fresh fruit, and it was great to be walking along streets again among crowds of people who were going about their business.

Oct 4th. The weather has been good and that makes us all happy. Even so, we count the days to landfall in Sydney, Australia—and then most wonderful of all will be when we pull into Wellington.

Oct 7th. This morning we all had a happy time singing. Mrs Brownlie played the piano, and we sang songs like “There’s No Place Like Home” and as we finished singing there were tears streaming down faces. One interesting thing we have down below is a quiet red and white cow. The captain told us that one cow is allowed free passage on an immigrant ship if the milk is shared. This one gives such a lot of milk. The owner, Mr Manson, is taking it to New Zealand to his farm. We call her “Rosie” and the children love to pat her as she eats hay, and love to hear her moo when she is waiting for hay or water. Today we have all been happy—but then we seem to be in the depths of sadness or the heights of happiness.

Oct 10th. All is well and we are making good speed. Even Aunt Emma and the baby are doing well. Felicia looks delicate but is eating and putting on some weight now. The rest of us are well too. Uncle Francis says he doesn’t know what he would have done without me.

Oct 25th. Another good day has come and gone. Just after daybreak we pulled into Sydney and although it was so early we were given a wonderful welcome. People lined the wharf and waved and shouted and sang. A few passengers were bound for Australia and left the ship at Sydney. They had relatives living there. We were allowed ashore for a short time but sailed again at 5 p.m. It was good to get some supplies. We were nearly out of some things. We had not had a cup of tea for two days but did not mind much as we all like ship’s lime juice and still had cocoa. Then back on board we really enjoyed a hot cup of tea with fresh buttered yeast bread.

Oct 31st. I had a close look at all my plants and cuttings this morning. I had not neglected them, but sometimes could spare only a little bit of water. I kept the mosses and packing damp, so hope most of them will grow when I get there. The poplar cuttings are even showing new leaves.

Arrival in New Zealand

Nov 1st. It was so exciting as we got nearer and nearer to Wellington. Crossing the Tasman Sea was very rough but although the waves were like mountains, it was a steady movement and we rose with each wave. The captain told us he expected we would make Wellington on the 3rd, if everything goes well.

Nov 2nd. Oh how happy we will be when we reach our new country. Everybody is excited now, but we will miss our friends when we go our own ways. Of this journey over the five months, Francis had recorded the good and the bad, life and death. The latter still lay heavily on his mind. At any mention of ‘burials at sea’ he would shy away as if something terrible suddenly gripped him. There had been storms unparalleled with anything they had ever read about, and it would have been impossible to find an immigrant on the Bernicia or any other ship who had not at times regretted leaving their homeland. Francis Williamson was no exception, but the actual arrival on the new soil which they knew would now be home put all that behind them and would be according to how they had planned.

Nov 3rd. New Zealand was sighted and it was one of those perfect days for sailing. A fine day with a good wind that quickly brought them towards the shores of their destination. Everyone lined the decks as the ship drew closer and then land that had been no more than a speck on the horizon only a short time before began to take shape and become a reality. On that same day, 3rd November—a day that would surely be etched into their minds—the Bernicia sailed through the Wellington heads.

Everyone was dancing, singing or jumping with happiness and unbounded excitement, as they looked upon the land that day. Then suddenly all the noise stopped and everyone stood as if petrified, just staring—they looked at last upon the promised land. To many it seemed the Bernicia was entering a fiord. The long channel of water between the lovely bush-covered hills, wide sandy beaches and pretty little bays was all before their eyes. It was one of those perfect New Zealand summer days. Sails filled as the ship wafted quietly over the calm blue water. It seemed the wind had fallen purposely to let the full complement of souls on board get a better view, more closely, of their new country.

At last the silence ended with such excitement as they had never displayed before. Exclamations of pride and happiness as they looked upon the beautiful hills clothed in green and the fantasy as the ship sailed into the expanse that was Wellington Harbour. At first overawed, then impatient that the ship took so long to get to the moorings. Already waiting were hundreds of relatives, friends and all those residents who could not now be classified as strangers. The harbour must have appeared almost like an inland sea at first. They stood quietly again trying to take in all that was around them on this summer’s day, then suddenly one or two, then others, until almost all those present had dropped to their knees offering up a prayer of thanks for their safety and new land. As they stood again, one by one, there were tears streaming down their faces from sheer joy. Any sadness that might have mingled with the happiness was the thoughts of near and dear ones now on the other side of the world, a distance of twelve thousand miles, with a five-month nightmare as their only tie.