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Home Is A Strange Country
The story of a young woman at the start of the 20th century, who went alone to Australia. After having a child and being abandoned by her husband she tried to make a life for herself.
Tuesday 31 October 2017
Monday 30 October 2017
Index
Home Is A Strange Country
This is a book about my
grandmother. She left the UK as a young woman, by herself, and sailed to
Australia where she died in her early twenties.
It is a long book, quite deliberately,
as I have spent many years carrying out detailed research into her life, something
which none of my siblings had any knowledge. I have placed this Index page here
so that it is somewhat easier to negotiate your way chronologically through the
chapters.
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Friday 27 October 2017
Home Is A Strange Country Chapter 22
TWENTY TWO
MELBOURNE TO SYDNEY - SEPTEMBER
1906
The morning after, the ship left the port
of Melbourne travelling east. Florence was eating breakfast in the Dining Room
when one of the waiters approached her. He carried a newspaper and an envelope.
He stopped by Florence’s side and held out the envelope for her.
'This is for you Mrs Lowe,' he said. 'Came
in the post we picked up in Melbourne yesterday.' He grinned and added, 'It’s
from your husband I think, unless you know someone else in the Andrew.'
Florence thanked him and took the envelope, gently running her finger under the
gummed flap to extract the letter inside, a letter of one sheet only. Martha,
sat at her side, kept silent whilst Florence read the single sheet and tried to
guess what the contents were. Florence looked up and smiled,
'It’s from Tommy,' she said. 'Says he’s
going to be in port when the Persic arrives and he will be waiting for me
somewhere on the dockside, a place called Circular Quay.' She paused for a
moment and looked at Martha thoughtfully. 'Hope he can still recognise me
Martha' she said.
'Of course he will silly. It’s not been all
that long since he saw you. The third arm you've grown isn't all that
noticeable. Does he say anything about where you are going to live after he
leaves Sydney?' Florence grinned at her and nudged her arm, replying,
'Nothing definite, though he does say he
has had a look at one or two places which are suitable. Mentions one place a
couple of miles from the city centre called Marrickville, says it looks alright
and there are lots of places for rent there. Seems like there might be a good chance
of finding a job there as well. He says that there are a lot of firms starting
up in that area.' Florence breathed a long sigh of relief and smiled broadly at
her friend. 'Oh Martha, it’s so good to get this letter. I was beginning to
become a bit worried ‘cos it’s so long since I heard from him.' She settled
back in her seat and silently took the cup of coffee in front of her on the
table, and sipped from it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the waiter
returning to their table where he stopped again, holding out for her a
newspaper in his hand.
'Would you ladies like to read the news?'
he said. Martha reached out and took the paper from him.
'Thank you' she said giving the young man a
broad warm smile, her eyes bright and fixed firmly on the waiter. She settled
back to read the news from Melbourne whilst finishing off her cup of tea. 'Could
we have some more tea and coffee please waiter?' she asked. The waiter nodded
and turned to fetch their order. As he walked down the dining room to the
kitchen Florence tapped Martha on the forearm. 'You stop that young lady. I'm
watching you. Flirting with the waiter.'
'I'm sure I don't know what you mean Mrs
Lowe.' Martha replied, a mischievous grin creasing her face. 'No idea at all.'
She buried her head in the paper, a warm flush of red rising slowly from her
neck to her eyes.
Florence sat quietly as her friend read
through the paper, turning the pages noisily from time to time until, tiring of
waiting for Martha to finish the paper, she pushed back her chair from the
table saying,
'I think I’ll take myself off for a walk
around the deck Martha. I’ll come back here to find you, if you’re still here.'
She prodded her friend's newspaper. Martha nodded her head silently without
raising her head, engrossed reading the news from Melbourne and the state of
Victoria.
Florence walked up the stairs onto the open
deck. There were only a few people there, reflecting the large number of
passengers who had left the ship at Albany and Melbourne. She looked up at the
sun to try and work out their exact direction of travel. The sun was shining,
but mainly hidden behind a building mass of cloud coming from the north, from
off the land. As the last of the land disappeared from view she turned around
the deck looking in all directions for a point of reference, and found none.
She stood for a moment looking to where the last of the land had been and then
at the cloud coming in deepening shades of grey out towards the sea. It passed
through her mind that the cloud might be a sign of unstable weather coming
their way, or in their path ahead. She shuddered a little as a chill breeze
swept across the deck. Goose pimples rose on her arms. She shook herself and
pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She had not thought she would need the
garment on the journey, it was going to be hot all the way she had thought,
well here was proof that maybe she had got some of it wrong. Casting her mind
back over the last couple of weeks in Australian waters she realised that far
from being the sweltering weather she had anticipated, sometimes it had seemed
like a cool Spring day in Lancashire. The temperature was only in its mid
fifties, and as they drew further and further east along the coast the rain
seemed to increase. Whilst the rain was just as hard as Lancashire, at least
the temperature was a little better when it did rain, unlike Bolton, where rain
was always accompanied by cold at this time of year. Still, she thought, it
will soon be spring. She took to her heels and went back down the stairs into
the Dining Room where Martha was still seated where she had left her. The
newspaper was now on the table in front of her and she was drinking from yet
another cup of tea.
'You’re a right tea belly aren’t you?'
Florence called as she approached her from behind, flicking the tip of her
friends hair with her finger as she drew closer. Martha twisted round as
Florence came to take her seat at the table by her side.
'Can’t beat a decent cuppa, can you?' she
replied grinning. 'Why don’t you get a fill up for coffee. Warm you up a bit.'
She glanced through the Dining Room window and added, 'Is it still raining out
there? Looks a bit chilly.'
'No, it’s stopped now, but the cloud is
coming in and the temperature is not what it was. I think we might be running
into some weather soon.' Flo said.
'Getting to be the proper sailor aren’t
we?' Martha quipped. The young waiter approached them again and Florence asked
for a cup of coffee. He nodded and added,
'Would you like some biscuits as well
Ma’am? Cook’s just made some really nice ones, I nicked a couple last time I
was down there.' They both smiled, nodded and said, 'Yes please.' Despite it
not being all that long since they had consumed a large, and what had become
typically large, breakfast, both women could still try hard to find a small gap
for biscuits from the cook. Both women were continuing to gain weight, though
now they no longer commented on the fact, simply kept it secret, and let their
belts out another hole.
As the waiter left to fulfil the order
Martha turned to Florence and tapped the newspaper lying on the table between
them.
'There’s a really sad bit in the paper, you
should read it.' Said Martha.
'What’s it about?' Flo asked.
'Well, it’s all about two passengers off
the Persic, two of the single men. They got off the boat when we were in
Melbourne. During the evening they went for a few drinks in a pub in the city
centre. Well, one of them left the other in the pub and he came back to the
ship whilst the other stayed drinking. According to the report in the paper the
one in the pub left with one of the barmaids when the pub closed. He took her
to the railway station, that big one with the yellow stonework we saw, but she
had missed her train. Anyway, he called a cab about half past eleven and took
her home.' Martha paused and gave Florence a nudge, 'The barmaid says he left
her at her home and the cab driver took him back to Melbourne, left him on a
street called Collins Street at a quarter past two in the morning.' She paused
again and dropped her voice to a hushed whisper. 'No telling what he was doing
with the barmaid ‘til that time of the morning is there?' She continued in a
normal, though still low, voice. 'Anyway, the cabbie left him at just after two
and he was found floating in the river Yarra later that same morning, Sunday.'
Florence sat quietly for a moment considering what Martha had said.
'That’s terrible isn’t it Martha? Fancy coming all this way and then dying the
first day you are in your new land.' She sat silently thinking for a few
moments then added, 'Poor man. Wonder why he did it? What did the paper say?'
'Well, the Coroner's report says that,
although there was no indication of how he came to be in the water, it seems he
did it by his own means, whatever that means. But it is terrible isn’t it?'
They sat in silence for a few minutes,
turning over in their minds the sad news the paper had delivered to them. It
had to be an accident. Nobody would come all this way after making all the
planning arrangements they would have had to make, then deliberately killing
themselves when they had finally arrived. Martha finally broke the silence.
'So, what are you going to do for a job
when we get to Sydney Flo?' she asked. Florence lifted yet another cup of
coffee to her lips and sipped from it.
'I've had a few ideas on the sort of thing
I might do, but I suppose a lot depends on what sort of businesses are looking
for people when we get there. I don't suppose there's much call for Spinners in
Sydney.' She grinned at Martha and continued. 'I want to try something new, but
not sure what it is I want to do. Does that make sense to you?' Martha nodded
her head silently. 'I've always been good at dress making, so I might try for
that sort of thing, or I could get a job working in someone's house,
housekeeper sort of thing, but they are usually 'live in' aren't they?' She
paused again to think further before continuing. 'I've been looking at the jobs
on offer in one of the Melbourne newspapers we took onboard, and there seems to
be a lot of opportunities for a lot of different jobs, so I'm hoping I won't
have too much trouble finding something reasonable, providing it's the same in
Sydney when we get there.' She sat back in her seat and drank again from her
cup. Martha looked across at her.
'If you want, I can ask my husband if he
thinks he can offer you a job, just to get you on your feet, as it were.' She
said.
'Oh that's right kind of you Martha, thank
you, but I don't want to put on you and your husband. You and him are going to
be in the same boat as I am, aren't you? If I can't find anything I will write
to you though, and we can see how things are with you and his business, can't
we?'
Martha nodded her head in agreement. 'Right
then, that's settled. If you can't find anything you write to me. I'll make
sure you have my address before we arrive in Sydney.' Florence smiled her thanks
at her and turned as the waiter approached them again. Martha flashed him one
of her warmest smiles. The young man blushed.
'Excuse me ladies.' He stuttered. 'We are
about to set the tables for lunch. I wonder if I might ask you to allow me to
clear the cups away?' The two women glanced around to find they were the only
ones in the room and embarrassed, hurriedly rose to their feet flustered, and
offered their apologies, then scurried away less they secure for themselves a
reputation as gossips.
Later that afternoon after yet another
heavy lunch, and following a nap in her room, Florence was once again on the
deck watching the waves which had started to become bigger and greyer. Mr
Cookson found her clutching the deck rail against the rising seas. The sky was
darkening even more than it had in the morning. As was his custom he tipped his
hand to the peak of his cap,
'Good afternoon Mrs Lowe. Weather’s
changing a bit I’m afraid.' He said.
'Is it going to be really rough do you
think Mr Cookson?' she asked.
'Could be. I’m not trying to frighten you,
but we do get some bad storms going across the Bight at this time of year. Won’t
take us too long though, be alright as long as we don’t hit the Otway Point
rocks.' He stopped for a moment to allow his words to sink in.
'Is that the Great Australian bight Mr
Cookson? I saw it on the map in the Reading Room.'
'That’s right. Don’t worry about the Otway
though. Over six hundred people have been lost in ship wrecks going through the
Bass Straits, that’s why they built the Point Otway lighthouse. You can see the
light between twenty and thirty miles out to sea, so if you think it’s a bit
close, it probably is.' He chuckled and Florence grinned at his cruel quip.
'Mr Cookson, if I didn’t know you any
better I’d probably think you were telling me the truth, instead of just
pulling my leg.' She nudged him familiarly on the arm. Cookson returned her
smile and took his leave of her, taking his place back on the bridge with the
Commodore. Florence took one last look at the steadily building waves and hoped
the remainder of the journey would prove uneventful. One person falling off the
ship in harbour and another one killed in a drowning in the river Yarra did little
to ease her mind as she made her way down the stairs to her cabin.
Later that evening after dinner Florence and
Martha moved between the various public rooms inside the ship to watch through
the windows as the storm grew. Martha decided it was too unsettling for her, and
took to the cabin once more. Florence stood and watched as the seas crashed
over the bow and flowed swiftly along the decks of the ship before falling over
the sides again through the scuppers. She held tight onto the security rails in
the rooms or on the staircases as she made her way from room to room, hearing
the constant boom of waves, and hoping they would not gain entrance to the
ship. She looked ahead towards the bow of the ship, and saw the two masts on
the foredeck seeming to bend backwards towards the funnel. The wire rigging clanged
and battered against the wooden masts, threatening to break in the wind. The
smoke from the funnel blew flat back directly over the rear of the ship, and
then off to one side as the wind gusted and changed. Inside the rooms Florence
felt secure and warm, and was sheltered not only from the wind and waves but
also the noise of the storm, whilst outside the wind tore in unrestrained
torment amongst the deck fittings, battering against the windows of the ships'
superstructure. Above her the navigation bridge was exposed directly to the
storm, but the windows held and nothing breached the safety of the structure.
Florence went down into the Dining Room and
found that it was empty, save for one other person, a man, who clutched tight
onto the back of a chair as he watched through a window as the weather blew outside
the ship. Occasionally they exchanged brief comments about the weather. Florence
felt secure in his presence, though she knew that if the ship did flounder or
was breached, little could be done to save any of them from injury or death.
For an hour she stood first against one widow then another as she sought to
gain a better vantage point of the damage the wind and sea was trying to do to
the ship. She would move to the front of the room, then the side and finally
the back, where she watched sea water slide gracefully in a white gushing
torrent from the back of the ship into the ocean, seemingly reluctant to return
from where it had come. Suddenly the sound of the storm battering the ship
increased in volume, Florence turned around to see that one of the doors
leading into the room had opened and Martha was half blow into the room. She
leaned hard against the door and fought to close it. The young man who had
occupied the room with Florence rushed to her aid. Together they closed the
door and fastened it securely.
'Oh my god,' she said, 'Thanks.' The man
turned and silently resumed his nervous position by the front right hand window
overlooking the lower decks. Martha lurched slowly across the room moving from
chair back to chair back until finally she slumped against the rail and the
wall where her friend had resumed her stance.
'Are you alright Martha?' she asked. Martha
looked up at her from underneath her windblown hair which had fallen messily
across her forehead. She pushed the locks away and fixed Florence with a steady
gaze.
'Do I look alright?' she asked.
'A bit windswept perhaps, but alright I
suppose.' Martha pushed back the
remainder of her hair and straightened up. 'Tell
you the truth Flo, I’m scared to death. Thought I’d be alright in the cabin,
but it’s just getting worse and worse isn’t it?' She looked around the room to
see if any damage had been done, then took one of the chairs from the table
they were stood near and angled it so that she could see out of the window
Florence was stood by, and sat down in it firmly. 'We’re going to be alright
aren’t we Flo?' she asked, her voice breaking a little, reflecting her fear.
Florence saw how scared she was and placed her hand gently on her shoulder and
shook it to reassure her.
'We’re going to be fine Martha don’t go
worrying about it. This storm won’t last forever.'
'I know that, but I just don’t like the
noise and the jumping around the ship is doing. What happens if we hit a rock? You
said that this was a dangerous part of the sea and that there were rocks out
there. What happens if the crew don’t see them and we crash into them. We’ll
end up in that sea, and I don’t fancy that at all.' Martha could see her friend
was genuinely frightened and squeezed her shoulder once more to reassure her.
'It'll be fine. This ship is strong and has
two engines, so even if one of them stops working, well the other is still
there.'
'What happens if both of them stop working
though?'
'Then we’re in real trouble' Florence said
grinning. 'Listen. According to that map on the wall in the Reading Room, it’s
about fifty miles from the mainland to Tasmania, and the Point Otway lighthouse
can shine its’ light over half the distance between the two places, so if we
can see the light we know we’re nowhere like being in trouble.' She smiled
warmly and Martha relaxed a little.
'Don’t forget King Island though.' came a
voice from the other side of the room. They turned to look at the young man who
had spoken for the first time.
'What about it?' asked Florence.
'It’s half way between the two and directly
in our path' he said. Martha’s face lost most of its colour and she turned from
looking at the man to Florence who drew herself as tall as she could before
addressing him.
'I have every confidence in Commodore
Ditchburn,' she replied icily. 'He's made this trip many times, and as far as
I'm aware he's not lost any of his passengers.' She turned away from him and
rested her hand gently on Martha’s shoulder, then pulled over one of the chairs
and sat close to her. She leaned in towards her. 'Listen' she said. 'The last
ship to go down in this area was forty odd years ago. It used to a very
dangerous area because of King Island being about half way between Point Otway
and Tasmania, and that was why they put the lighthouse there on Point Otway. Since
then it’s been as safe as houses. Believe me, I’ve read all about it in the
library.' She sat back in her seat and took Martha’s hand in hers. 'We’ll be
alright, believe me.' She added confidently. Martha was silent for a minute,
thinking of what Florence had said.
'But what happens if we get blow off
course? I’ve read of that happening. We could be blown onto that King Island
place couldn’t we?'
'Oh I forgot about that' Florence said
lightly. 'Yes, I suppose that could be a real problem if we lose all our sails
and we are blown off course.' She paused for a moment then continued. 'But have
you noticed anything about this ship Martha? They forgot to put sails on it.
We’re going to have to rely on those two big engines knocking away downstairs.'
She grinned and the daylight dawned on Martha’s face.
'I’m a bit of an idiot aren’t I Flo?' she
said a little shamefaced.
'No, not at all. Not a bit of an idiot at
all.' Florence said, pinching Martha’s hand gently. 'More of a great big idiot!'
Martha sat back against the rear of the chair and smiled. Florence looked
beyond her friend and out of the front window of the Dining Room. A light was
flashing directly ahead and to the left of the bow of the ship. She
concentrated through the rain now pouring down against the window until the
light flashed again. She pointed at the light she had seen. 'Look Martha,
there’s the Point Otway Lighthouse, it’s flashing on and off every few seconds.'
Martha followed her finger, pointing out into the sea, and was rewarded when
she saw the light flash. She sat back in the chair and smiling, took a deep
breath of relief. Florence was relieved to see the colour returning to her
cheeks. Even though she spoke to Martha with confidence, to some extent it was
bravado more than confidence. She let her hand drop to her knees and turned
back to watch the light flicker intermittently between the waves and the rain,
its welcome presence give her some comfort.
'Seeing the lighthouse has reminded me of a
story I heard some time ago, I think it was one of the girls in the mill in Bolton
who told me,' she said. Martha looked at her expectantly. 'Funnily enough, it’s
about a shipwreck,' she began. 'There was this man who had a pet dog called
Fido. Anyway, this man was on a ship in the Pacific Ocean and it ran into a
really fierce storm. The wind blew so much that the sails were ripped to shreds
and the ship sank with all hands. The only survivors were the man and his dog,
Fido, and they were washed up on a desert island.' Martha nodded her head,
picturing the scene Florence was painting. 'Nothing on the island to eat,
nothing at all, and only a small stream for fresh water.' Florence paused to
let her words sink in. 'Anyway, after a week or so the man decided that if he
didn’t have something to eat soon, well, he would die.'
'What did he do?' Martha asked.
'Stop interrupting and I’ll tell you,' Florence
replied. 'He decided that as much as he loved his dog Fido, he would have to
eat it if he wanted to survive.
'Oh that’s horrible Flo'
'Well yes it is, but he had to eat to
survive, and the only thing he could see to eat was his dog. So he did. He lit
a fire and killed the dog and cooked it.'
'That is so sad Flo. What did he do next?'
'Well, later that night, after he had eaten
Fido and sucked the last of the meat from the bones, he made the bones up in a
neat little pile. Looking at them he said to himself, ‘Fido would have really
enjoyed those bones.’' Florence sat back and grinned. For a second Martha said
nothing until the penny dropped, then burst into a loud raucous laugh.
'Florence Lowe, that was terrible' she
said, bending double with laughter, tears welling over her eyes onto her
cheeks.
'Glad you liked it.' She said. 'Now I think
it's time for bed.' She rose to her feet and steadied herself against the table
as Martha too rose. With a last look at the storm blowing outside the two young
women made their slow way down to their cabin to try and sleep their way
through the remainder of the storm.
For the next two days the gale blew the ship along
to Sydney. Most of the passengers took to their cabins, and only those with
stomachs of iron ventured into the Dining Room for meals. Several of the
passengers suffered badly from sea sickness, and the doctor's cabinet of
sickness remedies soon became almost empty. For many, this part of the journey
had been the part they had most anticipated and dreaded before finally arriving
at their destination Sydney, but for that same number it became a nightmare
where many of them prayed for death, or at least an end to the storm. The sea
sickness was as relentless as the tumbling water which threw itself across the
decks, soaking anyone foolish enough to venture out into the storm from the
shelter of their cabins. Several of the crew were affected as badly as the
passengers, and it was not uncommon to find them clutching at the handrails
which were affixed to the corridors on the lower decks, as they bravely attempted
to go about their duties. Florence and Martha appeared not to be affected by
the onslaught of weather after the first night, and kept to the published times
of meals onboard. It became something of a point of honour between them to show
themselves at the appointed hour for meals, and took delicious delight in
proving to others less fortunate, that their stomachs could withstand anything
the ocean threw at them. They both commented occasionally to each other that
their clothes continued to be shrinking as the voyage went on. Maybe the
situation would improve when they got off the boat.
At last the storm started to lessen in its
ferocity. The seas shrunk to a more normal size, and there were slits of blue sky
to be seen on the horizon in the blanket of cloud which had shrouded them for
the past few days. It seemed that their arrival in Sydney might be heralded by
fine clear weather. Florence regularly crossed her fingers and said many silent
prayers to the gods of the sea that their arrival in the Port would prove to be
the right way up, and dry.
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