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. H e 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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