Six weeks in a boat can be a long or short time, depending on the circumstances. To use a pun, of sorts, our protagonist is going to be all at sea with his feelings, while knowing that family obligations, and the upcoming parting at Melbourne with those he had spent quite some time with, will be leaving the ship.
That is going to be an interesting chapter, because there is a sad parting and an unexpected one.
The thing here is that the intrepid adventurers all seem to come together at some point over the voyage, and since they are all trying to achieve the same thing, though some still have that ‘so-called’ outdated idea of marriage as security, that notion of independent women was stirring within this group.
Our protagonist is more like a fly on the wall than actively stirring the pot, but it is a theme of those days, the end of a golden period of emigration, of luxury ships, and the start of something new.
Of course, it would take a World War to change the status of women and their ability to work and prove themselves. It’s how to subtly weave this into the story.
But, since the story is following our protagonist, he is off to Queensland and a life he never expected could have happened to him in a million years. It will be so different to the cold, wet, green lands of Derbyshire back home; culture shock doesn’t even begin to describe it.
We pass through Naples, go to visit a museum where Margaret, one of the group, manages to take our protagonist aside for a conversation, the passengers see Mt Vesuvius spewing a little smoke and ash as they enter the harbour, see a few warships, then move on to Toulon, where there are warships.
There’s a dance, and it seems everyone is accomplished to a degree, that old 18th-century notions that women can play the piano, dance at balls, and sit around doing needlepoint hang in the air as pre-requisites for a good wife.
Until the modern dances come out and change the atmosphere. Am I trying too hard to transition the world into a different one, from old ideas to a new world?
There is a war hanging over everything as it is early 1914, and signs of it are everywhere.
Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal, and the start of the hot weather. Going ashore is for getting hot-weather clothes. Until they leave Colombo in Ceylon, it’s going to be hot and steamy, where staying in cabins overnight is going to be difficult, and passengers find their way to the decks to spend the night in the cool air.
It’s slow going down the Canal until they get to Suez to take on a pilot to navigate the Red Sea. A few days before passing through the Gulf of Aden, this time not stopping in Aden for coal and onwards to Colombo.
I will throw in a dining engagement with the captain in first class, just to have some fun with the people out protagonist would usually be travelling with, but hates to be associated with.
Of course, literally, that might mean I’m standing at the top of a craggy cliff looking down at a bed of rocks. One that would hurt a lot if I landed there.
Metaphorically speaking, there are many connotations of what that precipice might be.
It might mean, in an argument, you’re about to say something you’ll regret or can’t take back.
It might mean you are one action away from turning into someone you never thought you’d become, and doing something you thought you’d never do.
It might mean you are one thought or idea away from solving a problem. Like the title of your next book. Or the formula to create a warp drive.
Or perhaps a simpler problem, like where the money is coming from to pay next week’s bills.
My precipice?
The next plotline for my current NaNoWriMo project.
And, no, I’m not usually one of these writers who plan the whole novel before writing it.
But for me, ideas like this just happen, and I usually write my stories in the same manner as it would be for the reader, not knowing what will happen next.
So…
It’s cold and wet at the top of the cliff…
Damn! Just had an idea. Got to take that leap of faith.
So we are getting the back stories for a few of the passengers, a group forms, of which our protagonists are part of; my grandmother is there, but only as a floating member. I have given her a role that gels with the protagonist as a friend, though more aloof than the others. As the son of a Duke, and therefore of aristocratic bearing, he and my grandmother will act as chaperones for the other girls who attach themselves to the group that gathers in the lounge.
He will prefer her as a companion while the likes of Louise tend to make a more romantic impact. But, as one might expect of the time, he is uncertain of his arrangement with the arranged marriage, so he cannot commit to anything other than a respectable friendship, which he makes quite plain from the outset.
He is not looking for romance. Others might be.
I also have a look at the reasons why so many disaffected young women are leaving England for a new life in Australia, far from the poverty, and worse, class distinction, the lack of opportunities for women, and the lack of acceptable husbands, not that they are looking. There are also aspects of societal expectation that a woman doesn’t work and is meant to have children and look after their husbands.
This is a period where the unwritten rule of what society believes is a woman’s place in society is taking a beating, and women want more from their lives. After all, suffragettes are fighting for electoral equality; at least in Australia, these girls will have a vote.
Yesterday we were talking about the social mores of the day, and so I did a little research…
…
Setting Sail for Adventure: Decorum and Debauchery in Second Class, 1914
The modern cruise ship, with its all-you-can-eat buffets and poolside revelry, often conjures images of an exuberant, perhaps even uninhibited, youth. It’s easy to imagine young adults embracing a spirit of “live for the moment” on a contemporary voyage. But what about their ancestors, embarking on a similar, albeit far more arduous, journey a century ago? Specifically, what were the acceptable social norms for young people travelling in second class from England to Australia in 1914, and how might they have comported themselves, a world away from today’s cruise ship scene?
The very idea of “acceptable social norms” in 1914 is a stark contrast to our contemporary understanding. Society was far more rigid, with deeply ingrained expectations regarding behaviour, dress, and social interaction, especially for young, unmarried individuals. The journey from England to Australia, often a voyage lasting weeks and involving significant time in close quarters, would have been a microcosm of these societal standards.
Second Class in 1914: A Different Kind of Journey
First class, of course, was the domain of the wealthy and aristocratic, with its own set of gilded rules. But second class, while not as opulent, still offered a degree of comfort and privacy that distinguished it from steerage. Passengers in second class were generally of the middle and upper-middle classes – professionals, skilled tradespeople, and those with respectable means. The expectation was that they would carry themselves with a degree of decorum befitting their social standing.
For young women, the norms were particularly stringent:
Chaperonage: Unmarried young women were rarely expected to travel unaccompanied. If they were travelling alone, it was usually for a specific, respectable purpose, like joining family or taking up employment as a governess. Even then, they would have been expected to be discreet and avoid drawing undue attention. If travelling with friends of a similar age, a more senior female relative or acquaintance would ideally be present to offer guidance and supervision.
Dress: Modesty was paramount. Dresses would be long-sleeved and ankle-length, with high necklines. Even for leisure, elaborate hats and gloves might be worn for meals or time spent on deck. Casual wear as we know it simply didn’t exist.
Social Interaction: Interactions with young men would have been carefully managed. Polite conversation was acceptable, but prolonged or overly familiar interactions would have been frowned upon. Any hint of romantic entanglement would have been a serious matter, potentially impacting a young woman’s reputation and future prospects. Flirtation, if it occurred, would have been subtle and masked by propriety.
Activities: While there would have been opportunities for socializing on deck, activities would have been more sedate. Reading, embroidery, letter writing, and quiet conversation would have been common. Group card games or board games might have been played, but always with an air of polite engagement.
For young men, the expectations, while perhaps slightly less restrictive than for women, were still substantial:
Respect and Deference: Young men were expected to show respect to their elders and to ladies. Overt displays of bravado or boisterous behaviour would have been considered ill-mannered.
Dress: Formal attire was often the norm for dinner, even in second class. Suits, ties, and smart shoes would be expected.
Activities: While they might have engaged in more active pursuits on deck, such as deck quoits or walking, they would still have maintained a civil demeanour. Engaging in gambling or heavy drinking would have been seen as unsavoury.
Interactions with Women: As with young women, interactions would have been governed by politeness. Overtures towards unmarried women would have been inappropriate and could lead to social ostracisation for both parties.
A Hypothetical Voyage: England to Australia in 1914
So, if those same young people who might now be “perpetually drunk and promiscuous” on a modern cruise were instead on a 1914 voyage from England to Australia in second class, what would their experience likely have been?
Instead of loud music and raucous parties, imagine:
Quiet Evenings on Deck: Young women might be found seated with their companions, perhaps engaged in conversation or a quiet game of cards, while young men stroll nearby, exchanging polite greetings.
Respectful Pursuits: Reading novels, writing letters home detailing the voyage, or perhaps learning a new skill like sketching the passing scenery. Evenings might involve listening to a fellow passenger play the piano or attending a small, organised lecture.
Carefully Navigated Social Circles: Any developing friendships would be nurtured within the watchful gaze of chaperones or the implicit understanding of societal expectations. A stolen glance or a whispered conversation might be the extent of any budding romance.
A Sense of Purpose: This was not a holiday for most. Many were emigrating for a new life, seeking opportunities, or reuniting with family. The journey itself was a significant undertaking, often involving a considerable financial and emotional investment. This inherent seriousness would have tempered any inclination towards frivolous behaviour.
What about the “drunk and promiscuous” aspect?
While alcohol was certainly available and consumed, the levels of public intoxication seen on some modern cruises would have been highly scandalous. Drunkenness would have been seen as a sign of poor breeding and lack of self-control. Promiscuity would have been even more damaging, carrying severe social repercussions for all involved. The fear of gossip and the potential ruin of one’s reputation would have been a powerful deterrent.
In essence, the young passengers of 1914 second class were confined by a much stricter social contract. Their interactions would have been characterised by restraint, politeness, and a keen awareness of their social standing and future prospects. While a spark of youthful exuberance might have still flickered, it would have been expressed through more subtle means – perhaps a shared laugh during a formal dinner, a spirited debate on deck, or the shy exchange of a dance card at a rare shipboard social event. It was a world where decorum reigned, and the consequences of transgressing those norms were far more severe than a few disapproving glances on a modern cruise.
…
So our interactions might be a little less rigid, but it will be with a lot of the guidelines in place. My grandmother, being about 25, would have been more the chaperone type those those younger, and the ship’s staff would have ensured the men behaved.
I cannot begin to imagine if one were a single man travelling in second class with so many eligible women, what thoughts might pass through his mind.
I imagine that behaviour might have been somewhat more circumspect in such a setting at the time, 1914, and that what I have read of the times, we cannot accept that they might have the same behaviour as they would today.
There are so many stories about young people travelling on cruise ships and the exploits they get up to, but back then, in an era where rules were more strictly enforced, more than half of those passengers were older, with families, and would expect socially responsible behaviour.
In an age where the captain of the ship was almost God like in stature, I suspect misbehaving on a ship would be met with swift action. Certainly, alcohol was not freely flowing and sometimes not available; it was, in those days, at the discretion of the Captain.
So I’m running with the captain running a tight ship, the passengers behaving acceptably, and anything else was kept where it belonged, out of sight and mind. That wouldn’t stop gossip or cliques from trying to figure out who and what their fellow passengers were, or that passengers who were initially strangers wouldn’t come together in groups for conversation, meals, and socialising.
There will be social events, like card nights, concerts, lantern lectures, and deck games, for children and adults alike. There would be dances, where these young people could let off a little steam and meet others.
Six weeks on a ship in practically confinement is fodder for a lot of twists in the tale.
We have characters by the bucketful on this ship, after all, there are 1400 of them plus the crew. In second class, knowing the classes don’t mix, there are 235, yes I have the name and age of everyone travelling, and it was a lot of single people, at least 67 young ladies between 18 and 30.
And no, it was not like a modern-day cruise with people getting drunk, acting stupid or cabin hopping. This was 1914, and there was a modicum of decorum observed. This didn’t mean that people didn’t meet and talk, dine or do rounds of the promenade or shelter deck together.
There were families, there were people travelling to Australia and back, the forerunning of what might have been cruising, but that was mostly those travelling in first class. There were about 360 of them, and they had the best of everything.
Still second class had its own lounge, dining room, music room, and smoking room.
Of course, the protagonist and my grandmother meet, talk, she is reserved and cautious, he is not the usual aristocratic arse that behaves like he is entitled, it’s more he’s travelling second class to keep a low profile and not have anyone guess who he is, and cause a fuss, or derision.
That lasts until he is boarding when the captain of the ship, and friend of his fathers, sends the second mate down to get him squared away and ship shape. Damn, there goes his anonymity.
And it had to happen in front of the girl in the blue hat, and another, the other protagonist, only he doesn’t know it yet.
The girl in the blue hat is my grandmother.
The second protagonist, well, she’s going to shake the trees and see what falls out.
It was never my intention that my grandmother would become the main protagonist. No, that is the boy who is the third son of a Duke, the title of the book.
He is being packed off the Australia to work on his uncle’s cattle station in outback Queensland.
So, off we go to the archives to dig into Queensland, in 1915, and where cattle stations might be, and how to get there from Brisbane once the ship arrives. This turns up information on the port of Brisbane, with the dock being at Pinkenba, a tin shed on a wharf that was far shorter than the length of the ship. Just beside the shed is a railway station, the way the passengers get into Brisbane itself.
Passengers arriving from overseas have to wonder where it was they were.
But before that, we have a long way to go. The ship does not allow passengers to get off at Gibraltar, it just anchors in the harbour and takes passengers off, and new passengers aboard, and the main, and then leaves. A few hours at best, time enough for the town folk to come alongside and sell their wares.
Next stop, Marseilles, then Toulon, where passengers will be allowed to go ashore for a few hours.
Toulon is a home port for the French Navy. War is approaching; one can only imagine just how many warships there are.
It was the golden age of travel, where the opulence of the Titanic filtered down into the ships that went in the opposite direction.
It was also the golden age for migration from England to Australia, with ships leaving from a number of ports, a wave that had started in the mid-1800s.
I discovered which ship my grandmother took from Tilbury to Melbourne, the RMS “Orama”, over 10,000 tons and the latest iteration in the design that saw four of five similar ships before it, run by the Orient Shipping Line, and these ships departed every 14 days.
First class, second class, and third class, which sounds so much better than steerage. The second-class ticket cost 40 pounds, which could be regarded as a small fortune back then, when wages were about 80 pounds a year.
My grandmother had a little inheritance money, and having cousins living in Australia, I am sure her intention was to simply visit them for a while and then go back home.
Of course, there was just one problem.
World War One was brewing in Europe.
Perhaps if she thought it might all blow up, she could have stayed at home. But I think there was another reason why she was making such a journey.
It might not seem like that when I say it was supposed to be an overnight crossing from Devonport to Melbourne in a ship called the Princess of Tasmania, and the stretch of water was Bass Strait, one of the top five worst stretches of open seas in the world.
I know that for a fact.
We had stabilisers and still corkscrewed while facing into the huge seas for eight or six hours before it subsided enough for us to continue.
Everyone was seasick. It was a terrible crossing, and all I remember was wishing I were dead after dry reaching for hours.
So, here we are, March 1914, leaving Plymouth after a rather rough crossing from Tilbury and maintaining contact, just, with the southern British coastline, just leaving for Gibraltar, about to cross the Bay of Biscay.
Those passengers have no idea what they’re in for, but I do. Rough seas, corkscrew motion, and questions why the Line said that the ship could handle this sort of ocean weather, and by day two, more than half the ship is down with sea sickness.
And, if you’re not, then good luck trying to eat in the dining room with the ship’s motion.
Four days later, off the Portuguese coast, a semblance of normality returns, though by this time a new benchmark for normal had to be set. The sun is out, the weather is less blustery and wet, and the seas are calmer.
I have a copy of a seagoer’s diary for a similar ship at the same time. For me, it would be fun. I’m not so sure what those who had never been on a ship before might have thought of it.
At least in the second class, they were above the waterline.
