On the 22nd. September, 1954, the Shaw Saville liner "NEW AUSTRALIA" sailed from Southampton with 1,500 passengers, of which 500 were children. All on board were Immigrants, and quite possibly, all were going to Australia for the first time.

To receive the 'O.K." from Australia House, sanctioning your acceptance as a Commonwealth Nominee after twelve years waiting, was more than a surprise,- it was the realisation of a dream,- something that had materialised out of official documents, letters, pictures, maps and hearsay.

Following the official interview and medical examination, came the tickets, documents of Identification, and dozens of labels. Of course there were many questions asked on both sides, and although the officials of Australia House were extremely courteous, they were amazingly ignorant concerning Commonwealth Hostels, and indeed did not know the position of any Hostel which I mentioned. 

(I wish to stress here, that one question which you are asked to supply the answer to in your preliminary forms, is to state the city, town or state in which you prefer to reside. But this is entirely misleading, for when the migrants reach Fremantle, an official of the Immigration Department comes on board and directs you to the hostel of their choosing.)

When all matters relating to sailing were finalised, we advertised our house for sale, and contrary to expectation, had a small queue waiting to relieve us of the property. The sale was completed before we sailed and all furniture disposed of, although most of it was sold at a loss, and a quantity of goods had to be given away, in order to leave the house reasonably empty before we departed. The last hour, leaving our home that had taken us so many years to build up, was a sorrowful one, and especially for my wife, for this was the only house that we had owned during our married life, and here were born our last two children. The only compensating thought we had, was that we were taking the right step for the future happiness of our children, and that even at my advanced age, there might be better prospects in Australia.

There were six of us. I was now 46, my wife 39, daughter Shirley 18, daughter Muriel 16, son Robin 10, and the 'baby' Toni (Antonia) 5. I had worked for the Ford Motor Company and Briggs Bodies at Dagenham, and I had many friends whom I was loath to leave. But eventually we said all our good-byes, and left the place with a mixed feeling of sadness and gladness. We stayed at my sister's house near London for the last night, then embarked in the Southampton- bound train at Waterloo next morning.

Arriving at Southampton, we received our dining-room tickets for the ship prior to embarking, had our luggage checked by customs, and wound in and out through endless trestles before ascending the gangway in the wake of a porter carrying some of our cases. The trunks were manhandled by the dockers and stowed away somewhere below decks. If I knew then as much as I knew now, I should have labelled all trunks 'WANTED ON VOYAGE". Two of our trunks which contained theatrical costumes were evidently immersed in salt water during the voyage, and the contents destroyed. The women-folk were mostly separated from the men and my wife and the girls had a cabin on 'B' deck, whilst I had a cabin lower' down on "D". Subsequently the two who Shared my cabin went ashore again, and did not sail, so that I had a cabin to share with my son.

We could see the Queen Elizabeth lying close by, and whilst we stood admiring it, the first call to meals was sounded, and we went below. During the meal, the ship had cast off, and we were now under way, and as soon as possible, we made our way up on deck to get our last look at the country we were leaving. We had passed Southampton Water, and were now opposite Calshott, where we got a view of some very large aircraft.

It was getting dark as we journeyed down the Solent, passed the Needles- last glimpse of the Isle of Wight, then on the starboard side in the far distance, we could see the lights of Bournemouth. It was now pitch dark, and the rails were crowded with silent forms, which diminished slowly as Bournemouth lights receded into the inky blackness of the night. It was quiet. Nobody spoke,- it was time for reflection. We turned away, and went into the saloon. People were sitting around and it was obvious that most were wondering if they had done the "right thing".

Up in the writing room was the Bar, and here was a different atmosphere. Only the "jolly souls" came here. One man who excelled himself and was well oiled on this and following nights, was subsequently confined to the "brig" for the rest of the trip (I met this man in later years, and sadly report that he followed his wife to the grave.)

The following morning, it was obvious that everyone was determined to enjoy the four weeks voyage, but soon after we ploughed through the Bay of Biscay, and many folk were conspicuous by their absence. It is amazing how children seem to be free from the worries of sea-sickness, and from the moment that the ship's Shop opened, they formed a never-ending queue from morning to morning. Incidentally, this shop had a wider variety of goods than many a shop I have encountered ashore:

On Saturday morning we saw the Rock of Gibraltar looming through the mist, and although the coast-line was not visible, the sight of the mighty rock and the knowledge of it's history impressed us. On the other side of the ship was the cold forbidding coast of Spanish Morocco,- our first glimpse of the mighty African continent. The sea had become calmer now, and all signs of mal-de-mer amongst the passengers had disappeared. Most had now got their sea-legs, and were in a merrier mood. At the tables in the saloon, there were no empty seats, and somehow the food had become more appetising. An announcement was made concerning church services to be held on the morrow, so that when the morning came, all the finery came out, and we knew that Sunday had come round again.

From Sunday to Thursday, there was little to see except the dreary coastline of northern Africa in the distance, and we speculated as to the exact position of Alamein and Tunisia and Tobruk. We knew that we were passing the George Cross Island somewhere north, and later guessed at the location of the ancient country of Greece. 

In the early hours of Thursday morning we were wakened by a terrific din,- a babel of voices and rattling of chains, and realised that at last we were at Port Said. Although it was not yet 5 a.m. sleep was out of the question, so we rose and scrambled on deck to find many more had preceded us. To those who are used to the eastern ports there is nothing fascinating about the hubbub and excitement of the bum-boats and bustle of activity on the water, but to the passenger who sees it for the first time, here is a new world. The re-fuelling barges were alongside, pumping oil into the ship, whilst long lines descended from the rails into the trading bum-boats clustered around what seemed to us to be the bottom of a watery pit. We seemed to be a terrific distance away from them. These long lines were used to lower the cash and hoist up the goods which were offered for sale, by means of little baskets tied to the lines.

These men are paid commission for all they sell, the goods not being their own property, and I am ashamed to say that I saw a countryman of mine holding on to a line as the ship was moving off, and deliberately dropping the basket into the sea, containing a pair of shoes, for which, of course, the man had to suffer the loss, by making good to his employer. This particular circumstance was denounced by the Ship’s clergy later.

We were told that better bargains could be obtained at Aden, but I hasten to assure future migrants that this is not so, and if you should fancy any article at Port Said, then buy it! In competition with the boat-men, firms of repute came on board and set up small stalls around the decks. .. there was even a Woolworths! And furtive-looking individuals would sidle up to you and offer genuine gold watch or real diamond rings at ridiculously low prices. You could eventually buy the article for about a quarter of the original price. Further along the deck in the centre of a group, mainly children, was the "Gilly-Gilly" man, taking live chicks from his mouth, and "borrowing" half-crowns from anyone foolish enough to give him one. There was no school tor the kiddies to-day. School had been organised a few days earlier by the welfare officers and a few willing adults, and contrary to all expectations, was a great success, and well attended. It gave the parents untold relief for a few hours daily.

We stayed at Port Said all day Thursday and Friday, and sailed early on Saturday morning. Nobody was allowed to go ashore, owing to the anti-British feeling in the country at the time, so it was with great relief that we moved off through the canal. There was plenty to look at and to command the attention here. We saw an Australian Army truck full of Diggers, racing us along the canal bank for a few miles, and every now and then, they would dismount and "Thumb a lift" to Australia, for they knew that was where we were going.

On Saturday night on the after-deck, normally reserved for dancing, we held a Community Singing gathering, and I'm sure the whole list of passengers was present. It was a memorable affair.

We arrived at Aden late Sunday night or early Monday, and here we were permitted to go ashore, much to our delight, and in an extremely hot sun we ambled ashore to explore the markets and streets of this little place. In a cool drink bar we met some British lads from the Military Camp up the hill. They had been here for two years and had one more year to go so were glad of meeting visitors from home. (Was it our teen-age daughters they meant?) Anyhow they showed us around a bit, and we visited a convent, and were thrilled at the little school children with their Indian teachers. Beside these little sun-baked kiddies, our little pale-face looked anaemic.

From Monday till Saturday, the ship sailed across the smooth waters to Ceylon, and on the Saturday morn we dropped anchor in the harbour at about 10 a.m. The days were spent much the same as usual, lounging about in the sunshine, enjoying the fare, school for kids, fancy dress parades, games and races. The evenings saw most people in the cinema-lounge alternatively looking at film shows or playing housey-housey.

The Nash family in Colombo

A word about visitors to Colombo . As the ship cannot come alongside any wharf, it drops anchor in the harbour, and passengers are conveyed ashore by tender. Fares are collected on board and the return trip is paid for, but once you go ashore, the people who run the tenders could not care less if you ever get back to your ship, for the service is reduced at night-time, and although police are everywhere when you land, they are not around to control the crowds of hooligans on the jetty when you try to get on board the returning tender. To compensate for the reduction of tenders at night, there are many rowing-boats, the owners of which will row you to your ship for a price. But Colombo, itself, in the estimation of my wife and myself, is a paradise. Not the city itself , but parts of the surrounding countryside, especially Mount Lavinia. There are many things I could write of regarding this place, but better leave it to be discovered by each migrant himself, and enjoy doing so like I did.

The remainder of the trip across the Indian Ocean to Freemantle was a little boring, but for me a busy time, having been asked by the Purser to organise a Concert, and occupying the time with rehearsals. The Concert was held on Saturday l6th October, the night before we docked in the first Australian Port. The Quayside is one of the most depressing I have ever seen- (I was in the M.N. for two years.)- but our attention was focussed on a group of people gathered to welcome us and they brought tears to the eyes,- for they were none other than a Scottish Caledonian Society Pipe Band, and whether you came from Scotland or not,- this was a little bit of Britain: There was nothing much to see in Fremantle, so you either stayed on board or took a bus ride to Perth. We did the latter, and were very much impressed with that City. 

The next day, Monday, the officials of the Immigration Department boarded the ship and interviewed all Heads of Families. Directions were given to all as to where their ultimate place of abode would be. Then there were fireworks! There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth! One or two demanded to be sent back home right away. However, the voyage proceeded, and we were as depressed as anyone else, for we had set our hearts on Melbourne, made pen-friends, learned it’s geography, contacted potential employment, even picked out the area where we would eventually live:

Before the ship arrived in Melbourne, we had agreed to give Adelaide a fair trial.- for that was where they decided to send us. We spent the day in Melbourne looking around, and returning to the ship in the afternoon queued for two or three hours in the biting cold whilst the Customs fiddled with baggage and the ship unloaded trunks and boxes for dispatch overland.

Frozen with the cold, we at last piled into buses which took us up to Spencer Street Station. and another long wait in a queue. All our suit cases and light luggage arrived by motor lorry, and the men folk of the party busied themselves by unloading and later loading into the famous "Overlander". I have ever since wondered if I travelled on the Overland,- because people have spoken of this train as something special. ...but I have seldom spent such an awful night travelling by train in my life before!

Arriving at Ballarat some time during the night, we went into a railway siding shop, or cafe, and believe me.- we thought the gold rush was still on. The prices they charged for a cup of tea and sausage roll! There was one further stop before Adelaide. That is, one official stop. for twice along the line the driver and guard got out for a stroll along the track to pass the time of day with someone in a little two-by-four tin hut.

Arriving in Adelaide early on Saturday morning, 23rd. October, -cold, tired and hungry, also dirty with the grime of travelling, we had to hang around the station for a considerable time until buses arrived to convey us to the hostel at Pennington (called Finsbury Hostel). It was at this point that the Immigration Officer technically washed his hands of another load of migrants and returned to his lair. We all felt suddenly deserted, and the combined plight of thirty or so drew us all together in fellowship, though none of were on really intimate terms with our neighbours. It should go on record that many people with whom we came in contact since leaving home, were kindness itself, the ship’s purser, the welfare officer, the lounge stewards, the bank representative who boarded at Fremantle-all had a smile and a friendly word which was appreciated, believe me!

The last short journey to the hostel through the city and along the outer suburbs to the industrial area of Pennington, where we finally arrived outside the office of the largest hostel in Australia. (Bonegilla is larger, but is just a dispersal centre) Here, then, we were to live until such time as we could, by the Grace of God, get a home for our families in the great outside. This great enclosure may have been at one time an Army Camp, for there are five sections, each an entire unit with it's own Canteen, office, Recreation Hall, toilet blocks, etc. Long rows of low-built huts, small Nissens, tin wails, tin roof. Tar-macadam floor. The entire area just a vast covering of brown clay. very little grass. no trees. No water-gullies, no paths.......

  The arrival at Finsbury, 23 October 1954

My God. what have we done..... what have we done?

The accommodation at Finsbury, 23 October 1954