‘It fascinated me that there existed enough numbers to carry us to the New World without having to repeat the same number twice.’
It is 1854, and Sarah flees from the certainty of her home for the uncertainties of life in a new colony in Australia. Sarah and the other unmarried women are confined to steerage where, under the eye of a matron, the journey between Britain and ‘New Holland’ is experienced, shared and endured. Sarah is escaping from the prospect of a conventional arranged marriage. The other women each have stories from the past and hopes for the future. In such a closely confined space with little physical privacy, imagination and memories provide some refuge for Sarah.
‘The words of the captain, the ship’s husband, stream through the flapping hatchway door and float in the stale air.’
As the ship brings Sarah closer to Australia, she is increasingly haunted by her own story and by her inability to write a letter home to her mother. She longs for her cousin Richard, with whom she is in love, and reflects on the centrality of water and what it represents in her life.
To read this book is to share Sarah’s journey and it is not always easy to distinguish reality and imagination. The challenges and squalor of life in such close quarters is a stark reminder of the realities of travel for many emigrating to Australia in the 19th century. The journey rather than the destination is the story, and the conclusion is not completely clear.
I would like to think that Sarah made a new life in Australia with Richard, and while this is a possibility it is not a certainty.
‘The air has known us all intimately and is tired.’
Jennifer Cameron-Smith