Adventurers And Exiles_The Great Scottish Exodus

by Marjory Harper

  Many of the problems associated with the voyage did not go unnoticed by commentators. Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal suggested that emigrants would avoid the problems of delayed departures and chaotic embarkation scenes by travelling on regular packets, rather than on chartered ships. The latter, they claimed, were interested only in the timber or general import trade, regarding the emigration business as ‘only a secondary or incidental consideration’. 11 Alexander Buchanan, the Chief Canadian Immigration Agent, advised emigrants to secure a passage on a fast ship through a reputable owner, broker or captain, even if it was not the cheapest deal they could secure, to ensure that the ship was going to the port contracted for, and to avoid ‘those crimps that are generally found about the docks and quays near where ships are taking in passengers’. 12 Most guidebooks also warned emigrants against fraudulent agents and captains, particularly on the transatlantic route. They often reprinted the official circulars issued by the Colonial Office and various immigration agents, and reminded emigrants of their statutory rights. Thomas Fowler, who published an account of his trip from Aberdeen to Quebec on a timber trader in 1831, stressed the importance of choosing a good ship and captain. 13 Three years later a correspondent of the Aberdeen bookseller and compiler of Counsel for Emigrants, John Mathison, warned against captains who landed their passengers at Quebec, although they had paid to be taken the extra 180 miles to Montreal. He urged emigrants to enter into written contracts in order to prevent misunderstanding. 14 Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal in 1839 urged emigrants to Australia to elicit, before payment of passage money, a written agreement from the char-terer, endorsed by the captain, setting out the facilities to which they would have access on board ship during their long journey. 15

  Emigrants were also given extensive advice on what to take with them. Money was always a good idea, and emigrants were repeatedly advised to accumulate savings. On the other hand, they were regularly warned not to encumber themselves with household goods, bedding or furniture. One female emigrant from Aberdeen wrote from Zorra, Upper Canada, to a friend at home, advising her on the one hand to bring a sufficiently large hatbox to hold all her bonnets without crushing, but on the other to keep her berth as empty as possible. She continued:

  Do not distress yourself preparing great store of things, as if you could get nothing here. We can buy cotton prints, and cotton of all kinds, as cheap as at home … You will have to supply your own bedding on board of ship. Bring some blankets, as they are scarce here; 2 tea kettles, brander, and crook. Be sure to pack your dishes well. 16

  Another Zorra emigrant offered practical advice about life at sea, advising emigrants against berths opposite the hatchway if they wanted to avoid getting soaked, to take tin jugs and bowls instead of crockery, to mark all tin dishes, and to fit locks to all boxes and barrels in case the sailors or fellow passengers took a fancy to their contents.

  In 1841 Robert MacDougall published Ceann-Iuil an Fhir-Imrich, or The Emigrant’s Guide to North America. Written in Gaelic five years after the author had himself emigrated from Perthshire to Goderich in Upper Canada, it was directed specifically at Highlanders, whom he wished to counsel in ‘how to leave, how to arrive, and what to do after arriving’. In a section entitled ‘Preparations’, he encouraged them to bring protective clothing and bedclothes, which were almost twice the price in Canada. They should bring spades and nails, but not small carpentry tools or axes, since ‘the emigrant will not get the time to trifle with carpentry in Canada’. He also gave advice on personal security and health:

  The emigrant ought to place everything that he is bringing with him neatly in square chests, not too large, or in barrels, and to be exceedingly careful with his possessions when boarding a ship, especially if he is sailing from a city; for the rabble usually gather around that sort of situation, and every one of them is angling for anything he can get his paws on to snatch away suddenly.

  A variety of food is exceedingly pleasant, and also necessary at sea; and every man who goes forth into the Atlantic Ocean ought to make the utmost effort to bring a little of each type of provision he can gather up. I am not at all recommending this to emigrants to make gluttons of them. I am actually cautioning them about variety because I know it is requisite for their health, and because I am of the opinion that the harbour is a terribly incommodious place for emigrants on their journey. Men ought to be watchful of their provisions after going on board also; for ‘the mischief is not all on Bute ’; there will be a deceitful sheep in the flock, even after going to sea, nor is this at all surprising. 17

  Emigrants had to be just as vigilant when they disembarked. New York ranked along with Liverpool as a place where runners and other crooks abounded, and many guidebooks advised against lingering in the ports of debarkation, where emigrants might be defrauded by unscrupulous lodging-house keepers and land agents. John Mathison warned his Aberdeenshire readers:

  On leaving the ship, remember that you come into immediate contact with many people who will take every advantage over you which they can, so look sharp in your bargains, and after your luggage. Keep a strict watch over these picaroons wherever the boats stop in your voyage up the river, or on the lakes; for, on these occasions, crowds of people assemble, and come on board ostensibly to assist you, but often to carry off any handy article. Even on leaving the ship at Quebec, be on your guard, and call a muster of your various articles, in case the sailors should take a fancy to any of them. 18

  Emigrants to Canada were warned against those who would try to divert them into the United States and were generally advised to leave Quebec as soon as possible, and head further west, where the cost of living was allegedly cheaper. 19

  Protecting the traveller

  Throughout the nineteenth century emigrants were bombarded with changing types of advice about how to leave and arrive safely. The preoccupation of early writers with problems of unscrupulous captains, delayed departures, inordinately long passages and exhausted rations was replaced, after the advent of steamships and railways, by guidance on how to choose a reliable agent, encouragement to book a through ticket from home to final destination, and tips on transcontinental rail travel. But emigrants were not left entirely to the mercy of agents, captains and guidebooks. Between 1803 and 1855 a series of passenger acts tried to rectify some of the problems and protect emigrants against fraud and abuse. The first, and most severe, act of 1803 was in part a response to abuses revealed by the investigations of the Highland Society of Scotland, but its real aim, as was mentioned in Chapter 1, was to put a stop to emigration through its strict conditions. Even so, the outflow continued, with a gradual relaxation of the restrictions, until another severe law was passed in 1823 which was then attacked by the Commons Select Committee on Emigration in 1826—7. All legislation was repealed in 1827, in a climate that was no longer hostile to emigration, but this was followed by a catalogue of disasters the next season. More moderate and realistic regulations were introduced in 1828; in and after 1832 emigration agents were appointed in the major ports to oversee the operation of the act, while in smaller ports this responsibility fell to the customs officers. But the appointment of agents was largely cosmetic, at least in the Atlantic context. Their duties were badly defined, and they were severely overworked in their task of selecting assisted emigrants for Australia, as well as chartering and surveying the government ships in that branch of the trade. Some improvements were made after the appointment of the Colonial Land and Emigration Commission in 1840. The act of 1842, for instance, legislated on living space, victualling in the event of a delayed departure, lifeboats and medical attendance, as well as requiring passage brokers to be licensed. Henceforth there were to be no more than two tiers of berths, six inches above the deck, six feet long and eighteen inches wide. Yet although discipline was tightened up, and further consolidating statutes were introduced in 1849, 1852 and 1855 to plug loopholes as they appeared, shady operators could easily evade the law, and the officers were hamstrung by the need to k
eep costs low. Four people continued to be bundled into rickety berths six feet square, with little attempt to observe the 1848 requirement that single men and women be berthed separately. More effective legislation in 1852 isolated single men and women at opposite ends of the steerage, with families in between, but on the whole improved conditions in the 1850s were due less to legislation and more to the combined effects of a reduced volume of emigrants and the advent of the safer, quicker steamships.

  Problems tackled by the passenger acts went beyond delayed departures, overcrowding and mixed sleeping arrangements. They also encompassed inadequate sanitation, lack of cooking facilities and poor medical attendance. Many ships had no water closets, or, if they did, their deckside location made them unusable or even subject to destruction in rough weather. Those who brought their own food had to compete to prepare it on a couple of ineffective brick-lined, wave-lashed stoves on deck, while unscrupulous ships’ cooks could confiscate the passengers’ food or charge them for cooking it. Water was an even bigger problem and very few ships managed to preserve an adequate, uncontaminated supply throughout the voyage. Some did not even try, taking their water supplies from the river where the ship began its journey. And many passengers took their own medicaments rather than subject themselves to the attentions of ships’ surgeons, who were often poorly qualified, uncaring and sometimes non-existent, at least on the Atlantic run until 1855. Surgeons on government- chartered ships to the Antipodes tended to be of a higher calibre, however, since they were paid by the government and supervised by the Colonial Land and Emigration Commission, an arrangement which tended to ensure better conditions overall on the Antipodean run.

  Those who emigrated under the aegis of special societies were usually subject to stricter supervision. The diary of Matthew Rowan, who sailed from Liverpool to New York in 1855, offers a glimpse into the procedure followed on Mormon ships:

  The evening previous to our embarking, all the Pastors and Presidents of Conferences were called to meet with F. D. Richards [a Mormon missionary] at his lodgings for the purpose of getting instructions as to how to conduct ourselves and those on shipboard during our passage. It was prophicied [sic] by F. D. Richards and Daniel Spencer that if we on board did right we would be preserved, and not a soul of us would die; but if we did wrong it would be otherwise with us. On the 21st our arrangements were made, and the ship was divided into 7 wards and each ward had a President, I being appointed to preside over the 5th ward, in which chanced to be quite a number of my old Scotch acquaintances. The Presidents of each ward had each 2 counsellors, and in each ward were appointed 2 Teachers, to visit and keep the Saints in good order etc. Strict discepline [sic] was observed, cleanliness rigidly so, and the order was to retire to berths by 9 P.M. and get up in the morning by 5 A.M. 20

  The voyage experience: pains, perils, pleasures and pastimes

  ‘I can get no liberty to write for people jumping over my back, so you must excuse the shortness of this scrawl,’ wrote John Ronaldson, a flax heckler from Fife, to his wife, on the day in 1852 when he took ship from Greenock to New York. 21 Writing letters or, more particularly, keeping a diary helped travellers to cope with boredom during a long sea passage. Scots were no less prone to journalizing than any other emigrants, and it is from their diaries that we gain the most penetrating insights into the realities of a passage to North America or the Antipodes. They have to be used with some caution, however, for although nine out of ten passengers travelled steerage, most surviving diaries — not surprisingly — view the ocean passage through the cabin porthole. But, despite their limitations, what better way to describe the pains, perils, pleasures and pastimes of the voyage than through the pens of those who experienced them at first hand?

  Pain, of varying types and degrees, was a recurring preoccupation of the diarists. The first pain experienced was the pain of parting. Jane Burns was only twelve years old when she sailed with one of the two pioneer parties of Scottish settlers to the Free Church colony of Otago in New Zealand in December 1847. Her father, the Reverend Thomas Burns, minister of Portobello and nephew of Scotland’s National Bard, had previously promoted the venture enthusiastically at recruitment meetings all over Scotland, and was now to pastor the new colony single-handedly until 1854. He shipped his wife and children aboard the Philip Laing at Greenock in a party of 247 emigrants under Captain William Cargill. Jane later recalled the dismal, wet journey from Portobello to the docks, the incessant rain, the life-threatening illness of one of her siblings, and the solemnity of the relatives who came to bid them farewell:

  I can yet recall our arrival at the station, the rain, as I said, fell in torrents, and there was a long flight of steps from the train to the street. I can see yet, as I stood at the foot of the stair, our Mother at the top with the baby asleep in her arms. Our Father put his large blue cloak around them both, and he was guiding them down the steps. A lamp at the top lighted the glittering stair, and a more dreary scene could hardly be depicted.

  The Philip Laing had arrived from Liverpool in ballast, which had to be unloaded before the emigrants’ luggage could be stored, and the passengers eventually embarked on 26 November. A valedictory service was conducted by a number of Greenock clergymen, after which the final farewells were made, relatives disembarked, and the vessel cast off. Jane continued:

  never while I have the power of memory shall I forget that sad dreary day. I cannot describe the discomfort around us. The poor passengers looked so dis-spirited [sic] and weary; women weeping and little children looking so homesick, there seemed no room for them on the deck. I heard some one say — I think it was the mate — ‘The one half of these poor people will never cross the line ’. I turned down into our cabin, in the stern of the ship, to be out of the way of so much sadness and discomfort. But things did not seem much better there. However, a little wholesale work did wonders. We set to work to subdue the confusion round us, and the short November day closed in, and we went to sleep in our strange new home. 22

  Thirty-four years later Agnes MacGregor, also bound for Otago, found it ‘pleasant though rather melancholy’ to recall the ‘comforts of home’ and the final parting at Greenock railway station:

  But the most affecting scene to call up is where we were in the train — a crowd of relations standing round … I knew, by the choking sound I heard, that Mary was crying at the thought of parting. And I did not notice so much that Janet was sobbing aloud, and Aunt Nina was trying to smile, in order to hide her tears. Ah, I forgot what came after. When we were walking dismally along the station at Greenock, who should we meet but Aunt Grace and Aunt Iya! They went with us to the end of the station, and then we had to part. Oh, I’ll never forget the warmth of Aunt Grace ’s embrace, and I am sure Aunt Iya’s felt as much though less demonstrative. I could not keep back the tears that rose to my eyes for a good while after, nor can I as I write. 23

  For the vast majority of passengers, the next pain experienced was the physical pain of seasickness. While it was no respecter of persons, it was doubtless more tolerable in the privacy of the cabin than in the fetid, overcrowded steerage. It was an ordeal that loomed large in the memories — and writings — of most commentators. John Mann of Kenmore in Perthshire, who sailed from the Clyde to New Brunswick in 1816, mentioned what he alleged was a common practice followed by ships’ captains on vessels which supplied provisions of feeding the passengers on the first day with porridge and molasses, in order to make them sick, and therefore unlikely to demand their due rations thereafter. 24 Thomas Fowler complained bitterly about the quality of the food supplied by the captain on the three-week voyage from Aberdeen to Quebec in 1831. During most of this period Fowler remained prostrate in his cabin, showing little sympathy for the similar sufferings of the steerage passengers, ‘because we were frequently disturbed with the noise they made ’. 25 Equally unsympathetic was Jessie Campbell, a cabin passenger on the Blenheim from Greenock to Wellington, New Zealand, in 1840, when the maid of one of her f
ellow passengers became sick in the Bay of Biscay. She recorded tersely, ‘Their maid got sick in my cabin and vomited on the floor, very angry at her and sent her to the water-closet till she was able to go to the steerage.’ 26 John Mackenzie, one of sixteen cabin passengers sailing from Greenock to Port Phillip aboard the Robert Burns in 1841, took a bath as a remedy for seasickness, after which ‘[I] tickled my throat until I emptied my stomach’. He made no mention of the sufferings of the 200 bounty emigrants in the steerage. 27 Even the improved conditions of a steamship passage did not give immunity from seasickness. When Peter Wallace and his two sons emigrated from Scotland to Manitoba in 1881, sailing from Greenock to Halifax on the SS Prussia, they soon found a need to use the ‘vomiters’ attached to the side of their bunks. And ten years later the Countess of Aberdeen, travelling from Liverpool to Quebec on the much-vaunted SS Parisian, was sick crossing the Irish Sea, blaming a heavy cargo of iron which caused the ship to roll excessively. 28