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Samuel Shaw, in 1852: 'In less than two hours after sailing there was scarcely a one but was
sick and lying about the deck helpless.' The next day -'There is still no difference in the state of
the sick, I believe they are worse than ever as they are lying in their beds heaving up and the
smell is very bad.'
Seasick, cold, miserable and homesick - such was the lot of every passenger; and in their
solitary suffering they had the time to dwell on the immensity of what they were doing and where
they were.
Edward Lloyd, in 1846: The sea was rolling the ship from side to side in impotent spite; the tall
masts describing segments of circles in the clouds, and the giant sails flapping loudiy against the
masts. For the first time... I seemed fully to comprehend my position, and the undertaking in
which I had embarked... A sort of incredulousness pervades the mind.' And later - 'Heavy and
fitful are my slumbers; old and accustomed faces crowding round me, bidding goodbye and
melting again, in a strange jumble of times and places and occasions.'
The start of the Lady McNaghten's voyage was not too dreadful, although, being February, it
must have been very cold. The Rev JD Mereweather records that during the first night at sea the
ship passed the Lizard, the southernmost point of Cornwall and the English mainland. They
would then have swung southwards and into the unusually pacific Atlantic. He noted on 25
February there was 'a very great calm'.
He wrote: The ship passes lazily through the waves, almost without motion. Afi the emigrants
are on deck. The men are in groups, some boxing with gloves; others fencing with foils; others
playing at single stick. The women are sitting on the spars chatting, sowing or knitting. Some
poor creatures are sick already. There are on board 110 to 120 emigrants, including children;
and the appearance of a great many of them is far superior to what I could have anticipated. I
am quite astonished to find so many well dressed respectabie looking people as steerage
passengers in an emigrant ship.
'26 February: A fine day. Wind blowing fresh from the SSW. We are now about halfway
between Scilly and Ushant. More sea, and many sick, especially the newcomers. The surgeon
has discovered that some of the children have ringworm, and that others are covered with
vermin. He has given orders to the parents that the hair of those affected should be cut off, a
proceeding to which the parents object, alleging that the appearance of the children will be
spoiled; he, however, in inexorable.
'1 March: A wet day with baffling winds. Saw several jelly-fish floating on the surface of the
water. An old woman, a Methodist, amid other lamentations, complained that no prayer
meetings were held on board. Some one replied to her: "Why, how can you say that? Does not
the minister read prayers every evening?" "Oh, I know that," she said. "But them be only
parson's prayers."'
On Sunday, 3 March, a gale from the northeast speeded the advance of the three-masted
barque.
'Our bulky, siow sailing-ship is actually going through the water at the rate of nine knots. The
dead-lights were closed on account of the heavy sea, which rendered out cabins dark and
disagreeable. Could have no prayers. At ten pm
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there was an alarm of fire from below. The steward, who is a dirty drunken person, had fallen
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