One by one we were taken on a steam tug that would sail us to the ship, Abberton, where we would be spending the next couple of months. When I stepped onto the ship I already felt seasick and I was sure my heart was out of my chest. We were ushered to the middle of the ship where the married couples and children stayed. There were 20 messes each with about 12 people in each. Each mess had a captain but my family and I left that job to people who had experience, although my son was keen to take on the roll.
Our area is quiet loud. Children are running around mad all day but luckily there is a school on board that a young Scotsman set up. I send Elizabeth, John and occasionally Josiah but he thinks he is too old to be going to school with much younger children. Our bunks are one of the best on the boat. We have a porthole that we can look out of but most of the time it is underwater. The roof is very low and my son, Samuel, being tall, finds it very hard to walk under. Most of the time he sits so he can avoid hitting his head.
Our diet consists mainly of pea soup and for the unlucky ones who have seasickness its great but for the rest of us we have to be forced to eat it. I have been on this ship for a week and so far my trip has been pleasant. It’s not like a five star hotel but its better than I expected. Every Sunday the doctor on the ship reads us passages from the Church of England service so we don’t forget were we come from.
On the deck a lovely welsh sailor plays his fiddle while we all dance and laugh and sing. It keeps our mind off the nauseous feeling we get while we are rocking on the waves. You would think that by being isolated on a ship for a few months I would get a lot of time to write in my diary but looking after stranded children takes up most of my days. Some children on this ship have lost their mothers or they are very ill. I help care for them and the ill people. It is a tough job but someone has to do it.
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