Journey

Down below, it was dark and dank without portholes. The ceilings seemed to press down as the clear height of about 2 metres was barely sufficient for standing up. Simple overhead louvres let in a little light and provided ventilation helped a little by air flowing down stairwells and passageways. Even then these were battened down whenever high seas were running, making conditions below stifling and fetid. Steerage passengers slept in narrow bunks arranged in tiers along both sides. The centre of each compartment was taken up by a wide full length wooden table with rows of forms on each side leaving only very narrow walkways between. Dampness was a continual problem with no way of properly airing bedding and clothes could only be washed at infrequent intervals in salt water.

Single women were segregated into one compartment at the rear of the ship which was an upset for some of the Puhoi bound families as daughters as young as 14 had been classified as single and split up from their parents. Regulations called for single women to be very strictly supervised and it was a requirement to carry a chaperon. (There was however a lapse on the Friedeburg voyage when no matron was carried and it was reported afterwards that “a serious breach of discipline resulted. Two men gained access to the single women’s compartment by night, but the surgeon judged it ‘more a case of frolicsome mischief’ than anything else”).

The other passengers were mainly English, Irish and Scottish and with so many nationalities and diverse types jammed in together under very demanding conditions, there were inevitably disagreements but the Bohemians by and large did their best to stick together and tried not to get short tempered or involved.

Marshalling on deck for a Sunday church service, as well as relieving the monotony, was a way of marking the weeks but the Bohemians generally preferred to use this opportunity to reunite their families below decks and give thanks in their Egerlander dialect and in their own way. There was of course a lot of common ground and as the Scots and the Irish had also brought aboard pipes, many evenings were held with all the different pipes playing. This gave them comfort even though the music and accompanying singing were not always universally appreciated. Story telling, reading the bible, writing up diaries and playing the simple games that they had brought aboard with them, were a way of filling in the time but there was little room for dancing or organised sport. Quoits made from short lengths of rope were popular with the children.

The route took ships well south into the Southern Ocean so that they could lock into the ‘Roaring Forties’. Without any large impeding land mass, these westerly winds were very strong and steady. (Even so there was a temptation to head even further south, towards or even into the ‘Fiery Fifties’(below latitude 50 S) for a speedier passage but this gave rise to extreme cold and rough seas. More than one Master taking this option was severely disciplined afterwards for not taking his passenger’s ‘comfort’ (sic) sufficiently into account and running the risk of encountering icebergs).

The ‘War Spirit’s journey on the whole was plain sailing, with rolling seas for most of the way. Only three ships were sighted and the only other thing to cause much excitement on deck was to see occasional albatrosses, flying fish, the rare shark and a few whales. Seven women had babies, two of them Bohemian. Patrick KARL was born on St Patricks Day 17th March and Annie KAES in May. Imagine the courage of these women leaving home heavily pregnant and knowing that they would have their babies before reaching land.

On reaching the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand in the latter stages of the journey, a violent storm blew up which burst open the hold above the single men’s quarters and water poured in, along with the ship’s cow which had broken loose. The men immediately renamed her “Mermaid”. The same storm led to the tragic death of Lorenz TURNWALD. Shifting deck pens fell on him and he died less than two hours later leaving his wife Anna and five children, aged between 13 and 2 years old, to face life in a new country alone. This was the sole death on the voyage which was testimony to the efforts of the ship’s Doctor.

After 100 monotonous spirit breaking days, the joy of sighting Cape Reinga, at the very northern tip of New Zealand, was pure elation. (Auckland’s deepwater harbour is on the eastern Pacific Ocean side, so the ship had to sail the extra distance right round the northernmost point). Over the next few days the green forest (bush) clad hills on the east coast, stayed in sight for much of the time as they neared the sheltered waters of Auckland’s Waitemata Harbour. They arrived there on Saturday the 27 th June 1863. Any feeling of relief was clouded over by concerns for Anna, the grieving widow, her five children and the uncertainty of what might lie ahead.

As they disembarked from the jetty at the foot of the town they soon discovered that Auckland was little more than an untidy collection of flimsy wooden structures with a stagnant canal full of rubbish running down the centre of the main street. It is hard to imagine a greater contrast from the sophistication of Prague and the other cities that they had left behind four months previously.

Worse was to come. On the Monday they were taken by sailing cutter to the mouth of the Puhoi River, transferred to Maori canoes and paddled up the narrow winding river to a landing site (just below where the Puhoi Hall now stands). This first contact with strange, fierce looking and tattooed Maoris was probably largely dulled by weariness and tiredness (but in the coming days they were to depend upon them for help and basic survival).

These Bohemians had spent 124 grueling days (over 4 months) traversing more than half way round the world to a far away strange land - a very long journey even for a present day traveller.

Without doubt they had made one of the longest migrations in human history.

The Dream: Journey: Despair: Survival: Hardwork: Togetherness:
JOURNEY
On the 26 February 1863 after wrenching farewells, the first group of eightytwo - 51 adults and 31 children - from Mantau, Chotieschau, Lossin, Poppowa, Littitz and other nearby villages southwest of Pilsen (Plzen) started their journey from the Staab (Stod) Railway Station, 25 kms west from Pilsen.
Their train traveled overnight, arriving the next morning in Prague, the capital of Bohemia (now also the capital of the Czech Republic). They went sightseeing and most of the wonderful buildings that people currently go to see, were there then. Years later they were to tell their grandchildren of seeing the Charles Bridge with it’s statues of Saints along each side and also about the horological clock which displayed the time, dates, seasons and astrological signs.

They made their way to the Cathedral where there was a wedding in progress. Cardinal SCHWARZENBERG, the Archbishop of Prague, on learning that they were headed for New Zealand, gave them an audience, blessed their journey and pointed out that they were going to a new country where everything would be different - the language, the people and the customs. He urged them to be loyal citizens of this new country and to be true to the Catholic faith. These two things were really taken to heart and became their cornerstones. This special blessing was surely a very good omen.
Germany had an established railway network so three days later they arrived in Hamburg Two of them, John SCHOLLUM and Elizabeth HARTZEREN, married on 5 March 1863 the very day that they embarked for England at Altona, Hamburg’s port. At last they were really on their way.
They reached London after a 3 day Channel crossing by packet steamer and immediately came face by face for the first, but by no means the last time, with the reality of being among people with whom they could neither adequately communicate nor readily understand. Even to a person fluent in the language, the babble of broad English country accents coupled with London cockney slang, Welsh, Irish and Scottish voices in the midst of dockside hum and confusion was a major problem but to an Egerlander fresh from Bohemia it was extremely daunting to say the least. This coincided with the arrival in Gravesend on the 8th March of Princess Alexandra of Denmark in preparation for her wedding with Prince Albert (Bertie), the Prince of Wales which took place at Windsor Castle on Tuesday 10th March. London had been decorated and illuminated for the occasion and the people were rejoicing. Since the ‘War Spirit’ was not to sail for another two days, the Bohemian people joined in and fiddler Michael JESENSKY and dudelsack player Joseph PAUL composed a tune and dance named the “Prince of Wales Schottische” (which is still done in Puhoi today).
(The 2nd group of 31 emigrating on the ‘Liverpool’ (1865) and the 3rd third group of 17 on the ‘Queen Bee’ (1872) likewise went via England and encountered similar communication problems. However the 4 th, 5 th and 6 th groups, on the ‘Friedeburg‘, ‘Shakespeare’ and ‘Terpsichore’, who all left in 1875, sailed directly from Hamburg to NZ and thankfully more of the passengers and crew spoke German so things in this regard were a little easier for them. By the time those groups arrived in NZ, the preceding settlers had picked up sufficient English and Maori to get by and were able to help the new arrivals avoid what they had gone through).
After completing formalities and queuing for hours, the Bohemians finally went up the gangway on 12 March 1863 with the children and everyone carrying what they could - a few prized possessions including bibles, shipboard clothes, bedding, a few games to try to keep the children amused and a small quantity of supplementary fresh foodstuffs. They were directed down into the steerage cabins in the very bowels of the ship and the stuffy cramped nature appalled them even before the ship had left port.
(However compared with many of the emigrant ships going to America at that time, conditions aboard New Zealand bound ships were subject to regulations and minimum standards laid down by New Zealand authorities).
Once the ropes had been cast off, there was much work to be done by the crew setting the sails and making everything shipshape so with little clear deck space available, those in steerage were soon directed below where they spent long periods. Generally the design of these emigrant ships was along similar lines to American Packet ships and although very sturdy, they rolled and tossed about even in relatively gentle seas. As would be expected many of the passengers were overtaken by acute seasickness and once the English Channel had been left behind, the choppy seas of the Bay of Biscay made the situation even worse. The consequential stench below was terrible and with washing and toilet facilities so primitive it was impossible to clean up properly and this was merely a few days into a voyage that was going to take at least another 100 days.
Down below, it was dark and dank without portholes. The ceilings seemed to press down as the clear height of about 2 metres was barely sufficient for standing up. Simple overhead louvres let in a little light and provided ventilation helped a little by air flowing down stairwells and passageways. Even then these were battened down whenever high seas were running, making conditions below stifling and fetid. Steerage passengers slept in narrow bunks arranged in tiers along both sides. The centre of each compartment was taken up by a wide full length wooden table with rows of forms on each side leaving only very narrow walkways between. Dampness was a continual problem with no way of properly airing bedding and clothes could only be washed at infrequent intervals in salt water.
The quantity of rations for steerage passengers for the long voyage to NZ was stipulated but the quality was poor. Without intermediate ports of call, the initial fresh food, fruit and vegetables soon ran out and the few livestock and poultry carried in pens on deck were there to benefit a small number of privileged cabin class passengers, the captain and the most senior officers. Monotonous dried, pickled and salted fare then became the order of the day. Discipline in general was strict with few reports of anyone missing out or receiving more than their fair share. Steerage passengers were each allowed not quite 4 litres of fresh water a day which did not go far and since it was drawn from barrels, it became less palatable as the voyage progressed.
Single women were segregated into one compartment at the rear of the ship which was an upset for some of the Puhoi bound families as daughters as young as 14 had been classified as single and split up from their parents. Regulations called for single women to be very strictly supervised and it was a requirement to carry a chaperon. (There was however a lapse on the Friedeburg voyage when no matron was carried and it was reported afterwards that “a serious breach of discipline resulted. Two men gained access to the single women’s compartment by night, but the surgeon judged it ‘more a case of frolicsome mischief’ than anything else”).
Life aboard was anything but quiet and even at night there were always crying babies, people talking or arguing and movements on the deck above as officers kept watch, salt water pumps clanked and the hull and rigging creaked and groaned without letup.
The other passengers were mainly English, Irish and Scottish and with so many nationalities and diverse types jammed in together under very demanding conditions, there were inevitably disagreements but the Bohemians by and large did their best to stick together and tried not to get short tempered or involved.
Once clear of the Bay of Biscay, New Zealand bound sailing ships headed well out into the Atlantic in the direction of Brazil to engage Atlantic trade winds and hopefully cover the distance to the equator in as short a time possible. (A few decades later, steam powered iron hulled ships making the same journey were able to hug the African coast more closely so passengers could stretch their legs on land at regular bunkering stopovers while coal and food were taken aboard). In the tropical region it was not uncommon to become becalmed for days, or even weeks, at a time. Here in the ‘doldrums’, the breeze fell away, the ship’s motion ceased, the heat became even more oppressive and there was just no hiding the fact that New Zealand was not getting any closer so it was a great relief all round when the wind finally got up and the ship began moving again.
Marshalling on deck for a Sunday church service, as well as relieving the monotony, was a way of marking the weeks but the Bohemians generally preferred to use this opportunity to reunite their families below decks and give thanks in their Egerlander dialect and in their own way. There was of course a lot of common ground and as the Scots and the Irish had also brought aboard pipes, many evenings were held with all the different pipes playing. This gave them comfort even though the music and accompanying singing were not always universally appreciated. Story telling, reading the bible, writing up diaries and playing the simple games that they had brought aboard with them, were a way of filling in the time but there was little room for dancing or organised sport. Quoits made from short lengths of rope were popular with the children.
The route took ships well south into the Southern Ocean so that they could lock into the ‘Roaring Forties’. Without any large impeding land mass, these westerly winds were very strong and steady. (Even so there was a temptation to head even further south, towards or even into the ‘Fiery Fifties’(below latitude 50 S) for a speedier passage but this gave rise to extreme cold and rough seas. More than one Master taking this option was severely disciplined afterwards for not taking his passenger’s ‘comfort’ (sic) sufficiently into account and running the risk of encountering icebergs).
The ‘War Spirit’s journey on the whole was plain sailing, with rolling seas for most of the way. Only three ships were sighted and the only other thing to cause much excitement on deck was to see occasional albatrosses, flying fish, the rare shark and a few whales. Seven women had babies, two of them Bohemian. Patrick KARL was born on St Patricks Day 17th March and Annie KAES in May. Imagine the courage of these women leaving home heavily pregnant and knowing that they would have their babies before reaching land.
On reaching the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand in the latter stages of the journey, a violent storm blew up which burst open the hold above the single men’s quarters and water poured in, along with the ship’s cow which had broken loose. The men immediately renamed her “Mermaid”. The same storm led to the tragic death of Lorenz TURNWALD. Shifting deck pens fell on him and he died less than two hours later leaving his wife Anna and five children, aged between 13 and 2 years old, to face life in a new country alone. This was the sole death on the voyage which was testimony to the efforts of the ship’s Doctor.
After 100 monotonous spirit breaking days, the joy of sighting Cape Reinga, at the very northern tip of New Zealand, was pure elation. (Auckland’s deepwater harbour is on the eastern Pacific Ocean side, so the ship had to sail the extra distance right round the northernmost point). Over the next few days the green forest (bush) clad hills on the east coast, stayed in sight for much of the time as they neared the sheltered waters of Auckland’s Waitemata Harbour. They arrived there on Saturday the 27 th June 1863. Any feeling of relief was clouded over by concerns for Anna, the grieving widow, her five children and the uncertainty of what might lie ahead.
As they disembarked from the jetty at the foot of the town they soon discovered that Auckland was little more than an untidy collection of flimsy wooden structures with a stagnant canal full of rubbish running down the centre of the main street. It is hard to imagine a greater contrast from the sophistication of Prague and the other cities that they had left behind four months previously.
Worse was to come. On the Monday they were taken by sailing cutter to the mouth of the Puhoi River, transferred to Maori canoes and paddled up the narrow winding river to a landing site (just below where the Puhoi Hall now stands). This first contact with strange, fierce looking and tattooed Maoris was probably largely dulled by weariness and tiredness (but in the coming days they were to depend upon them for help and basic survival).
These Bohemians had spent 124 grueling days (over 4 months) traversing more than half way round the world to a far away strange land - a very long journey even for a present day traveller. Without doubt they had made one of the longest migrations in human history.

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