Across the Seas: The Journey to New Zealand

 

With the children settled and the last goodbyes behind us, the ship itself became our world — a moving bubble where each day brought new sights, sounds, and small adventures. 

Days blurred into one another: meals in the dining hall, the children chasing each other across the deck, evenings standing at the rail with Sheila, staring out at the endless horizon. 

At night, the engines’ deep rumble vibrated through our cabin, a reminder of the distance we were covering and the life we were leaving behind. 

Piraeus

Our first major port of call was Piraeus, the great harbor of Athens.

I stood on deck with Paul and Julia as the Australis slowly slipped alongside the quay. The children were fascinated by everything that was happening below. Cranes swung into action, dock workers hurried about their tasks, and families greeted one another with waves and embraces.

From the deck, the view was unforgettable. Bright white houses climbed the surrounding hillsides, gleaming in the warm Mediterranean sunshine. It was a beautiful day, and after the cold winter we had left behind in England, everything seemed brighter, warmer and somehow more colourful.

As soon as the gangway was lowered, passengers began leaving the ship while many more boarded, carrying suitcases and boxes of every description. I remember watching them with curiosity, wondering where they were all going. In my mind, the ship was already full, so I couldn't imagine where everyone was going to fit.

Then I smiled to myself.

That, I decided, was somebody else's problem.

Through the Suez Canal

Passing through the Suez Canal was like gliding into another world. On either side lay endless desert, broken only by the occasional military post, construction equipment, and the small settlements that clung to the water's edge.

I remember standing on deck in complete amazement. To think that this had once been nothing but endless desert, and that mankind had carved a canal through it so that great passenger ships like the Australis could sail between Europe and the East, seemed almost unbelievable. It was a remarkable feat of engineering, and I couldn't help but marvel at what had been achieved. I had no idea then how fortunate we were to be making that passage. Within only a few months, the Six-Day War would close the canal to international shipping for years.

One of the crew, perhaps sensing the significance of the moment, quietly remarked,

"Enjoy it while you can."

At the time, it seemed an odd thing to say.

Only later did I realise just how true those words would turned out to be.

 

Crossing the Equator

A few days later came one of the great traditions of ocean travel — crossing the Equator.

It was an occasion the children would never forget.

King Neptune himself appeared on deck, complete with flowing beard, trident in hand, and surrounded by his colorful "court." The crew had clearly thrown themselves into the performance, and passengers crowded the decks to watch the fun.

Those crossing the Equator for the first time were "initiated" in true maritime fashion. Faces were smeared with flour, buckets of water were emptied over unsuspecting victims, and everyone was ordered to kiss a large, rather wobbly fish. The laughter echoed all over the ship.

Paul tugged at my sleeve and looked up at me with complete seriousness.

"Dad, is that the real King Neptune?"

I smiled and replied,

"For today, it is." Paul accepted my answer unquestionably, while Julia clapped her hands with delight. Sheila simply stood there laughing at all the antics taking place around us.

For a little while, everyone on board forgot about the long voyage ahead and simply enjoyed being part of something special.

 

Alexandria

When we arrived in Alexandria, excursions were being offered to visit the pyramids. Sheila and I would have loved to have gone, and for a while we seriously considered booking the trip.

In the end, however, common sense prevailed. With four young children and every penny carefully accounted for as we prepared to start a new life in New Zealand, we decided the cost was simply too great.

We never regretted our decision.

The children found their own entertainment as they crowded along the ship's rail, fascinated by the little bum boats that came alongside.(Small trading boats—known as "bum boats"—came alongside the ship.) Their owners skillfully manoeuvred close to the ship, calling up to passengers and crew, displaying souvenirs, trinkets, and all sorts of colorful goods for sale.

Watching the lively bartering between the traders and the passengers became a show in itself. The children were captivated by the excitement and noise below, and before long so were Sheila and I.

Sometimes the unexpected moments become the memories that stay with you the longest.

Aden – Crater City

Our next stop was Aden, then still under British control. From the deck, I could immediately see why one part of the city was known as Crater City. Dark gray volcanic hills surrounded the harbor, their steep sides and deep valleys giving the whole landscape the appearance of enormous craters. It was unlike anywhere I had ever seen before.

Our visit, however, was not simply a scheduled stop.

During some particularly rough weather, a young child had suffered a serious fall on board and broken an arm. The decision had been made to call at Aden so the child could be taken ashore for treatment at the local hospital.

Watching the little patient being carefully transferred from the ship was a sobering reminder that, although life on board had become an exciting adventure for most of us, the sea could still be unpredictable and dangerous.

Not long afterwards, we sailed on once more, leaving the stark volcanic landscape of Aden behind as we headed across the vast Indian Ocean towards Australia.

Australia at Last

When at last we reached Fremantle, passengers crowded the rails for their first glimpse of Australia. After weeks at sea, everyone was eager to set foot on solid ground once more.

We took the train into Perth and spent the day exploring the city. One of my strongest memories is finding a beautiful park where the children could run about freely after being confined to the ship for so long. Watching them play in the sunshine was a joy.

Later we wandered through the shopping precinct known as London Court. Its old English style seemed strangely familiar, almost as though someone had lifted a little corner of Britain and placed it in the middle of Western Australia. It was a delightful place to stroll and gave us our first real taste of life in Australia.

There was, however, one thing we hadn't expected.

The flies.

They seemed to be everywhere and were remarkably persistent, buzzing constantly around our faces. It was a minor irritation, but enough to take a little of the shine off an otherwise wonderful day ashore.

By late afternoon we returned to the Australis, carrying with us our first impressions of Australia and looking forward to the next stage of our journey across the Tasman Sea .

But before that we have to sail to Melbourne & Sydney

Melbourne

By the time we reached Melbourne, our excitement was suddenly overshadowed by worry.

Little Julia came down with measles.

The ship's doctor had no choice but to place her in quarantine, and for the next three days our plans were put on hold. Sheila hardly left her side, caring for her with the same quiet devotion she showed throughout our years together. Like any parents, we could think of little else until we knew she was recovering.

Those three days seemed much longer than they really were.

At last, the doctor was satisfied that Julia was well enough for the quarantine to be lifted.

The sense of relief on Sheila's face is something I have never forgotten.

Sydney

By the time we sailed into Sydney Harbour, Julia was feeling much better.

What a magnificent sight it was.

The sparkling blue water, the busy harbor, and the impressive skyline made a lasting impression on us all. Although the Sydney Opera House had not yet been built, the harbor itself was one of the most beautiful we had ever seen.

Eager to stretch our legs after so many weeks at sea, we went ashore and spent the day at Taronga Zoo.

Julia was still a little fragile after her illness, but one memory has stayed with me all these years. Paul rarely left her side, doing everything he could to keep his little sister smiling. Watching him care for her so naturally made me quietly proud. He was still only a little boy himself, yet he already showed such kindness towards his younger sister.

Sydney was also where many of our fellow passengers left the Australis.

 After spending more than three months together at sea, many of the passengers no longer felt like strangers. We had laughed together, worried together, and watched the world pass by from the same decks. Saying goodbye in Sydney was far more emotional than any of us had expected.

There were countless handshakes, hugs and promises to keep in touch as people disappeared down the gangway to begin their new lives in Australia.

As we watched them leave, I realised that our own journey was not quite over.

New Zealand still lay ahead.

From Sydney, we crossed the Tasman Sea and, at last, on 6 May 1967, the Australis sailed quietly into Auckland Harbour.

After more than three months at sea, our long journey was finally over.

We stepped ashore weary, excited, and more than a little apprehensive. A representative from the New Zealand authorities was there to welcome us. Also waiting to meet us was a friend of a friend from Dover, who had kindly arranged our accommodation in Glenfield on Auckland's North Shore. He handed us the keys to the rented house that would become our first home in our adopted country.

For the first time in many months, I felt the weight begin to lift.

That evening, after settling the children into unfamiliar beds, the house gradually became quiet.

I sat for a long time, listening.

The familiar vibration of the ship's engines had gone.

Instead, there was only the stillness of a New Zealand night.

My thoughts drifted back to everything we had left behind—our families, our friends, our home, and the country where both Sheila and I had grown up. Ahead of us lay an unknown future in a land we barely knew.

It was both exciting and frightening.

Yet, as I looked at Sheila and our four sleeping children, I realised that we had already achieved something extraordinary. Together, we had crossed half the world in search of a better future.

At that moment, I understood that being a husband and 

father was about far more than earning a living. It was about giving my family opportunities that I had never known, protecting them when times were difficult, and having the courage to begin again whenever life demanded it.

Across oceans, through uncertainty and sacrifice, we had made the journey together.

Now, at last, our New Zealand story could begin.