Did Convicts Form Lasting Bonds at Sea?
Voyages of transportation were more than passages across oceans; they marked the beginning of new, often difficult lives in unfamiliar lands. Between 1788 and 1868, approximately 165,000 convicts were transported from Britain and Ireland to Australia. They arrived on more than 800 documented voyages. From the First Fleet in 1788 to the final voyage to Western Australia in 1868, men and women of all ages and backgrounds, from murderers to shoplifters, were confined together in close quarters for weeks or months. It is worth considering whether these shared ordeals left any lasting bonds.
We often look at convict transportation as a story of personal struggle: what the voyage meant to the individual, how they survived it, and what came next. But what of the connections forged on board? Were friendships formed that endured in the colony? Did shipboard romances lead to marriage or lasting partnerships? Did former convicts ever meet again in the colony, share a drink, or remember who was on the voyage with them?
In our time, family historians often openly reflect on their convict ancestry. But it is harder to know how convicts themselves viewed that past. Were those experiences part of family memory? Or was the past better left unsaid? That leads to a broader question. In our generation, we are often encouraged to discuss things openly and to share our thoughts. But in the 19th century, was the opposite true? Was a convict past something to be buried, not discussed, especially in a society still shaped by the idea of the “convict stain”? Did their children ever ask them about it? And if they did, what was said?
My own research into my great-great-great-grandparents, Hannah Brown, transported on the Broxbornebury in 1814, and Thomas Maslin, who arrived on the Glory in 1818, has raised some of these questions. While their lives eventually intersected in Sydney, it is not clear how earlier relationships shaped that connection. More broadly, did convicts speak about their voyages later in life, or was it a chapter best left untouched, particularly in a colony where the “convict stain” lingered for generations?
These are questions without easy answers, especially when the documents provide so little information about them. But they matter. Behind the records and the names are people who endured something profoundly important to them and to those who came after.
I would be interested in hearing whether others researching their family history have found evidence that shipboard connections mattered. Were marriages or romantic attachments formed on board? Did friendships forged during the voyage endure in the colony? What our ancestors shared at sea may have mattered long after landfall. How has your own family reacted to the discovery of a convict ancestor? If you have any stories or insights, I would be glad to read them.
Image: Marquis Cornwallis was a merchantman built in Calcutta in 1789 or 1791. She made one voyage transporting convicts in 1796 from Ireland to Australia. The voyage was marred by mutiny that resulted in the death of 11 convicts. State Library of New South Wales
