From British Courtrooms to the Edge of the World: Life on the Convict Transport Ships and the Birth of Australia
- dthholland
- 3 hours ago
- 8 min read
It’s hard to truly grasp what it must have felt like to stand on the deck of a wooden convict transport ship in May 1787, looking back at the receding English coastline for what would be the last time. For most of the over 750 men and women sentenced to transportation aboard the First Fleet, this was not just a punishment – it was a social death. They were being exiled thousands of miles away, with no realistic hope of return. Few had ever heard of New South Wales, and fewer still understood what awaited them there. Their crimes were mostly minor – stealing food, pickpocketing, forging a coin – offences that in many cases had sprung from desperation and poverty in a time of massive economic upheaval.
The journey ahead was unprecedented in its ambition and terrifying in its scope. Over 15,000 miles, eight months at sea, crossing three oceans and rounding the tip of Africa. These convicts, most of whom had never travelled more than a few miles from their home parish, were now part of an imperial experiment. Britain was attempting to solve its prison crisis by building a colony on the far side of the globe. But for those on board, the ship wasn’t just transport – it was a prison, a hospital, and a world unto itself.
The First Fleet: An Unprecedented Expedition
The First Fleet was a logistical undertaking unmatched in the history of British penal transportation. Comprising eleven ships under the overall command of Captain Arthur Phillip, the fleet set sail from Portsmouth on 13 May 1787. It included six convict transports – Alexander, Charlotte, Friendship, Lady Penrhyn, Prince of Wales, and Scarborough – supported by three store ships (Fishburn, Borrowdale, and Golden Grove) and two Royal Navy escorts (HMS Sirius and HMS Supply).
In total, the fleet carried approximately 1,400 people, including 750 convicts, about 300 marines and officers, and a handful of free settlers and officials. Also onboard were livestock, seeds, tools, arms, tents, and all manner of supplies required to build a settlement from the ground up.
Though it was intended as a strategic measure to extend British influence in the Pacific, for the convicts it was something far more personal – a sentence of forced migration, isolation, and reinvention.
Below Deck: Cramped Quarters and Harsh Realities
Once the ships left British waters, the convicts’ world narrowed to the space below deck – a low-ceilinged, dimly lit hold below the waterline. There was little headroom; most had to crouch or sit hunched. Hammocks or planks served as beds, often shared or rotated. The air was thick with the odour of bilge water, sweat, and sewage. Chamber pots were the only latrines, and in heavy seas they spilled freely. Washing facilities were almost non-existent; some convicts were allowed on deck to scrub themselves with seawater, but many were simply left to fester.
Rats, lice and cockroaches were ever-present. Lice burrowed into clothing seams and hair. The sweltering heat of the tropics turned the holds into ovens, while in southern latitudes the cold was biting and unrelenting. Rain and seawater leaked in, soaking bedding and provisions alike. Though convicts were shackled at the beginning of the voyage, most were unchained as discipline improved and the risk of mutiny decreased.
Officers and marines lived in relative comfort by comparison, often in partitioned cabins with access to the open air. Their presence maintained order – and reminded the prisoners of their status.
Illness and Mortality at Sea
In such close and unsanitary quarters, disease was inevitable. Typhus, dysentery, and scurvy were constant threats. Scurvy, caused by vitamin C deficiency, brought swollen limbs, rotting gums, and ultimately death. Dysentery, known as “flux,” ravaged the bowels, and typhus, spread by lice, could take down dozens in a matter of days.
Yet compared to earlier transport voyages, mortality rates aboard the First Fleet were surprisingly low – around 48 convict deaths en route, a result of Arthur Phillip’s insistence on cleanliness, fresh air, and medical care. Each ship had a naval surgeon, and Phillip enforced a regime of airing bedding, scrubbing decks, and exercising prisoners on deck when weather allowed.
Even so, the suffering was intense. Some convicts had been in gaol for years awaiting transportation and were already ill when they embarked. Others weakened steadily over the voyage. Medical logs detail cases of convulsions, fevers, and failing eyesight. Those who died were buried at sea, often wrapped in a piece of sailcloth and slid overboard in solemn, pragmatic ceremonies.
Rations, Routine and Discipline
Daily life followed a strict if monotonous rhythm. Convicts rose with the call of the boatswain, often to muster on deck, where they were counted, inspected, and occasionally drilled. They were fed twice daily, often from communal messes, with rations including salted pork or beef, hard biscuits (hardtack), pease pudding, rice, and oatmeal. Fresh produce was rare, though port stops in Tenerife, Rio de Janeiro, and Cape Town allowed for some replenishment.
Water was carefully measured – often stored in wooden casks that spoiled easily in the heat. Occasionally, a convict might receive a small ration of beer, rum or wine, more as a medicinal or morale-boosting measure than a treat.
Punishments for infractions were swift. Flogging with the cat-o’-nine-tails was administered on deck in front of the assembled crew and prisoners. Crimes such as theft, insolence, or fighting might also result in withdrawal of rations or solitary confinement in a makeshift brig.
Yet within the rigid structure, a kind of makeshift community formed. Convicts with special skills – shoemakers, carpenters, cooks – were often given additional duties. Some women formed relationships with sailors or marines, offering a degree of protection in return for companionship, though not always by choice.
Women Convicts: Danger and Exploitation
Of the 191 female convicts aboard the fleet, many had been convicted of theft, prostitution, or fraud, and their experience was markedly different – and in many ways more dangerous – than that of their male counterparts.
Women were generally housed in separate sections of the transport ships, but these offered little in the way of safety or privacy. Sexual harassment and exploitation were rife, with both crew members and marines frequently engaging in coercive relationships. While some arrangements were consensual or pragmatic, others involved abuse and manipulation.
Captain Phillip, recognising the risks, issued orders to limit interaction between male convicts and women, and tried to ensure separate rations and living quarters for female prisoners. But these rules were inconsistently applied and often ignored when out of sight.
Several children were born during the voyage, to convict mothers or through relationships with crewmen. Midwives were not available, and childbirth in the cramped and filthy conditions of a ship’s hold was perilous. Newborns and their mothers were vulnerable to infection and malnourishment, though some managed to survive the crossing and begin life anew in Australia.
The Arrival and Aftermath: From Ship to Settlement
After more than eight harrowing months at sea, the First Fleet dropped anchor in Botany Bay between 18 and 20 January 1788. For the officers and crew, there was a sense of accomplishment. For the convicts, there was likely a mix of dread, uncertainty, and faint hope. Whatever emotions they felt, any momentary relief was short-lived. Botany Bay, though praised by earlier explorers, proved unsuitable for a permanent colony. The soil was sandy and infertile, offering little promise for agriculture. The freshwater supply was meagre and unreliable. Worse still, the bay was too exposed, offering scant protection for ships and making landings hazardous in rough weather.
Captain Arthur Phillip, charged with establishing a viable settlement, made a swift and critical decision. Just days after arrival, he led a reconnaissance party northwards and discovered a more promising site – a sheltered inlet with deep water, a reliable stream, and more workable land. He named this natural harbour Sydney Cove, in honour of Viscount Sydney, the then Home Secretary responsible for colonial affairs.
On 26 January 1788, the fleet was relocated to the cove, and Phillip formally claimed the territory for Britain by raising the Union Jack on shore. This act, carried out without consent or treaty, entirely disregarded the sovereignty of the Aboriginal people whose land this had been for tens of thousands of years. Though barely noted by Europeans at the time, this moment would echo across centuries and become a focal point of national memory, eventually marked each year as Australia Day – a date increasingly contested and mourned by Indigenous communities.
An Alien Land and Endless Toil
Stepping ashore was not the end of the ordeal for the convicts – it was merely a new beginning. For most, this was their first experience of the southern hemisphere. The heat was intense, the light brighter and more unforgiving than anything known in Britain, and the unfamiliar sounds of birds, insects and wildlife added to the sense of dislocation. The landscape was rugged, the trees unlike anything they had seen before – tall eucalypts with peeling bark and a scent of resin in the air. Even the stars above were strange.
Many of the convicts were sick, emaciated, or psychologically broken from the journey. They had survived poor rations, disease, and confinement, only to be thrust into an environment that demanded immediate physical labour. There were no established buildings, no roads, no infrastructure of any kind. The settlement would have to be built from scratch – with convicts as the workforce.
Tools and materials were limited. Axes dulled quickly against the tough native hardwoods. The soil, though better than Botany Bay’s, was still difficult to cultivate. Food shortages began to bite within weeks. The crops they planted – largely European in origin – struggled in the new climate and poor soils. Livestock was scarce and vulnerable. Rations had to be strictly controlled, and hunger became a fact of life. Theft was common, and punishment remained harsh.
Tensions and Survival
Phillip faced numerous challenges: not just managing convicts and overseeing construction, but also maintaining morale, preventing mutiny, and navigating early relations with the local Eora people. The latter proved delicate. The arrival of the British, and the establishment of a permanent colony, was a traumatic rupture for Indigenous Australians. Initial contacts varied – some were peaceful, others tense, and there were occasional outbreaks of violence and retaliation as the colonists expanded.
Phillip took a notably restrained approach for the time, issuing orders to treat the Aboriginal population with respect and even attempting to foster dialogue through intermediaries like Bennelong, who would later travel to England. But the underlying colonial occupation, with its land clearance, spread of disease, and assumption of superiority, set the tone for future dispossession and conflict.
Meanwhile, within the colony, the social structure began to take shape. Convicts with useful trades – carpenters, blacksmiths, brickmakers – were in high demand and often received better treatment. Some were even granted early pardons or conditional liberty in return for their skills. Others, especially unskilled labourers, bore the brunt of hard physical work and often fell afoul of strict discipline.
The Roots of a Colony
Despite every hardship – illness, hunger, heat, and hardship – the colony endured. The first buildings were crude, often little more than tents or huts made from wattle and daub. The early years were marked by crisis after crisis – failed crops, floods, disease outbreaks, and the ever-present threat of starvation. Supplies from England were slow and uncertain. Yet against the odds, the population grew, and the foundations of modern Sydney were laid.
Some convicts went on to become free settlers, farmers, or tradespeople. Over time, the British government sent more fleets, more prisoners, and more administrators, turning the penal colony into a fully-fledged outpost of empire. It would take decades before self-governance and economic self-sufficiency were achieved, but the events of 1788 set it all in motion.
From the moment the First Fleet stepped onto Australian soil, history was reshaped. For the convicts, it was the beginning of an uncertain fate. For Britain, it was the expansion of empire. For Aboriginal Australians, it marked the beginning of invasion, resistance, and dispossession. And for the world, it was the start of one of the most remarkable and complex colonial histories of the modern era.
