Siân Rees (1965–)

One consequence of the American Revolution was that Britain could no longer transport its convicts to American plantations. As 130,000 returning soldiers and British loyalists pushed women out of the legal trades, women were forced to resort to petty thievery and prostitution to survive. British jail populations swelled, and as even stealing a pair of shoes or some laundry could earn you seven years Transportation to Parts Beyond the Seas, there was a scramble to find someplace else to ship show more all these "disorderly women". The solution was New South Wales.

In 1787 the first shipment of male convicts and their military minders arrived in Sidney Cove. After two years, they were in dire straits. Governor Phillip wrote desperately for more food, more skilled labor, and more women. The more eligible women would serve as wives to the officers and colonists, and the rest as comfort women to the soldiers. Britain's answer was to pack 220 female convicts aboard the Lady Julian and send them off to join the First Fleet. Some were as young as 12 and all but a few were of childbearing age. This book is a narrative history of who these women were, their crimes, and their trip across the world to join the men at Sidney Cove.

Although the author did a tremendous amount of research, there simply are not a lot of surviving records and very little at all from the women themselves. The first part of the book was the best documented, because of court records, and I found that part the most interesting. Once the women were aboard the Lady Julian, the author was forced to rely heavily on one of the sailor's accounts, written decades after the voyage. John Nichol had fallen in love and cohabitated with one of the women on the ship. She even bore his son. But he was unable to remain with her in Australia. Life on the ships was harrowing, and this is where the author had to cobble together Nichol's memoir and experiences with other women on other ships, to make reasonable suppositions. Despite the lack of records, I think Rees does a commendable job of bringing to life the women who would become the "founding mothers" of the colonists in Australia. show less

In July of 1789, 237 female convicts aboard the Lady Julian left Portsmouth bound for Sydney Cove, Australia. There are pickpockets, shoplifters, fraudsters and prostitutes. They were "ex-shop girls, ex-milkmaids, ex-laborers, and ex-maidservants" whose jobs had been given to veterans returning from America. These "disorderly women" were burnt at the stake - depending on the value of what they stole - or "leniently" sentenced or pardoned to Transportation. Most had simply stolen to survive, show more judged not by their peers, but of men of property. Transportation was Britain's way of settling a new colony and ridding itself of "undesirables." Once there, a "whore's ghetto" welcomed "the most abandoned" the rest were married off to encourage "breeding" or put to work. But as soon as they took to sea, "every man on board took a wife." In ports, they were a curiosity, and they could only look out for each other, not knowing the destitution that awaited them.

I love niche social history like this. Rees' "Floating Brothel" is not a commentary on the broad state of 18th century female convicts or the various circumstances in which a woman might find herself at sea. It's the singular story of the Lady Julian and her cargo. The ship itself is unexceptional, but thankfully the memoirs of steward John Nicol have survived, giving us a closer look. It speaks volumes of the British prison system when many preferred Transportation over years in a diseased goal or death. Rees discusses the particular activities, unique business transactions and the complex relationships of the convicts. "There were clientage systems...simple friendships..." and of course temporary lovers. Only a handful are mentioned by name, like Nicol's pregnant "sea wife" Sarah Whitelam, so thankfully, the reader is not expected to memorize them all or follow several storylines. No complaints! show less

One of the unforeseen consequences of the British defeat in the American Revolution, was a dramatic increase in the number of females awaiting trial or convicted in London's Newgate Gaol. True, there were other underlying reasons, like the recent concomitant rise in population and unemployment, but 1783 saw approximately 130,000 discharged soldiers return home.

These men needed work, so naturally females were displaced, and men employed in their stead. Then, in 1785, a tax was imposed on show more those households employing maidservants over the age of 15. Dismissed servants soon found themselves on the streets too. The Times reported in July 1786 ... upon a very modest calculation, not less than 10,000 have been added to the number of common prostitutes by Mr Pitt's tax on maidservants. By October, the newspaper was reporting an estimate to 50,000 prostitutes. Along with prostitution, shoplifting pickpocketing and theft were ways many women found themselves sent to jail. While many of the offences were capital in nature, growing public distaste for hanging petty criminals meant many crimes were downgraded, and the sentence was transportation. However, that same defeat by the Americans had also put an end to the transport of female convicts to that former colony. What to do with them all?

The British government decided one option was transportation to its new colony of New South Wales, Australia. The Lady Julian was dispatched in 1790 with differing records showing from 172 - 245 female convicts on board, ranging in age from 11 to 68. Siân Rees writes of these ... ordinary women who, by a caprice of fate, found themselves in extraordinary circumstances: rounded up on the streets of Britain, shipped across the world and landed at a dirt camp in an alien continent.

The crew and officers had the "right" to a female partner during such voyages. This sounds appalling now, but Rees argued that given the circumstances, some women actually competed for such roles. Women used to competing for everything saw them as offering a degree of protection and security. About thirty women found their voyage potentially easier this way; the rest found themselves lodged in the hold, where power struggles among them were inevitable.

Rees follows the women from their trials, to the voyage from London to Rio to Port Jackson, Australia, a voyage of 11 months. She documents the arrival in their new and frightening world. Throughout, she focusses mainly on five women for whom there is documentation. She also used the first hand account of the Scot John Nicol, the ship's steward and cooper. Nicol took one of the women under his protection, had a child with her, and claimed to have spent the rest of his life trying to find her again after the "distribution" of the women upon their arrival in Australia.

The Floating Brother is a fascinating glimpse into a particular world and time. There should be more books like this. show less

Siân Rees has done an amazing job combining various historical records and sources into a dramatically convincing story. The first part of the book consists of accounts based on legal records about various women and their crimes, ranging from theft to prostitution, and their subsequent deportation to the penal colony, then Australia. The hardship of the voyage, the landing and finally settlement with new husbands is decribed in equally engaging chapters, which vividly bring the everyday show more life experience of the Eighteenth Century to life. However, the literary quality of the book falls somewhat behind the scholarly work, and at times descriptions are a bit too long. The research may not be very spectacular, but the conception of the book into a coherent narrative is quite successful. show less