Reading Alice’s account of her passage to Australia had been the highlight of Hazel’s delving into the family’s history. The pages were stiff and friable as dried flowers, but the hand was fairly easy to decipher. The earliest entry must have been composed on the very first evening of Alice and Edward’s voyage, for in it she wrote candidly of her sadness at leaving friends and family behind. ‘Oh the pain of parting with dear ones is something past description,’ she said, ‘and the knowledge that I shall no more see them in this life made the bell which sounded before we sailed seem almost as if it were the seven celestial trumpets.’ They had boarded the steamer at Plymouth, with Caroline Gale and Alice’s Aunt Felicity there to see them off. The bell signalled that it was time for adieuing friends to disembark: Caroline had had the foresight to bring with her two bright yellow dusters, one for herself and one for her little nephew, George. As the ship drew out of harbour, the child waved his vigorously towards land and was answered by the flapping wing of its twin on the quay. It was the only way to distinguish one person from another, the crowd was so dense. Alice stayed on deck looking back until she could no longer see the tiny yellow flag which was her last glimpse of the woman who had been so dear a friend.