Detailed account of the wreck of the convict ship NEVA heading from Cork, Ireland to Sydney, New South Wales, that was wreck on a reef off the northern end of King Island in Bass Strait on 13 May 1835. It was the worst shipping disaster associated with the transportation of felons and their families from Great Britain. The book details the experiences of the women and children, the voyage, the wreck and its aftermath, and the lives of most of the just 15 survivors.

The 'Neva' sailed from Cork on 8 January 1835, destined for the prisons of Botany Bay. There were 240 people on board, most of them either female convicts or the wives of already deported convicts, and their children. On 13 May 1835 the ship hit a reef just north of King's Island in Australia and sank with the loss of 224 lives - one of the worst shipwrecks in maritime history. The authors have comprehensively researched sources in Ireland, Australia and the UK to reconstruct in fascinating detail the stories of these women. Most perished beneath the ocean waves, but for others the journey from their poverty stricken and criminal pasts continued towards hope of freedom and prosperity on the far side of the world. At a time when Australia is once again becoming a new home for a generation of migrating Irish, it is appropriate that the formative historical links between the two countries be remembered.

Honorable Mention, Theodore Saloutos Book Award, given by the Immigration and Ethnic History Society A vivid, new portrait of Irish migration through the letters and diaries of those who fled their homeland during the Great Famine The standard story of the exodus during Ireland’s Great Famine is one of tired clichés, half-truths, and dry statistics. In The Coffin Ship, a groundbreaking work of transnational history, Cian T. McMahon offers a vibrant, fresh perspective on an oft-ignored but vital component of the migration experience: the journey itself. Between 1845 and 1855, over two million people fled Ireland to escape the Great Famine and begin new lives abroad. The so-called “coffin ships” they embarked on have since become infamous icons of nineteenth-century migration. The crews were brutal, the captains were heartless, and the weather was ferocious. Yet the personal experiences of the emigrants aboard these vessels offer us a much more complex understanding of this pivotal moment in modern history. Based on archival research on three continents and written in clear, crisp prose, The Coffin Ship analyzes the emigrants’ own letters and diaries to unpack the dynamic social networks that the Irish built while voyaging overseas. At every stage of the journey—including the treacherous weeks at sea—these migrants created new threads in the worldwide web of the Irish diaspora. Colored by the long-lost voices of the emigrants themselves, this is an original portrait of a process that left a lasting mark on Irish life at home and abroad. An indispensable read, The Coffin Ship makes an ambitious argument for placing the sailing ship alongside the tenement and the factory floor as a central, dynamic element of migration history.

On August 25, 1833, the British convict ship Amphitrite, filled with more than one hundred women prisoners and their children along with a crew of thirteen, left London for a convict colony in New South Wales. Less than a week later, all but three died when a savage storm battered their ship to pieces on the beach at Boulogne--in sight of hundreds of horrified onlookers. Inexplicably, the captain, John Hunter, had refused offers of aid from the shore. Sensational news coverage of the calamity prompted an Admiralty investigation to find out who was responsible. The suspicion was that Hunter and the surgeon aboard rejected assistance because they feared the women would escape custody. Some blamed the doctor’s wife because she had refused to go ashore in the same boat with the convicts so no boat was launched. Colorfully set in the political and social context of early 19th century Great Britain, this account of the shipwreck is peopled with a fascinating cast of characters that includes John Wilks, the Paris correspondent of a London newspaper whose reporting triggered public emotions; Lord Palmerston, the British foreign secretary; William Hamilton, the British consul who led the investigation; Sarah Austin, a British expatriate whose heroism the night of the wreck merits an award; and a Prussian prince. Drawing from government records in England, Scotland, and France, and from contemporary reports, Andrew Jampoler spins a memorable sea tale that is entirely true yet rivals the best of fiction. Readers will find this latest addition to his growing body of works firmly cements Jampoler’s reputation as a master storyteller.