The old “Westralla” was tied up at Prince’s Pier. I had seen her many times and wondered what the world was like on the other side of the ocean. I had saved up enough for my fare across to Sydney, with a little to spare. So in April 1914 I decided that this was the time to take a leap into the future, out of Tasmania, and see what the world held for me on the “The Otherside”, as we used to refer to the mainland of Australia. So I packed my trunk, the common old yellow tin model, with all of my few belongings, cornet, clothes, mouth organ, music, Bible and little else, labeled it, hauled it to the ship on my bicycle, paid my fare, and boarded this floating world that was to be mine for two days and nights.
The trip was uneventful. After steaming for some hours down the Derwent River, out of the Heads and around Cape Roul, there was nothing but water till we approached Sydney Heads. There were no stabilizers on ships those days, so I suffered the common complaint of raw recruits that go down to the heavy seas in unstable ships. It was good to step onto the wharf in Darling Harbour, Sydney, and feel the solid continent under my feet. I hauled my trunk up to a modest hotel in Market Street and booked in for the night. In the evening, after looking around the city, I was about to retire. I took off my watch and put it on the table and emptied my pocket of my wallet the same way, then made a visit to the rest room. When I returned there was nothing on the table at all. Horrified, I made my way down to the hotel manager, who said, “Come with me”. He took me to a room where a man was half asleep in bed. The manager woke him up, looked under his pillow, and there was my wallet and watch. That was my first lesson in keeping my valuables on my person rather than leaving them lying around. Relieved, I locked myself in my room and slept as a boy of sixteen can.
