Plague Ships

The Benevolent Asylum at Dunwich in 1920, originally the quarantine ground set up for Emigrant passengers. Photo: State Library QLD

This feature article originally appeared in AFLOAT Magazine and forms part of our latest edition of boating features from Sailor Woman Jill Knight exploring life onboard, cruising adventures and the maritime history of our waterways.

The hantavirus outbreak of April 2026 on the Dutch-flagged cruise ship MV Hondius is the most recent publicised event in a very long history. As with medieval plague ships, conditions aboard most people-carrying vessels offer Utopia for an infectious pathogen: many potential hosts packed into small spaces while sharing dining and other facilities, often for weeks and even months. Centuries ago, quarantine came into use to control the spread of disease from sailing vessels to communities on land. The colour yellow was historically associated with disease in Europe, and the flag known as the Yellow Jack has been used by ships since the 14th century to signal infectious diseases aboard. Today, the yellow Q flag is still in use worldwide by vessels requesting Customs and health clearance on arrival from a foreign port. However, even if a vessel and those aboard are considered infection-free and cleared, every port of call creates new opportunities for germs and their carriers to embark.

A sad local example

The ways global movement by boat changed the world – in this case for the worse – was brought home to me recently when I called in to Dunwich’s One Mile anchorage on Urchin‘s northwards meandering from the Gold Coast. This is where the barque Emigrant anchored in early August, 1850, to discharge the ill and dying to be isolated in tents brought from the mainland on a hastily set-up quarantine ground. The Emigrant had left Plymouth for Moreton Bay on April 17. Of the 276 passengers, 47 never reached mainland Australia. On May 8, a woman died and three more became ill. Commander Kemp put these initial cases down to the weather. Four days later, off Cape Verde, an outbreak of typhus was recorded by the ship’s surgeon-superintendent George Mitchell. The voyage continued. Babies were born and lost. Parents died and left children as orphans. George Mitchell himself became ill. By the time the ship entered Moreton Bay on August 8 and anchored off Peel Island, having made no stops since departure, deaths were reported almost daily. On August 10, the government medical officer in Brisbane, Dr. David Ballard, arrived on the Customs boat to arrange quarantine. The ship and its mail were fumigated while the passengers were debarked and scrubbed down with carbolic acid. The time it must have taken for the Colonial Secretary to be notified, for Dr. Ballard to attend, for an immigration agent to be sent to Dunwich on North Stradbroke Island with tents and provisions, must have seemed interminable to those on board. The agent took charge of the quarantine ground and assigned four guards to exclude and protect the “natives”. At last, with the ship moved the few miles to Dunwich and all the ill in treatment or convalescing ashore in the care of Dr. Ballard, the Emigrant was permitted to sail on to Brisbane with the passengers and crew who remained in good health.

As I wandered through the sad graveyard behind the Little Ship Club with Peel Island, my next stop, a couple of miles west, I was aware of how privileged we are today. Twenty white crosses in two lines, including one each for George Mitchell, the Emigrant‘s surgeon, and for David Ballard, the Brisbane doctor who also died and was buried alongside his patients.

Quarantine’s long history

Quarantine is one of the oldest and most effective health measures humankind has ever had. In Italy as early as the 1340s when the Black Death was rampant and little was understood about the ways infections spread, entire ships could be detained in Venice’s lagoon for 40 days. The ill were attended by friars from the nearby hospital of St Lazzaro. By the 16th century, the concept of contagion was better understood. Bills of Health were introduced and written certification that the previous port of call was free of disease came into use. However, quarantine remained the strongest option for governments in times of outbreaks of diseases, such as smallpox, cholera and yellow fever. In the first half of the 17th century, Boston officials compelled every arriving ship to remain at anchor until cleared for arrival. In London that century, every inbound ship was required to remain anchored in the Thames mouth for a period of 40 days which was sometimes extended to 80. In 1710 in England the Quarantine Act decreed the death penalty when people or goods known or suspected of having contact with plague were shown not to have respected the 40 day quarantine. These days, as new diseases and outbreaks of old ones turn up, procedures are more tailored and are constantly reviewed to be context-specific. Humans, animals and goods will always be on the move, and probably always in lockdown with others while crossing oceans, skies and land. Quarantine will always be with us.

Peel Island

From the Venice hospital of St Lazzaro, the word lazaretto became the defining one for quarantine stations worldwide. Hence Lazaret Gutter, the narrow inlet on the north side of Peel Island; this was where, in the 1870s and 80s when immigrant arrivals into Brisbane by sea were frequent, the ill were isolated. Peel is now a National Park and a popular cruising stop for mariners. Beginning in 1873, well after the arrival of the stricken Emigrant, it was reserved for quarantine purposes. Patients had individual huts in three compounds: female, male and “coloured”. The huts were later used to house recovering alcoholics, then for leprosy patients. They have been preserved and the island is now heritage-listed. Leaving the simple crosses on the lawn of the Dunwich foreshore, I crossed the channel to visit that other sad reminder of harder times. Wandering around the huts, innocently empty in the sunshine, I felt grateful to be living in an era much better equipped to minimise tragedy among those who roam the world’s seas and oceans.

This feature article originally appeared in AFLOAT Magazine. To explore more stories like this, browse the AFLOAT Magazine archive or view the latest edition of AFLOAT Magazine.