This term in Year 4 the boys have been looking at Dreaming and the Tall Ships. It is a fascinating unit which looks at the arrival of the First Fleet and the impact of white settlement on the indigenous population of the time. We have been looking at incorporating some of the knowledge and understandings of the hardships of that time into our creative writing with the boys producing some excellent writing combining a number of different genres. Please enjoy a sample of these writings below:
The Tides of the Current
The last thing I remember on that day was the odious cry from my son, “Daaadaaa DaaaDaaa”. The evil monster of time was stealing everything I had, making me its servant. The horrible moment the evil men took my son and my wife. Both of them crying out to me. Both of them pleading, desperate for mercy. Both of them gone forever. All those happy moments ruined by some careless men who care nothing more than how much change is left in their pockets. I need to see them again. Whether it means crossing to the moon and back. Whether it means having every inch or my body scorched just for me to and fall on their doorstep. I have to do whatever I can to get them back. My plan to get them back is in action.
I got myself caught. I was sent and loaded onto one of the transport ships. We just got sent away. After a couple of days my family are nowhere to be seen. I have searched everywhere and all I can find are mounds of stinking wood. This place is crowded from top to bottom with convicts. On top of it all the rations are dropping every minute, the stench level has just turned to a new level and every few days or so now someone goes missing.
After the endless hours of the days the horror lived on, we finally finished our journey and I was brought to a building facility. Lifting, cutting and dreading were the three things my new life brought me. Again, after countless other loads I went to pick up another plank for my building when I saw my son. His arms full. Stuffing them up with that cold, hard wood. His face shrouded with sweat. I suddenly sprinted towards him and wrapped my arms around him. I hugged him like there was no tomorrow. I squeezed my arm with never ending content. Then I realised one thing.
My wife, she didn’t make it!
by Elijah Hanna
Boat No.3
I was down having a beer
It wasn’t mine, I fear
Onto the ship we went
We convicts looked spent
Botany Bay we were sent
You heard about the food? It was literally cement
We spent our days cooped up in a tiny cell
Into the sea a miserable wretch fell
As he rose up to hell I could picture his glee
‘Cause anything was better then Boat No.3
I had a great idea
We were only 20 miles from shore
We gave young Tell some beer
He was under our control
It was pretty beastly but it was our only hope
He grabbed the Captain and tied him up with some leftover rope
He pushed him in!
A lad who was a sailor with a nasty grin
He got us to shore, in record time
All of us ran, it was night time
We went our separate ways
I reckon they’ll catch us one of these days
by Daniel Elias
Botany Bay
My family is hungry and I was caught stealing 2 guns and 3 loaves of bread. They thought I killed someone as well. I said I didn’t kill anyone so now I am a political prisoner. Alex my friend was on the ship so Alex and I escaped from the ship. We were caught in Westminster, near the Westminster Abbey. We pretended we were other people and we didn’t go back to the ship!
One day later we stole a loaf of bread and didn’t get caught! Alex found 2 guns and 5 penknives and took them. Five days later we were caught and brought back onto the ship.
Once the ship left I tried escaping with Alex. But we were found unconscious lying in a stack of wood. It was a very long journey, every now and then they would put chains on you and hang you up on the wall.
When we arrived in Botany Bay there were people already on the land. They were not like the people in England they had darker skin. Once the ship touched the land they started attacking us. They threw a weapon at Alex. I tried to save him, but a weapon hit me in the chest. I screamed then fell to the floor.
By Kristian Dass
by John Bonnyman, Boys’ Year 4 Teacher
