In March 1960 the Daily Telegraph revealed that 250 stowaways from the Caribbean had entered Preston dock in the past two years. ‘Shipowners seek tighter checks & bigger penalties’, read the headline. The stowaways were chiefly British citizens from Dominica, who made the two-week voyage on the banana boats which had operated this route since the trade had started in 1953. In a press release the Colonial Office in Whitehall had stated that, having received only two complaints in that time, it was not overly concerned and suggested instead that shipping companies and the governments in the West Indies ‘should consider strengthening their local arrangements’. However, this attitude would soon change. A press furore prompted by the arrival of the Norwegian banana boat Bjorgstein at the end of February 1960 led to allegations of an organised criminal enterprise that facilitated, even encouraged, the illegal movement of people on banana boats entering Britain and, ultimately, led to a change in Dominican law.

On board the Bjorgstein were eight stowaways. The men were all from Roseau in Dominica and had stowed away in search of a brighter future. Impoverished and ill-dressed – one man in just a shirt – they had secreted themselves in the refrigerated hold surrounded by crates of bananas where they ran the risk of hypothermia. Three days into the voyage the Bjorgstein’s skipper, Captain Larsen, held an unplanned fire drill. The bells caught both crew and stowaways unaware and pandemonium ensued below deck. Thinking it was a real fire, the stowaways banged on the hatches to alert the crew and were discovered.

Despite being in breach of the 1894 Maritime Act by stowing away, the men were not prosecuted and, following inspection of their British passports, were free to go. The police were powerless to act; as the offence was committed under maritime law it was the captain’s responsibility to prosecute and foreign registered ships never chose to. British captains, however, did prosecute. If this happened, the sentence was a month’s imprisonment, during which the stowaway received three meals a day and was provided with clothing and help to secure employment on release. In such circumstances, hiding in a refrigerated hold was a chance worth taking.

On this occasion, the stowaways were greeted by the local press. The Lancashire Evening Post revealed that Paul Richards, Steven Williams, Bernard Bruney, Helious James, Moses George, James Hesketh Boston, Jerome Joseph and Joseph Jacques had intended to settle in Preston. On their arrival, the Dominican stowaways were helped by the first stowaway from the island to arrive in the town in 1954, Alphonsus Raveriere, and joined a tight-knit community. A Mr Heyworth, manager of the local Labour Exchange, found that West Indians were easy to place in employment as they took jobs the town’s school leavers were refusing. While the occupations of these eight men had included tailoring, fishing, labouring and masonry, on arrival in Preston menial employment in the city’s mills awaited them. By taking unpopular positions without complaint, new arrivals were often welcome. The Bjorgstein stowaways, however, were met with local hostility.

At a Preston Town Council meeting, Councillor R. Weir was outraged that the eight stowaways had been allowed to stay. The fact that they had walked free when, just two weeks earlier, a local Preston man who attempted to stow away to the Caribbean was returned to Britain and detained was, to Weir, the cause of some consternation.

John Mackie had attempted to stow away to Trinidad, but, travelling without a passport, he was refused entry at each of the Windward Islands. Being on a British registered ship, he was prosecuted and returned to Preston where he received a month’s imprisonment. It seemed unjust that, just like the eight from Dominica, he had taken a chance at securing a better life but was refused. Worse, it was alleged that they had been assisted by a criminal syndicate in Roseau.

The leniency which stowaways from the Caribbean received incensed Mr L.S. Marchant of Kaye and Son’s shipping agency, the man who had made the two complaints to the Colonial Office; the Office’s memo about his phone call described him as incandescent with rage. Feeling brushed off by the Office’s lack of action he turned to the Daily Telegraph, who latched onto the recent local press coverage of the Bjorgstein with a brief article. Two days later there followed a much longer, damning exposé of the measures undertaken to stem the tide of stowaway traffic. It revealed the lengths to which the alleged syndicate were going in order to conceal stowaways, and prompted a furore in the national press.

The shipping manager for Geest Industries in Preston, A.C. Pilkington, told the Manchester Guardian that ‘a syndicate operated this racket and the stowaways conceal themselves in the cargo’. Those responsible for this operation were Geest employees.

A report leaked to the Daily Telegraph pointed the finger at Clem Johnson, the Geest foreman who oversaw the loading crew. A former assistant tallyman and successful stowaway confirmed this and said that all stowaways paid the foreman a fee; presumably the loading crews and stevedores also received a cut. It is perhaps no surprise that it seemed impossible to prevent people leaving. A Geest spokesman felt that the only remedy for this problem would be legislation in Britain designed to curtail the movement of stowaways, but this did not happen. Instead, the press attention prompted the Colonial Office to put pressure on Dominica.

One of the problems faced in controlling stowaways was passport control. Procuring a passport in Dominica was relatively easy, argued a police spokesman. In Jamaica a system to curb stowaways had been attempted which required proof of travel before a passport could be issued. This scheme was easily abused; it suffered heavy press criticism and so was swiftly discontinued. The Colonial Office decided not to pursue this avenue in Dominica. The Legislative Council in Roseau did, however, make changes to the law under pressure from the Colonial Office. It amended the Immigration and Passport Ordinance 1941, making stowing away an offence. And, feeling that current searches were insufficient and that the police were colluding with the syndicate, the Colonial Office also strengthened police orders to ensure that the local constabulary was more rigorous in searching banana boats for would-be stowaways. It was this act that finally curtailed the stowaway traffic to Preston.

Stephen Poleon is a PhD researcher at Lancaster University.