Today, Australia is only 24 hours away. People travel Down Under in a pressurised metal tube sipping drinks while watching the in-flight movie.

They flick through glossy brochures extolling the virtues of Sydney, one of the greatest cities on the planet, Melbourne and Perth.

Occasionally, the airliner may be buffeted by turbulence, causing the "fasten seatbelts" sign to flash up.

But, by and large, it is usually an uneventful trip, which takes most travellers a day or two to get over before they hit the tourist trail.

In 1829, a momentary flicker away in the earth's evolutionary timetable, the voyage to Australia was a forbidding, often terrifying, experience.

Europeans were clinging to precarious footholds at various points along the continent's vast coastline but much of the hinterland was populated by Aborigines, unwilling to give up their land.

The Henty family from West Tarring made a reasonable living from the English countryside around the ancient rural village.

They farmed 281 acres of land and tended three acres of gardens and orchards in an area which "lay steeped in antiquity".

But the Hentys were ambitious people, much impressed by rumours of the riches to be had Down Under, and the family decided to emigrate.

At the time, West Tarring was populated by just a few hundred people, many employed as labourers or servants on the estate.

So there was great unease and sadness when 32 citizens of the village, ranging in age from nine months to 38, agreed to accompany the Hentys.

All of them knew they would never see England or their friends again. There was also a fair chance many of them would perish on the voyage.

Three of landowner Thomas Henty's seven sons, James, George and John, formed the advance party, which set sail in the 340-ton sailing ship Caroline.

There were a total of 66 passengers on board, plus 12 horses, nine cows, one bull, 182 prized merino sheep, 24 pigs, plus chickens and rabbits.

They were literally sailing into the unknown and, as Sussex faded from view on a cloudy day, many must have wondered whether they would live to tell the tale.

The cargo included stores, tools and fruit trees because the pioneer colonists would have to be self-sufficient from the moment they stepped ashore in Australia.

The first leg of the voyage, to Rio De Janeiro in Brazil, was largely uneventful compared with what was to follow.

The Caroline, a lightly-armed twodeck, square-rigged ship, was reasonably comfortable for its day.

There was 7ft between the decks, which meant passengers didn't have to stoop, and the rations were good.

They breakfasted at 9am, dined at 3pm, drank tea at 8pm and went to bed at 10pm. Men and women alike danced on deck to keep fit or passed the time by shooting at seabirds or bottles tied to the yardarm.

Each passenger was allowed seven gallons of fresh water a week for all purposes. The horses and cattle received five or six gallons a day.

The Caroline was a healthy ship, which remained free of the dreaded plagues of the era, scurvy, dysentery and typhus-carrying lice.

On its previous voyage, the vessel had been attacked by pirates off the African coast and when a strange sail was sighted during the Atlantic crossing the decks were cleared and the carriage-guns manned.

But it turned out to be nothing more than a French barque called l'Actif returning from India and, after exchanging rations and pleasantries, the Caroline continued on its lumbering voyage to South America, during which time a crewman was flogged for getting drunk and the captain's dog was rescued after falling overboard.

In 1829, Rio was a lawless hellhole at the centre of the slave trade. A passenger by the name of Camfield recorded: "Such houses, streets, people, soldiers I never saw before, what with the slaves, dirt, the filth of the streets, tis a thoroughly disagreeable place."

While the Caroline was anchored among more than 100 merchant vessels and men o'war, a fight broke out between the boatswain and the first mate.

Both were shipped back to England, probably in irons, together with a sailor who tried to jump ship.

Shortly after leaving Rio, the Caroline was hit by a ferocious storm and battered by waves the height of the mast.

James Henty wrote: "The rushing of the wind, screaming of the women, suffering of the animals, and torrents of water made altogether a scene which beggars description. Thank God our lives are all safe."

A number of animals died on the second leg, which was a major blow for the settlers, but at least they all survived the voyage, anchoring first off Tasmania and then moving on to south Australia.

The first few months were grim, and hunger gripped the colonists. Kangaroos were hunted down by dogs to supplement dwindling food stocks.

James Henty wrote: "Settlers here usually suffer privations which you in old England can hardly imagine."

Despite the nightmare start to a new life, it did not stop the rest of the family leaving West Tarring and joining the vanguard several years later.

The Hentys set up sheep and whaling stations and went on to become one of the most influential families in Australia, especially in the state of Victoria.

They were indeed the founding fathers of a new nation.