We spent considerable time this week trying – unsuccessfully – to persuade one of Bermuda's upstanding citizens to permit me to reveal his true identity in relating the exciting adventure he and a small group of Bermudians had played in helping make Britain the multicultural society that it is.

For the sake of convenience we'll call that mysterious man Roger. The contribution of that group of Bermudians, as minute as it was, comes to mind each year around this time which is Britain August Bank Holiday weekend, highlighted among other things by the Notting Hill Carnival.

The carnival, or festival, is led by members of the Caribbean population, many of whom have lived in the Notting Hill area of London since the 1950s.

It has attracted up to two million people in the past, making it the second largest street festival in the world, after the Trinidad and Tobago Carnival held in that country.

Mention of Britain's Caribbean population brings to the fore a ship named the Empire Windrush. Scholars say it was that ship that gave birth to modern multicultural Britain. And as a symbol of the variety of different communities that over the centuries enriched Britain's cultural life, the story of the S.S. Empire Windrush was deemed unparalleled, being a story of ambition, courage and hope; and her legacy and role will live on for ever.

Aboard the Windrush when it arrived in Britain in June 1948 were some 500 black men, one child and fewer than a dozen women. What was not generally known was the fact there were eight Bermudians among those motley adventurers. They were eight stowaways and Roger was one of them. Bermuda was the last port of call before the ship sailed to England.

Britain set aside the summer of 1998 which was called The Windrush Season to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the landing of the Windrush. The season was marked by processions, fireworks displays, daily music and dramatic features on the BBC radio and television, performances in schools, churches and community centres all citing the impact those migrants and their descendants have had on British culture.

That season reached a grand climax with the Notting Hill Carnival in London. Back to Roger. When Roger first related his story to me some time ago, he stated he was convinced that it was only by the Grace of God that he is alive today.

I had known personally about the Windrush beforehand, but his disclosures sent me diving into the local archives, searching the Internet and following up with friends who confirmed how significantly Bermuda features in the Windrush reminisces.

Author Mike Phillips, in his book, contends that if it hadn't been for the Second World War the Windrush and her passengers might not have made the voyage at all. During the war, thousands of Caribbean men and women had been recruited to serve in the armed forces. Many joined up for another spell in the services after the war.

But the majority returned to the Caribbean only to be disillusioned over the high rate of unemployment. The troopship Windrush had been sent to Jamaica to pick up servicemen who were on leave from their units. Their numbers were swelled by many of their former comrades who decided to make the journey hoping to rejoin the RAF; and also by some more adventurous young men who just wanted to see what the "mother country" was like.

From Jamaica the ship went to Tampico, Florida, for three or four days, it passed by Cuba and put into Bermuda for a scheduled stop, her last before Britain. Her impending arrival was highly publicised by The Royal Gazette, because among her passengers were two English girls who were engaged to be married to soldiers stationed at Prospect.

Their double wedding at Prospect Church took place within four hours after the Windrush dropped anchor at Grassy Bay off the Royal Naval Dockyard on June 8, and was covered with great detail by the morning paper.

Meanwhile, Bermuda's black community, through initiatives taken by Dr. E.F Gordon (later Mazumbo), rolled out the welcome mat for the West Indian passengers, among whom were a number of calypso singers. He laid on a concert at the Colonial Opera House, and a big dance was held at the Unity Tennis Courts in Happy Valley, where a lot of fraternisation took place.

It will be remembered that visit occurred a whole decade before the Theatre Boycott that led to the desegregation of hotels, restaurants and other public places on the Island.

Initially, the troopship's visit was supposed to have been a short stopover. But engine trouble forced her to remain in Bermuda waters for three or four days. And for the convenience of her 1,000 passengers and crew, she steamed into Hamilton, berthing at Number Seven Shed.

That also made it most convenient for our friend Roger and his cohorts.The night after the dance at Happy Valley, Roger and company brazenly walked so many black faces around that the authorities could not tell one from the other. But one of the stowaways was caught before the ship got out of the channel, and he was put aboard the pilot boat and returned to shore.

One of the lucky eight was a man named Arthur (Sweetie) Rochester, a dance band drummer, who originally hailed from Somerset. His brother, well-known photographer Clarence Rochester (now deceased) of Middletown, Pembroke, said Sweetie went missing and for weeks no one knew where he was, until a letter arrived from London giving the family the story.

When the Windrush docked at Tisbury in a blaze of publicity, Rochester revealed himself as a stowaway. He was locked up overnight, the next day he was given £3 in cash by authorities and placed in a job at a train depot. He became an integral part of British society, made his first trip home five years later and then regularly afterwards. He died in London in 1997, a bachelor, aged 82.

Roger and a companion he would not name decided to do something more dramatic than Rochester. Under cover of darkness, a couple of hours before the Windrush tied up at the dock, they jumped overboard intending to swim ashore. They never made it, as the tide was taking them out into the North Sea. Luckily, a police boat spotted them and brought them ashore.

They too were thrown into the clinker. No charges were laid against them, as they had papers showing they were Bermudian and British subjects. They were given money and jobs. They spent the next six years in Britain, having to use their wits trying to survive in a hostile environment.

How they did it is something Roger says he will reveal only in his memoirs. However, they returned to Bermuda legitimately after getting jobs aboard a ship. Roger now is the last survivor of those eight stoats.

The Bermudians were not the only stowaways aboard the Windrush. I discovered from the BBC's Windrush website that one was a woman, Evelyn Vauchape, a 39-year-old Jamaican dressmaker who made headlines in the London Evening Standard, which featured her as the most popular girl aboard the troopship. She was paid handsomely for her story by the paper.

Another Jamaican, Lucille Harris, reminiscing about the Windrush voyage, considered the Bermuda interlude a highlight. "The people there," she said, "were very, very nice, they received us, had a party and took us places."

She recalled that June 22, 1948 was a lovely day when the Windrush docked after a journey that took a long time, 22 days to be exact. It took that long because of engine trouble. "There were lots of men aboard that big ship, a lot of soldiers. What I can remember now, there was a woman that stowed away; when they found her she got VIP treatment," Ms Harris told the BBC.

Hundreds of West Indians followed the Windrush trail-blazers over the years, bringing with them their music,

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