A day of torrential rain indeed - quite enough to wash any tracks we might have left outside with our circus-trick last night (or "Combined Tactics" as an old military manual of Father's called it.) Maria in a rather bad mood, suffering the after-effects of mixing Palm Wine and Nootnops Blue - but not as severely as Irma Bundt, one "Swiss Miss" who is feeling decidedly under the weather. Indeed,  Miss Devinski inquired quite sweetly whether she would like to visit our Matron - at which point, Jasbir reports, Irma sprang out of bed instantly and reported herself quite well. Our Matron Mrs. Oelabe is skilled in accurately diagnosing her patients, and in dosing them with ferocious concoctions that at the very least discourage one from reporting in sick.

 Despite the weather, at nine sharp we heard the thunder of radial engines as one of the Argosies took off right on schedule, heading out for Vostok and points West. We keep all the schedules in the downstairs common-room, and it is a point of honour to bring in an updated timetable before the other dorms manage it. (Missy K generally wins, and refuses to say how.)

 The rain was quite torrential as we headed out towards the dock, suitably clad in oilskins and sou'wester hats crammed over our ears. I should think the water taxi lady charged double on such a day - the visibility was awful, and there was hardly another boat to be seen moving, apart from a rusting collier moving away from the power station site at Casino Island. Still, I always keep my binoculars handy - and today, it proved just as well. The rain was coming across in sweeping curtains, with perhaps half a minute of tolerably clear visibility before the next drenching - and someone was using that to their advantage.

 As we approached the tip of Moon Island, I had my binoculars out to spot if anything interesting had arrived in the night. Nothing had - but some interesting craft were leaving the Island, hidden from general view by the weather. I had heard the distinctive gunpowder boom of the S.I.T.H.S. testing range when leaving the dock, but thought nothing of it. When we turned the corner, it was a different matter.

 I suppose our water taxi must have been hidden entirely by the curve of the shore and the dense sheets of rain - at any rate, we emerged into a clear corridor just as they touched off their salvaged cannon. This time, however, things were rather different - instead of merely zooming, stalling and falling into the ocean a few hundred yards from the shore - it was not fifty yards above us and to our right when the model gave a dull "Whump!" and began to trail a foot of blue flame roaring like a blowtorch. I had my binoculars on it in an instant, as it pulled away and began to accelerate - only to shed a wing and tumble into the waters a mile North of Casino Island, itself unseen in the driving rain.

 By the time I had watched its splashdown and turned round to whence it had came, there were tarpaulin covers over everything, and all the launching crew had ducked out of sight.  I had noticed a very striking gentleman whom I had seen when we surveyed their project before, a tall black and white striped Native with a most luxuriant tail, who seems to be in charge of the works. One definitely suspects the S.I.T.H.S. did not want us to see that, despite their test being a partial failure. I caught one good glimpse of the model, and am fairly sure I have seen something like it before, though not as a flying aircraft.

 Arriving at the docks, we hurried up the hill towards the Church for a rather damp but heart-felt sermon by the Reverend Bingham.  I for one thought "The parable of the left-handed lascar and the monkey-wrench" quite amusing, and to judge by the full attendance, the Reverend is proving quite popular. Still, we were glad to meet Jirry and the rest of the Hoele'toemis out in the entrance hall afterwards, Marti and Helen doing their best to look saintly. It is just as well Helen does not subscribe to Maria's religion, or with all the confessionals, she would have but little time to socialise after. 

 Interestingly, I noticed a plaque commemorating the founding of the church in 1913 - referring itself as the first Anglican Church, Accounting Island.  I mentioned this to the Hoele'toemis - at which his Father explained that had been the island's name, before the Casino was built. It had been the administrative centre for the various plantations in the old Colonial days, of which little but the old China Dock at the Western end of the island remains. Fascinating!

 (Later).  Back at Songmark, I scoured the pages of "Jane's All The World's Aircraft" for the rather distinctive shape I had seen earlier, but without success. I was just about to give in, when Madelene X came in, arguing loudly with Ethyl and Methyl about the merits of monoplanes as opposed to biplanes. Seeing her reminded me at once - and in three minutes flat, I had unearthed the French-language magazine with the bold propeller-less designs of Mr. Rene LeDuck.  Well! It looks as if someone else on Spontoon subscribes to "L'Aeronaut", and has thought about the problem of actually launching one. A nice class project, but surely little future in it. One hopes that, Mr. Jules Verne aside, pilots will not be trading runways for launching cannon any time soon.

 (Helen took a look over my shoulder, put two and two together and muttered something about "Aerial Torpedo". She suggested quietly that we look the other way in future, or we are liable to be taken for an equally short and unhealthy ride.)

 Indeed - are the S.I.T.H.S. doing this as a class project, or something more ? In some parts of the world, one would expect the Government to instruct aircraft companies to work on this sort of thing - Madelene X proudly boasts that France has over two hundred companies fiercely competing at any one time.  Over here though - things are different, as they lack manufactories such as Birmingham or the Ruhr to support aircraft building.  The S.I.T.H.S. are partly supported by the local government, after all. A lot of the most ground-breaking work has always been done by mavericks and keen amateurs working outside the confines of a traditional company, back Home at least. One hopes we have projects like it in remoter parts of Britain - or are their Mad Scientists better than our Mad Scientists ?

February 14th, 1935

A busy week in class had a most interesting interruption this afternoon - Miss Pelton announced that a flying-boat had arrived over on Moon Island, carrying three of the original Songmark Academy students! It seems they run a company together, arranging transport for film producers looking for unusual locations. Spontoon is of course well-known already, but makes a fine base for the remoter islands. Miss Pelton added that they had found some of the least-known spots in the Pacific, as witness last year's great hit "Ponape Pool", featuring many batrachian bathing beauties from truly ancient cultures who had never seen a camera before.

 We were all very keen to meet them when they turned up for dinner in the evening - Misses Theda Walsley,  Meena Gharbada and Jacqueline Dubarrie from Rhodesia, India and French Canada respectively. Quite a mix of origins, and yet they trained together and have stayed together, very successfully too. I definitely admired their flying costumes, which are fine advertisements for their company - certainly, prestigious film moguls would hardly want to be photographed next to the rather well-worn and oil-stained coveralls we have for our Tiger Moth flights. (Maria was similarly impressed, and I could see her sketching design notes. With a chequebook like hers, she could buy a matching suit for our whole class without worrying about the bill.)

 A fine meal indeed, as the cooks had surely been told to "pull out all the stops" to use Helen's curious phrase.  Next week we are scheduled for another trip to the far side of Main Island, and will definitely not be dining on fine roasts. We are issued with solid-fuel tablet stoves to fit in our survival kit, which are slightly better than just leaving the meal in the sun.

 Quite a treat - Miss Walsley announced that they would be leaving tomorrow lunchtime, this literally being just a "flying visit" - but they would have time to take one group of us up for a flight-test. Their machine is by all accounts a customised De Havilland Drake racing floatplane, which has only lost thirty miles an hour acquiring an extra four seats. Twin nine-hundred horsepower glycol cooled engines, Hamilton Standard superchargers and the very first variable-pitch propellers we have seen outside the Schneider Trophy racers - an exceedingly "hot ship" and one we would give our tails to own!

 Of course, every dorm in Songmark wanted to be the lucky passengers. Sixteen classes in all, every one suddenly trying to look saintly and studious (had the award been for acting, one would have been hard-put to choose the winner.)  Our Tutors announced that they would decide at breakfast, so we should be on our best behaviour.

 As soon as the meal finished (and I had overheard the Staff would be heading out with their guests to Mahanish's Pilot's Bar for the evening) I took the initiative and raided our small technical library. There are duplicate records of all the Songmark graduates, as well as a scrap-book with postcards and cuttings, of their later careers.  I managed to get it back to our dorm before anyone noticed, and spent a fascinated hour with Molly, Maria and Helen looking through the stories. No wonder our guests are being given the red-carpet treatment, of the fifteen first students to complete the course, they seem to be by far the most successful.

 Molly argues that the other famous ex-Songmark team headed by Letitia Fosbury-Smythe is richer and more newsworthy - but our Tutors would hardly have advertised the Academy as being the training ground for the reigning Pirate Queen of the South China Sea. She claims it is nothing but the sort of prejudice that her family business has had to struggle against for years.
 

February 15th, 1935
 

A definite day of excitement - the staff having declared the day a half-holiday, and indeed none of them were to be seen till well after breakfast, Miss Blande in particular looking quite unwell. All of us were very keen to hear who had been chosen for the treat - Miss Devinski announced that they had thought us First-years would benefit most from the motivation. So the ride goes to Prudence Akroyd's dorm, worse luck, who beat us to the gramophone by just three marks this month! At least we all got to watch, as late in the morning folk announced that anyone who wished could go over the straits and watch the flight-test. It seems that the aircraft has been in for a 12-hour servicing with Superior Engineering over on Moon Island, and naturally its owners want to test it before heading out into the far Pacific again.

 What our tutors did NOT tell us, was that getting to Moon Island for all but the chosen dorm was entirely up to us, and that the arrival of whole Academy would take about five trips of the available water-taxis. Fortunately, I had a pocket of spare change (the quaint "Cowries" in use on these islands) and it being a holiday, it was quite all right to run the quarter-mile to the nearest public telephone and contact Moon Island to send a boat over for the four of us.  So by the time we arrived at the harbour, we had transport arranged, the boat woman staunchly refusing to take any of the crowd except her designated passengers. Along with hairdressers, surely Taxi drivers in their various forms must be the most decisive and opinionated class on the planet - indeed, I have heard that Rain Island's Government is quite largely composed of them.

 At least, we managed to get over to Moon Island in time to see Prudence's team take off,  with Miss Walsley at the controls. A decidedly different kind of takeoff to the usual sedate pull-up which takes most of the "sea-room" available - with its powerful engines and variable-pitch propellers, the De Havilland fairly leapt off the water, leaving us quite awe-struck.  Even with its extended cabin, it performed several loops and rolls very smartly - fortunately, none of Prudence's dorm suffer from airsickness.

 Maria was most impressed, despite having actually flown some of her country's Schneider Trophy entries. With those, she claims, with a single huge engine, small wings and a fixed-pitch 'prop, half the pilot's time is spent fighting engine torque. Indeed, should one incautiously bang the throttle open, the aircraft is liable to rotate one direction while the engine rotates the other! Not something one wishes to do on takeoff.

 A few more aerobatics completed that piece of the flight test, before the De Havilland put its nose Eastward and opened the throttles all the way - not something we really get to do on our sedate trainers. It re-appeared a half hour later, having cruised fifty miles out and back,  hitting a measured two hundred and ten miles an hour to the landmark of Metzger's Pyramid, a steep and barren rock that stands far out at the edge of our local charts. A smooth landing and taxi to the dock, and we were all diving to interview Prudence and her dorm on their experiences.

 Any of us who were merely envious before, surely turned green under the fur when we heard that all four of them actually had several minutes apiece at the controls, ten thousand feet over the Nimmitz Sea. Miss Walsley had of course handled takeoff and landing, but had my dorm just scored a little better in the navigation tests last week - it would have been us. Most annoying (or inspiring, depending on the point of view.)

 The rest of us at least helped to load supplies into their cargo hold from the military "PX" (a sort of glorified NAFFI) just inland from the slipways.  All too soon we were waving farewell, as three of Songmark's finest vanished back over the horizon in search of new adventure and profits.

 Molly seemed unusually quiet, and passed the naval base without even seeing if the doors to the armoury were securely locked, as she usually does. We agreed later that - although having qualifications on paper is very fine, being practically qualified to actually lead such a life - that would make all the "cramming" worthwhile. Even Helen admitted that it made all the book-learning seem more bearable, realising that this very minute Misses Walsley, Gharbada and Dubarrie were far out of sight of land, confident that their Songmark-taught navigation really would get them to target and on time. 

February 16th, 1935

Quite the warmest day of the year so far - at any rate, being Saturday, we were very grateful to get into our "street" Native dress and head over to Casino Island. Helen looked across at South Island quite wistfully, commenting that she would be more comfortable still in the fully Authentic mode, which is a little brief to wear on the paved streets of the town. Hopefully we shall be back there at Easter time, probably with Molly to chaperone. Of course, having Helen staying through the holidays made a huge difference, as in our adventures we could chaperone each other - the Academy has a good name to keep up, after all.

 A fast trot over to the Dance School quite served to limber us up - which was just as well, as our instructor really put us through our paces. She introduced another Spontoonie, Mrs Ratahabe, a very flexible reptilian dancer who works in tourist season at the "Coconut Shell" on the south side of the island. We were all quite eager to hear her accounts of working there - and I could see that Jasbir was quite taken by the idea. Jasbir, being of the mongoose persuasion, was about the only one of us who could really keep up with the stretching exercises that were demonstrated.

 Jasbir, indeed, was talking with our instructor at break-time quite eagerly about the prospect of attending auditions, which are being held in two weeks time. Certainly, dressed in Costume, she would be quite unrecognisable as either a Songmark student or as a Maharajah's daughter - which would be just as well, as dancing at the Coconut Shell is about as public a position as one could have on these islands.

 Another two hours of very strenuous dance exercise left us all quite worn out and more than ready for luncheon.  Mrs. Ratahabe joined us at our usual restaurant "The Missing Coconut"  which now has its gardens open for business. An excellent view across Northwards towards Meeting and Main Island, the weather like a fine Easter in England, but without the rain or hailstorms.

 Mrs. Ratahabe pointed out her home village, just visible beneath the very striking volcanic cone on Main Island. We must have been quite a handful, but she answered a host of questions about working in the "tourist" business. Some of the dancers and such are "tourists" themselves, in that they arrive a few weeks before the tour-boats and head out on the last of them, despite being dressed in Native mode for the summer. So right now, many folk must be working on Broadway, in Hollywood and other such places, eagerly looking at their calendars and booking their tickets to Spontoon, as the Coconut Shell opens its doors on the first of April (weekends only, and mostly dress rehearsals.)
 Indeed, we were told that a fair number of the entertainers find themselves more comfortable here and end up staying - having heard Molly's accounts of the winters in Chicago, one can quite understand it, especially for someone whose profession involves a costume cut for looks rather than warmth. 

 Another long dance session, and by four we were "all-in", though not beyond exchanging a few spirited remarks with the S.I.T.H.S. team. They at least can put together a mixed dance team, being co-educational: an aspect of their school that sometimes one quite envies. Still, we seem to be managing quite well on that front, except for Molly (who is feeling greatly put out by discovering yesterday that Missy K of all people has an official fiancé, not one arranged by her Family either! Much speculation as to what HE must look like, and earnest enquiries as to any of the Norwegians or Icelanders on Main Island being of the walrus type.)

 On the way back, Jasbir was quite running away with the idea of taking to the stage as a holiday post - in India it is not considered unseemly for even Princesses to dance before the courts, though admittedly not in public. I fear one needs rather more training than we have, to take part in the kind of show arranged by Mr. Bushby Barkley, the great canine director whose "Hula Howlers" film was shot here two years ago and is still much talked-about. (Speculations are rife concerning how much of the moonlight transformation scene was actually special-effects.)

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