Oh dear. As I write this, Dear Diary, my travel case has been brought down from the attic – my full-scale steamer trunk too, which can take ALL my belongings – and indeed it looks as if I might be packing it soon.

            Just after the last time I closed your pages, Madelene X and Missy K reported themselves “fit for service”, and indeed they seemed eager to take charge of things. Being waited on by us, turned out to be rather galling for them, especially when Molly insists on serving Madelene X a generous portion of PAMS for every meal and making sure she eats it all. So with the prospect of more of us being up and about soon, I thought it a good time to let Molly have her evening’s relaxation. Helen and Maria were both sleeping soundly, so we put a “do not disturb” sign on our dorm, changed into respectable Native wear, and left the compound. It is well defended still against any casual marauders, the bigdogs that roam inside the fence looking distinctly hungry – one hopes that someone remembered to feed them in all the confusion.

            Eastern Island still seemed almost deserted, with scarcely a skeleton staff running the aerodrome, but we found Mahanish’s bar was open and indeed doing a lively trade. From what one could gather from the conversations, most people were in the same state as ourselves – the lucky ones who had escaped the flu, had been working for days looking after relatives and friends less fortunate. With the worst past, tonight was the first night many people had been free for days, and the place was suprisingly crowded.

            Mr. Nordstrom was already there, being very conspicuous with his horns and striped face – one can quite understand what Molly sees in him. He was very affable, and bought us both drinks (I stuck to a Nootnops Red, which he was some time getting.)

            It was a very pleasant evening, though I discreetly left them to it and mingled, spotting one of the third-years dressed in a very convincing “Pacific Shawnee Airways” uniform as disguise.  To judge from the conversations, everyone there sounded greatly relieved, in that few new cases have been reported – and those are from the far corners of the island, where isolated villages are only now starting to get the flu. In a week it should mostly be over, and the islands can get on with preparing for the Tourist Season again.

            A few minutes after finishing my Nootnops Red, I felt very peculiar – and feared that after all, the Papeete flu had breached my defences. It was most distressing, indeed I only just made it to the conveniences in time. I was most exceedingly unwell – and yet with nothing like the symptoms I had become so familiar with this week. It was easily half an hour till I felt confident enough to return to the restaurant, and when I did so – there was no sign of Molly or Mr. Nordstrom.

            I waited two hours, until the bar began to close, but still no Molly. Thinking she must have missed me and returned to Songmark, I slipped out and in ten minutes was back, expecting to find her in our dorm – but no Molly.

            Still, she had been getting on very well with her date, so I assumed she would be back again in the morning, hopefully arriving discreetly before anyone else spotted her (the Papeete Flu sufferers were feeling too tired to get up early, as indeed were the rest of us who had been looking after them.) Helen and Maria were much better the next day, but not until mid-morning did I have to break it to them – that Molly was still missing, and I was the one who lost her!

            Helen seemed quite amused for awhile, pointing out that while we had been enjoying several days of fascinating native traditions in the holidays, Molly had been doing nothing more exciting than counting tins of pressed meats – and that in the circumstances, she hardly blamed her for making the most of her chance. But as the day dragged on, both Maria and Helen began to worry somewhat for our friend. I would have been out to look for her, but we were still urgently busy looking after half of Songmark, none of the Native cooks or cleaners having turned up as yet.

            At teatime, I was further alarmed to see Miss Devinski busily investigating, and hoped she would not make too exact a head-count tonight. But alas – she made the tour with Mrs. Oelabe, our Matron, checking up on everyone’s condition. All the first-years were present and accounted-for – except for Molly’s absence, which she spotted straight away. I was summoned to her office, where to judge from the ice-packs and aspirin bottles she is still suffering severely – and “called on the carpet” to explain exactly how and when I had managed to lose one of my dorm, despite being responsible for her. Not a nice interview! It was rather worse than being taken ill last night, which was itself exactly as bad as our Matron’s drastic purge medicine (which has exactly the same symptoms, onset and duration, oddly enough.)

            Of course, I volunteered to set out at once in search of our missing chum, but Miss Devinski was having none of it, and ordered me confined to the kitchens while she summoned half a dozen of the third-years who have had experience in these matters.

            It was very worrying, indeed – I spent the evening busily cooking and trying to keep occupied – alas, peeling tubers is hardly a taxing mental challenge, and various unpleasant explanations for Molly’s absence kept running through my head. I hourly expected the third-years to come back with our dear chum frog-marched between them – and I would happily take whatever demotion was coming to me, to just see her again.

            Erica popped her head around the door just before midnight, and announced that they had drawn a blank, but they would be resuming their search in the morning. I managed to pump her for some useful facts though – Molly had definitely left the bar with Mr. Nordstrom, in a very good mood. Although they headed out towards Songmark, certainly they never passed this way. Which would leave the docks or the village, and none of the water-taxis were out at all that evening. Most curious!

            Despite everything, I was quite unable to sleep for worrying. Helen and Maria were quite dead to the world, Maria making the light bulbs rattle with her snoring. Although I had been strictly ordered to stay in the compound, I reasoned that at the minute, nobody was searching for Molly, so I would have to perform that duty. Leaving a note under Helen’s pillow, I was down the rope to the ground in half a minute, and hurrying past the classrooms.

            At least, I had a stroke of luck there – it occurred to me that it might be somewhat dangerous, if indeed the islands were being pestered by looters and criminals. In the classrooms, I noticed the cases for three of the Mauser “T-Gew” rifles that some of the third-years had borrowed and been unable to return to the Moon Island naval base with the disruption to the water-taxis. Although the cased rifle and a dozen rounds must have weighed fifty pounds, I shouldered it quite happily, hoping to pass as a hunter heading out for a spot of dawn duck shooting on the sandbars. (True, having hardened steel-cored ammunition might be regarded as a little excessive, but I have heard that older game birds are liable to be tough.)

            The island seemed quite eerily empty after midnight: it is normally quiet, not having the late-night attractions of Casino Island, but I saw absolutely nobody. For three hours I patrolled, before deciding to head down to the docks and see if there was anything to be observed. Happily, I had remembered to bring my binoculars with me, and having large lenses they helped greatly as I scanned the area under the fitful moonlight. There were no lights except the beacons on the seaplane control tower, and I sat down feeling distinctly cold, tired and hungry.  Having heard about probable thieves and such who are the only ones liable to be out right now, I took the opportunity to ready and load the rifle, carrying it on its sling just in case any emergency self-defence was required. Alas – though it felt a practicable weight to stagger under when first I picked it up, carrying nearly half one’s own weight around for hours is severely fatiguing! Some wheels on the corner of the case would have helped matters, perhaps on the lines of a golf-trolley.

            It was three in the morning when I heard an unexpected sound from across the water – a marine diesel starting up. There were two large yachts moored off the Northern jetty, one of them fifty yards offshore, and as I brought my binoculars to bear, some lights came on in its cabin. It was quite a large ship, easily ocean-going, registered at Macao as I could see in the moonlight (but then, by all accounts one can register anything at Macao for a suitable sum in gold: the notorious German commerce-raider “Direwolf” retired there in 1918 to escape the terms of the Armistice and has been operating under Macao’s flag ever since.)

            Making my way towards the jetty in the shadows, I spotted movement on the decks, and had it in focus in an instant. There were three figures on board, two oriental-looking felines and a stag for whom I had been searching all night. Mr. Nordstrom’s antlers are quite distinctive, being slender and singly branched like slightly uneven tuning forks – I definitely doubt there are two gentlemen with such silhouettes on Eastern Island right now.

            Quite a dilemma! I managed to get to the land end of the jetty unobserved, but the jetty itself was wide open and brightly lit by moonlight. In broad daylight with other people in hailing distance, I would naturally have walked up and asked where Molly had got to – but I had an inexplicable feeling that there was something very wrong with this, and that the crew of the yacht might not be pleased to chat with me.

            Still, with the engine starting up, there was little time to lose. I returned the rifle to its case (a good “Cork-Lite waterproof brand”) and slipped round to the beach on the far side of the jetty. The jetty was mercifully steel-framed, not slippery wood, and I climbed along the outer ledge, slowly making my way out to just opposite, some sixty yards across the water. The shadows were at least in the right direction for me: from under the jetty the boat’s shadow stretched half way across to meet me. The cased rifle I had to keep on the deck of the jetty, shifting it along as I traversed to the end of the structure, hopefully hidden from casual sight.

            Definitely, March is too early in the year for a pleasurable dip in the Nimitz Sea. I was across to the yacht in two minutes, half-drifting for the first section to avoid splashing any water in the moonlight, the rifle and case towed behind me, and wishing I had something a little more compact. I arrived at the stern, and tried to find an open porthole – alas, it was not as easy as in the Pirate films at the cinema. All the portholes on the lower deck were securely closed and dark inside, and there was easily ten feet of sheer hull towering above me to the nearest paw-hold.

            Although it meant risking being spotted, I swam out to the moonlit side of the boat, where the anchor rope was the only likely means of getting onboard. Just as I passed one of the portholes, a light inside came on – and I managed to see inside one of the cabins. Alas! Not Molly, but two girls I had never seen before, in Native dress, fast asleep in a definitely crowded bunk. I had almost reached the anchor chain when there were voices right above me – and the chain began to move, as the yacht weighed anchor!

            The noise at least covered me as I closed the distance, passing another porthole – and I risked a glance inside, just as well as it turned out – as I saw Molly in there, again looking fast asleep, despite all the noise. Which was very odd, as she is an extremely light sleeper and often wakes up with some weapon to hand whenever birds start unexpectedly singing outside.

            As I looked, I missed the anchor coming up, still some ten feet away, and rapidly swinging up out of reach. The yacht began to move, and though I swam hard, I could tell I would very soon be left behind. Indeed, I realised that as it went past me, I would be in danger from its propellers, which were noisily churning under the power of unexpectedly powerful engines for a yacht that size.

            There was no chance of being able to uncase the rifle in time, and indeed the vessel would hardly notice a mere thirteen-millimetre hole even could I have brought it into action. I managed to pull in the floating case, just as the stern swept past me – and sucked me in towards the propellers!

            I did the only thing I could: I jammed the rifle case against the nearest prop, pushing myself away as I swam clear. There was a rather nasty grinding noise, but the yacht kept going – and I watched helplessly as it slowly pulled away from me, heading out towards the Northern channel. There was nothing left but to swim back to the jetty, feeling extremely drained, chilled and dispirited, as I watched the yacht “Sea Breeze Two” make its escape.

            Sitting on the dock, wringing my coat out at four in the morning, I thought there was nothing else that could possibly go wrong – until the heavy hand of the only fit policeman on Eastern Island descended on my shoulder. As Molly has often said – there’s never one around when you want one!

March 28th, 1935

Dear Diary – it looks like being a sad ending to such a promising career at Songmark. None of our Tutors were happy about being woken up at six in the morning, to collect me from the cells on Main Island. I had written out my reports as to exactly what happened – but nobody believed a word of it. Despite the disruption of the flu, the harbour has been manned all the time, and nowhere has any records of any such yacht arriving in the Spontoon group.

            Alas – from their point of view, things do look rather gloomy against me. The Authorities are not pressing charges of wasting police time, but I owned up to losing a valuable military rifle, after taking it without consent – something that could affect Songmark’s use of the facilities here.  And our Tutors still have me as the one who helped Molly get herself decisively lost – the first time this has happened to one of their students. Some classes have been marooned or stuck on islands till rescue, but none have vanished like this before. Furthermore, I had broken orders and left the compound (a minor infringement) and been caught by the Police (a major one. Had I not been so distressed and exhausted, I could surely have avoided that.) The truly distressing thing being, that they believe the Authorities and not me – were I truly fibbing, I would deserve everything it looks as if I am about to get!

            Helen and Maria have rallied round me like the true bricks they are, but there is really nothing they can do to help. I have been told to pack my bags – it will be confirmed at the end of the week, when they will be telegraphing Home with the news.

            Just to make things worse, I know that the only other place that might take me in disgrace, Saint T’s, requires a valid criminal record as part of the entrance qualifications. Being handy with self-defence techniques and firearms would not make up that shortfall in their eyes – and even if the Spontoonies were charging me, I doubt Saint T’s would accept a foreign record.

March 29th, 1935

Dear Diary – bad news certainly travels on these islands. Two of the folk we know from the S.I.T.H.S. dance team dropped into sympathise, and to say goodbye. There is no sign of Molly, and indeed my bags are almost packed.

            (Afternoon.) A strange visitor for me: Jirry’s sister Saimmi, whom I have not seen since the start of term. Being highly placed in the Native religion, not suprisingly she does not attend Reverend Bingham’s Church on Casino Island where we meet the rest of the family. She had some mysterious news – she hinted that I might slow down on packing, as Songmark would have two visitors tonight who would be speaking with me and our Tutors.  Very strange – and hopeful. It was only yesterday that the Police came to take details on Molly – which did not go well, when one of them recognised her Family name. Molly always said it was most unfair, that one can buy the International Police Gazette anywhere these days; from their reaction, I doubt they will be looking very hard.

            (Evening). Just as I was finishing what I both hoped and feared might be my last meal of Poi, Miss Blande came into the dining hall and firmly whispered that my presence was required immediately. I followed her out of the compound to the administrative block with Song Sodas (still closed) and found all four Tutors, plus Mrs. Oelabe and another person who I last met in similarly grave surroundings – Jirry’s grandfather, whom I now believe is a rather greater authority in these islands than being simply the head of his clan. 

            Old Mr. Hoele’toemi stood up and bowed, quite gracefully – I fear that I was wearing my Songmark shorts, and they are hardly adapted to curtseying in. As if summing up for a trial, he skimmed over the events of the past few days, and indeed he had a copy of the report that I had written for the police.

            But then, he stopped, and smiled. Two days ago, a flying boat of the Rain Islands air militia had spotted a vessel in difficulties on a sandbank not ten miles North-east of us – and when they circled low, they were fired on. Happily, they had a radio on board, and half an hour later a dozen armed patrol aircraft had touched down around the stuck vessel, each pointing its pair of four-inch Davis guns at its waterline. The yacht was boarded, and our comrade Molly found onboard, apparently drugged still, as were fourteen other Island girls and four boys.

            Mr. Hoele’toemi told us that there had been a rash of disappearances across the islands to the West, apparently kidnappings, though no ransoms were ever claimed. It seems that some criminal gangs were using the disruption of the influenza outbreak to rob more than goods to be sold abroad – from documents on board, the “Sea Breeze Two” was heading straight for New China, where he tells us girls of non-native types such as Molly are very popular indeed.

            He motioned towards a long case at his chair side, and for me to open it. There were two, or more accurately one and a half Mauser rifles there – the mangled ruins of the one I had jammed in the port propeller, had stayed in place until the yacht altered course, when it had shifted and jammed the rudder, sending the vessel straight onto the sand bank! Mr. Hoele’toemi presented them both with his complements, and expressed regret that nothing of my adventure would be appearing in the Daily ‘Elele. Not surprising, one supposes that it would make rather poor reading at this time of year when folk are deciding on their holiday destinations.

            There was a knock on the door – and in walked Saimmi, escorting a rather dazed-looking Molly, perfectly alive and well and rescued! Saimmi mentions that she should be fully recovered after another day, as the Spontoon general hospital have taken all appropriate measures for the state she was discovered in.

            Molly, indeed, seemed perfectly contented, though rather woolly-headed (more so than usual, that is.) She waved, and was helped to a seat – where she promptly fell fast asleep. It seems that Mr. Nordstrom or his friends have more than one bottle in the medicine cabinet – I mentioned my drastic symptoms at Mahanish’s bar, and our Matron agreed that one of the local plants has exactly that effect. She cautioned me to be more careful in future as to who I accept drinks from, and I heartily agreed!

            I asked indeed about Mr. Nordstrom – but it seems he was not onboard the yacht when it was stopped, and there is still nothing but my one sighting to tie him into the affair – and indeed, I saw his silhouette, but had to admit he might have a relative with the same shape. As to the other crew on the yacht – I did wonder how folk would arrange to have them tried and sentenced without it appearing in the papers. Mr. Hoele’toemi reassured me that they would be causing no more trouble, and indeed there was a definite – finality – in his voice that rather deterred me from asking any more.

            Well! One would not have thought any of our Tutors were the type to blush easily, but Miss Devinski’s ears were somewhat flushed as she shook hands with me and congratulated me on a job well done, at the risk of sacrificing life, limb and reputation. Though she did, indeed, whisper to keep a closer eye on Molly in future, involving four-inch steel docking tethers if needed.

            Mr. Hoele’toemi stood up, and thanked us all again, promising that he would see me in the Holidays, and extending the gratitude of his clan. It was my turn indeed to blush! It seems that one of the boys onboard the yacht was a distant cousin of Jirry, twice removed, or thrice marooned or whatever Islander distinctions the Natives have over here.

            Our Matron volunteered to watch over Molly, and we made up a bed for her on the floor. At least, she has been getting plenty of rest after her exertions in the Papeete flu outbreak! What with all the adventuring and worrying, I fear I am short about three night’s worth by now.

            Helen and Maria were overjoyed at the news – and immediately pumped me for all the information they could. I confessed that I was somewhat baffled by some of it – if New China really appreciates young Euro tourists, surely they could offer cheap holidays and accommodation packages as some resorts do back home ? It seemed a very expensive way of getting people over, and if Molly had heard she would be popular there, just inviting her over for the holidays surely would have been a lot more effective.

            Helen looked at me somewhat glassily-eyed, then motioned me towards a corner of the room and Explained things to me, in what I thought was rather excessive detail for ten minutes. Oh My! 

March 30th, 1935

Hurrah! Molly is back with us, looking none the worse for wear, and indeed rather mystified at all the fuss. By her account, she was definitely swept off her feet, assumed that I had discreetly left her to it and returned home, and had an extremely enjoyable evening. She admits that the evening seemed to last for a surprising length, and that it seemed to be light some of the time – but she insists that she had nothing to complain about.

            However, she does admit that she seems to have three days unaccounted-for, and she has no recollection of being aboard the Sea Breeze. She was asking if any of us had seen Mr. Nordstrom, as despite everything she still seems very keen to meet him again. Telling her of his low standing with the Police somehow appeared to make very little impact on her. From her point of view, the other crew of the yacht simply kidnapped her while she was sleeping exhausted, like the other captives. Most of those had the influenza, and presumably were in poor shape to put up much of a struggle – whatever did happen to the kidnappers, we all agree they richly deserved it.  Molly has been gleefully speculating dire things involving crabs or tiger ants.

            With Helen and Maria’s help, I am now happily unpacked again, and my steamer trunk consigned to the attic. A tricky place to work, the attic of our dorm – one has to watch out for radio aerials strung by the other dorms, plus strange bits of discarded plumbing that Molly identifies as manufacturing facilities for “bathtub gin” (which is presumably some cosmetic like rubbing alcohol.)

            Classes are resuming tomorrow, and on the radio we can hear reports of the islands gradually returning to normal. Soppy Forsythe is still in a high fever, possibly her system has a lack of moral fibre which the flu finds appetising. She had mentioned that some of her Quaker relatives left Britain in 1917 to avoid conscription, and settled down in Liberia where it was safer. Safer indeed until the 1918 influenza arrived in town: they may have Concienciously Objected to it, but it massacred them regardless.

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