Definitely a first for us, changing into full Native dress in our dorm room – that is, our “lava lava” cloth dresses, all quite demure and nothing one would be embarrassed to wear on Casino Island.  We picked ourselves a hibiscus flower each for our head-fur on the way out, and were on the Eastern Island main docks in good time – though feeling definitely nervous. 

            Again, I found myself wondering just how “in” with the local authorities our Tutors really are? Miss Devinski certainly seems to know all there is to know about what we do around here. To run a business such as Songmark one needs to do far more than just rent a building and advertise for staff and students – especially as we keep getting so many “interesting” instructors and events laid on for us. Would plain money have bought those training parachute flights in serving Rain Island bomber aeroplanes? 

           Although we were expecting a water taxi, we had a rather different ride, as we were hailed by a native sailing canoe, one of the big outrigger ones with both oars and sail. I recognised one of the rowers from our Easter fishing trip – and then we were off at full speed, the wind behind us as we headed towards South Island. At first I thought we were heading round to Haio beach – but instead we landed on the less settled eastern coast, that faces out to Sacred Island. Our escorts were friendly enough but not informative – evidently they were not the ones who would be showing us the ceremonies.

            On the beach we met Saimmi along with her senior priestess Ropitapi, who we had met nearby in January; she seemed pleased enough to see us, and complemented us on our costume. Quite a complement, coming from her! Saimmi took us aside and explained that the real ceremony would take place elsewhere at dawn – but that tonight we were their guests. I presume uninvited guests are politely diverted elsewhere – we had seen two ships of the anti-pirate patrol “on manoeuvres” north of Sacred Island, which I doubt is a coincidence.

            There followed a very fine evening, with a bonfire on the beach, and the sort of meal we had quite become accustomed in the Easter holidays – whole roast fish, baked sweet potato and roasted breadfruit for dessert. Quite an excellent time indeed, though there was nothing mentioned about the morning – except that we should get plenty of sleep. Which although nervous, we did manage.

            It was pitch dark when Saimmi shook Helen and myself awake – but the sky was clear and just starting to pale in the East as we stumbled down to the beach. Again, I was quite impressed at how Saimmi sees in the dark – since Helen and myself are of feline type we are rather good that way ourselves, but Saimmi seemed to see as well as if it was broad daylight. There were half a dozen native craft already out on the water under the starlight as we headed for Sacred Island – and despite having flown over it with cameras snapping so many times before, this was the first time we had set foot on its shores.

            Looking back, I noticed a speck of light, then a bright flare off on South Island – and realised just where the fire was. It was the rocky top of Mount Tomboabo, that Helen and myself climbed last December, and noticed the remains of a carefully disguised fire just after the shortest day. Not a coincidence, I should think. I asked Saimmi, who nodded with satisfaction and simply noted that the signal was given, and someone should be arriving shortly.

            Although I had seen very little from the air, there are structures on Sacred Island hidden under the trees. That is to say, there is what looks like an old dock cut into the rock – a very old dock, looking as if it was cut by hand, leading out to the deep waters. Facing it and heading up into the dark under the trees was a double row of Tiki sculptures, these quite recognisably genuine and not the “tourist” type one buys souvenir models of on Casino Island. It was hard to count, but I saw at least a couple of hundred Natives there and in the woods, only a few of them having torches. Most wore head-dresses of a very unusual type I have not seen before, although the Museum of Anthropomorphology on Casino Island claims to have examples of all the traditional designs.

            Looking out over the waters to the East, the Priests (I assume they were the Priests, at least they wore the most elaborate costumes) began to chant, and the rest of the congregation took it up. It was one of the ones Saimmi had been teaching us, so we could all join in the responses – and I had translated it as being an invitation for all the people to come join in celebration. Which sounds very standard, but some of the phrases had sounded rather odd – the bit about “from the warm Isles and from the cold waters together” had been puzzling me. I know what they mean, now.

            After about ten minutes, there came a sound out to sea, a deep lowing something like the conch shell trumpets I have seen on Main Island, but only heard off deep in the jungle. Something flashed white, about three hundred yards off in the waves – and behind us, a large bonfire was lit and flared up on a raised platform, lighting up the whole area. Suddenly the chanting ceased, and it all became very still.

            Then – Dear Diary, I hardly know if I should write this down. But something came in from the sea to the old dock, which is about the size of a municipal swimming baths – or rather some persons, a whole lot of persons. I thought they were just swimmers – till one of them leaped out of the water, and I saw close up one of the “Natives of No Island”. I know what I swam past in the lava cave on Main Island, and I know too what chased after Soppy Forsythe the next day – to bring her back captive, I still like to think.

            The ceremony went on for about an hour, and it appears the … newcomers are very fond of cooked fish. Which must be a rare luxury, considering the problems they would have with fires. At its height the first rays of the sun just shone over the waves, lining up the avenue of Tikis exactly. Some of the new arrivals clambered and were helped into light canoes, which the Spontoonies grabbed in teams and carried up the ceremonial avenue to the top of the hill.  We sang the long chant that I recorded on page 37 of the blue notebook, and danced the moves that I illustrated opposite.

            I was amazed to see there is a rock platform on the hilltop, carved with the same sorts of very interesting bas-reliefs as in Tower Hill Park, but more of them and even more – informative. Looking around, I spotted the trees had been carefully bent back with liana ropes, exposing the structure for a few hours of dawn sunlight – in emergency, ten seconds with machetes would hide the whole thing beneath the branches once more.

            The final celebration was very like those in the woods back home in Barsetshire, and very moving. I know what would happen to prying anthropologists who tried to put those in their books! When it was finished the sun had cleared the horizon, and twenty husky Spontoonies picked up each laden canoe and ran down the hill, through the long Tiki-lined avenue under the trees, to the old dock where some of the arrivals were already leaving.

            I recognised several Spontoonies there – some of whom seemed very surprised to spot Helen and myself. But Saimmi cleared the way, and it was all smiles as we were invited to meet one who had asked to see us.

            Oh my. I remember Moeli saying we would meet some members of her family, and I remember ages ago she had hinted that her kitten would be “a little different”. And they say we British are good at ironic understatement!  She showed us her child – she cannot be more than two days old, but swims like a dolphin already. Moeli seems in excellent spirits, and introduced us to her husband, whose name I can set down in shorthand but have little chance in putting down in proper spelling.  It is something like  (           ) *

            Moeli will be staying here a week more, she tells us, and then her daughter will be ready to join the other side of its family. She seems fairly content with the situation, and explains that she had always known this would have to happen. It appears that it is not such an uncommon marriage in these islands – something like half a dozen a year, mostly in the Priesthood and from the remoter villages. One very much doubts that the main hospital on Casino Island sees any of these – one “Euro” doctor dropping in for the birth and some very embarrassing questions would be asked.

            We waved farewell, and that phase in the celebrations came to an end. If any high-flying aircraft had turned a camera on the beach (which is hidden from observation from any of the other islands) they would have seen nothing out of the ordinary – on the surface, it looked rather like the “rituals” one sees put on for the tourists. One would think that the same folk who had been doing this for real this morning, would hardly stoop to make a parody of it in front of loud-shirted tourists this afternoon.  But – the Spontoonies seem to like that sort of thing, and seem to take a very subtle satisfaction in it. I will have to think about this one.

            In the more “public” ceremony, there was something I was very glad I had Helen to witness. The high Priestess had called several names out – and with a real thrill I heard mine read out with Jirry’s. And then I saw him, looking most excellent in his full Native costume, very plain but with a collar of pierced sea shells. My tail went quite sideways at the sight, but nobody seemed to think it amiss of me. I was wearing only my ceremonial headdress, my grass skirt and a fresh flower lei, but felt as comfortable with it in the crowd as I had ever felt in any costume.

            Jirry and myself are now Tailfast! It was a short but most moving ceremony, which I had checked through in advance and in great detail. I have a braided ring of his tail fur and mine, and he has one just like it. (One wonders how reptile folk manage the tradition: I must enquire of Saimmi.) Of course this is not an engagement ring, and Molly would probably call it something like “try before you buy, with no obligation”. But then, her family is definitely into coarsening things such as Trade. 

            Back with Jirry and the rest of his family to their South Island hut, his parents congratulating us both. Of course, in six months anyone may be Tailfast to anyone else, but this feels really very gratifying. I fear we stretched the spirit of our Passes again, by staying till almost dark – but it seems it is the custom to spend today in quiet celebration, so that should do as part of the religious ceremonies we were set loose to observe. I fear Molly and Maria had to do without us at the dance classes, but Molly at least has more Entertainments than I like to think about. I spent much of the afternoon with Jirry, making good use of the opportunity – after all, there is no point being Tailfast and just pen pals. Missy K is Tailfast to that very handsome mink gentleman, and I am fairly sure I know how Songmark’s sole Spontoonie student spent most of her Easter holidays – when she burned off about two dress sizes worth of weight.

            Still, it has been a day of fascinating discovery. The next time we visit the Museum on Casino Island, I will look with great interest at the exhibition showing how all the interesting people I met today are really just Hollywood special effects. The Spontoonies really ARE good at making folk look the wrong way at the right time!

* Editor’s note – either Lexarc shorthand was awful at recording exotic speech sounds, or Moeli’s mate really DOES have a name that sounds like someone scrunching two pawfulls of wet seaweed together.

23^rd June 1935

After yesterday’s religious festivities, it felt most odd to be sitting in the Anglican church on Casino Island, listening to the Reverend Bingham’s sermon (the parable of the sailor and the fishmonger’s daughter).  I have my braided ring of our fur in a native locket of fine shell on a necklace around my neck, and have to resist taking it out to look at it. Helen has quite given up on concentrating in church, and tends to sleep through the whole thing. What with two hours dance practice and an hour of self-defence before breakfast, we can definitely use the rest.

            Surprisingly, Beryl attends a church here, or at least goes to one of the minority temples. I recall her leafing through a directory of all the churches and shrines on Spontoon, and having something of a problem with our Tutors letting her go to the Temple of Sacred Reward. Not a religion I had ever heard of, and Saimmi says they have a bad name on the islands – but the Songmark brochure does say very clearly that any student can attend any available place of worship on the islands.

            While waiting for the water taxi back, I noticed Beryl saying farewell to an expensively dressed young gentleman of the rodent persuasion, whom she introduced as Mr. Van Hoogstraaten Junior. It seems his Father is a businessman and financier on the islands, and a major shareholder in her Temple. A strange sort of Temple, to issue shares! One can almost imagine them advertising “Eternal Salvation Or Three Times Thy Money Back” at that rate.

            Beryl seems quite pleased with her Sundays and tells us she has found some like-minded company, who also have Wednesday late-night sessions, which she will put in to attend. I foresee some words with our tutors about this, though of course Ada Cronstein goes to the Synagogue on Saturdays, and Jasbir has a quite elaborate calendar of rituals. Helen comments that any temple Beryl attends, is liable to have very little religion attached to it. I have heard of Recidivists being dedicated, but it would be interesting to see how they managed to get it registered here as a religion.

            Some good news on the notice board when we returned for lunch – Songmark are buying a seaplane! A hangar is being looked for on Eastern or Moon Island – and by next term we should all be able to practice water takeoffs and landings. Maria is hoping it will be some hot ship such as an abandoned Schneider Trophy contestant, but they are the very last thing one wants to learn from scratch on.  Something like a surplus Osprey with dual control seems more probable (and manageable). Of course, the second and third-years are always busy on borrowed seaplanes of various kinds – it seems the third-years gain points towards official passes by finding useful contacts for the other Songmark students. If I had my own aircraft here, I know I would feel definitely worried at the idea of Maria or Beryl borrowing it for the afternoon. One imagines by the third year, people have learned how to be exceedingly … persuasive.

            One hopes whatever aircraft we get is durable! Yesterday Molly managed to write off Songmark’s oldest Ford lorry demonstrating how her Father’s friends do a “bootlegger turn”.  The steering was rather worn out anyway, and at least we now know what the components of a rack and pinion gear look like, having gathered them from various spots across the compound.

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