| Monday 14th April, 1936 This is a morning I am definitely glad I am not on Beryl’s watch, as they slept through the whole thing. After breakfast the bell rang for “all hands on deck” and we lined up on the main deck while our Captain quietly puffed his pipe and kept a weather eye open. I had not realised that Albert Island was so dangerous to approach – Captain Gary solemnly warned us of the dangers of the reef and currents, pointing out there was only one route into the main bay for a ship this size, and even that was narrow. He had us uncover the lifeboats and had all the film crew put on lifejackets “just in case” – of course, all the sailing crew can swim these days even though the stories say many authentic Pirates could not. Then – my heart was in my mouth as he selected me as forward lookout, to warn of reefs ahead! Feline eyesight and balance were what was needed, as he told the rest of the disappointed Casino Island crew. Three of them were told off to watch the water depth – and although folk talk of lazy people “swinging the lead” it looked jolly hard work. So this morning I stood on the bowsprit four yards above the waves, holding onto the forestay as we raised quarter sail and gradually worked our way towards the invisible gap in the reef. For an hour we felt our way forwards, staying on short tacks until the Captain called out we were on the right heading. Then the mainsail was raised and we fairly charged forwards, the foam surging round the bows behind me as another half hour brought us safely into the bay, much to everyone’s relief. We must have been dead centre in the channel, as although the water was crystal clear I could see nothing dangerous for at least two hundred yards either way.  Albert Island at last – we anchored in twelve fathoms, a hundred yards from shore. If this had been the Noenoke fleet I would have jumped in and swam ashore, but we are under orders here until we get shore leave. It looked rather like the West side of Spontoon’s Main Island, except not quite so vertical – nothing but jungle, except where smoke rising through the trees marked villages. I had my adventure for the day, and was glad to see Molly being picked to go with the whaler to make contact with the natives. Although they are expecting us, I heard Captain Gary warn the film crew that they are a wild crowd and one never really knows with them. They have a lot of “taboos” that they take extremely seriously, and are liable to get very annoyed if one breaks them – the nearest police and Embassies to complain to are back on Spontoon. (Later) We are back on dry land – or perhaps I should say solid land, as the rainstorms are just as sudden and heavy as Main Island gets. My watch was given permission to go ashore, and discovered the nearest village was only a hundred yards into the jungle. The Natives are a very striking clan of felines, leopards such as Mr. N’Kualita who ran the office on Casino Island. It turns out he is the son or grandson of the Chief, and must be the only one of his tribe who wears a suit. The rest of them are dressed very … comfortably, with costumes as brief as on Spontoon but constructed to quite different patterns. It is a matter of the weaving and patterning, which to someone fresh from Europe would look very similar, in the same way a true Native might confuse a Euro policeman and a park-keeper. Some of the film crew had their cameras out immediately, and others had their tongues hanging out. I have never seen so many felines in so little costume, and I think Ada and Carmen will enjoy at least the scenery here. Our timetable is a mixture of sailing and shore leave, depending on the weather and the needs of the film crews: a pity since we are only likely to get to explore the island when it is pouring down. From what the senior crew tell us, they have waterfalls even bigger than the ones on Spontoon, and some fascinating ancient ruins. There is a dance and welcoming festival scheduled for tonight, but my watch is wanted back onboard the Liki-Tiki. Life at sea is full of little disappointments like that – but on the whole I have no complaints! Wednesday April16th, 1936 It has been quite a time, helping sail the ship while film cameras roll. Molly almost got her wish, being one of a dozen filmed in the rigging waving a cutlass although the ship was three hundred yards from the lens and a silhouette is about all the audience will see. Actually the cutlass was a piece of bamboo, as other folk were working below on deck and nobody liked the idea of accidentally dropping real hardware on them. I have to keep pointing out to her that the Sturdey Boys are our employer’s cherished pups (though her term “brats” is not inaccurate) and however deserving they should not be on the receiving end of a winch block “accidentally” dropped from the crow’s nest. With all the Native fur ashore to look at, one would have thought they would give up putting mirrors and cameras in our quarters – but I suppose folk only really value things that are hard to get. Two cameras have ended up overboard just this morning. If anyone objects, they just wave their passports and claim whatever it is, it doesn’t apply to them. They keep referring to the locals as “Injuns”, which even Molly says is all wrong. Happily, we will be dropping them and the film crew ashore where they can shoot some jungles before coming back next week and then we can see just how the Liki-Tiki really can go. I was quite wrong about our sails, as it turns out a lot of commercial ships actually did have square rigs until the middle of the last century – still, there can have been few of them in these waters since the resettlement of Spontoon. Another thing I was quite wrong about was the diet of the Albert Islanders, at least at the time this sailing rig was common. They freely admit that they did used to eat people – but only tribal enemies they knew and respected personally. I suppose it might be a case of “you are what you eat” and they would not want to take pot luck eating strangers for fear of how they turned out. They have given that up fairly recently, but I have overheard the price they are charging the film crew to shoot here – financially at least, some folk are still getting skinned and scalped. We are being kept very busy working on the ship, ferrying in fresh water from ashore, polishing the brasswork till it gleams and scrubbing the deck with chunks of pumice (the “holystone” of the old stories). Still, tomorrow we have a major treat – shore leave! Friday 18th April, 1936 A marvellous two days, of sand and sunshine. We started off yesterday with a Native guide, a young jungle cat calling herself Tomo’bola who promised to show us some of the sights of the island. She spoke quite good English, and said she was very surprised to hear Molly and me addressing her in Spontoonie. It is good to hear that our accent is convincing, as much as many Casino Island folk at least. Madelene X turned her snout up at being escorted round by anyone in such a costume, so the party was the rest of the Songmark contingent plus three from the Meeting Island school, a rabbit girl and two otter brothers, identical twins. All of us were feeling energetic, and keen to make a change from hauling ropes, so we asked if we could climb the island’s central peak. Tomo’bola readily agreed, and a fine and strenuous morning’s climb up through the jungle trails got us out onto the summit rocks just in time for lunch. The island was spread out below, and quite a sight it was. Our guide pointed out the various landmarks, including some that did not show up on our map. Two valleys and one stretch of coast she says are Taboo, and neither the locals nor visitors should go there. I am familiar with a few possible reasons for that – but when I asked in Spontoonie, she replied than not even their priests set paw in those regions. So it is nothing like Sacred Island – more cursed than sacred in fact, though our guide would not say why. Looking at the coastal strip through my field-glasses, it seemed harmless enough. A bright green swamp seemed to be steaming slightly in the sun, with rocky outcrops poking up here and there. Some of the outcrops looked artificial, as if ancient towers were crumbling away in the moist heat. The sort of place in which Professor Schiller would doubtless be interested, as he has been looking for inexplicably ancient structures in this area, and claims to be on the track of some primal religion or other. We returned via Tomo’bola’s village, a rather well laid-out settlement of two dozen longhouses in a familiar style. These folk are definitely not on a tourist trail, which made it rather odd to spot a pair of radio wires slung between trees. Down in the main village by the bay everything was as untouched as possible, with the Sturdey Boys discovering to their horror that waving money is no use at all where the natives were “too dumb to even know about cola.” I would not be amazed if the main village hoisted their radio aerials as soon as they see us hoisting sail to depart, these islands are like that. They might be celebrating our departure in cola dug up from concealment next week, though I would expect by then some of them will want rather stronger refreshment. Although the really impressive waterfall was on the far side of the island, Tomo’bola showed us a perfectly good one about forty feet high, with a sandy pool just perfect for bathing. It was as well Madelene X refused this trip, as we spent two hours in bare fur swimming and relaxing on the beach. The Spontoonies are of course quite used to this, as the native bathing costume is none at all. I was very glad to feel the sun on my fur, as the authentic sailing shirt is beginning to chafe in places; I think it would have anyway but my figure is starting to be a tender subject. I remember what Moeli said last year about being able to improve my figure, and definitely the process is underway. Whatever the problems, I am really quite looking forward to it, now I have got used to the idea. Ada is possibly our best swimmer in the whole year and even the otter gentlemen were impressed by her performance. She can take a complement from anyone, and is happy to bathe in bare fur in any company. Still, I could see she was going to have to turn down some other invitations from them soon – a word in Beryl’s capacious ear sent her their direction very happily instead, while I invited Ada to help brush my fur. She was over here as fast as a barracuda, and I only wish I had a stopwatch with me. Despite everything that happened to her, Molly always seems perfectly at ease with Ada on the beach or in the showers, as she is a great pal and knows exactly where she stands with us. Still, I did see Molly watching us very closely as Ada expertly brushed the sand out of my fur – Molly later said Ada’s eyes suddenly lit up and her ears perked when she looked at my figure closely “like a bank teller with a fake C-spot bill.” I would hardly have thought Ada liked the idea, remembering how she was violently ill after seeing a cub being born in hospital last year, but she groomed me with very evident and growing enthusiasm till I told her enough was enough. Oh well. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. I had not thought there was anything obvious yet, but I do not spend time memorising every line and dot of banknotes either. Since I left Songmark I have not really spent time looking in a mirror, and wearing native dress at the Hoele’toemis was a lot less restricting than this authentic but itchy sailing rig. We returned to the main village where the locals had laid on a feast for us, that is the Liki-Tiki crew not including the film crew. I think I preferred this one, with a lack of formal dances claimed to be centuries old but probably made for the occasion. There was one dance they definitely made up for the Spontoonies among us – it was a satirical hula, which even I could translate. There were two of the older kittens who came bouncing into the dance bumping into everyone, throwing handfuls of green leaves around and gesturing as if to look under a grass skirt. The backing chorus line made the motions of pile-driving a stake into the ground – of course one does not actually do that to paying customers and their relatives, but none of us would really rush to object if it happened. The youngsters brought up around here are very lively at play, but nothing like the Sturdey boys who are plain obnoxious. I noticed our Captain looking on in the firelight, and from his expression he can read the hula as well as any of the Casino Island crew, who were roaring with laughter. It was a fine night all round – Beryl is getting on very well with the otter twins, and even Ada and Carmen seem to have found congenial company. They do not have oiled fur with significant comb markings right now, but there is a certain way of wearing one’s head-fur and such that seems to be the same here as on Spontoon. One useful thing about longhouses is there is little in the way of personal furniture, so it was no real trouble for some families of Albert Islanders to squash together for a couple of nights and free up a couple of them for our use. It was a restful evening on my part, though not for everyone. I found myself wondering how Beryl tells the two otters apart (the Ingoldsby twins from Main Island) – at which Molly suggested she simply does not worry about it. Oh my. We had another fine morning today, with a trek to the main waterfall carrying our cameras. It was well worth the trip, as I reckon the main cascade as a hundred and ten feet unbroken drop into a perfect clear pool. It is already getting hot in the afternoons, and another swim proved very welcome. This time Carmen volunteered to comb my back-fur, and I could tell she was scenting me very carefully. Of course, my year knows each other’s scents down to the last detail by now. I suppose I could have hidden my changing scent had I made another discovery an hour earlier. The locals provided us with a lunch of local fruits of the season, mostly mangoes and breadfruit (“green” coconuts come in next month.) They also had for their own consumption something that sent my whiskers twitching – I think that happened to everyone, but most folk retreated upwind rather than begged a share as I found myself doing. A large, ripe Durian fruit would probably be declared contrary to the Hague Conventions on chemical warfare, but today my mouth watered at the first scent. It was absolutely ripe, with flesh as soft as custard inside, and a taste all of its own (Molly describes it as vegetable carrion, and insisted I wash my paws and muzzle for five straight minutes after I had finished.) All good things come to an end, and by sunset we were back on the Liki-Tiki getting everything extra-shipshape for tomorrow’s departure. There is a consolation for this part of the trip; not only are the film team on shore until we return, but we have their sixteen proper bunks to share between us – quite a treat for whoever gets lucky enough to have one! Sunday 20th April, 1936 Sea, sun, sails, sweat! We have paid for our shore leave with two days of hard labour in the open ocean, where the Captain and senior crew have been putting the Liki-Tiki through its paces and seeing what speed she can log. Molly has stopped calling the ship a “boat”, after her third spell of holystoning the deck. Sailors use all sorts of colourful language, but they object to their ocean-going ship being miscalled, claiming it brings bad luck. Thinking of which, I hope Adele Beasley is having a successful time finding a holiday job. I recall her saying she really gets little chance to meet people, as she is always coming out of our sick bay and having to catch up with her Songmark work. Something in the tourist industry might suit her, safe indoor work where she meets plenty of interesting gentlemen. We are better fed aboard than we were led to expect – in fact a lot of the hardships are not what we were led to believe. It is awfully hard work and the accommodation and plumbing are only what we can realistically hope for, but our galley does a very fine job of feeding thirty hungry crew. There are only two folk who complain – Madelene X (who always does) and Carmen (who was expecting biscuit with live wholemeal weevils although they are said to be rather bitter and an acquired taste.) Not surprisingly, given a part Spontoonie crew there is a lot of Poi on the menu – plus an alternative such as sweet potato much to Molly’s relief. I remember being amazed at hearing Missy K describe in the “pre-euro” times some of the bigger and stronger Hawaiians ate up to five pounds of Poi a day. Molly snorted, and pointed out everyone who did that before Captain Cooked surveyed the area is dead by now, so it cannot be that healthy. She was amazed to see me getting through about three pounds daily with obvious enjoyment, but then we are working awfully hard. All the work beforehand on the Hoele’toemi garden plot is paying off, as we are getting as sleek as racehorses with the hard work and sunshine. I could wish this was one of the Liki-Tiki trips where the crew had Native dress, as I have to wear my one silk slip under my itchy shirt now, and it is getting jolly hot on deck. Around noon we had a Sunday “church parade” as they call it in the Army, for any interested parties. I stayed away, as did Molly. Beryl attended, and practiced looking sweet and innocent throughout. When I queried her afterwards she put on a Confederate American drawl like Ada’s and declared with languid gestures “All mah life, ah hev depended upon the gullibility of strangers”. I think it is from some book of Ada’s which she borrowed. The Spontoonies had their own ceremony at sunset, which I did join in with. As it was entirely in the local language, Madelene X was persuaded that it was a folk-song session, though to Beryl’s disappointment we did not get her to sing along with the chorus. One of the Spontoonies did offer to compromise and recited the Lord’s Prayer in Pidgin English – but he got as far as “God, you our Fadda. You stay inside da sky…” when she howled for mercy. I suppose anyone brought up to finish with “Amen” might take issue with it translated as “Dass all”, but surely it is the thought that counts. So ends our first full week at sea! Tuesday 22nd April, 1936 After another two days of hard sailing we saw Albert Island reappear on the dawn horizon, and it was Beryl’s good luck to be the one in the crow’s nest shouting “Land Ho!” There are some advantages on being on her watch. She is not short of company, having the Ingoldsby twins to talk to – between the three of them, the chances are at least one a night will be given one of the private cabins with a bunk. The bunks are small, but so is she, and the otters are most remarkably agile young Spontoonies. Our Captain is a jolly steady sort, and as long as all the duties get done he has not yet invoked any of the severe traditional Naval punishments that Beryl says were used as inspirations at her old school. In fact, I have taken a peek at the chart of Albert Island – and either the charts are woefully inaccurate about the dangers of the coral reef, or he was pulling our tails pretty severely! In fact, although he did put one of the Meeting Island girls on the bowsprit as lookout again that might have been just for effect, as this time we sailed straight into the bay without having to tack once. There is certainly some coral at low tide, but the channel marked on the map is half a mile across, and without the film crew aboard there was no mention of readying the lifeboats. By mid-morning we had anchored and the third watch (with Ada and Carmen) had gone ashore with the Captain. There is always plenty of work to do on a sailing vessel, with ropes to be spliced and sails to be patched – even the ones stowed in the lockers have to be regularly taken out and aired against tropical mildew which can leave them looking intact but about as strong as blotting-paper. Still, we had a treat at lunchtime when two of the native canoes pulled up against us and a dozen folk climbed up to pass the time of day. The Liki-Tiki being an Inter-Island Tours boat and the island’s main tourist vessel, it was not surprising that half the senior crew had relatives ashore. I spotted what I thought was a fascinating local custom when one of the visiting felines, a rather pretty one, solemnly handed over two handfuls of what looked like ten-inch ship’s nails to a crewman relative, who bowed and vanished below with them although I could see he was trying hard not to laugh. I sought her out later on and quietly asked in my best Spontoonie about the custom, quickly adding that I was sorry if I was asking about one of their taboos. She actually did burst out laughing, and explained the whole thing as I scribbled down her accent as best as Lexarc shorthand can record; it was quite different from both Orpington and Spontoon speech. “Plenty trouble movie men! Big movie-chief, pay he plenty Cowry take picture, movie chief sons think make picture means own what picture show. All Wahini’i smile, Wahini’i give guests flower lei, no look twice movie-chief sons, no take to hut. Us call they “Injun squaw” we think be bad word in movies. They go talk-talk other movie men, hear Island tale Hawa’ii from Grandmother’s grandmother her days, of first tall ship crossed Great Ocean. No-good pups next day come they back, Cowry no good here, brother tell brother. Euro cowry no good say Grandmother’s grandmother, ask she for thunder-metal. Thunder-metal fine make needle, make spear for fish, cost Grandmother’s grandmother only take sailor-fellow go hut. “But movie-chief sons they no tall fine sailor-fellow, All Wahini say world no have enough cowry, enough thunder-metal take them mat! Think of Taboo fast; say no village take one, take then two brothers from off island, till one moon month she passes by. Brother he say bad word against brother and go, no brother want to be one he wait! Wahini’i think of new taboos if movie-chief sons come back.” Well, I can hardly say I am amazed. Actually, I passed the story around and my watch raised three cheers for the home team. Beryl grinned, and whispered she and the Ingoldsby twins could get Frank Sturdey’s cabin tonight. I refrained from even asking her any more about THAT. Actually, if the Sturdey Boys just knew it, they could have been perfectly well received here without raiding the carpenter’s chest. The natives are generally quite friendly if treated with any ordinary measure of respect – I could see the Meeting Island crew grinning and tails wagging as they talked the story over and discussed how spectacularly the visitors had “fouled their own propeller” as one nautical vole gentleman rather aptly put it. I expect Ada is having fun, as she found some sympathetic company ashore last time, as did Carmen who might be the first anteater some of these folk have met. They will have a lot to tell Prudence and Belle when they return, and can hardly complain too much about missing the filming. It is harder for them to find suitable company than it is for the rest of us – that dorm might make up a fifth of our number, but Songmark is hardly anyone’s idea of a standard population. We took the chance to resupply on fresh fish and fruits, after five days on ship’s rations. We do eat a lot of corned beef onboard (Molly mourns the lost chance to sell them PAMS) and “skilly and duff” is the galley cook’s culinary highlight, which is at least filling. An authentic Pirate ship would dine on Salmagundi, which is a stew of everything luxurious and edible found in a captured ship’s galley together with wine and spices – probably it would not include PAMS, as even Molly admits. There is little chance for privacy aboard, even with one watch of us ashore. Having bought a nice dripping ripe durian from the locals, I thought it better to eat it sitting in the ship’s dinghy towed six yards astern so as not to disturb anyone. I was surprised to see Molly jumping in and swimming over to me, though indeed she stayed on the upwind side of the boat. I suppose it must be rather a shock to Molly, watching me take a liking to Poi and durians, and inviting Ada to groom me (which was all she did, my tastes have only changed as to food.) She is just as worried as Helen about what our Tutors will say about it. Something she pointed out that I had not thought of, was that Miss Devinski keeps the picture of the dorm that are now wanted Air Pirates on her wall, and it might not be as I thought it was, kept on show as an awful warning. I’m not sure about Molly’s idea that Letitia Fosbury-Smythe’s dorm are successful examples of Songmark training put to good use, with just a few unfashionable details that fussy folk would quibble about. Molly is a little prejudiced against Law and Order but that is hardly her fault, just a matter of her upbringing. But I can see her point, that they might even prefer that ide to me finishing up hoeing a taro patch in between scraping for low-paid second pilot positions without full qualifications. I will find out quite soon enough, and till then try to make the most of this trip. Wednesday 23rd April, 1936 Another day’s hard sailing, with the cameras rolling onshore and us glad to be onboard. The day started with one of the (frequent) lively debates about the filming schedule – Mr. Stanton Sturdey the Second demanded we sail into the bay stage left, or on a south-west heading. Our Captain blew out a streamer of smoke from his pipe, and quietly pointed out the wind was steady at exactly the wrong quarter, and even with its handier schooner rig the Liki-Tiki could not do it today. Major argument followed, but the laws of Nature won (she is bigger and more experienced than Mr. Sturdey and cares nothing for scriptwriters.)  Just one more day of sailing around the island, and then we head home to Spontoon! We had some close-in shots done yesterday of hauling sails, where we were authentically bare-pawed. The cameraman asked us not to look as if it was too hard – as the film’s stars will be the ones straining heroically against the wheel et cetera and we are just extras. I suppose it could have been worse, in the Little Shirley Shrine film “Good Ship Sherbet-Dip” there is a comic keel-hauling scene where the entire cast had to haul, sing and grin at the same time. After our exertions we at least had a suitably nautical treat, a generous issue of hot grog made with lime-juice. Molly was most impressed, calling the rum “The real McCoy” though that sounds more like a whisky to me. Her ears drooped at the thought of Prohibition being over in her homeland, with so many profitable business opportunities now closed. The senior crew are arranging a fine party on Casino Island when we return on Saturday, and indeed we are looking forward to it. After that – well, it will be time to give Miss Devinski some news, and to work out what I will say when I write home. We anchored in the bay again and welcomed two boatloads of locals aboard. Just because we are wearing Euro costume for filming does not mean we have to do without flower leis and the like when the cameras are not watching. Ada and Carmen vanished and reappeared in native costume, pointing out to a seething Madelene X that a big enough flower lei provides quite as much coverage as a bathing costume top. I followed suit, and indeed a cool wreath of flowers is very much nicer than cotton duck when working in this weather. The Sturdey boys have been causing more diplomatic incidents ashore, to nobody’s surprise – one of this year’s movie hits was “Treasure Archipelago” and they have been digging large holes around the island in search of ill-gotten gold. Of course, anything found on islands full of savages rightfully belongs to whatever Euro lays paws on it, according to all the films. Apart from being successfully diverted to dig the rocks out of Mama Potuvu’hi’s taro patch, they have left some of the village gardens looking a bit like Flanders in 1918, and this morning managed to put their pick through the new water pipe feeding the village washing hut. As everyone knows (in movies) the Natives hurriedly bury their treasure at the sight of explorers, and all one has to do is to look for disturbed ground and dig it up. They have probably been following the real-life and controversial exploits of “Kansas” Smith, that rather swashbuckling archaeologist who thinks careful excavation with brushes and trowels is far too slow. The rumours have it she invests her expedition profits in Nobel Dynamite Company shares, and at any rate must get bulk discounts as a major customer. Beryl was asking keenly about the local Taboo on cannibalism of visitors, but it seems this is one they take seriously however provoked. She seemed most disappointed, as it takes a lot to impress a graduate of Saint T’s, and she is always interested in the more extreme local customs. The locals do not eat strangers – but after some thought they agreed in certain cases they would not mind if someone else did. It is a good thing Beryl is a mouse, not a tigress, is all I can say. I left her writing down cookery tips and recipes that do not feature on any restaurant menus (I hope.) One reason for the ship’s watches being different lengths is that we gradually rotate around the clock – if they were all eight hours long rather than two nines and a six, whoever started off doing the midnight shift would be stuck with it. We are on tonight’s night watch, which should be relaxing – Molly is teaching some of the Spontoonies the delights of Detroit straight flush poker, and the forecastle cabin is a handy place for those not actually on deck watch to relax while staying handy for emergencies. It looks like it should be a peaceful shift – then off to Spontoon tomorrow on the tide! next |