Spontoon Island
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Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
10 October, 1936 to 16 October, 1936


Monday October 10th, 1936

A busy morning indeed. We are preparing to fly the Junkers 86; the aircraft was flying all morning with Miss Windlesham at the controls as she took us up a dorm at a time for a half hour circuit of Main Island. There is a co-pilot's seat and just enough room behind for three people to crane their necks enough to watch the control panel, so we all managed to gain some experience if not exactly paws-on. The dorms who were not flying acted as ground crew, checking the aircraft as thoroughly as if it had come in from a mission over the Front (whichever front that might be) and might have unsuspected holes in critical places. Fortunately there were none.

We had one piece of good or possibly bad luck; when my dorm were asking permission to land we were told to make another circuit of Eastern Island, as another flying school were taking off. So! The Spanish school have taken to the air; we had watched them opening crates and assembling their machines in the hangar across the runway for the past few weeks. Still, we got to see them in flight. Given the circumstances that made them leave Spain, most of Father Dominicus' first years are not "First years" at all strictly speaking, but were senior years at Barcelona who have gritted their teeth and started from scratch here.

To celebrate our first flights, at lunchtime we were allowed to visit Song Sodas, where our Tutors bought us a Nootnops Red apiece, a rare treat. There are tables outside that we used, though it is getting rather late in the year. Most of us had our field-glasses, and we eagerly watched our new rivals at work.

There are always hazards to sitting outside, though. Miss Windlesham had just handed us out our glasses when there was a raucous screech from above and something landed in Adele's glass with accuracy that bomb aimers could only dream of. Pesky seagulls. Poor Adele! With nearly thirty glasses on the table, her usual luck struck again. The gull sounded exceedingly pleased with himself, and sat on the roof of Song Sodas flapping his wings in amusement while we all wished for our self-defence weapons and a good supply of Number Six gage shot cartridges.

This time round, at least the rest of her dorm shared their own drinks with her, something Missy K or Beryl would never have done (Beryl would sell water to travellers perishing in the desert for "all the market will bear.") Susan de Ruiz had her notebook out again, scribbling calculations. For some reason, she then came over and asked Molly where she could find a large number of honest dice. I assume Beryl would have known best of all, but would probably have on principle provided a set that are only honest "to a certain value of honesty".

The afternoon was spent between swimming exercises and piloting the Sea Osprey, which is obviously a good trainer for the Junkers in as far as it has twin engines. I got another good look at our rivals' aircraft, a flight of eight sleek French Dewoitine biplanes which have only just left squadron service, and would be front-line fighters still across most of the world. I think our Tiger Moths are much better and safer primary trainers, but the Spanish school was known for accepting a certain accident rate and its replacement seems to have followed on the traditions. Still, I would love to take a flight in one.

A fine meal followed, with plenty of fish stew and baked imported potatoes. Who would have thought plain potatoes would be thought of exotic here? We certainly see few enough of them. They will grow in the Spontoonie climate but with the warm dampness they are very prone to all sorts of disease, as some of the original Plantations found out and went bankrupt. There are several villages partly of Irish descent on Main Island, who one would have thought would have learned about the risks of potato monoculture before they left home.

Our Ulster girl Maureen was the only one who did not seem to be delighted. Then, she has probably had them several times at home.

It was a good thing we had a filling tea, as I had early gate duty and one gets rather peckish around midnight. Just my luck to be on with Madeleine X, who grumbled throughout the night about being saddled with an albatross round her neck. Which is rather an odd description of Adele, who looks pure-bred lop rabbit to me. At least Adele's luck is not contagious; in fact Beryl has tried to get her to go with her to the Casino, probably on the assumption that all the misfortune in the neighbourhood will head towards the bunny-shaped misfortune magnet.

Although Songmark is off the main road leading to the airfield, there is some local traffic to the various houses mostly staffed by airfield support folk. Walking along inside the wire, I noticed a Spontoonie canine couple kissing goodnight, which was nothing exceptional. What surprised me was a rather wistful whine from beside me. It was the female of those three rather odd guard dogs, standing on her hind legs with her forepaws braced against the wire, looking out at the scene. To judge from her expression and her tail angle, one might almost think moonlight and roses had more appeal than kennels and dog biscuits. When she noticed me looking at her she dropped down to all fours again and trotted off in something of a sulk.

All in all, it was a rather wearing evening by the time I roused Maria and Helen. To be accurate, I roused Helen and she helped me rouse Maria. It is just as well that the Songmark beds are not deep and luxurious, but as adequate for a very tired girl as the food is for a hungry one. Getting her started in the middle of the night is like trying to turn over a Schneider Trophy engine with the starting handle of a family motor-car - not impossible, but awfully hard work.


Wednesday 12th October, 1936

A very busy two days, but well worthwhile - today I flew the Junkers! The aircraft has dual side-by-side controls but Miss Windlesham had hers disconnected (but with one paw never far from the master reconnect switch in case of emergency.) I was the last of my dorm to fly, and with the exception of one small bounce on takeoff, managed two circuits of Eastern Island without trouble. Typically, our dear tutors always plan for safety; the first instruction was to climb to five thousand feet before trying anything else, which gave us plenty of room for gliding back to the runway. I have heard that the aircraft first landed on Spontoon in a dead-stick landing, and having seen how well it does (not) glide, our Tutors do not want to risk repeating the experience without plenty of spare altitude.

I suppose that with a Tiger Moth, if the worst comes to the worst we could put it down on one of the beaches and have it dismantled and taken back to Songmark by ship. In fact, the story is that one of the first ever Songmark class actually did that, and still managed to pass the course. Landing an aircraft this big on a beach intact would be a miracle; it is too heavy and would be sure to sink the undercarriage in and flip up onto the nose like that first Tarrant Tabor prototype did on the runway.

Anyway, all went very smoothly and I managed a good 3-point landing. Miss Windlesham was quite pleased, and commented that she had been in aircraft landings that would break a cargo of coconuts, but mine would have safely have landed eggs. Quite a relief!

We assembled for a fine celebratory meal of bacon and eggs, which is a rare treat at Songmark. Traditionally it would be part of a "flight breakfast" but with only one aircraft to share between my whole year it made more sense to have the meal after we had all finished. The other way round would have me eating the flight breakfast the day before the flight, which is not quite the point. I spotted someone was missing from the table; I had seen Adele qualify on Tuesday as one of the first to fly, but there was no sign of her. I asked Susan de Ruiz who told me a rather strange tale. It seems Adele was on this morning gate guard, and was just feeding the guard hounds before our breakfast when the island's animal vet turned up for their regular check-up. He had a long talk with Adele afterwards and then another with Miss Cardroy at the gate, before Adele left with him heading towards Casino Island, and we have not seen her since. Very strange.

We could see every snout twitching in the junior years' areas, as they scented the meal they would not be getting for a year or two. It is something for them to look forward to. One feels rather sorry for Ada, though she had a double ration of eggs. If there is one scent guaranteed to persuade a vegetarian to turn omnivorous it is frying bacon, and both Molly and Maria tucked in very happily. Maria has told us that most poor Italian bovines would be unable to eat this meal; having been brought up without meat, a vegetarian type simply could not stomach it.

Madeleine X dropped in the snide remark that Maria's Uncle is hardly going to be changing that trend; it was a French ruler who declared his ambition of "a chicken in every pot" and Il Puce's policy of guns before butter is not helping matters on the home front. At least we had the good sense to settle fertile areas such as Canada and New Zealand; the only "broad, fertile acres" Il Puce has added to the benefit of his New Roman Empire are in the Sahara or Ethiopia - not somewhere that is going to be providing the victors with much edible reward.

Happily, Maria has learned to control her temper in the past two years. Otherwise, there would not be a chicken in a French pot but probably a cooking pot rammed over the ears of a French canine girl. Madeleine has NOT improved noticeably since we met her; she is the type who gives canine females a bad name.


Thursday 13th October, 1936

Our logbooks are certainly filling up; this morning I notched up another half hour in the Junkers! It is not as manoeuvrable as the Tiger Moth of course and needs to be gently led through manoeuvres rather than thrown into them, but is marvellously fast. It is the first time I have ever exceeded two hundred and fifty knots in level flight.

Certainly, there are more monoplanes and fewer biplanes around on Spontoon every year. Pan-Nimitz Airways have upgraded their landplane fleet to brand new DC-2s, which are very sleek and a great advertisement for the company. It is quite awhile since we saw a passenger biplane on floats; in fact it was probably that converted Handley-Page Clive that took me to the Albanian South Indies and back. That one was out again the day after I brought it back to Spontoon; a commercial aircraft cannot afford to sit idle however old it may be.

Adele is back; she mentions she has been to the hospital again but otherwise keeps her snout firmly shut. Very mysterious.


Friday 14th October, 1936

It looks as if the Summer season is definitely over; today our flying was cancelled as almost typhoon-level winds lashed across the island. There were palm fronds torn off and tumbling along the street, and we were all called out to help the airport staff lash down parked aircraft.

It is a good thing folk have radios these days; scheduled flights into Spontoon were cancelled, and anyone awaiting a connection at Hawaii will have to make do with the local version of hula and beach-parties awhile longer. Any aircraft too far out to turn back would be in real trouble, as the wind is blowing from the North and Eastern Island's runway is at ninety degrees to it, giving a Force Nine side wind. At least when that giant Russian bomber arrived in the similar storm in our first term it could land upwind.

We took the time to look through the latest consignment of aviation magazines. Certainly the world is moving on while we are out on Spontoon; there was an article on new airfields being built, or rather dug, in England. Having London served by Croydon on the Southern edge of the suburbs is less satisfactory every year as the houses encroach on it. Landplanes are never too safe to land without a runway, as we found out while being briefed on the Junkers; it seems the new "runways" are being constructed from abandoned gravel pits near Gatwick and some little village called Heathrow that will have a mile and a half of sheltered water to land a flying boat on. Paris already has its main airport on the Seine and Eva Schiller has much to praise about the new Berlin-Wannsee seaplane docks on Lake Havel.

One airport customer who was pictured in the magazines as well as live in the departure lounge was the famous Lady Pamela Fenwick, that fine and famous British aviatrix! She has always been something of a heroine of mine, though her temper as she found out all departures were cancelled was rather fiery. She thwacked her boot with her riding crop and marched out in rather a huff, with her entourage trailing like tenders and oilers after a battleship. We have followed her progress eagerly (at least I have) in the Daily Elele and the Island Birdwatcher all Summer, but it is the first time I have seen her close to.

 Helen was asking me about how fully pedigree gentry get along socially. What she really meant was how someone could be in our aristocracy and have a very definite strain of North African fox in the family. I explained about pedigrees, which is something Helen's family never took much store by (though she could have one if she had the paperwork; her family are all tigers as far as she ever heard.) Technically speaking, a Prince or Princess from Britain could marry into the royal families of Japan or Thailand despite their being different species stock. None have actually done so yet, but the century is still fairly young. The Japanese royalty have about the longest documented pedigree in the world, even if one takes their full claim to be descendants of the Sun-God with a pinch of salt. Not a safe thing to do around our second-year friend Rumiko.

Beryl butted in with one of her usual stories, having observed a pretty vixen in a respectable maid's outfit in the departing retinue. If you believe Beryl, Lady Pamela keeps a personal maid who acts as an extremely personal secretary - in that any gentleman wanting an "appointment" must convince her that he is worthy of her employer's time. Of course Beryl would say things like that, and historically the idea is not actually unknown. From everything I have read and seen of Lady Pamela, she can make up her own mind exceedingly well without needing anyone's advice.

The wind slackened somewhat in the afternoon but the rain if anything got worse. We spent a dull afternoon in the hangars on routine airframe maintenance; just because we are third-years and get the occasional treat our Tutors do not let us forget the basics.

(Later) Molly and I were back in our oilskins after tea for the blustery hike out to Song Sodas. I had rarely seen the place look so empty, but it is scarcely the weather for lemonade and ice-creams, and nobody will be out getting their fur soaked tonight unless they have to.

As before, Miss Blande and Mr. Sabass were awaiting us in one of the small rooms. It looks as if Song Sodas was designed first as a nest of small store rooms and cubby-hole offices and then extensively re-modelled. This time I went first, while Molly picked at a mint and alfalfa ice. She seemed rather more affected by last week's encounter than I was.

Mr. Sabass pulled his notes out and explained that he had first looked for mental blocks and active commands, like the ones stage hypnotists give to subjects to make them (say) believe their chair is uncomfortably hot a minute after they resume their seats. Those are apparently easiest to spot, but neither me nor Molly actually had any "in play." He then explained that he would be looking deeper today for long-term blanks and blocks, and that would take rather longer.

Again, the evening rather blurred, like going in and out of a daydream, until I definitely heard Mr. Sabass click his finger-claws and I saw the clock had moved on an hour. He frowned and shuffled a sheaf of notes, and for Miss Blande's benefit as well as mine he gave me a summary.

Rather oddly, he said that although I had been mildly hypnotised in the past, there were no active compulsions and any blocks that had been there had never been enforced, and had been allowed to fade past the point he could read them. On the other paw, there was something else that he did not recognise as hypnosis, which seemed more recent. In the next sessions, he intends to try and find out what and at least proof me from anyone else ever hypnotising me. This could be handy. I wonder if I was accidentally put under the influence watching the Barx Brothers filming? They are certainly a mesmerising performance.

I called Molly in as requested, then relaxed waiting for her and read the back issues of the Daily Elele as I slowly got through a hot chocolate with extra cream and the rain hammered on the windows outside. Definitely not an evening for ices.

Thinking of food, when we got back Helen was rather worrying about Red Dorm and
their year being in charge of our food next week; later than our timetable a year ago, the second-years have been given our food budget and will be putting the meals on our table. I pointed out that they may be feeding us but we are marking them - and if anyone slips in what the Spontoonie language calls "bowel-fruit" into our stew, we have some suspects ready to paw. That was the gourd Prudence and co. found on our first survival class on Main Island, and they at least will not have forgotten the taste.


Saturday, 15th October 1936

A busy day, with my dorm starting early and getting in practice for our new dance. We are not quite ready to launch it in public, but all the moves are starting to come together quite nicely. Helen says we will need reinforced leis to dance this one in, as the standard flower braids would not hold up under the strain.

Happily both Jasbir's dorm and mine are free from guard duty, so by ten we were out on Casino Island again with our dance costumes in our packs. This time we have official supporters, the first-years Eva, Svetlana and Meera are very interested about joining the dance classes and have their papers (and our Tutors' permissions) already filled in.

On the way, Eva asked if she could take a look at the giant compost machine that Professor Kurt von Mecklenburg und Soweiter has generating three hundred kilowatts for the Casino Island grid on a warm day. We could spare ten minutes so had the engineers give her a quick tour. The Professor is off on Main Island busy with the plans for a full-scale installation that makes this look like a teapot; what he really wants would involve a pipeline for deep, cold ocean water to cool the condensers. Collecting five tons of "bio waste" a day on Casino Island is not impossible, but his new installation wants to eat twenty and that will mean direct access to Main Island and the plantations there with their crop wastes. I expect the Althing will be happier with that; the Casino Island plant is actually importing choice wastes from the fish cannery, and though there have been no significant spills as yet it is a risk best avoided. Having many gallons of boiling ether ready to leak at the first accident (or sabotage; I never did hear anything about that investigation) is something else better done in the far corner of a plantation field.

Eva is quite an engineer for her age; we had to drag her away while she was still debating with the plant manager about using Stirling Engines or Tesla Turbines to replace the converted ex-marine steam axial that the pilot plant is using. I think she will fit in quite happily at Songmark. Though she has various decorations from the League of German Maidens, there is not one for Ruthless Efficiency, or so she tells us. Her other suggestion was to use petroleum rather than ether in the turbine, which is certainly cheaper and no more explosive, plus one whiff of it leaking will not knock out anyone trying to fix the leak.

The first-years went off with one of the teachers to start learning the basics, and we took the chance to challenge the S.I.T.H.S. to a public contest in two weeks time. Everyone seems keen on a showdown with the press present; it is heading into the off-season and without the antics of the tourists there is less local news than folk have become accustomed to.

Our own dance was what one might call a "holding action"; we dropped no hints we had anything special up our sleeves, and with the S.I.T.H.S.' new style they would walk right over what we danced today. They still might, and we just hope they have no new surprises for us. As we finished our piece we could already hear their supporters rehearsing authentic Polynesian victory chants; Maria whispered that they had better check their books for some authentic Defeat Chants for when we have our next showdown.

One surprise was another of the first-years turning up on her own, that Nancy Rote girl. First-years are not supposed to go about alone on Casino Island (she could have come along with us perfectly legally from Songmark had she wanted to) and I was honour bound to report her to our Tutors when we got back. Miss Nordlingen slapped a week's kitchen duty on the silly squirrel; we may not have too many rules here but we have to keep the ones we agreed to.

As with every year tutor, Miss N will have her paws full - it is too soon to say so far exactly who will be causing trouble and how, but given the mix of rather radical students there will surely be as many as my year or Saffina's. It has been four years since Miss N had a year to personally look after - Miss Windlesham has this year off as administrator, having tutored the class with Zara in. I can imagine she is feeling rather down about having been the tutor of the first year to fail a student.

We have heard about some of the stranger first-years; one shrew hails from Cranium Island, of all places. I hope folk never leave her in the engineering labs unguarded. And there is a Spanish canine who has come via Rain Island; I had to ask Maria on details of what "Bakuninite Anarchists" do. She told me in great detail, and explained why her Uncle maintains a shoot-onsight policy.

(Later) Molly returned from the downstairs office waving two envelopes, addressed to us. They had Spontoon local postmarks, and for a second I wondered if Mr. Sapohatan had wanted to see us. On the other paw, he is hardly likely to write to Molly and not Helen.

Our Tutors are going to be going round with their tails fluffed out when we tell them about this. They never did like us attending Madame Maxine's, and we have been offered six evening's lessons and treatments. It is still a mystery as to who is paying for this if our Tutors are not - I assumed Mr. Sapohatan has a paw in it. Molly says Lars would tell her if he wassponsoring us that way. Anyway, she has been of great service to him with a Tommy-gun and bandoliers of ammunition, not the dyed fur and party shoes that Madame Maxine gets us accustomed to wearing.

There is no time like the present; spotting Miss Devinski down in the middle of the compound I grabbed Molly and we decided to brazen it out and ask her to her snout. After all, they did let us go last time, and an Adventuress does not spend all her time in muddy boots and safari jackets (except possibly Kansas Smith, who is no good example.) Even the famed Laura Shieling wore a respectable society dress when required, which was handy to conceal all the tools and munitions.

Oh dear. If Miss Devinski was a feline her claws would have popped out and her tail bottling out like a sweep's brush as soon as I respectfully informed her of our good luck. As it was, her muzzle wrinkled and her ears went right back - she snapped that we were obviously keen on undoing all the good work they had been trying to do for us. I wonder what she means? Madame Maxine is perfectly respectable, and very useful too - I have her to thank for giving me a second face as Kim-Anh Soosay, without whom I would probably not have got my pilot's license.

Anyway, she looked me straight in the eyes and asked if I thought this was really a good idea, and if it is right for us. I recalled that fine party before the start of term when I had dressed in yet a third fur pattern and managed to keep both Kim-Anh's and my own reputation unstained despite everything. When I said I thought it would be very useful, our dear Tutor threw her hands up in frustration and told us to go right ahead, provided it was in our own free time.

All rather odd, really.


Sunday October 16th, 1936

A rare event today - we strolled into Haio Beach as ever, but Saimmi is not to be found. The rest of the family assure us she is doing something that only she can do, now. No doubt we will hear about it next week. Still, she has left us homework to be getting on with - we tended one f the shrines off in the jungle, in fact the very one I recall sheltering Helen and me from the rain nearly two years ago, in our first Songmark holiday.

It was a great pity, as Eva Schiller had asked to come along and I will definitely have to ask Saimmi about that. Considering what her Uncle does in the religious artefact collections business, bringing Eva to the local shrines might be like inviting a wild fox to critique one's hen houses.

Moeli was there and we had a busy time helping the household preparing luncheon for twelve. Mrs Hoele'toemi had a great feast of those strange bunches of parsnip-like tubers they call Chinese Keys, that are said to have such an effect. They are very tasty anyway. It was rather a good excuse to retire with Jirry to the guest long-house later and see if it actually made a difference - unlike most scientific enquiries I can say that though results were hardly conclusive (as far as the Chinese Keys go) , they were highly satisfactory.

One thing I can certainly vouch for - a raw tamarind is an excellent styptic on over-enthusiastically bitten ears and scruffs of necks. My fur seems to positively like the exercise; it has changed rather conspicuously there in the past two years, and is growing very luxuriantly.

Moeli says that I can expect my fur to change quite a bit in these islands, becoming more like that of our wild ancestors as I expose more of it to sun and air. I am not quite sure about this idea, but the process seems to have started and certainly I have had no complaints so far. Her own figure is definitely starting to alter if one looks carefully.

The only thing that had my ears drooping was that Jirry is all packed to leave again - by Tuesday morning he and his father will be sailing on the tide, to pick up various industrial supplies. There are only guesses as to when they will return - it may be weeks. When one carries tonnes of steel around the Pacific, shipping by air is hardly an option and they may trans-ship and go by roundabout routes to disguise their destination.

A fond farewell, then back to Songmark! When we arrived at our rooms Molly's ears went right up in enthusiasm at the sound of rolling dice. Unfortunately for her the dorm was not doubling as a Casino; it was Susan de Ruiz playing dice with Adele, who seemed to be losing severely while Susan noted the scores with a puzzled expression. I know Beryl has had the idea of bankrolling Adele to play next to her at a Casino and attract all the bad luck away from Beryl's own play, but if one mentions Casinos to our lepine friend she almost jumps a yard in the air.

That is not the only thing to have the effect, it seems. Helen was mentioning Moeli's good news that there should be an unexpected new arrival in the family, when Adele's whiskers drooped and she rapidly excused herself and left. She certainly has a lot on her mind.

Maria arrived just as the gates were closing, with a rather strange expression on her face. It is the one we generally see on Prudence after she has had a fine day out with her friends in the swimming club, or on Molly after a religious experience sacrificing a hundred rounds on the firing range. Helen just looked at her and grinned, and asked if she had met anyone interesting.

It is rather uncommon to see Maria embarrassed. She admitted that she ran into that sailor bull we have seen before, generally in what would look like rather unequal combat with the gnarled and skinny pipe-smoking captain who tends to win. This time the fellow, Plutarch or some similar name, was more at leisure and on shore leave to be exact. He seems to have rather odd table manners if Maria's description of him crushing walnuts in one hand was accurate - but I believed that she made an impression on him by showing she can crush a coconut between her knees (her party trick.)

Of course, we know Maria's problem. She is the local poster-child for her Uncle's Empire, and can no more go about dating sailors (however bull-necked and impressive) than an Italian Ambassador could. At least, when there's anybody watching.



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