Spontoon Island
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Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
10 February, 1937 to 12 February, 1937



Wednesday February 10th, 1937

Dear Diary; on Spontoon tourists often marvel at how green the islands are and wonder how it stays that way - until a summer storm drops an inch of rain on them the next morning when they are half-way across South Island and half an hour from shelter. It was about that wet today, and our plans for another exploration of Macao were put on hold.

    For once I was not a bit tempted to head out into town looking around; every roof was streaming like a waterfall, and I hardly like to think what is like in the shanties. It will at least help the place get cleaner, as Maria pointed out. In this climate, one is not going to freeze to death even if soaked to the fur, which is one consolation. Trench paw is another matter. Molly and Helen have told me about other shantytowns or “Hoovervilles” as they were called, where the risk of freezing was bad enough in Winter but the only alternative was keeping rubbish fires lit all the time and risking sending the whole place up in flames. Which sometimes happened anyway. If only all houses were made from modern safe, hygienic asbestos sheeting! It is certainly the material of the future, being fireproof, rot-proof and as easily sawn and sanded down as wood.

    Room service saved the day again, with a fascinating collection of Chinese steamed buns and dumplings filled with meat and fish for us but not our local staff. Remembering last time, I had a big side dish of rice and beans brought up to share with our maids - hardly luxurious, but if they are actual vegetarians like Lin and Lao, a plain and cheap diet is about all there is available. It is hard to imagine a luxurious vegetable dish, really (though Kahavarti eats fish of course, being a duck).

    I asked them what they had heard about me, which would probably not have got much honest response until I finally owned up that I am not the same Lady Allworthy they had expected. That rather opened the floodgates; some of the other girls had been here a year ago when Lady Susan last came through and the downstairs opinion of her had not been a happy one.
 
    Oh my. I had assumed that having run the Lavender House down on The Beach at Krupmark, Lady Susan would have called for girls with … compatible interests. In fact she wanted the opposite - rather like what I have heard Molly describe about her experiences with Captain Granite. Lady Susan it seems took most delight in such things; it seems the priests who accompanied the Conquistadors are not the only ones who enjoyed making forced converts. No wonder our maids they were so apprehensive about me - the new manager had asked who had experience on those lines, and they tried to avoid being picked by denying it, even though Lin and Lao shyly admitted they would normally have put their paws up. Hence it was a double shock to discover being assigned to me anyway! Not what they expected, but Lady Susan’s was hardly a usual pastime. Having heard what she was like, anyone would try to avoid that duty.

    Molly’s ears were right down at all this, and not surprising. In Spontoonie she whispered that they had been asking her all sorts of things about me; I seem to have made a good impression as nobody else really treats them any different to the towels and furniture. Of course they would be more likely to confide in Molly, who wears almost the same uniform. Molly gritted her teeth and said they had been discussing me and seemed a lot less apprehensive now even had I proved to have Captain Granite’s tastes. I suppose it is flattering, though possibly Belle or Carmen should have been here after all. I always thought such was a particularly rare taste, as in one girl in several hundred, and hardly believe Prudence’s claim of one in ten. Nobody ever said Songmark’s selection was a typical sample! There is nothing in the Songmark course about encouraging wishful thinking.

    Poor Molly! We will be leaving her here all day with Lin and Lao, who have suddenly become far less welcome company in her eyes. Of course if they make her any suggestive offers she could leave them pretty much tied into knots and hanging by their tails from the flagpole, but we have tried to cure her of such overreactions. At least if I keep them in my room they will not be with her in the servants’ quarters.

    In mid-afternoon we received a reply telegram from Songmark, just a brief “received request; investigating” signed by Miss Devinski. So; although I hardly expect anyone can air-freight me a working system and manuals in time to win the bidding here, I just might have something to eventually contribute to the Allworthy estates. There is the troublesome issue of how one pays a Mad Scientist; presumably not with money and I seem to be all out of radium and such things she would presumably want in kind. Macao and Hong Kong probably sell anything, but going in quest of exotic materials such as Allotropic Iron would be a mission in its own right. There is said to be about ten ounces of it in the known world, though Cranium Island probably has it in bucketfuls.

    Tonight it was not Herr Kramm who called for us at the hotel but the Sumatran Rhino, who offered his card as Kwishahei Chanaranaputran. This time Maria and Helen could join me, it not being an official function but an informal one with the various bidders and their associates. Helen made a point of checking her knuckleduster was ready in her pocket; really she is taking her Guide and protector role most seriously.

    Actually, we only went about six streets before stopping at another of the finer hotels overlooking the harbour. By the sound of it the party was in full swing, and this time round there were canapés and champagne enough for Helen and Maria both. None of the Direwolf’s crew that I had seen before were here, but Lars was along with the various furs I had seen bidding.
 
    There was quite a selection of “Euros” in fact, some of them from surprising places. A jovial Jellicle cat turned out to be a Mr. Czanek from Czechoslovakia, acting as an agent for the Skoda works. He had a lot of fascinating tales to tell; the Czechs are famously led by the stout and beer-loving badger Mr. Hasek, whose “Society for peaceful and moderate Progress within the bounds of the law” has done so much for his nation in the last twenty years. He is ably assisted by Field-Marshal Schweik, a fur who is said to have blundered into the job quite by accident but proved tactically unbeatable. Actually there is a lot of debate about Field-Marshal Schweik, some folk say he has an IQ of twenty and others claim it is well over ten times that. Certainly he came up with some utterly baffling tactics that happened to work - and as Helen often says, “If it looks stupid and works, it ain’t stupid.” Many of his opponents are taking long vacations in hotels specialising in cosily padded walls, having tried to match wits with him.

    It is a pity Molly was the only one of us missing, as she would have liked the discussions far more than we did. One Eastern European muskrat gentleman claimed to have reproduced and updated something Molly had told me about, the Royal Flying Corps’ “Sweeper” bomb but adapted against shipping.* Which just goes to show, it only takes an idea and an industrial area to bring out all sorts of unpleasant surprises for the world. The Allworthy business is not the only one that needs work; while we were enjoying the mock turtle soup he mournfully added that back in his homeland the best on the menu was mock turnip. He was sympathised by the representative of the famous Baltimore Gun Club, who was a refugee from New Haven and claims the only meat served there is a sort of pork hash called “scrapple”, and eating that is compulsory.

    One of the reasons there is so much interest “in the trade” about the Direwolf, is it actually buys radical inventions from radical inventors. What I have heard about the usual procurement process is Navies know exactly what they want and put out specifications for their usual suppliers to fill; the Royal Navy has long-term contracts with White’s and Vickers, and are not too interested in eager young inventors turning up at the Admiralty with brave new ideas that look good on paper. The Direwolf, on the other paw, has little alternative as these days the world’s conventional shipping yards are filling up with orders.

    I managed to make a contribution at least; in one of the side rooms Lars introduced me to several “interested parties”, who were fiercely bidding for a contract and needed someone neutral. He was not bidding himself, but he had brought everyone together to discuss the goods.
 
    All I had to do was act as the auctioneer, taking bids - everyone seemed very intent on me as they put more and money forwards. The rhino and the jaguar were bidding, as was a very colourful mandrill gentleman who is presumably impatient for colour passport photography to do him justice. But the winner was a smallish equine gentleman in traditional robes, from Zanzibar. Certainly one sees the most exotic furs around here! I announced he had won the bid, which he seemed extremely pleased about. Being an auctioneer is an easy job, especially when one is not personally involved with the goods.

    Back in the main room the rest of the party was very lively, many of the bidders having brought along their own staff. Lars introduced the winning bidder as Hassan M’wede, who was announced as a dealer in “general goods” which probably means anything that happens to make a profit that week. I thought at first he was a plain donkey, but actually I think he is rather more exotic and an Onager gentleman, one of the wild desert breed. He was accompanied by two tall, graceful thoroughbred mares of slightly downcast expressions and slightly Russian accents. Possibly they are some of the White Russians who either never got to Vostok or disliked the place when they did arrive.
 
    I noted Lars was talking with a rather wide-eyed Siamese girl, certainly a purebred by her eyes and snout shape - and later on I bumped into her in the powder room while she was applying her perfume. There was a definite haze of it in the air, and though it had no very pronounced aroma I found my snout and tongue starting to tingle. I did ask her the brand, but she just winked at me and sauntered out rather saucily with her tail swinging.

    The band was striking up a fine swinging tune by the time I finished, and after all the strain of business I found myself quite in the mood for dancing. Lars was the one who arranged all this, and the Allworthy yards will have a lot to thank him for if I win them any of the bids - so I grabbed him and we took a strenuous five minutes on the dance floor. He is a wonderful dancer in Euro as well as Spontoonie style, and has a scent greatly improved by exercise.
 
    I did notice him looking me over rather thoroughly, his nose twitching. At the end of the dance he did the least likely thing imaginable - handed me over to Helen and suggested she take me back to the hotel immediately. My hotel that is, not his. He whispered something in her ear that had her whiskers twitching; a few seconds later she sniffed me decorously and called Maria over.

    Well! As Lady Allworthy I was just about to tell my “impudent staff” to take a long walk off a short pier, as I had just started enjoying myself for the evening. But Helen has never let me down yet, and with what good grace I could muster I announced I was retiring for the evening. It was gratifying to see a lot of disappointed faces in the crowd.

    When we got outside, Helen hissed that I was absolutely full of catnip - I was half way through denying it when I remembered the fog of perfume the Siamese girl had been sitting in earlier, and her rather wide-eyed expression. It must have been the triply distilled sort I rather well remember using last time I was on Krupmark to make various things easier; there had been too little to scent as it was extremely expensive, but perhaps in Macao they have factories to refine the stuff. I still wanted to get back and dance, and argued it would be perfectly safe now they had spotted the danger, but Helen and Maria were having none of it.
 
    Back to the hotel, then! By the time I had got upstairs Maria had beaten me to it and ordered me a long, cold bath and a big pot of hot, bitter tea preparing. Not that I think it works with catnip rather than champagne, but I could see the idea. After that I was left quite severely on my own to sleep it off - Molly chased the maids out of my room, saying they can sleep on the floor for a change. I think she believed they might find me in a receptive mood, and she absolutely hates that idea. She need not have worried - it is rather like that “Honorary Polar Bear Club” of extremely brave furs who go swimming every New Year’s Day in the icy waters of the Serpentine Lake in London’s Hyde Park. I may know the idea, but seeing more of it done is certainly not going to make me like the idea any better!

*Editor’s note: in 1918 the (soon to be) Royal Air Force had noticed that heavy machinery was extremely difficult to damage with blast by anything short of a direct hit. Many times they had blown the roofs off rolling mills and similar to find the Central Powers’ repair teams just removed the rubble, slung a temporary roof over the machinery and started back to work rolling battleship plate and forging artillery barrels. The “Sweeper” was basically a thin-cased bomb with the outer layer packed with bars of hardened top-quality steel - calculated to spend its energy accelerating the fragments rather than breaking open a heavy bomb casing, the resulting shower of high-speed steel spreading out at a speed enough to break heavy cast iron machinery. One of those exploding in a lightly armoured ship would leave it rather resembling a colander…


Thursday February 11th, 1937

Although it is officially the rainy season, there are some jolly fine days at this time of year - and happily today was one of them. I woke scandalously late, half past eight - evidently Helen and Maria wanted to make sure everything was out of my system by the time I was back in circulation.

    I can see why catnip is highly illegal in most places. Helen had been careful to travel in the taxi with her head by the open window to avoid the vapour on my fur and clothes; she was fuming all late last night (Molly says) trying to work out just why Lars refused totally to take advantage of me. It is a rather good thing she does not know about the souvenir of his in my luggage! Still, Lady Allworthy kept her stock high in public, and behaved very decorously. Which is all to the good.

    Lunchtime saw us on a boat heading to the island of Taibo, one of the areas where there is a Naval and air base that sometimes rents out its facilities. Well, back on Spontoon we admittedly borrow the training grounds on Moon Island sometime. Although I have commissioned a study on the torpedo breaker, I can hardly hope for more than a basic plan on paper, and someone with closer ties to the Direwolf has already got a system ready to demonstrate. I think our customer wants a system in place sooner rather than later.

    We were met at the naval jetty by Herr Kramm again, who was dressed in an immaculate white Naval uniform. No medals though; the Direwolf’s crew only acknowledge as appropriate those awarded by Kaiser Wilhelm, who is currently living in exile in Holland and “neither confirms nor denies” his last surviving naval vessel’s legitimacy. At any rate, he is not issuing any more medals. Technically the Direwolf ought to be out “liberating” what was German Samoa and the Marshall Islands, but for some reason they have decided that taking on the American and Japanese navies will have to wait - at least till after they upgrade.

    It was quite a sight; though we are told the Direwolf arrives tomorrow, the crew members here are qualified to make decisions on behalf of its Captain. There was a big floating dock with a large tarpaulin rigged up over a structure about the size and shape of a motor-car, that faced out over the open waters. One of the Portuguese Navy’s coastal defence torpedo boats was standing off about half a mile away; apparently they get to do very little actual firing and are pleased that the Hula Junkers have bought six practice torpedoes off them. This is not going to be cheap, Maria murmured in my ear; practice torpedoes are meant to be re-used but these ones are heading on their last trip if the defence works.

    About five minutes later the torpedo boat fired up its engines and came in at top speed, well over thirty knots before discharging one tube heading straight towards the jetty. The tarpaulin was whisked away and we saw a strange setup; something like an aircraft turret with a cluster of eight squat tubes pointing at slightly splayed angles. I could see a fur partly hidden behind a steel shield, controlling the platform as it spun and twitched slightly. One of the folk behind me murmured they were “Livens Projectors” that had been made by the thousand to launch gas bombs in the Great War, and had all been scrapped by treaty. Someone ought to inspect those scrap-yards and check just what really does get melted down.

    It was quite a sight - the thing a captain least wants to see, the line of bubbles running straight in from the far horizon, easily visible today in the bright light and calm waters. In most weathers I suppose one might see it at two hundred yards - but we were waiting with bated breath as the underwater missile approached.

    Definitely nobody is worried about the noise! It was a deafening roar as the eight barrels fired in a ripple of flame lasting about half a second; I actually saw the projectiles lobbing out in high, lazy arcs. They looked about the size and shape of twenty pound coffee cans. They splashed down in a pattern the size of a tennis court - then the sea heaved up as the charges blew. I actually saw pieces of the torpedo rising into the air like a broken doll, before splashing back into the churning waters.

    Well! That proved to be beginner’s luck; of the next five shots that came in, two managed to survive to hit the dock and the other three were killed less spectacularly underwater. The Livens Projectors can be loaded in ten seconds flat by a well-drilled team of half a dozen furs, although actually doing that on an open deck in the middle of a battle would be hazardous. The inventor is Mr. Pensworth, a jovial-looking Clumber Spaniel gentleman who invited us to look around - he says he is not worried about anyone stealing the design, as it is the sighting arrangement that took all the effort and it is not at all obvious how it works.

    I could certainly see the other furs were impressed, though there were some sour faces among the competition. We got to examine the two practice “fish” that did survive the gauntlet; both were quite dented and one had bent fins. At any longer range it would probably have gone astray; unless it was stopped dead in the water or actually went in circles it was going to make the last hundred yards against a target as big as the dock. The local Navy were arguing they were billing for them as destroyed, as with such damage they would be of no further use without total rebuilding and replacing a lot of parts.

    Most impressive! We were invited out for another combination business meeting and party tomorrow, which I agreed to. The Direwolf should be there by then. While the rest of us explored the city and lunched very well, Maria hurried back to our hotel where she has some telegrams to send - to Italy, I assume. She is a loyal daughter of her country, and her Uncle is starting to take note of what she says, after all this time. I would telegraph back to England but nobody is liable to believe me. The papers are full of wild stories of secret electrical weapons that stop aircraft engines etc, and I am sure the Admiralty is quite sick of chasing down red herrings without worrying about the sort of “fish spear” we have seen in action today.

    By all accounts the next bidder is rushing his prototype over by aircraft right now, and only then will the customer make his mind up. After that we will be free to go! Macao is interesting, but it is packed with desperately poor furs and it is galling that we cannot help them.
 
    (Later) Life is just full of surprises. We returned to our rooms just in time to see my “secretary” waving farewell to that rather handsome bell-hop; one sniff of the air in the room showed she had not spent all her afternoon encoding urgent telegrams to Il Puce. Well, Maria is not travelling under her own name, and unlike Lady Allworthy there is nothing to link her with the one on the passport. Maria Inconnutia was last seen on Tillamook, an awful long way from here.
 
    Molly whispered that I had nothing to worry about, and neither should Maria, having taken all necessary Precautions. She seemed somewhat flushed herself.  I wonder if this will appear on the bill as “room service” and how the hotel will phrase it if it does?


Friday February 12th, 1937

Another busy day down by the docks with Helen looking at the competition trying to sink the local navy’s last remaining practice torpedoes. This inventor, a Mr. Whitesmith, had been tinkering with his system in the aircraft hold all the way from California, and it was a haggard-looking otter indeed who unveiled his creation.
 
    Against the Whitehead designed torpedoes, the Whitesmith Projector looked rather odd. It is a six-inch cannon, rather thin in the barrel, that is suspended from a gantry by a ball joint, swung in any direction by the gunner’s shoulder as if it was a giant rifle. But there is no magazine or rather the whole unit is its own magazine; the whole barrel starts off full of shells stacked one after the other and firing like a roman candle firework. It needs a sharp eye and a steady paw, but Mr. Whitesmith showed how he starts the burst near the ship and “walks” it out to meet the torpedo. He managed to hit two out of six; better than nothing, but he was looking exceedingly tired with his nerves frazzled from a non-stop flight. Moral; do not rush into these things, or at least have someone trained and handy to assist to let you get some sleep first.

    The advantage is that the Whitesmith Projector comes as a ready-loaded tube that two furs can pick up and clip onto its firing frame in a few seconds - the inventor was saying it could easily be adapted against submarines, and most aircraft could carry quite a few tubes under the wings. Considering the Direwolf is bidding to get an aircraft, that might be a useful selling point. And having the same system against both threats would be popular with the ship’s quartermaster
.
    Still, I think the Pensworth system is likeliest to win. Whatever design I get for my own bid, I do not have a specimen ready to show, and I think the Direwolf is in a hurry. Herr Kramm was asking how soon the Allworthy yards could manufacture and ship any winning bids over here, and I got the impression six months was about the limit including installing and training crews! Definitely something Mr. Sapohatan would want to know.

    The local squadron of the Portuguese Navy seem happy enough to have exercised their crews on someone else’s budget for a change - one of them was saying some sailors serve their full term and go home without firing a shot. Then, the only Navy likely to invade these waters is the Japanese one, and I doubt there is much the little squadron of destroyers and torpedo boats stationed here could do about it. They are happy to have Hong Kong and the Royal Navy just across the bay, as Portugal is famously Britain’s oldest ally, an association so old that I have met nobody who knows exactly why. Then again, colonies need to be defended from pirates and wandering warlords needing a new base of operation - the advantage of being in an Empire is any tiny piece of it can draw on the protection of all the rest. For instance, Singapore would be hard put to build its impregnable naval defences from its own resources, let alone the newer “national redoubts” other European empires have in far places such as Kerguelen and Bouvet Island.

    Back to the hotel late afternoon, having been shown around various luxury yachts the other competitors have arrived in, making their own floating base (one never hears of a “grinding poverty yacht”, only luxury ones.) The Allworthy Estate is missing various transport that went out with Lord Leon and Lady Susan fleeing the law; I am hardly going to enquire about it on Krupmark Island.  One might as well leave a sugar cube on an ant-hill with the expectation of coming back for it the next day.

    At the hotel there was a telegram awaiting from Songmark - “Design completed. Tested well.” I had expected a sketch of basic principles and some calculations, not a finished system! Helen pointed out that we can hardly have such a secret trusted to the post, even if we go to the Royal Mail in Hong Kong to pick it up as a post restante package. Only if the Direwolf’s officers decide against the two systems we have seen demonstrated, will I have time to get back and arrange things. Then, there is the matter of series manufacture and training … not something I think I can get done by Monday.

    Also at the hotel was Maria, looking pensive. Helen jokingly asked if Room Service had been up to standard - at which her ears went down and she confesses that it was, extremely so, and she could hardly wish for better - except that since her experience on Cranium Island, nothing else could really compete. Poor Maria! I suppose it will be the same when she goes back to Europe this Summer, and realises she will never drink Nootnops Blue again. She admitted that she had hoped that taking advantage of the facilities here, would help her forget her strange encounter - instead, it has just thrown everything into focus. She has been looking forward to shedding her identity as Il Puce’s niece for awhile, but having enjoyed the local opportunities, is rather worried that she should have been able to enjoy herself rather more.

    Molly seems in quite fine form, and whispered that our maids are behaving themselves. Then, there is no reason to think that just because Lin and Lao share similar interests they will be inviting her to do the same. Prudence’s dorm never did, not even in the first year.

    Quite a stressful day! Another excellent bath helped me relax, and I put our maids to work scrubbing the cordite smoke out of my fur. We got downwind of the tests, worse luck. Kahavarti is very good with the combs and hardly needs to dry off afterwards - one understands now where that expression “like water off a duck’s back” comes from.


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