Saturday February 13th, 1937 Dear Diary - there is something very strange going on, and I will have to talk with both Jirry and Saimmi when I get home to South Island. Possibly with Saffina, too. The day started quite comfortably, with Molly bringing me breakfast in bed. I may never get the chance again, after this trip! It is hardly a Spontoonie custom, grand hotels aside. Apart from a few times when I was a kitten and ill, it is just not the sort of luxury I ever got at home, and at St. Winifred’s things were remarkably Spartan. On the other paw, Maria had always had her own maids which she rather missed in her first year at Songmark. Helen came in with a set of field-glasses, and announced we had a big arrival in the night. Certainly there was quite a sight in the main harbour, the great three-funnelled bulk of a capital ship not half a mile away from us. Unlike other vessels we have seen, this one was wearing Great War style “dazzle paint”, in huge angular blocks and zigzags designed to deceive the eye at a distance. For instance, the paint patterns gave the impression that her bow was her stern and visa versa - which would cause no end of confusion to a submariner only able to get a hasty glimpse through the periscope and having to work out which direction and how fast she was sailing. Though modern navies tend to go for a neutral all-over grey, the Direwolf has kept a style that tries to fool the usual visual clues. Even the funnels are painted with false shadows to make it look like they are leaning forward when in fact they lean ten degrees aft. Just as I was finishing breakfast (everyone else had theirs before waking me) Herr Kramm sent up his business card. Today is the day! I was very glad of Molly’s assistance getting me into my “business” dress, a rather nice Paris-styled creation that certainly cost a few guineas, or at least someone in Hong Kong or Macao can imitate the style rather convincingly. Again, the shoes are rather uncomfortable but as Lady Allworthy I am hardly expecting to be climbing any trees or hauling a pack over any sand dunes. Quite a meeting! Molly stayed at home looking after the suite, but Helen and Maria followed me and Herr Kramm out to the far side of the dock where we could see the wharf heaving with activity like a stirred anthill. The white sparks of welding torches could be seen even in the daylight, and indeed it looks as if the ship must have radioed ahead with instructions to have everyone waiting for it. Then again, the time it spends against the dock in Macao it is not earning any money, and even without these expensive upgrades it cannot afford to stay idle for long. In half an hour we were being "piped aboard” by Captain von Kierkegaard, an elderly fox who has certainly not forgotten his manners in the long years since he last saw Europe. He most have been in his seventies, yet his back was ramrod straight and his eyes steely and sharp - it was a first for me to be addressed as “gnädige Frau” *, though his English was generally extremely good. We had what one might call the ten-shilling tour, since there are probably few secrets after we have already seen plans and drawings of the vessel. The rear deck certainly has room for a hangar and crane, and I almost jumped for joy on hearing I (or rather Barrow-in-Furryness) have got the contract for it! I measured out the deck myself; though I am sure the plans they gave are accurate we are always taught at Songmark to measure everything twice and then double-check if the measurements are in feet or metres. Measure twice, cut once, as they taught us in our first workshop classes. Maria was earning her theoretical pay as my secretary today as she rapidly drafted a telegram to send back to England, so furs can there get to work right away. The Captain also handed me a bank order drawn on the Imperial Oriental Banking Company who have a branch handy in Hong Kong. All one has to do is put it in the Allworthy account there and by this time tomorrow my tenants can start cutting metal. Over Helen’s objections I tasked her and Maria to do exactly that - head for Hong Kong and get it started today, before the banks close for the weekend. They can wire money to their English branch as fast as a telegraph can click, without us worrying about shipping chests of gold across the planet. As I whispered to Helen, I was now as safe here as anywhere - being now on good terms with the most powerful warship in these waters, and under their protection. As long as I was on the Direwolf, nothing was going to happen except getting wined and dined and hopefully getting a good reputation for providing reliable naval supplies. Helen left in rather ill grace, but recognised Maria can hardly make the trip alone. Well, in practical terms she certainly could and heaven help the street thief who tried to stop her, but it would be quite out of character for Lady Allworthy to make her do so. We arranged to meet back at the hotel; there was a party scheduled for the evening and there was no telling how late that would be running. While they were piped ashore, I took a good look around. About half the crew were locals; it seemed rather odd to see young Asian civets, pandas of both sorts and mongeese dressed in newly made but old-fashioned Imperial Naval uniforms. Rather neat white tropical uniforms were topped with a strange white fabric hat something between a solar topee and one of those conical straw coolies’ hats; very neat and it looks as if it would keep the sun off in a climate rather hotter than the regular issued by Kiel or Friedricshaven. I suppose that as with everything in Macao, this is a “business” that can pick and choose only the very best furs for their needs and at discount rates. There were quite a lot of German colonists who never returned to Europe after 1918, and every estate had a cadre of picked and trained local staff who might have followed their liege lords out to sea, not liking their future overlords much when the colonies changed paws. In places such as Tsingtao, that is currently a war zone and folk are probably as safe onboard as at home. Once Helen and Maria had vanished to hail a taxi, I had time to talk with those of the crew who spoke English. The ship is very neat and trim; one would hardly expect a Royal Navy vessel to be any cleaner! But it has evidence of a hard life in terms of welded-on patches and repairs; some components are obviously new and somewhat spoil the symmetry. One of the gadgets that I enquired about is a radio-reflection apparatus such as fitted to big liners; it uses arc lamps to send out blasts of radio energy that is listened for at night and in fog. Madeleine X has mentioned these; they were first installed in the French liner “Normandie” about fifteen years ago and seem a quite promising idea. Though I hear they are not perfect - they can spot a metal target the size of a liner at a mile in the fog, or a steep cliff face at twice that range. A torpedo boat or rocks just breaking the surface would be “beneath its notice”, probably with unfortunate consequences. Actually, I can believe they have more than one use. Apart from being arc lamps in their own right, that much radio ”noise” could deafen any receiver in quite a distance, very handy for preventing lookouts or picket ships passing on a warning! Arc lamps put out loud static, that would sound like natural interference and should not alert the defences. Certainly the Direwolf has had to take a lot of rough jobs over the years, and radios are getting so common that even a sentry can carry one so long as a comrade carries the batteries and nobody expects more than a few miles range out of them. As the afternoon wore on the guests departed, and I accepted the invitation to the evening party. Lars had said it was a good place to socialise; a lot of interesting contacts get made on such neutral territory and it is all good news for Barrow-in-Furryness. One of the yachts, the “Scimitar”, was owned by the Onager gentleman, Hassan M’wede and indeed it was a jolly lively crowd aboard who gathered to celebrate winning their bids. The yacht basin is the far end of the harbour from the noisy commercial side of things, and indeed looks out over quite undeveloped wooded hills and secluded bays in China proper. They had a swing band playing on the quayside (there being no room on the yacht as such) and indeed I had an hour’s rather lively dancing, mostly with Lars. I can say I was very careful to avoid any catnip this time around! I only had two glasses of champagne the whole day, and that surely was rapidly burned off with all the dancing. It might make things more explainable if I had been downwind of a leaking catnip refinery, or something on that scale. The party lasted about two hours, and I danced with our host for five minutes. He was looked after mostly by the two pale-furred thoroughbred mares, who I think are Russian. I will have to check if Circaccia is in Russia or Romania these days. Then the rest of the guests left well wined and dined, the band packed up and I would have returned to the hotel. Only I did not. I can report that the evening sunlight is most photogenic in the wooded bays on the Chinese shore, and that Mr. M’wede proved rather agreeable company. Although there were similar problems that I faced with Leon Allworthy, the … details were rather different. * “Gracious Lady” (Editor’s note) Amelia doesn’t speak German, it seems, but Maria does.  Mr. M'wede and 'Lady Allworthy'
aboard the yacht Scimitar --
art by Kjartan
Sunday February 14th, 1937 Dear Diary; I returned to the hotel via taxi at dawn, and slept till lunchtime, having fallen asleep flat out as soon as I hit the hotel bed. I awoke to face something of an inquisition from my dorm-mates (mostly Helen), which I was struggling to find answers for myself. By her account Lars turned up in the downstairs lobby about ten last night to enquire if I was home safely - and he mentioned where he had seen me going quite willingly. Helen was all for immediately heading out, “acquiring” a torpedo boat with searchlight from the Naval base and scouring the Chinese shore, but Maria and Molly talked her out of it. I have heard of various ways folk may be interrogated involving a bath, but at least in my case I could relax comfortably enough in body while Helen called me seven sorts of fool and I tried to puzzle it out myself. Mr. M’wede was certainly handsome enough, but decidedly not my species, and he had enough mares of his own handy, thoroughbreds at that. At least one of them was just starting to show, having a foal on the way that was probably a mule. Most pedigree equines would have thought that a shocking idea; in past times they were not even allowed to be baptised. The Church’s idea was that though every species was created in the beginning, naturally none of the mixes would have existed then - and whatever was not planned by God was necessarily the Devil’s work. The only times I have ever acted this impulsively have been just after extreme danger, being rescued from the barracuda by Prad Phao and after the fight and shipwreck of the Parsifal, with Lars. Plus that other occasion with Lars, after the running fight over the rooftops in the storm. That hardly applied last night. Anyway, we know Lars very well, and if I had expected to leave with anyone last night it would have been him. At least Molly would have approved, as she is still keen on us three as a “herd” in the style of the Biblical era. As it is, Lars seemed quite concerned, and she whispered that she had at least managed to cheer him up. She at least is reassured she has not caught anything of Lin and Lao’s preferences, though I have told her several times that such interests are not infectious. So Prudence and co tell me, and they should know. At least my calendar saves me any such embarrassments as last time I had an unexpected encounter. Lady Allworthy is not supposed to be an Adventuress as such, so having visited “another cabin on the Ark” will not be a bonus point for her. In fact, she is supposed to be a quite chaste, if somewhat thorny, English Rose of the sort held in high regard across the world, not only in Civilisation. I suddenly had a most upsetting thought. My stock had been climbing very high up to that point, and only increased when I chastely returned home despite being full of catnip. I never did find out exactly what was being bid so highly for at that auction where I acted as auctioneer - it seemed a natural thing to do at the time, as a lot of confidential deals were being struck for things that do not usually appear on the market. Illegal munitions might not be the only things paid “cash on delivery”, and I suppose I delivered about as fully as anyone could wish. It seemed like a good idea at the time - but that is not usually my style! Furthermore, none of the bidders were Euros except perhaps in the odd Spontoonie sense of the word, and none of them would be likely to be invited to a house-party back in England. That idea I put aside for awhile, but could not quite discard. At the very least I will have to ask Saimmi about it. I know I am meant to be proofed against any ordinary form of hypnotism, and I was keeping very alert since I know what catnip feels like. Not a sniff of it last night, I am sure. One thing I know is that my neck-fur appreciated the attentions despite being rather sore; it seems there is more in common with feline and equine gentlemen than I had supposed. At least I accomplished my mission, which is a great relief. Helen and Maria got to the bank in Hong Kong without incident, half an hour before trading closed, and the folk in Barrow- in- Furryness should have a telegraph pup pedalling around town with good news any time now. Helen grumbled that having done what we set out to do, we had best get out of Macao before anything else happened. I can quite see her point. Now I have the local address for the Direwolf’s onshore staff, I can write to them from Spontoon and pass it on to the general manager at the Allworthy shipyards for any more details. I cannot complain about my “loyal staff” this trip - they have all done very well, and I cannot blame Helen for being devoted as a guardian - though I would quibble with her suggestion that I am hardly fit to be let out on my own these days. I am a third-year Songmark student after all, and I could have got off that yacht in ten different ways had I wanted to. I have to admit, that I am awfully puzzled as to why I decided not to. Monday February 15th, 1937 A day of tidying-up, with Maria and Helen off into the centre booking our return flights to Tillamook for Wednesday. The hotel manager came up when he heard we were leaving; he still seemed rather worried that the “facilities” had not been to my liking, much as if I had returned the room service food uneaten. I assured him I was perfectly happy with the maid service - that is, they keep the room spotless and the beds aired. Molly whispered in disgust that she had walked in one afternoon to find Lin and Lao together - of all possible sights, a doe and a mouse is likely to upset her most. I would have thought it would have been a doe and a vixen, but Molly muttered she had settled with Captain Granite. To make matters worse, Kahavarti was not making any objections or even leaving the room - proof, Molly says that it is contagious. I think Molly will be glad to get out of Macao; just her luck that she was the only one who missed out on the trips to the Direwolf and the torpedo shoots, which she would have loved, and ended up stuck in the suite most of the time with what she thinks of as very unwelcome company. I think she envisaged getting out of that hot costume rather more than she has dared to do given the audience. A telegram arrived from England, confirming the order and the money arrived. I can breathe a sigh of relief, having at last done something useful for the Allworthy Estates. The exact drawings are already in the post airmail, possibly in one of the big Junkers G-38 transports that went over this morning. I have read that all big German aircraft will be 4-engined from now on; last year their Air Force General Wever barely survived a crash when one of the engines in a twin-engined bomber he was testing seized up on take-off, and everything but the lightest transports and bombers will be 4-engined with four times the range of anything currently in service. It should be a great boost to the airmail service! Anyone with shares in aircraft engine factories is likely to be happy as well. No doubt Beryl is planning a portfolio of convincing-looking Maybach Gesellschaft share certificates that will make the purchaser very happy until they try and sell them to someone who knows what real ones look like. As Molly says, the world just keeps on getting better. The racing aircraft get faster every year, and the heavy bombers heavier. Maria quite spoiled her line of thought by asking if the medium bombers are getting more medium too, though that was probably a blessing. One thing we have to hurry back for is to see about that torpedo breaker that Alpha Rote has come up with. If the Direwolf has not made its mind up already, it could be a contract that will really bring the money in. Perhaps it would not be a good idea to publicise the designer; the general view of Cranium Island is its scientists spend most of their leisure time in dank basements wringing their paws and cackling in insane glee as they strive to build a more fiendish Doomsday Device than their neighbours. There is also the matter of paying her for it - the price might be alarming and not measured in money. Anyway, the sooner I find out the better. As our dear Tutors frequently say, ignorance is not bliss, a little knowledge is less dangerous than none, and what you don’t know can be relied on to hurt you. Helen is still worried about what we can do for our three maids; it is handy being able to speak in Spontoonie in front of them, as she confessed she could not think of anything more useful than giving them a very generous tip when we go. Molly unexpectedly supported her, saying we could also buy them travel papers and passports too - a lot of furs in Macao are thinking about getting out, and unlike the Direwolf they cannot just sail away so easily. That idea got all our votes; Helen and Maria volunteered to head downtown and try to contact suitable brey-market merchants. It should be easier than most places; without being quite as free-for-all as Krupmark, it is definitely less fussy about such things. (Later) It is a good thing that we are leaving; Macao turns out to be just as dangerous a place as we had heard! As three local crooks found out when they tried to grab Maria’s purse and run away with it. I suppose Maria’s secretary costume is rather unfairly on the “Q-ship” lines, as not one in thousands who dress like that has the training we do. Helen was walking a little ahead along the dockside when a ragged ferret came up behind Maria to grab her - something he will not be doing again. Maria put her elbow into his throat with full power and threw him completely over her head, landing on the edge of the kerb with a definitely breaking-bones sound. His companions tried to rush her, and discovered just how powerful her punch is, both left and right. They were guarding their throats with their muzzles down but she went for the solar plexus; we were taught in Jude-jitsu to aim for a point three inches inside one’s opponent in a real fight. All three assailants ended up thrown in the dock, where they can hopefully swim. Helen did not say if she stayed around to find out, which means they quite possibly sunk. Even if they managed to struggle out, having swallowed quantities of that harbour water would likely finish them off; Maria says she has smelt worse but only in Naples in August. Although it seems unlikely the local Police will take an interest, it rather accelerated our departure. We took a quick vote and decided to get out right away and chance our luck in Hong Kong in case the local constabulary trace Maria here. Our papers and identities absolutely cannot stand up to official investigation, and Mr. Sapohatan had particularly warned us about the jails here. People vanish from them, and not by escaping. Fortunately we were mostly packed, and Maria had already bought everything necessary. We presented the quite convincing papers to Lin, Lao and Kahavarti much to their delight and I presented them with a rather substantial tip. Helen had the suggestion of getting them open tickets to Tillamook - on a ship, not first class flights - where in case anything happens to Macao they could at least have six-month tourist visas and stay safe there. In six months we should have graduated, and if Maria wants three very cheap-to-run maids she can well afford them. Maria at least is returning to Europe, and going via Tillamook picking them up en route is a possibility. Though I think that is looking much too far ahead, I did mention the idea of Tillamook as a bolt-hole to our maids - and if Helen or Maria wants to give them our contact address on Spontoon it is up to them. (Later still) Farewell to Macao! It is extraordinary how many places we have had to leave rapidly and quietly; Krupmark always, and in my case not only the Albanian South Indies but the Gilbert and Sullivan Islands. Despite Helen’s plea we cannot take our maids with us - Mr. Sapohatan is not running a refugee centre or a hotel, and we might need to use all our Songmark skills to get away. Having three “non-combatants” to look after would slow us down. So it was a fast and tearful farewell to Lin, Lao and Kahavarti, as we tried not to think about the sort of room service their next customers might be demanding of them next week. They cannot come to Songmark with us even if they wanted to; Spontoon visas are only good for three months unlike Tillamook’s six, but then Tillamook is not the sort of place where they have many folk wanting to stay. I have heard from my brother that at Oxford the students living in the old halls have room servants who are called “bedders” since they do change the bedding (and nothing more suggestive); there is nothing actually written down in the Songmark rules about it but I think my Flying Flea has more chance of winning the Schneider Trophy than us getting away with a “they followed us home Miss, can we keep them?” Despite our probable support from Prudence’s dorm. I took the precaution of posting some items back to Spontoon; Lars’ souvenir I labelled as “anthropomorphological ritual specimen” to avoid embarrassment at Empire customs. I suppose the label is accurate, as far as it goes. Tuesday February 16th, 1937 Back in Hong Kong! We have rather a problem in that our flight is at dawn tomorrow, and without dipping into our emergency cash there is not enough left for a fitting hotel. That is, we assume we are being watched and have to stay in character. Lady Allworthy would not settle for a bunk bed in a flop-house! The trouble is, the hotel bill - we had budgeted for the usual rates, but unless we had sent them away on the first day, the “extras” were included whether we made use of them or not. Maria paid her own share of Room Service, which was recognisable on the bill but quaintly worded. “Traditional Massage” indeed! Molly was grumbling that Helen and Maria are getting sloppy - they should have checked if their assailants drowned or not, and if anyone cared. I suppose that for a gangster’s daughter the most mortifying fate possible would be to be arrested for an accidental killing. Had it been in Hong Kong the Police would be bound to investigate any disturbance, but in Macao from what we hear, having three less-than-prominent citizens found floating in the dock would be a matter of littering offences rather than murder investigations. At least we are all quite well rested, so I proposed a radical solution - assuming the Police really were chasing us, the first place they would check is the hotel registers. So we did not check into a hotel; our baggage was left at the airport left luggage, already checked in for the Tillamook flight - and we decided to make a full day and night of it. Molly was out of her Maid’s costume for a change and into a rather nondescript dress that still fit her very well - still, Helen is the only one really dressed for a quick getaway should things turn sour. (Later) Well, we made it! It is now four in the morning, and we can see the big Clipper fuelling up at the end of the seaplane pier under the glare of the arc-lights. It is two hours to dawn, but we are through Customs where if anywhere the Law would be waiting to grab us. Sixteen hours is a long time to be on one’s paws; still we were sitting down a lot of that in tea-houses, two cinemas (we managed to resist the latest offering “Don’t let George do it!” by the hopefully inimitable George Formless) and an hour in a very surprising little park high up on the hillside over the harbour. Hong Kong is a remarkably vertical place, with most people who live on the flat bits doing so on hundreds of junks and sampans in the harbour. We sampled a floating restaurant as the sun went down across the bay, setting over Macao in the distance. After that, a well-spaced evening of shopping and tea-houses, sticking to the more up-market areas. We have found enough trouble for one week. As before, the seats and bunk beds on the flying boat look extremely comfortable and we hope to catch up on sleep on the trip back. Going twenty-four hours without sleep is nothing new to us, and at least this time we are not being chased around the island as with last year’s militia exercises. Hong Kong never seems to sleep, having tea-houses and such open all night. We all got ourselves souvenirs; I followed Maria’s example in getting a shoehorn with teeth, which I am sure will be most useful. Molly was looking wistfully at a big display of ancient Oriental weapons, but we persuaded her that a Mongolian halberd would be rather difficult to hide in a shoulder-holster. She did buy what at first looked like a rock to wind some string around which was actually a set of traditional “weighted sleeves”. That is, there is an egg-sized cast iron weight attached to two feet of steel cable and secured to a bracelet; apparently they can be tucked into sleeves inconspicuously and flick out into a close-quarter weapon when needed. Good to see Molly back in character, however alarming that usually is! next |