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Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
19 April, 1937 to 20 April, 1937



Monday 19th April, 1937

Dear Diary – this may be our last term, but our dear Tutors seem to be intent on making sure we remember it for the rest of our lives. Miss Devinski addressed us all at breakfast in the finest Sergeant-Major style, her theme being that having spent three years loafing we now had to get off our rumps and do some real work if we wanted to pass – and that though they had never failed a whole year before, they would do so in a heartbeat rather than devalue the name of Songmark and the qualifications of the deserving and hard-working years before us.
 
    Though we certainly hope she is exaggerating, I am taking her seriously. We thought we worked hard enough before, but with Miss Devinski there is no such thing as hard enough. Just as aircraft components are tested to measure their breaking strain, it looks as if we have a similar examination ahead. It was certainly a collection of drooping ears and tails amongst our year hearing her promise as much. Then, I believe she says something similar to all the final years, just to remind us not to rest on our laurels. It would be about as comfortable to rest on holly.

    Anyway, as per usual Miss Blande looked us over with a steely eye and announced she had never seen such a collection of flabby, gone-to-seed specimens who had evidently spent the entire holiday in a hotel bed with room service bringing up five meals a day. A brisk trot round the beaches of Eastern Island followed, with her and Miss Wildford cycling along the coast road chivvying us along while we grimly jogged through the dry sand dunes.  When I think of our experiences in the Antarctic I half wished I was back at Wotansberg with the staff serving up roast pork knuckle, yellow split peas and steaming mounds of potatoes.  Still, we knew it was going to be like this.

    After an hour and a half  we were directed onto a fleet of water taxis heading over to Moon Island. Molly’s ears went up – but initially we stayed clear of the firing range much to her disappointment. Casino Island is not the only place being refurbished; the Rain Island naval base is rebuilding some of its original accommodation blocks, and demolishing others. This leaves three half-wrecked buildings with holes in walls and floor, broken glass, sharp timbers with nails exposed and other hazards.
 
    Looking around, one would certainly think this is a place to move slowly and cautiously. So naturally Miss Blande had us running a timed relay-race through the tottering structures, passing a hefty chunk of pig iron ship’s ballast as a “baton”. When we were panting for breath she ordered an indoor self-defence exercise, pointing out that after Songmark we have no guarantee of only defending ourselves on nice soft sandy beaches.

    Most of us finished the morning with minor cuts or digging out splinters; definitely we are learning to play rough! We will be trained in all sorts of confined spaces, caves, (lava tubes around here I expect), aircraft fuselages, buildings and anywhere else our Tutors can borrow. At the end of it we were asked to suggest how we could have done better – both Maria and Beryl gained a point apiece for suggesting trying to throw our opponents onto the splintered wood or the broken windows still edged with broken glass. Beryl had rather rough gym lessons at her old school – she wistfully recounted how her games teachers recommended they wear hobnailed books with steel “horseshoe” heel taps, a determined back kick from which has a good chance of breaking bones. Not the sort of sporting advice we learned at Saint Winifred’s!

    At least we had a decent luncheon at the canteen on Moon Island. Standard Rain Island military fare is still better than Songmark’s which is doubly irritating as we pay for ours and theirs is issued free  – they have something called “scrod” which is a white fish dish rather tastier than last night’s pastefish although papier-mâché is probably tastier than that. They also have beer available just as part of the regular ration – and Miss Blande had a large and foaming mug full, without forbidding us to. I suspected this was rather a “trick question” and stuck to fresh pineapple juice, but five of us followed our dear Tutor’s example.

    It was just as well it was not white wine or I might have been tempted more – as ten minutes later we were all out on the firing range, first  with basic marksmanship for our tutors to check how much we have forgotten, then with the “charging” targets that pop up at closer and closer ranges up to two yards away. Definitely a test of reflexes as well as accuracy. One’s heart is certainly racing as the targets jump up nearer and nearer, and they are grim-visaged portraits of snarling carnivores for the most part.

    At the end of it, Molly gave a cheer as we were allowed to use the Vostok “Fedorov Avtomat” self-loading rifles again. Even better, she noticed one of the new model that you cannot buy commercially – she saw one at the Thieves’ Bazaar last time she was on Krupmark. It is an odd-looking thing, looking rather plump but actually a pound lighter than the standard model. The stock and everything except highly stressed internal parts is made from a patent Vostok material, a sort of lightweight magnesium alloy foam. She whispered with eyes wide that even with a full magazine it floats. I can guess what would go down well with her as a Graduation present, if Lars can get his hooves on one! She has an ambition to convert one to full automatic fire as they are currently built as self-loaders and one has to pull the trigger for each shot rather than jumping round the corner spraying lead while laughing maniacally. Then, given an old muzzle-loading cannon she would probably try and convert that to full auto as well.

    What with our strenuous morning most of us were rather staggering by the time we even began taking aim – interestingly I was in the next “lane” to Sophie D’Artagnan who had sampled the Rain Islands naval ale, and she was scoring no worse than the rest of us. Perhaps as she said, one glass may steady the nerves rather than the opposite. Certainly the British Army and Navy have their official rum ration, though significantly the Air Force does not.

    Back to Songmark! We noted the second-years on the gate guard, including Rumiko and Saffina. Rumiko is one of the very few Japanese girls entitled to wear two classic swords; she is of good Samurai stock, and in her homeland of Okinawa they kept up traditions of female samurai that their homeland gave up on centuries ago. Saffina was unarmed, but as a full-blown lioness she is quite well equipped by Nature. By repute Rumiko’s family sword can bisect a fur from shoulder to hip in one slash – but I think Saffina could just pick most furs up and break them like a loaf of bread. Once inside, Mrs. Oelabe was there as ever to give us a brief check before starting term proper; she first marked us on our first aid skills as to the patching up everyone had needed to do to their classmates.  The more in-depth investigations take time, and we are all taking our turn tomorrow.

    As third years are now a scarce and diminishing resource, our Tutors are making the most of us. We often get tasked with using our wits to set up tests for the junior years, and today we were happily “sabotaging” all sorts of equipment which they have to try and fix. Having seen all the ways equipment can fail, we can faithfully reproduce the trickier defects to spot and hopefully give (say) Red Dorm hours of fun.

    We had rather a surprise just as we were busily sabotaging some of the radio components. Second years are not meant to enter our dorm without permission, but that Cranium Island shrew Alpha Rote braved the dragon’s den and turned up with a rather odd request. Or perhaps not – on Cranium Island perfectly insane things are regarded as entirely par for the course, and it might not be healthy to think about what they believe to be odd. At any rate, she has found a copy of “Criminal World” and being attached to Crusader Dorm, naturally wants to subscribe as a source of Intelligence in the military sense.
 
    It was interesting – I think Molly was about to go up in smoke regardless of her not learning our Warrior Priestess exercises. Still, Alpha was respectful, more so than one might expect and she put her case to us very well; Molly passed her the details for her to subscribe. This might not be such a wonderful idea – one subscriber can approve another, and if there is one thing Cranium Island does not need it is their mad scientists getting ideas from reading Criminal World after Alpha approves her friends and relations getting it too. The worlds of organised crime and mad science are probably kept wide apart. Whether they collaborate or quarrel the results are likely to be extreme for anyone caught in the vicinity.

    Actually, reading the latest issue that awaited her in the post-room yesterday was one thing that had Molly’s spirits raised (until we got to the firing range, which is guaranteed to cheer her.) There are new articles on commercial swindles; I seem to recognise “the long fraud” from Beryl’s happy descriptions of her schooldays.  At the back as ever there are the most surprising classified adverts for materials, services and all sorts of stolen goods. The comics pages are always fascinating in much the same way as an aircraft wreck – one can hardly avoid looking at it. The artist who draws that handsome and dashing super-criminal “Rick Traceless” certainly knows his business. The scene where he gets two undercover detectives of rival forces to arrest each other is certainly a well-engineered logic trap, whatever else it may be.

    According to Molly, most of the racketeers were just honest businessmen forced into crime by the evils of Government. I recall thinking years ago how it might have been if Britain had suffered Prohibition, and indeed there have always been plenty of furs keen on the notion; I recall the governor of the Gilbert and Sullivan Islands last year imposing it on the population. There are families of reputable vintners and sellers of aged port and sherries to all the best families with centuries of good reputation – overnight one could imagine them being forced into becoming machine-gun toting gangsters desperate to protect the last case of the ’08 Amontillado from government-sponsored howling mobs of Salvation Army irregulars eager to smash it in the street as the American police did from coast to coast in 1919.

    Naturally, Molly’s education has rather prejudiced her against doing anything for free. She has an idea of making Alpha pay for the privilege of subscribing to Criminal World in a rather odd way – of acting as her maid for awhile. I would have though that was rather like asking a racing greyhound to pull carts; a uniquely qualified Mad Scientist might be far more valuable producing unorthodox equipment, as she did for me with that Torpedo Breaker. Molly says that is exactly the idea; making (say) an automatic combination lock cracker would be useful but something Alpha would probably enjoy, so would hardly be a repayment – acting as a respectable maid would be awfully difficult not to mention embarrassing for her.
 
    Down for another generous meal; neither poi nor pastefish, happily enough but a rather palatable fish and rice dish with vegetables, somewhat resembling kedgeree. It certainly vanished off the plates like fuel into a Schneider Trophy aircraft on full throttle; ten minutes cleared the tables. Clearing up plates around here is a very minor chore; I doubt there was a grain of rice left unaccounted-for
.
    Unlike yesterday we are back to evening work and study, with a dozen very stiff navigation exercises to do before lights-out. Help!



Tuesday 20th April, 1937   

 Back in the air again, much to everyone’s relief. Actually we were flying the Sea Osprey and the Junkers 86 with a dorm apiece; the remaining dorms took turns to visit Mrs. Oelabe for the usual … in-depth investigations. My dorm all passed with nothing to remark, though from what Jasbir hinted she and Sophie had some fairly stern questioning, and though she said nothing to us Adele Beasley came out of the examination room looking definitely shaken.
 
    The flights were very welcome; though we have been up in some excellent aircraft last holiday there was nothing we could put in our logbooks and our Tutors had a lot to say about that. If only we could have taken the stick of that amazing Horton flying-wing for an hour or so! It would have been quite something to have flown the DO-X, too – but they were both registered as Lufthansa flights, and the Germans are always sticklers for regulations. The Junkers 86 needs a lot of pre-flight work; though far from a “hangar queen” it takes five times the maintenance as the Tiger Moths need despite only having twice as many engines.

    Our logbooks slowly filled, and indeed we were flying the Sea Osprey after lunch. It is the last month we will be able to do takeoffs and landings at will in the Spontoon central waters; in May the tourists arrive and the seaways fill up with scheduled commercial flights.  After that it will be a matter of getting landing permission from the tower for every practice flight; our Tutors have been discussing a “summer camp” on the Orpington Island airstrip to use when the Spontoon airspace gets too busy, though that will not be in our time here.

    What with the flights and exams, the day was taken up till after lunch and then we were all back to wash, groom and dress in our Songmark best, including the full blazers we have not worn in ages. It is warm enough to wear them right now; I am grateful Tatiana Bryzov did not go for the traditional June wedding day. Still, getting a half-holiday is quite unique around here for whatever reason, and even folk who are no great friends of Tatiana were glad of the time off.

    Though all Songmark was invited, a few of us were allowed to beg off attending church. We could not guarantee Molly would restrict herself to throwing rice and confetti at the bride and (bride?), and Rosa the anarchist is just not safe to let near a church. It is hard to imagine Tatiana of Red Dorm getting married to another girl, especially that snooty Millicent at the embassy who used to take great pleasure in snubbing me. I recall once tracking down Tatiana to the Double Lotus, certainly – but she had been as horrified as a goldfish dropped in a piranha pool, and as eager to be rescued even by me.

    Actually, Prudence’s dorm hardly seem entirely pleased at the prospect either. With anyone else I might say Prudence was jealous that a mere second-year sets the precedent for getting wed in term-time (Wo Shin was married before she joined us, as were the Rotes.) But Prudence is not the jealous type. I must ask her sometime what she objects about. She got rather sniffy last term about me pointing Florence Farmington her direction, for that matter. Who else would I ask for qualified advice, after all?

    Despite the … unusual cast list the wedding went splendidly, and the ceremony was ninety-five percent completely standard. I have to say Millicent looked amazing in a very regal white dress with gems – if they pay a junior in the Embassy enough to afford that, we are evidently in the wrong careers being mere Adventuresses. Tatiana seemed to be playing the part of the bridegroom well enough, though indeed I would never have suspected that of her. She was given away by someone we have not met since our Krupmark Island trip, the Priestess Oharu, who I heard adopted Tatiana as her daughter. If I reflect sometimes on how strange my life has become since arriving on Spontoon, there are girls who have it stranger. Oddly, Priestess Oharu seems to have changed her voice completely; I would never have recognised just hearing her.

    Actually, I am not surprised our tutors “allowed” Molly to stay behind and guard Songmark – if there is one thing worse for her than seeing this wedding, it would be seeing Priestess Oharu involved in it. Definitely I am glad she and her saw-backed bayonet are inside the Songmark wire looking out. Miss Devinski is the most practical fur I have ever met, and is taking no chances of Molly doing anything rash.

    Apart from the slight irregularities with the cast, the wedding went off splendidly and anyone who wanted was invited back to the reception at the British Embassy where Millicent’s father was hosting it.  I had permission from Miss Devinski to go, as indeed Millicent and Tatiana have turned round and become very helpful to us, albeit for odd reasons. Tatiana even asked if she could join my espionage ring, which was embarrassing as I have not got one! I suppose folk who hear third-paw accounts of our trips investigating Cranium Island, Krupmark and German Antarctica rather jump to conclusions. We might be occasionally asked to look into various things by the proper authorities such as Mr. Sapohatan but that hardly makes us spies, any more than say naturalists or journalists.

    It was a splendid reception, and I met various folk at the British Embassy who were keen to greet me as Lady Allworthy. Apart from trying to get a replacement passport and being abruptly shown the door awhile ago, I have never been in our embassy – unlike Maria who is on first-name terms with everyone in hers. Their first names of course, not hers. The notion seems to be that anyone who has been given a Title cannot possibly be an enemy of the Crown – which falls a bit flat recalling Leon and Susan Allworthy although one of the few charges not levelled at them was espionage except against Spontoon. I have since heard that under an ancient law aristocrats are hung with a silken rope rather than a common hemp one,  but I doubt in the Gilbert and Sullivan Islands where justice caught up with them folk had one handy.

    Had it been a Friday rather than a Tuesday I think the Songmark contingent might have emptied the reception of drinkables, but we are flying tomorrow and after a very nice white wine I paid my respects to the happy couple and headed back. Having the evening off as a half-holiday is a rare treat, but we have such a pile of work to get through.

    I expected to find Molly stalking the place with a fixed bayonet and a scowl, looking for any excuse to open fire on potential raiders (for obvious reasons, Rosa the anarcho-surrealist was not trusted with carrying ammunition for Molly’s rifle. She might have given her some for inscrutable surrealist reasons.) Molly certainly had the fixed bayonet, but seemed very pleased with herself – though she did ask if I could finish her guard shift for her while she went for the bath. Considering nobody else was in Songmark (a very rare occurrence in term time; even the cooks had been given the afternoon off) this just seemed a sensible way of getting a relaxed bath without the other eighteen of us impatiently queuing up with our towels and soap as per usual. Given a decent sit-back bath, showers are a very poor substitute and with increasing prosperity one can well believe them becoming extinct except for prisons, the military and such things as sports changing rooms.

    Actually she confessed cheerfully that she had reason to be pleased. Lars is back, and she has met him – and indeed rather more. This rather puzzled me. Miss Devinski has a standing sentence  of anyone who lets him set hoof on Songmark territory being instantly thrown out – and even Molly would not risk that. She would get the same if she left Songmark while on gate duty too. If she was inside the chain-link fence and Lars was outside, they may have whispered sweet nothings but I can hardly see what else would be possible.

    Whatever, she seems extremely cheerful and full of herself; indeed I had to ask her to calm down or our Tutors would get more suspicious than they usually are. She has much to tell me about Lars, who has indeed returned from a dangerous and profitable “shopping trip.” He has returned not quite captaining a ship full of stolen munitions as last year, but having “arranged” consignments to appear in various perfectly neutral and legal warehouses from which they can come to Spontoon more or less openly. Goods are rarely searched at Customs leaving a country, and if they are expecting a consignment of “tractor spares” sourced by Lars the Spontoon authorities will know what to do with them. Spontoon being such a transport hub for the Pacific, we actually do get cargoes of mining machinery coming through although we have no local mines, and similar odd-looking deliveries.

    Anyway, Molly says Rosa is proving a good comrade and rather shares her view of the world – which may or may not be a good thing. She is certainly not going to report anyone for breaking regulations, being an Anarchist. We hear strange stories out of Spain, where Anarchists are heavily involved in their Civil War. Although in theory they are fighting on the same side as the Reds, should they ever beat General Franco the war will then continue until only one side survives – I recall Liberty Morgenstern quoting her own idol Trotsky as saying “on the first day of the Revolution we must have the Anarchists on our side – on the last day we must have them liquidated.” Ioseph Starling seems to be of much the same opinion.

    Thinking of events in Europe, Eva Schiller made a brave effort to get the half-day off labelled as a religious festival rather than the wedding; she says she will have to tell her Embassy the Tutors made her go to a ceremony that would not be at all approved of back home – just in case anyone else saw her going to Tatiana’s big day and reports her first. Today is her Leader’s birthday, and folk at Lingenthal’s on Casino Island were celebrating soberly as I went past. As her Leader is a teetotaller despite having done early meetings in beer-halls, he would not condone wild parties – his is meant to be the only Party in town, so to speak. I know the National Socialist Party doubles as a religion in some ways, but I was not putting any money on her winning the discussion with her year Tutor Miss Windlesham, even at the eighty to one odds Beryl was offering. Eva’s argument that Christmas is just another leader’s birthday celebration may be good legal precedent but cut no ice with our Tutors, who politely requested her to put her request in again when her Reich has celebrated its famous thousand year anniversary, when the then Songmark tutors will reconsider. Possibly.

    Back to work on navigation problems! The wedding was a nice break, but anyone (except the happy couple) who stayed out drinking champagne till the last minute of their Passes is going to be just that little bit behind with the work, and none of us can really afford that. In fact some of us seem to have landed in trouble with the Tutors already (and not for anything Mrs. Oelabe found, evidently). Susan de Ruiz, Li Han and Missy K are going around looking as if the floor just dropped out from under their paws. I hope it is not catching!


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