Up In Arms

By Amanda Spottiswoode and Molly March

A rollicking wartime adventure on the BC coast.

A lot has changed in the world since Sophie, Molly, Mark, Harriet, Leticia, and Posy’s last adventure in The Silver Lining. Now it’s 1940, and the Second World War is making life back home in the United Kingdom very dangerous indeed. Although our intrepid crew has seen their fair share of precarious situations, from being chased by pirates to making harrowing rescues in abandoned mine shafts, their parents decide to once again send them across the ocean and into the care of the eccentric Captain Gunn. This time they head back to the BC coast, making stops in Hesquiat Harbour, Estevan Point Lighthouse, Cape Scott, and Alert Bay. There, they meet real-life historical figures such as Cougar Annie and aviator Jim Spilsbury, and help to recover a precious artifact from a local Indigenous community. Rather than sitting out the war in a safe, quiet place, captain and crew could be in for their biggest adventure yet!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heritage House
• Release date: Nov 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781772032031

Amanda Spottiswoode

Born and raised in England, Amanda Spottiswoode has a lifelong love of outdoor adventure, history, and storytelling. Her children’s books are inspired by her British upbringing, her passion for the Canadian outdoors, and her keen interest in BC history.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

EVACUATION

MARCH 1940

I’m not going, said Molly, stamping her foot.

Her mother sighed, took a deep breath, and tried again.

I know you want to help with the war effort, but you’re still too young. You have another term at school and you will be much more use if you finish your education.

I’m seventeen and I can fly, said Molly, sticking her lower lip out mulishly and looking about twelve.

I hardly think they’ll let you join the RAF and fly a bomber, chuckled her mother, but in any case, there are other reasons for this.

This was the letter from Fiona MacTavish’s brother, Bert Cameron, back once again in Vancouver. At the outbreak of war last September he had been recruited by an unnamed and secretive government department to liaise with a Canadian committee based in Victoria, BC. He was not at liberty to talk about the nature of his work, but his family knew that he was enjoying himself immensely, working with similarly eccentric men and combining their impressive brainpower on secret projects.

Your uncle Bert thinks that things are going to get a great deal worse for us here in Britain. He fears a massive air offensive by the Germans, and we are not too far from the dockyards in Glasgow, which will be a prime target.

Mother, that’s just rubbish! exclaimed Molly. We’re miles from Glasgow, and unless those Germans are stupider than we think, they couldn’t be so far off target to start dropping bombs on us here in Plockton.

The MacTavish home was on the west coast of Scotland, beside a large sea loch dotted with islands. It was a great place to sail and explore, and a wonderful place to grow up. It was remote, but Mrs. MacTavish knew from her brother’s letter that bombers often went astray, missed their targets, or simply dumped bombs on their way back to their home bases. Plockton was only about a hundred miles as the crow flies from the major city of Glasgow. It seemed safe, but these days nowhere in Europe was really safe.

Leticia MacTavish had been quiet during this exchange, but now she spoke up.

I think we should listen to Mother, she said. Uncle Bert knows a lot more than he lets on, and if he thinks it’s a good idea, we should at least think about it. I’m not too keen on having bombs dropped on us, I can tell you!

And I’m not too keen on turning tail and hotfooting it back to Canada at the first sign of danger! said Molly, rather unreasonably.

Mrs. MacTavish didn’t point out that Molly didn’t have much choice. She was still technically a child and had to do what her mother thought was best for her and her sister and brother. Knowing her daughter as well as she did, however, she decided to allow her the notion that she had some part in making decisions for the MacTavish family. Growing up with only a mother and an eccentric uncle (their father having died many years before), the MacTavish children had been brought up to make their own decisions, guided, but not dictated to, by the adults in their lives.

Right, this is what Uncle Bert wants us to do, said Mrs. MacTavish. "Apparently there are plans afoot by our government to evacuate children across the Atlantic to Canada and America. Those plans are not finalized yet, and Bert doesn’t want us to wait until they are. He’s arranged a passage aboard your old friend the Empress of Britain, for us four as well as the Phillips children."

A glint of excitement appeared in Molly’s eyes, and her mother decided to capitalize on it.

It will be an adventure for you children, just like old times, she said, not mentioning the risk of crossing the Atlantic in wartime. Molly was the bravest child she knew, but Leticia was younger and more sensitive. Their brother, Mark, was now almost sixteen and would no doubt see the journey as more thrilling than any of the boys’ adventure stories he was addicted to.

Mrs. Phillips will be staying in England, continued Mrs. MacTavish. "You know that Commander Phillips now has a very important desk job with the Navy, and Ian is at sea on a destroyer patrolling the English Channel. She wants to be close for when he gets shore leave, but she is happy for Sophie, Harriet, and Posy to join us. The Empress has been turned into a hospital ship and will be crossing to Canada to pick up a contingent of Canadian doctors and nurses to staff the ship, but on the way over they are taking families and some unaccompanied children to live in Canada for the duration of the war."

Molly wasn’t giving in quite so easily.

Well, she said, I might consider it if I could have flying lessons when I get there.

Molly had been taking flying lessons for three years, since she had turned fourteen and was able to get a student permit. She had been inspired by their first adventure on the west coast when the legendary BC coast pilot Jim Spilsbury had flown her to hospital after the villains on the Black Pearl had shot her. This had happened during their Brother XII adventure, when they had recovered a king’s ransom in gold coins. She was close to getting her pilot’s licence, but all recreational flying had been stopped when war broke out the previous September.

Her mother appeared to consider this request, but in fact her brother, knowing his niece as well as he did, had written in his letter that he thought it would be easy for Molly to resume her flying lessons in Canada.

Mm, well, we’ll think about it, but if you don’t put up any more fuss, and you help me and your sister get things organized, I think your uncle may be able to arrange lessons for you when we get there.

Molly gave in. Maybe sitting out the war in British Columbia, with its opportunities for adventure and the chance to get back in the air, wasn’t such a bad idea.

THERE WAS ANOTHER reason that Bert Cameron was concerned for his family, but Fiona MacTavish decided not to mention this to her children. Bert knew a lot more about the situation in Germany than the general public did, and he had heard disturbing rumours about the way Jews were being treated. Everyone had heard about the discrimination against those of the Jewish faith, and Bert feared it was going to get much worse. His and Fiona’s mother had been Jewish, which made the MacTavish children a quarter Jewish. Bert was afraid that if the Germans invaded Britain, they might be targeted. He wanted his sister and her three children out of Britain, and he was happy to include the Phillips children in the evacuation plans.

TWO WEEKS LATER, the Phillips and MacTavish families met once again at the docks in Southampton. The atmosphere was quite different from the two previous occasions when the children had departed for a holiday in Canada. Then, the passengers accompanied by those coming to see them off on their trip had stood around in groups, chatting and laughing. Mounds of luggage had surrounded the smartly dressed passengers, and those lucky enough to be making the trip mounted the gangplank and stood at the ship’s rail, waving at those being left behind. There had been something of a carnival atmosphere about the departure of the great ship.

Now there was a feeling of anxiety and gloom in the air. Groups of children, each holding a small suitcase, were standing around. There was a strict limit on the amount of luggage the passengers could bring, and it had been extremely difficult packing for an indefinite stay in Canada. Some of the departing children had weeping parents with them to see them off; others were with mothers or carers who would be looking after them on the voyage. This was no pleasure cruise to the other side of the Atlantic.

Fiona MacTavish and Dinah Phillips stood with their combined families and gazed up at the Empress of Britain. A broad green stripe had been painted all around the ship, with a large red cross inside a white circle on her side.

This time, anyone not travelling was not allowed aboard, so the Phillips children—Sophie, Harriet, and Posie—had to say goodbye to their mother on the dock. The girls were inconsolable. They knew that staying in England would be dangerous for their mother, who lived near a naval base. Also, this was no holiday with a definite end. They had no idea when they would be returning to England, though they knew it would not be until the war was over. Mrs. Phillips had had plenty of practice saying goodbye to her husband, and now her son, Ian, as they had been posted aboard ships for long tours of duty. Her husband was no longer at sea, but Ian most certainly was, and she knew the danger he and his fellow crewmembers faced every day. However, saying goodbye to her three girls was a different kettle of fish. Posy was only twelve, and although Sophie, at seventeen, was now almost an adult and more responsible than many adults she knew, even Sophie was no match for any enemy attacks they might encounter on their voyage.

Remember what your father said, Mrs. Phillips said, her arms around the girls. You’re doing your part for the war effort by getting out of harm’s way. Once you get to Canada, no one will have to worry about you, or use valuable resources to take care of you.

I know it’s a good theory, sobbed Harriet, but we don’t know when we’ll see you or Daddy or Ian again.

Mrs. Phillips had no good answer to that. Finally Mrs. MacTavish had to gently pry the girls away from their mother. Molly and Leticia helped steer the Phillips children up the gangplank. All seven of the combined MacTavish and Phillips families stood at the rail, trying to pick Mrs. Phillips out of the crowd preparing to watch the ship leave. Harriet finally spotted her, and the whole group yelled and waved their handkerchiefs as the ship was pulled away from the dock and guided out into the Solent by its accompanying tugs.

THE EMPRESS WAS no longer the luxury liner she had been before her reincarnation as a hospital ship. War had proved to be a great social leveller, and cabins had been assigned randomly. Previously the children had travelled second class. Now the girls and Mrs. MacTavish found themselves in a first-class suite, but the luxurious furnishings had been stripped out and all five girls shared what had been the large bedroom, now equipped with narrow cots. Mrs. MacTavish stayed in what had been a dressing room, and they all shared the bathroom, which remained as splendid as it had always been. Mark was put into a cabin in a different part of the ship, down several decks, and shared with three small boys who were travelling with a larger group. The harassed-looking adult in charge looked about ready to jump overboard as he tried to control the boys, who were tearing up and down the corridor, whooping and hollering.

Any chance you could lend a hand with these holy terrors? he asked Mark, running a hand through his hair. I’m at my wits end! I’m a junior schoolmaster at a school in Kent—couldn’t join the services because I’ve got a heart murmur. But fighting Hitler would be a doddle compared with keeping this lot in line!

Mark put his fingers to his mouth and gave a piercing whistle. The boys skidded to a halt in front of the cabin door.

Behave yourselves, or else, he said sternly. I don’t fancy sharing my cabin with a bunch of hooligans, so shape up or ship out.

Mark was four or five years older than them and considerably bigger than the other boys, and all but one looked slightly awed at the prospect of sharing their cabin with a teenager.

How’re you going to make us? said the oldest and cheekiest looking of the bunch.

I think I’ll use the carrot, rather than the stick, grinned Mark. All of you who behave will get a tour of the engine room once we get close to Halifax.

He wasn’t at all sure he could deliver on this promise, but on his last two crossings he had made friends with the crew who manned the engine room and had spent a considerable amount of time down there, helping with the running of the massive engines.

Even the cheeky boy seemed impressed by Mark’s offer, and they filed into the cabin and sat on their bunks chatting while Mark unpacked his small suitcase.

BEFORE THE SHIP had cleared the harbour, the loudspeakers announced a lifeboat drill. Everyone headed up