Alameda High School - Acorn Yearbook (Alameda, CA)

Page 19 text:

days no one was to leave, whether it was his day off or not; and as Graham was the captain it was his duty to remain and take charge of the boat should it be called out. As Graham turned from the phone Morgan, the stroke oar of the crew, stepped out from the adjoining room. “I would like to assume the responsibility of the station, sir,” he said. “The boys have voted to let you go home.” Graham merely looked at Morgan, and without a word climbed again to his lookout tower. Morgan returned again to the room where the men were. “‘What did he say ” inquired Adams, the youngest member of the crew. “Nothing,” replied Morgan. “What did he do?” asked one of the men. “He merely looked at me and climbed up to the tower.” ‘What is the matter with him! Why don’t he go home?” burst out Adams. “His kid is dying and he is needed at home. We all agreed to let him go.” ‘“‘When you have been in the service longer you will understand why he stayed,’ replied Morgan. “And besides, it would take all of us to row him across to his house, and that would leave the station unguarded.” He stopped, for there in the open door stood Graham. “Stand by to run out the boat,” he commanded. “There is a tug on the rocks near the entrance to the bay.” Morgan, taking the glasses from Graham, climbed up to the tower. “Yes,” he called down, “she is about five miles away. Some of the waves are going clear over her.” Quickly the men wheeled the big life-boat down to the water and launched her. At stroke Morgan settled himself grimly. He realized that no easy task lay before them. Graham, at the tiller, snaked the boat out through the chop of the bay. As the crew pulled out into the fierce sweep of the wind it was with difficulty that he kept his position. Great knobs of ice formed around the oarlocks and hindered the steady stroke of the men. Soon it began to snow. The men lost sight of the tug in the inlet. They could not see for more than a hundred yards ahead. On all sides the sea rushed down upon them. The boat reared wildly to the top of a wave and then slid down into the dark abyss beyond. The men were deluged with freezing spray. For over

Page 18 text:

We LL DAY the storm had been raging, and from the lookout tower of the Hillcrest Life-Saving Station, Graham, the keeper, watched the white-capped waves dash themselves to pieces against the rocks. At three o'clock the first patrol came in, his face red from exposure to the cold wind. He climbed up the ladder and reported his return. Graham did not turn his head. He seemed hardly to have heard. Since morning there had been a troubled look on his face and he had kept apart from the rest of the men. Suddenly he started; there it was again, the harsh jangling of the tele- phone bell. He knew it was for him and the men below knew it also, for not one of them made an attempt to answer it. Slowly he climbed down the ladder and with fear in his heart took down the receiver. “Is that you, Henry?” called the anxious voice of his wife. “Dr. Smith says he hasn’t much longer to live now. Unless an operation is performed by the specialist, Dr. Brown, he will not live through the night. I telephoned to Bay City for him, but the next train doesn’t leave there until ten o'clock to- night and that will be too late. Can’t you come home?” “No,” replied Graham, “I can’t leave the station during this storm. We may be called out any minute to the assistance of some boat.” “But it is your day off,” replied his wife. “I don’t see why you can't come.” Graham knew what his final answer must be. His six year old boy had been very ill for two days, and today had grown worse. His wife had tele- phoned several times, but he knew that this would be the last call. It was a strict rule of the Hillcrest Life-Saving Station that no one should leave except on his day off, and it was a rule among the men themselves that on stormy

Page 20 text:

an hour they hung to their oars. But Graham, braced in the stern, with his weight against the tiller, held the boat to its course. In such tests as these, even the stoutest hearts falter. Young Adams was the first one to waver. “When is he ever going to stop ”’ he complained. “There is no use in keeping on. We can’t see which way to go in a snowstorm like this.” The men all looked at Graham to see what he would do. But he gave no sign that he had heard. The sight of Graham standing calmly in the stern put Adams to shame and without another word he resumed his rowing. Suddenly there loomed up ahead the black shape of the tug. “Oars!” called Graham, and manceuvering skillfully, he brought the life- boat alongside of the tug. Climbing on deck he made his way aft to the cabin. “What tug is this?” he roared as he knocked on the cabin door. “What were you thinking of, trying to come in the harbor in a storm like this?” “It is the tug Reliance from Bay City,” came the response from within. ‘“‘We were bringing Dr. Brown to Hillcrest.” — Norman Eckley December 716 THE TREES We are the trees of the forest. We stand serene Waiting until our bondage shall be done. Among our trunks, fettered in deep’ning gloom, The white moth flits, safe from the burning sun. From time eternal have we stood alone, Mighty in our silence, while our tops, Entwining far above the tainted earth, Have learned heav'’ns wisdom from the soft raindrops That wordless reach our roots. The world of men May live and bicker at our very feet. We care Not for them, for our hearts are lifted up To learn our God in the sun-scented air. Janet Brown, June