Alameda High School - Acorn Yearbook (Alameda, CA)

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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

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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

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Cia} HE speaker's address on “Preparedness” before the A. H. S. VA Army ended thus: ‘Alameda must be prepared! We hear constantly in military circles that Alameda is infested with spies! It is the duty of you boys to be on the lookout! YOURS must be that work!” After that speech no stranger was safe in Alameda. He was stared at, questioned, and followed. One day a young member of Company ———?, was on his way home to his beef tea, when he was passed by a foreign-looking individual carrying a round, ball-like package. He plainly showed that dire results would follow any care- lessness in handling it. The patriotism in the cadet’s fluttering heart was im- mense, having been inspired by the furtherest end of General Miles’ musket. Stealthily, like a thief in the night, our hero followed the stranger, pausing only when the newspaper wrapped around the spherical object flapped apart, re- vealing a sure-enough bomb! Our hero thought of his mother and her cat, and a lump came into his throat. But his eyes flashed fire and he sped on, love of country and visions of a plaster of Paris cross augmenting his horrible desire to kill. Forgetting that his leggings and buckskins hindered normal running, he soon was so close to the spy that he could hear the sizzle of the fuse in the bomb. Drawing his toad-stabber from his back pocket, the young Alamedan pounced upon the stranger, and the bomb rolled to the gutter. Cursing shock- ingly, the stranger punched the cadet in the nose, and with wild glances toward the bomb, rushed off in the direction of the North Pole. The cadet, his face illumined by the staunch patriotism of a Washington crossing the Estuary, did not falter. He stooped to the gutter. As by the stroke of a wand, the bomb became a humming mass and our hero a dilapidation of stinging flesh. A thous- and bees swarmed around him, claiming him as a long lost cousin. He is in bed still, occupying his time, so ‘tis said, on an essay on “‘Military Training in the High School!” —Paul St. Sure, June ’19 and Russel Medcraft, Dec. ’16