Bridgewater State University - Alpha Yearbook (Bridgewater, MA)

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NORMAL OFFERING 27 Cflhe Man mlm Jllnheratunh QA12 Imaginary Incidentj . ..... 66 9' T'S a very nice boat, I said, thoughtfully to Nate Wetherby, il captain and owner of the Mary Chilton, a very nice boat, indeed! Captain Wetherby placed his feet apart, and swayedhis thick- set body easily with the lift and drop of the long, rolling swell coming in off Cape Cod Bay. His clear blue eyfes glinted from his brown, clean-shaven face. 'A niceboatj he mimicried. 'She's not a boat! Sheis a ship, -a great ship, a grand ship! All land-lubbers are the same! I 'A very nice boat,' indeed! What do you know of the feel of a ship, the pull and swing, the life What do you know of the tall white sails in the moonlight? 'A very nice boat !' He spoke gruffly, but toler- antly. Yes, land-lubbers are all the same! All except one, he amended, after a momentis thought. I met one once who knew ships and could feel them. He pulled his black pipe from his pocket, lit it, settled comfortably on a coil of rope, and puffed a moment in silence. Then he removed the pipe, and, cuddling it lovingly in his hand, continued: It was down in the South Seas years ago, when the Mary Chilton was trading there+copra, hemp, and coralf'-he caught my inquir- ing look. Oh, the Mary wasn't always a New England coaster! Time was, lad, before the steel ships came in fships with no soulsb when the old girl was known to every port in the world. 'Here comes the Mary Chilton,' the word was then, 'sailing fair and clear! Ah, boy, those were good days. Another long silence.. But I was telling you of this fellow. We were touching at Samoa, when he came aboard,-a tall chap, and most fearful thin. i Robert Louis Stevenson his name was. I remember that when he climbed the rail I was going to throw him overboard. I was sick of having dudes turning up their noses at

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26 NORMAL OFFERING steadily, and inonotonously, the old clock on the mantlepiec-e' chimes out the stroke of each hour, until it gains the eleventh,-and then stops. A mystic and thrilling treble voice utters the words, Yes, my son, I hear youg I see' you. Hold me, for I am coming to meet Him face to face. PIG Pk Pk Pk Pk 34 Pk Pk 214 214 Pk wk Morning has lifted her portals and the world is bathed in a flood of rose and purple light. The great sun in his fiery chariot has just begun his daily journey across the heavens. The deep blue ocean is calm, and the magnificent pine trees by the little house at the top of the hill are gently swaying in the slight breeze. Birds flutter to and fro, chirping and singing joyously. I The gaily-colored flowers in the garden, refreshed by the storm of last night, are nodding their heads coquettishly, and throwing laughing kisses at the sun, their wise and ancient monarch, seated in his lofty carriage of state. The little house is still and the room is still, save for the con- stantincreasing rhythm of the old clock on the mantlepiece. The lamp is on the table-extinguished. The rocking chair by the window holds the form of a woman with snow-white hair. The head is bent and the eyes are closed, but a glorious smile is revealed on her lips. One lifeless hand clutches a cross, only a fragment of metal' but the sacred symbol of liberty, honor, glory, peace,-and of God. Fannie Tinkham A wee little dog put on boxing gloves And said, Will anyone spar with me? A Maltese cat from a safe place said, To spar with you I'll agree. Come down on thegroundf' said the dog. Said the cat, You come up in the tree! Edward Parker QGrade V1.5

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28 NORMAL OFFERING my ship. But when I saw the look in his eyes, as he gazed at the tall, shining masts, I couldn't do it. It was a hungry look-a heart-break- ing look,-the cry of a man who ought to be on the seas, breasting the waves, facing the wind, loving a ship of his own, but who was bound to the land, the heavy land, by a weak body. Lad, lad, my heart bled for that chap I Again he was silent, sucking at his pipe. I shall never forget that morning-the deep blue of the sky melting into the rich indigo of the sea on the horizon-the white- capped swells swaying the tapering spars of the Mary Chilton-the taste of the salt spray on my lips-and there ,beside me, his eye-s fixed dreamily on the edge of the world, an old sea captain telling me simply, in a matter-of-fact way, how he met, aboard this very ship, the idol of two worlds! We had a big Kanaka with us then. He used to swing along the booms, hand over hand, high up above the deck. And when Stev- enson saw that, he choked and said, 'I would rather do that than write all the books in the world.' He sat where you're sitting, boy, and asked me questions and questions and questions. And I told him tales of the Mary Chilton. I remember I said something about the good round feel of a kicking wheel, and he didn't know what it was. So we took the old girl out for a spin,-a spanking breeze there was, and a good sea, with a lift and carry and drop,-and never did I see a man more lifted up than he was on that morning, when he got the spokes in his hands, and drove the prow straight through the waves. He was soaked with the spray. But his eyes shone like stars, and he laughed to himself. When we got back, he gave me this. The cap- tain pulled out a worn copy of Treasure Island and thumbed its pages tenderly. 6'He loved the sea and ships, he murmured, more to himself than to me. Aye, he loved ships 2 We sat awhile in silence. Then I asked, Did you ever see him again ? a The captain shook his head. I went back later. I wanted him to feel the Mary in a gale. He would have understood. But they told me he was dead I He sat for a long time, his chin on his hands, his pipe gone out, unnoticed. He would have understood, he sighed once, but he was dead? The gulls wheeled about the ship, and finally the captain arose. Well, he said, we've got to start loading that pig-iron for Bangor. S. Louise Dickinson