East High School - Exodus Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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THE BLUE and her riding light high above, like a star. Now everything was gloom again and only the swishing of the water and the throbbing of the engines broke the silence. On the stern deck in the glow of a cabin light stood a young man leaning against the after rail taking his last view of the twinkling lights, and crying softly to himself. His hat was removed, he was rather handsome, with sharp, clear-cut features and deepest penetrating eyes. Suddenly a slinking figure slid out of the shadows and pressed something. into his hand. The figure shrunk back. The young man started forward but the per- son had gone. Then he unfolded the something and read, We've gummed it, old boy. 'We're trapped. It's too far to swim. NVhat can we do? Meet me near forward hatch, S A. MW The young man was amazed. Wliat could this mean? He read it over several times. Surely someone had mistaken him. As he slowly regained his sensesghe also began to get an inspiration. It com- menced to dawn upon him that something was up. What should he do? Tell the captain? He wanted to, but suppose that it should turn out to be a tizzle. Woiildn't he be the laughing stock though! And that's the Way things usually turned out with him. He 'd keep his eyes open any- how. All night long he dreamed and imagined everything from Blaekhanders to German spies. He wished he was home in bed now. The next morning he slid quietlydown onto the freight deck and made his way cautiously toward the forward hatch. As he drew near he noticed a crouched figure over in among the piles near the mast. He slipped himself cautiously back be- AND GOLD - 9 hind a pile of boxes to have a look. He looked and looked for some time. Present- ly in glided another figure. Both were ap- parently members of the crew. Does this look like eight bells? said the crouching one in a hoarse whisper. Does this look like eight bells? re- peated the other. c'What ya talkin' about? . Didn't I say eight bells las' night? Didn 't ya say eight bells las' night? How do I know what ya said? Well, didn't ya read that note? NVhat note? XVhat note! Good land, man, don't tell me that I didn 't give you thatnote las' night? N No, you didn't give me no note. Oh, a kind of groan escaped him. YVell was that your ghost standing by the aft rail or was I dreamin'? Good Lord, if that machine doesn't get us, they will, the water isn't eold and we're right in the steamer track. She's set for nine o'cloek and we couldn't move that pile in a month of Sundays. Both men made a break for the half open freight door, grabbed life rings and jumped. Out slid the young man from the pile of boxes, up the companionway three steps at a time and up to the forecastle. The captain was just emerging from his stateroom. '4Captain, for heaven sakes send a crew of men into the hold or we'll be pickin' harps within fifteen minutes! 'WVhat's the trouble, young man? the captain inquired anxiously. There,s a time bomb among the pile of boxes on the freight deck by the for- ward mast. It's timed for nine! The next thing t.here was a crew of men working like mad heaving the boxes out through the freight doors.

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-I'-1 - L. 8 EAST I-IIGI-I.SCHO0L loughby, and for a few minutes he hoped that he was going at least to finish in peace. Vain hope! As he approached the heart of the city he saw a crowd of people and heard the strains of a brass band. On turning the corner he was received with a great shout. Then he saw a. sight that explained it all. ' In front of the town hall a float had been drawn up. In it were a delegation of Jones'.friends and a band. Bill Bailey was standing shouting on all sides to the people of the village, 'announcing his ar- rival. What sort of a fool circus are you trying to make of yourselves? asked Jones. A grand one, old man, and you have been the elephant, the shining star of the whole show. replied Bailey. You will find lemonade in the ambulance. You have won your money hand- somely. Jones. acknowledged Ryan, and we all accept with pleasure your kind 1IlV1l31lZ1O1'1 to dinner. GOING OVER THERE. By Elizabeth Harrold. ' It was down at the old Hamburg-Arnen ican pier in Hoboken. The Kron Prinz Friedrich Vtlilhelm lay at her berth with her rusty iron sides towering above the freight houses. The Kron-Prinz, until recently serving the Huns, was now to do her bit for Uncle Sam. Drays rattled to and fro over the rough cobblestones, gang bosses, big rough men, were calling their orders, and the huge derrick booms fore and aft, were reach- ing out and grabbing up great boxes and sending them soaring skyward with a. grating and squeaking of the blocks, and then dropping them with a dull thud and a cloud of iron rust into the hold. Swarms of dingy, sweating negroes kept up a thundering din rolling in barrels and running up the gang-planks with hand- trucks loaded with boxes and disappear- ing into the bowels of the vessel. They were all a roarin' away, De las' box, de las' box. ' She was an inspiringsiglit as she lay there in the hazy atmosphere with the thick black smoke rolling slowly out of her stacks, and way up high on her after mast her riding light twinkling now wand then through the dusk. The derricks stopped squeaking, and the last of the sweating negroes came tumbling out of the boat. Dangi Dang, the live minute warning signal sounded, and members of the crew came straggling aboard with their belongings tucked under their arms. , Dangl An oiflcer on the stern bridge called out, Cast off those stern lines. A single deep 110tB on the siren. The little tug on the stern started churning up the water and it rushed past the rusty plates of the big steamer in a miniature rapid. C-how,-chow,-chow, a myriad of sparks Went fiying up and came down all over the surface of the water, winked and were gone. The great ship slipped out into the river, straightened herself, and went swinging past out of sight. The ship was clipping along at a good rate, her decks rose and fell steadily. The last of Long Island was being swal- lowed up in the gathering gloom, and a low riding steamer, very indistinct, was plowing along inward bound. She went swishing past and the gloom seemed to be thicker and glooinier where she was with a few twinkling lights scattered in it

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im, 10 EAST HIGH SCHOOL The last of the pile splashed into the seaf Bang! Every man went Hat like buckwheat before a storm. The ship rolled heavily. The sea was strewn with splintered wood. John, said the captain, we're all mighty thankful to you. Well, I wish I were home, John re- marked. , A CHANGE IN LUCK. By Earl W. Tite. ' Shorty Lewis is through, and I don't blame him. I say that when a man gets uncertain about death and taxes, it's time to hunt the way out, and that 's what Shorty has done. They 's some fellows as can roll a dol- lar down the street and it will come rollin' back with five or six more little iron men. Not so with Shorty. If Shorty was to bet it would snow in Alaska next winter, men would drop dead from the heat on Janu- ary first in Nome. Why, with Shorty's luck, John D. could lose his pile in twenty minutes, matching pennies. I dropped into the Tonsorial Arcade about a month ago, and there sat the usually smiling Shorty with his lower lip hanging down like a catcheris chest pro- tector. He that usually was so smiley was a life size picture of Gloomy Gus. The Arcade is across from our news- paper office. Sam Black, the owner, de- pends on the boys from the ofdce for his trade, and in turn offers a convenient hang-out. A . 'Shorty is the star barber of the place, and when he ain't pushing some feller's whiskers back in his face he 's tendin' the pool table or pushin' dried, rope over the counter in the back part of the shack. Outside o' that Shorty's as busy as an undertaker in a cannibal settlement. No woman never fought to prepare three squares a day for Shorty, so Shorty donated his money to chance. He played the worst game of poker I ever see, he was unlucky at craps, and if he 'bet on a horse, the old harness-rack would pull a Russian retreat on the home stretch. How- ever, Shorty managed to wear a face as bright as a Mexican's shirt with all his natural hard luck. Trouble', wasn't part of Shorty 's vocabulary, and that is why his gloom was so noticeable. Shorty said he was sick, but when I said I guessed the pain was mostly in his pocket-book, he admitted it. He said l16,d got to the' point where a dollar was something like a ghost, a thing you could see but not feel. Upon inquiry he said he hadn't been robbed. No, he said, I sat into a poker game with them eggs in th' press room once too many times. Since I been puddlin' in that game, I been broke more times 'n your speed laws. Last night was the end of the world. I was Belgium and them six guys was Germany. Say, with their luck I could sell submarines to the Swiss government. 'N now I'm in debt, too. ' We was still figgerin' how we could pull him out of that hole when in comes Eddy Blake, with excitement stickin' out on him like tags on a ten dollar suit. After some hemmin' and stallin' We found out that he had a sure tip on Non- skid. Eddy and his sure thing didn't create much of a stir at Hrst, but after awhile-we started to listen to his ceaseless chatter. It seemed that the book-makers were oiering about fifteen to one odds,