Katherine Delmar Burke School - Works and Days Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 32 text:

Works GDN 'Days 'k DARK SHIP ROM OUR small cottage by the sea, I often wander down from the cliffs where it is situated, to the very edge of one of the abyss that forms the hem on the tumbled skirt of the ocean. It is strangely restful to me to sit and feast my eyes on the deep green and shadows of the rocks, and the water dashing into the caves that it has worn itself during countless dashings. There is one cave in particular that holds a fascination for me. For tangled in its slimy black rocks are the gnarled remains of a ship's rigging. It serves as a veritable puzzle for me to muse on how and why these lone spars have drifted in here. Where were they severed? How did they happen to come loose, and how far did they drift before they found a final resting place here in my small obscure cave, where they remain to be dashed to pieces in years to come by the grinding force of the foam and waves? It makes one see perhaps, a dark night, heaving, billowing waves, the sky roaring and dashing down water and still more water to mix with the already terrifying supply surging over the decks of a small schooner, wallowing in the agonized, clutching grip of waves that howl with mad fury in their awful desire to swallow, to devour the trembling, defenseless little ship. The water seems to say, What are the feelings of this bundle of wood to me? What I want, I take. And the pleadings of the ship have no effect upon the greediness of the ocean. The gluttonous appetite of the water seems unending. Nothing, nothing can satisfy this fiendish, grasping, terrifying monster. The wind, brother of the sea and partner in her plan to devour the boat and thrust it down into the very depths of her maw, howls and plucks at the bones and sinews of the tiny boat. The sailors, too puny for the gulping waters to even heed, are rattled about like so many old dice, and when occasionally one rolls off the table. into the darkness, no one bothers to search for him. These futile pawns, thinking to ease the burden of the sea's pathetic quarry, cut off the rigging and spars, and cast them overboard into the roaring darkness. But even this is not enough. Surely and tenaciously the sea Wins her unequal struggle against this makeshift of man, and the mass of the boat sinks, drawn by the sucking, insistent vortex below it, carrying with it all evidence of its being, except the few spars cut off in a moment of despair. By now the ship has been long sunk and lies at the bottom of heavy waters. No sound disturbs it as it lies hidden in the silence of years. It has a beautiful resting place made more inspiring by the awful quiet and still- 4 txt Jef' QQ4

Page 31 text:

Works Cv- Days i' SHADOW ON THE SANDS 'Twas many, many years ago My grandmama told me, A gallant weathered sailing ship Set out upon the sea. A round full moon was in the sky, But clouds had gathered low, A maid stood on the silver sands And begged him not to go. The bells rang clear from out the sea, He waved a fond goodbye. He couldn't see the salty tear Nor hear her lonely sigh. 'Tis many moons full long agone The sea did take its toll Whilst now the bells from out the depths Still sing their dismal dole. The maid now lies in peaceful death Beneath a carven stone, No longer need she. watch the sea Forever all alone. But old 'uns say when winds do moan And waves are breaking high, A pale form flits across the sands, And softly does she sigh. DOROTHY WALKER, Ac. IV. ...QT THE END OF THE DAY It was sunset on the bay. The last golden hues of the sun were shining on the sails of a small boat. The boat left ripples behind it as it slipped into its dock. A large steamer rolled majestically out of the port, and glided along in the cool gray water. Then, like a great white ghost the fog enveloped the bay. Stars twinkled and the moon was the master of the night! PATRICIA LOWREY, INT. III. 'qi' f -as-' ,fi fix.

Page 33 text:

Works if Days ' if ness. Small creatures glide softly, paying tribute to this manmade thing now gracing a God created region from whence none return to cell the beauties. This I see in my thoughts as I gaze into my cave by the now quiet un- dulating ripples. The water is patiently still, waiting for another chance to grasp some helpless boat far at sea. All this is clear to me as I laze there. And so I leave and wander thought- fully back to the cottage, watching as I go, the sea stretching far out before me-leading, to where? HERMINE KING, Ac. IV. -31 SEA Blue above, Blue below, Unbounded Liquid Miles. Salt wind blowing, Running ride, Skies of clouded tiles. Distant, grey, unchanging shores: Inletsg Crystal creeks. Freshening sea and dashing spray A ship besprinkled bay. Thunder, Lightning, Bursting tide, f Destruction, Falling rain. A fierce and foaming, fighting ocean, A billowing, mocking main. PEGGY SLoss Ac. II ,Ag X A '-'EE' -fi' ff ff xx