Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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4 THE ORACLE unusually fresh and invigorating. We congratulated ourselves a dozen times during that eventful day that we had chosen the water route instead of the long, dusty, jolting ride on land. What if we were unable to eat more than one or two mouthfuls of that dreadful food at every meal? We could live on the air for one day, and by feasting our eyes on that magnificent expanse of sky and sea such as we had never seen before. So the day passed,—one long stretch of warm sunshiny enjoyment. As evening drew near, it grew chillier. The waves became capped with white, and the ship actually rocked. At supper the dishes slid and danced about the table and it was quite impossible to keep one’s feet upon the floor. That meal over at last, we once more sought the pleasures of the deck in anticipation of watching the moon rise over that great shimmering sheet of’ water. We were disappointed, however, and greatly surprised upon reaching the deck to find that there was going to be no moon, for the sky was heavy and black with threatening clouds; that the wind was becoming strong and cold, and that the waves were dashing quite high, causing the ship to roll very perceptibly from side to side. Our rising uneasiness was very soon quieted by a friend who was already pacing the deck. We had fortunately but very unexpectedly met him on the train that morning. He was travelling our way, with two other gentlemen, all acting as United States Postal Inspectors throughout the island. Their company, as friends from home, made it much more pleasant for us, who were strangers in a strange land; for we had already met with difficulties on our journey. We sat for some time, watching the storm approach. The wind steadily increased; the waves dashed higher and higher; the ship tossed furiously from side: to side, and it soon became impossible to hold one’s position on deck. One by one, as they were seized with that fearful sea-sickness, the party disappeared, each to the seclusion of his state-room. Finally no one was to be found on deck nor anywhere about the vessel. The storm increased in fury with every moment. The old flat-bottomed Cuban ship, tossed like a child’s sail-boat by the mighty wind and waves, threatened every moment to carry us to destruction. The dangers of the hurricane were increased two-fold by the fact that in all that distance, requiring a day and a part of the night to traverse, there was not a single light-house. No warning bell or light, along a coast of great jutting rocks with, still further beyond, beautiful but terrible coral reefs wickedly poking their sharpened edges above the rolling waves. None but those who experienced it, can ever know the terrors of that night. The waves continually swept our decks, and as the merciless storm rapidly increased in violence, all hope—even our smallest ray of hope—was

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PHB ORACEE Ww Literary (The George H. Babcock Prize Essays) First Prize The Terrors of a Storm at Sea A Personal Experience LILLIAN REED CRONKITE, UR destination was Cienfuegos, Cuba. We sailed from New York at one-thirty, on Saturday, October twenty-first, Nineteen Hundred, and arrived in Havana on the morning of the following Wednesday. Having missed the only train across the island, we were obliged to remain in Havana over night, using up the entire day and part of the evening with sight-seeing in and around the city. In the meantime, influenced by business men who could speak from experience, Father had almost decided to go to Cienfuegos by boat. It was said to be a beautiful trip, and the weather was extremely fair. After our rather rough passage from New York to Havana, my Mother and I were fearful of another, perhaps worse experience, and urged the land route; but Father, his health being poor, was especially anxious for the salt air, and although everyone admitted that in October it might be a little rougher than usual, still they had never known it to be really danger- ously so. Therefore the question was finally decided in favor of the sea. Leaving Havana by train on the following morning, we arrived at Battabano, one of the world’s largest sponge markets, at about ten o'clock. There we were to take the Steamship Antinogenes Menendez for Cienfuegos. We witnessed a somewhat exciting spectacle on the wharf as Battabano. As they were loading steers, and as the passengers were obliged to go through the part of the ship where the animals were stalled, they were compelled to wait until all had been loaded before going aboard. By way of variety one unruly steer escaped. He tore around the open dock, scattering the terrified crowd, until after a desperate struggle he was captured and at last forced down the gangway into the hold. We were then allowed to board the steamer, passing through the aisle between those great beasts and up a narrow ladder-like stair-case, where we once more felt safe—for a time at least. The Antinogenes Menendez sailed promptly at ten-thirty and nothing need be said of the day’s enjoyment, except that it was as near perfect as possible. The sea, a beautiful blue, was as smooth as glass, and the air

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THE ORACLE 5 lost to us. Even the Captain who had been our prop and encouragement steadily lost his courage as the wind and tossing billows gained control of us. Driven far out of his course and not knowing where he was, he was utterly helpless. The agonizing cries of the suffering and terrified passengers reached our ears from every direction. We too were in a pitiful plight, for not even the stewardess was procurable; she also with all her experience was overcome and obliged to remain in her berth. It was impossible for any person to walk a step. We were violently thrown from wall to wall if we attempted it and so were obliged to crawl on hands and knees. The clothing on hooks in the state rooms dropped in heaps upon the floor; the water- bottles unceremoniously popped out of their racks only to smash on the floor while the contents ran in streams about the room and into our clothing. The steamer trunk was thrown noisily from one side of the room to the other, while with every dreadful lunge of the ship the crash of breaking glass and furniture in the dining saloon was fearful. As the vessel rolled, we too were shuffled about like egg-shells in a market basket. One moment, in our cane-bottomed berths, we were erect and on our feet; while the next, as she plunged in the other direction, we were literally on our heads. Both the danger and the horror of the situation were greatly increased by the live cargo beneath us,—one hundred and fifty head of cattle and thirty-five hogs. Above the terrible tumult—the crash and roar—could be heard the wild yells of the men, whipping and prodding the poor beasts to keep them standing. The confusion of those moaning animals and desper- ately howling men, as they handled their spears and poles, is too weird for words to express, especially as our one flickering ray of hope that remained, rested with those poor struggling beasts. The board stanchions that formed their stalls were of the weakest, thinnest nature, and if those gave way, and the steers were all thrown to one side of the vessel, nothing in this world could have saved us; that however by a night of heroic labor was avoided. As the night wore on, still swept on by the merciless storm, we lay in our berths too ill to care any longer and quite resigned to our fate. But hark! What was that? We were suddenly swept by a tremendous wave; the canvas deck covering was torn off to flap in the maddening gale and we heard a great rumbling—a terrible grinding that came from the very heart of the ship and shook its uttermost timber. Then all was silent—a horrible death-like silence. “Great God, we are going!” wildly came from a nearby state-room. Paralyzed by fear, yet not sure of our end, we dared not stir, nor breathe. Father, however, not willing to remain long in ignorance of the actual state of affairs, rose from his berth, managed to reach the window