Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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6 THE, ORACLE and when able to pierce the darkness and find voice to speak he reported to us the wonderful, beautiful news of our escape from a watery grave. He had recognized the white tents of the United States Army post at Pasa Caballos and saw that we were within the entrance of the harbor of Cien- fuegos. It was a long time before we were able to realize the truth—that our lives were actually spared; that our absolute safety was really assured and that we were truly beyond reach of that surging main. But when the realization came, the passionate prayers of thanksgiving that went up from those people for that miraculous deliverance out of the very jaws of death, were surely heard by Him whose Power had saved us. Exhausted with fear and suffering we were glad to be able to obtain a few hours of much needed rest until dawn, when we smoothly and happily sailed up the harbor to the wharf where many anxious watchers waited to hear our frightful tale. Twenty-eight steers and five hogs had been killed in that night of terror, being thrown and trampled on, while the rest were poor tottering mangled beasts that were unloaded the next morning. Even the passengers looked as though they had gone through weeks of torture and some had actually lost flesh in that one night. The following morning the explanation of our sudden change from the angry billows to the death-like calm of the harbor came to us from the Captain himself. Not knowing where we were, he had not realized that we were anywhere near Cienfuegos, until suddenly coming upon the opening that he soon recognized. Then the great engine was nearly reversed and, as those heavy chains grated and turned, we were swung sharply around into a deep little cove at the mouth of the harbor, where all was calm and still. Such was our frightful experience and narrow escape from shipwreck on that beautiful Caribbean Sea. We had sailed over the same historic waters over which Christopher Columbus had sailed on his second voyage to America; but the realization of that interesting fact and the remembrance of the enjoyments of that day did not return to us for a long time—not until the horrors of that long night had faded somewhat from before our eyes and left a space for the pleasanter circumstances of the voyage to appear. Peddler—Madam, I have a fine collection of complexion beautifiers which— Lady—No, you don’t work any skin game on me.—E. Little Girl (entering grocery store)—Ain’t you got no aigs? Grocer—lI ain’t said I ain't. Little Girl—I ain’t ast you is you ain’t, I ast you ain’t you is, is you?

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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

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THE ORACLE NI Second Prize Transplanting a Home MATILDA SRAGER. “How much?” “Thirty-five copecks.”’ “Mother of Heaven! Thirty-five copecks! It is not worth eight! I will give you twenty.” “It is worth fifty! See how strong it is!” “Strong! Holy Mary, do you hear that?’ The woman gave the cloth a mighty pull, ripping it. “That pull would rend an ox!” cried Slova indignantly. “The cloth is good cloth, worth much. You do not want to wear one dress all your life!” “I give twenty-five. It is not worth that, although very pretty.” “Thirty-five copecks.” The woman, her snub nose pointing to the sky, laughed scornfully and marched to the door. Seeing that Slova did not call her back, she stopped, turned round, and began to bargain again. “Will you sell f or thirty?” she asked. Slova nodded, cut the cloth, and gave it to the woman, taking a handful of coppers in exchange. She put the money hastily away, lest her patroness should change her mind, then followed her out to the steps, joining in the common cry of the shopkeepers: “Come in my store, come in my store.” Meanwhile her husband in the store was showing some peasants around, who jeered at everything in general, at the things he called attention to in particular, and bought nothing. Finally they waddled out, an awful mass of color from the flaming headshawls to the red, green, and yellow stock- ing s. Dovid said something under his breath. In half an hour one more customer came in, who wanted some calico. After haggling, exclamations of Satan, bouncing in and out of the store, ete., they agreed about the price. The cloth was cut; the money (counted five times to be sure it was not too much) almost handed to Dovid when a party of her friends burst in. They looked at the calico; turned up their noses; spit at it to show their disgust ; and rushed out, taking the customer with them. Dovid stood blankly in the empty store with the cut calico in his hand. Then he began to swear. Slova did not try to stop him, first, because she couldn’t, second, because it was rather a relief to her feelings also. First came the women, then their city, then Russia, and—the “Little Father.” Slova gave a startled glance around. ‘Hush, man,’ she cautioned, “do you want to sup in Siberia next week ?”