Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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Features 5 Loyalty Dollar For a Dime Under Sea Basketball 24 Traffic Squad Trials 31

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LOYALTY By Irving Latham CO one interested in such things the faces of Captain Harvey Jen- kins and his first mate George Edwards presented an interest- ing study in reflected mental expression, as they sat deep in con- versation in the cabin of the Polar Star. The sun-swept, wind-lashed coun- tenance of the captain, frank and pleasant, offered striking contrast to the knitted brows, stubborn lips, and doubtful eyes of his next in command. Jenkins was the image of serene assurance, for he was holding forth on a subject on which his views were unshakeable. “Well, sir, you may be right,” retorted Edwards, “but you have yet to convince me. Things have changed. Faith in the man you work for isn’t set as much store by as it was thirty years ago, and employers haven’t the same regard for their men. It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been with the company. The only thing they consider is: can you do the work better than anyone else? If you can’t, all the company loyalty in the world won’t keep you your job.” “Mister, I’ve been a skipper on an Ames ship for twenty-three years and there hasn’t been a man more loyal to the company interests than I. I tell you that gratitude’s not dead yet and I expect to command a ship as long as I’m able, and draw my pension when I’m not. Oliver Ames is not the man to forget nearly a quarter century’s service. We’ll talk no more about it now, but you mark what I’ve said.” In the quiet of his magnificent city home, Oliver Ames reviewed the last few years of an energetic life and aggressive business career. With the ex- ception of the last four years, his mental force and bodily vigor had been the motive power behind the Ames Steamship Co., but during that period his burden had been eased by the aid of his astute young general manager, Guy Hastings. Adopted as a lad of sixteen, Hastings had filled a great breach in the life of the widower king of the seas, and now his natural taste for the business foretold security and tranquility in the evening of Ames’s life. At the thought of relief from the constant demands of his busi- ness, the taut face relaxed and a half smile of pleasurable anticipation lightened the grave features. Hearing a step in the hall outside his room he called a greeting, and his foster-son entered. Guy Hastings was of medium height; his hair and eyes were dark. His mouth was set, determined; some might have fancied a touch of ruthless- ness hovered about it. He crossed the room and seated himself before his father. 5