Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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IN AS MUCH I do not wish you to do anything for me, sir, I replied, but I have brought aboard a little orphan boy of this country and I hope that you can do something for him. He wants to stay aboard and work for a place to sleep and something to eat. I am very sorry, said the captain. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to be able to help these poor people but I can not. The admiral has given me orders to allow no one, aboard except American citizens. Where is the boy ? I led the way to where he sat. Upon see- ing the captain the boy jumped to his feet, and, standing as straight as a soldier, sa- luted him. His tiny thin face showed a helpless, pleading look. He was waiting for his sentence. God help me, murmured the captain, for I have never had a harder task. Tears came into his eyes as he took the child in his strong arms and tried to ex- plain that he could not allow him to stay on the ship. I do not know how much the boy understood of what the captain told him, but his little frame began to shake with sobs, and I knew that he understood enough. Officer of the deck, called the captain, Pass the word, all hands on deck. Aye, aye, sir,', replied the of-licer, and hurried away. VVhen the crew had gathered on the top- side, the captain, holding the child in his arms, told them about him. , What will we do, boys ? asked the captain. Will we send this little one ashore to starve ? No, shouted the crew in one voiceg and they began to drop money into a hat that one of them passed around. 1 I do not believe the boy understood what I we were doing for when the money was offered to him he did not take it at first. He stared at it. then at the boys. He reached out his little hand and touched it

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:IN AS MU'CH many fruit stands, shops, and restaurants along this street, as are found in any city of the Orient. I wandered around for an hour or two buying some souvenirs and a bite to eat, then started back toward the dock. I was walking down a street that was for the most part deserted when I noticed a little boy running toward me and calling to me in a language that I did not understand. I waited until the boy caught up with me and asked him what he wanted. t Bon Americano, he said, Me no mere, no pere, sleep in street, no ea . There are many professional beggars in those old countries, which makes it hard to tell who is deserving and I was wondering what I should do about him. We were walking down the dock now and he was holding my arm and repeating those words. I saw a little shop just across the street, so we went over and found there, as I expected, a native who could speak some English. My intention was to try this boy and see if he really was telling the truth. The man interpreted the boy's story for meg a short story, indeed, but one which said more than we can comprehend. His father and mother and all his relatives were killed by the Turks and he, a boy of eight, was left to shift for himself in a country where even grown people were dying of starvation. - Tell the child he may go back to the ship with me. I will ask the captain if he may be allowed to work on the ship, Where he will have plenty to eat and a good place to sleep. The man repeated what I had said and the poor child was almost hysterical with joy. He clenched my arm as if he were afraid I would get away and, dancing by' my side and mumbling words that I did not understand, I led him toward the dock. As soon as we were aboard I took him straight to the galley. There we found the fat-good-natured cook, straightening away the pots and pans and getting ready to go below. - - Hello, cook, I called, stepping into the galley with my little friend, Whats have you to eat ? What do you care what I have to eat, you old pelican? said the cook. Did they run out of grub ashore or are you too cheap to buy it? At the same time he was setting out some food for me. I want it for this little orphan boy, I told him, and the jovial look on his face changed. Ah, he said, stooping to put his arm around the child, You look -almost starved, but you won't be long, if I can help it. With this the cook got busy, and the food he fixed for that little orphan would have been good enough for the captain. After the waif had finished we went out on deck and sat on a hatch door to watch for the captain's return. He had gone ashore to see the American consul. Soon I saw him coming toward the ship, so I went to the gangway to meet him. Good evening, sir. I said, saluting him as he came aboard. '3Good evening, my boy, returned the captain. What can I do for you .

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IN A-S-lyl-UCH as if he were afraid it was not there. Then his little, bony fingers clamped amund it and he 'began to sob again-this time for joy. It was nearing eleven o'clock and we were supposed to leave at that time for Alexandria, Egypt, so the captain carried the little boy toward the gangway and the crew followed. My little friend, you will have to go now, said the captain, and the boy understood. When the captain placed him on deck he stepped back, drew himself together and saluted, then turned and walked off the ship. I will never forget the expression on that boy's face as he turned on the dock to give us a parting look. It was one of mingled joy and sadnessg happy because he had in his possession, no doubt, more money than he had ever dreamed of and sad because he had to leave us. In a few minutes the engines began to groan, the lines were cast loose and the ship was once more headed for sea. As I stood on deck and looked at the city that had appeared, so beautiful to me that evening, I saw onllyz a few scattered lights and the dark outline of houses. Some- where among them was a homeless boy, fighting the world alone. DESERTION Behind the shack, the sunlight seems To bathe the long-forsaken field With limpid calm. The woodland curves, An amphitheatre of living green, High galleri-ed with fir and pine. Above the tangled fern, grown rank With rush, and mottled yellow and white With daisies, mustard and buttercups, A myriad insect world quickens The air with tiny life. Somewhere, Hidden, a meadow-lark sings And ever, against a mass of trees Strange whirring birds dart and streak- Exquisite elements of flight. Out in the field a scare-crow Still stands with flapping arms out-thrust, As if about to scream his taunt, Pathetic now, that once this land Of decaying human enterprise Which he has surveyed so long-was man's. ROCIE J. COX Jr.