Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The waves they flew all o ' er the deck, And we let out our sheet; The storm it raged and we were soaked With bitter rain and sleet. The waves they broke our good ship ' s side, The waves came pouring in, And all us jolly sailor-men Did bail with mournful din. Courage, men, spake our captain bold, Desert not our good ship, Or we shall sink e ' er morrow dawns, And we shall take a dip. W e all stood up upon the deck, When a mermaid fair was seen; She told us that her orders were To take us to her queen. So down she led us to the land Where fishes play all day; They leaped and danced and flew like birds, And all day they did play. And when Sam saw the mermaids ' queen He was in seventh heaven, And he announced to all us men, That he ' d found number seven! So here we ' ll live for all our lives, Seaweed land ' s our dwelling; Sam yet may find wife number eight, There really is no telling! Marion Francis, Form IIIa. Queer, Wasn ' t It? THEY had been sitting around the fire for the most part of the evening, telling tales, each trying to out-do the others with so-called true experiences. The host had just finished the inevitable ghost story and his two sons were openly scoffing. There came a low rumble from the deep arm- chair in the corner and they all turned expectantly, for the Indian Colonel was wont to preface his utterances in this manner — rather as a grandfather clock gives a warning wheeze before it strikes the hour. But, joking aside, he said, strange things do sometimes happen. Now I remember years ago ... The other guests smiled at each other significantly and settled down to listen. To be exact, continued the Colonel, it was thirteen years ago. I was serving at the time on the frontier in Northern India, and I had for a servant a huge Pathan. He was one of the ugliest fellows I have ever seen but his efficiency made up for his hideous face. On day in July, when the heat was well-nigh unbearable and I was vainly trying to keep cool, he came to me. ' Sahib, 1 he said, ' I am going away for a little while, but I will be back in two weeks and my brother will work for you while I am gone. ' ' Where are you going, Yamut? ' I asked wearily. T did not want Yamut to go, but I did not feel equal to an argument and I knew that once he had made up his mind nothing would stop him. ' I am going to Benares to find a man who has insulted me and I shall kill him when I find him. ' Had he suggested hunting purple elephants and green monkeys at that moment, I believe I would have been only mildly surprised but I felt that mv position demanded that I remonstrate with him. ' You will never be able to find the man in Benares. Besides I forbid you to go; it would make me an accessory before the crime, or something. ' I am sorry to leave you, Colonel Sahib, but I cannot rest until I find that son of a pig, Charan Das. ' There was such an intensity of hate in the man ' s voice that I was uneasy, for he was fully capable of carrying out his threat. But the next day I no longer feared for the safety of Charan Das. [ 29 ]

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result of their somewhat bad start. Noticing that they were all growing tired they found, most unfortunately, that they had several feet (no exaggerations) of snow under their skis. They were not despairing and in a few minutes they were sitting deep in the snow waxing their skis. In a short time they were ready to start, but unfortunately they had some difficulty in rising out of the very deep snow. After helping each other they were all up, only to find that they had left most of the dye of their pants behind — (a mere detail!). On they went, only to find that their skis were over waxed, with the result that they would scarcely move. At last their spirits gave out and they sat down in a nice sheltered spot to have lunch. But the sheltered spot soon changed its name and became a windy, cold corner. However, appetites were too keen to bother about the temperature. Misses X, Y and Z were now very happy. They had a good lunch in spite of the fact that the sandwiches were soaked in ginger ale, and the cake was mixed with oranges. Miss X suggested the return home as they must allow time. Miss X ' s suggestion always proved brilliant, so it was accepted again. This time she did wisely. Had she not done so, Misses X, Y and Z would probably have remained in the Laurentians and would have perished in the cold. As it happened, since they had lost the map, they consequently lost their way, but being as they were, as I have already mentioned, perfect pioneers, they went on and always on till finally they arrived at Shawbridge, and until this day they never knew where they went. When they arrived at the station they discovered that the late train was the only one that they had not missed. So among skis and people they managed to squeeze in, only to find that all the seats were occupied. And so the Misses X, Y and Z silently existed among skiers and skiers and forests of skis, among surging voices, cigarette smoke and con ' versation, until at last the train pulled in at Park Avenue Station. We shall leave them there — Miss X under a seat with her skis on top of her; Miss Y uncon ' scious in the smoking-room, and Miss Z near the car door, buried under drinking cups. We trust the three pioneers arrived home safely and were present at school next morning. Faith Lyman, Form IVa. Six- Wife Sam We left our port on a summer day, Twas a hot summer day in June, And after there came a hot summer night, With a beautiful orange moon. Then up and spake old Six-Wife Sam, Our captain took a telescope, The porpoises to see; But when we looked upon his face He showed no outward glee. The things had very scaly skirts, This moon reminds me of Mabel, And all us jolly sailor-men Did laugh all we were able. Sam was a merry old sea-dog, With a wife in every port : Their skirts were made of scales, Then said our merry sailor men, Perhaps they ' re only whales! ' They are a band of mermaids, quoth Our captain. Then said he, Some fat, some thin, some old, some young, Some fair, some tall, some short. The next day dawned with a golden flare, And the flying, fluffy foam Did lure the instinct of our men They are a band of maidens that Pull ships down in the sea! And true it was, for that same night There rose some awful gales. I know whose blasted fault it was. To wander and to roam. Sam said he saw some porpoises With lovely golden locks, A i ombing thcin with silver combs, While sitting on the rocks. It was them pretty whales! And Sam was right, for the next day The gales were awful fierce; And then those cussed porpoises Made the winds our sails to pierce. I 28 |

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During the night there had been a riot among the natives: Mohammedans and Hindus had fought at the instigation of their priests and at dawn Yamui was found dead. He was horribly mutilated, his head nearly severed from his body. A few weeks later I left for England on leave. When I returned to India I was sent to a different station, where I remained a long time. About three years ago, however, I happened to be in Benares for a month. One day a dead Mohammedan was found by the Native Police with a knife in his back. The body was identified; the man ' s name had been Charan Das. A merchant in rugs, he had just returned to Benares after an absence of ten years! I since heard, from an old friend, that soon after my departure for England, thirteen years ago, they had found the ground around Yamut ' s grave torn up and his coffin empty. And you suggest, said the host ' s son, that this Pathan had been wandering around the streets of Benares every night for ten years looking for the other beggar, what ' s-his-name? I suggest nothing, said the Indian Colonel. I only give the facts. But it was queer, wasn ' t it? Margery Simpson, Form IVb. Evening In Dover Oh, the vesper bells are ringing As the village maids are singing And the sailor lads are swinging Through the dusky lanes at eve. Oh, the crier ' s bell is clanging While the harbour sails are hanging And the merchants ' doors are banging In the empty streets at eve. Oh, the forest choirs are blending As the sheep the dog is tending And the shepherd old is wending Through the meadows — home at eve. Oh, the cattle bells are tinkling As the flowers dames are sprinkling And the Evening Star is twinkling O ' er the village huts at eve. Warda Drummond, Form IVa. My Questions Do ships have eyes when they go to sea? Are there springs in the ocean bed? Does a jolly tar run from a tree? Does a river loose its head? Can you bring relief to a window pane? Can you mend the break of day? Can you go to bed each morn and night Drinking milk from the Milky Way? If you ate a square meal would the corners hurt? Can you dig for an ace with a spade? Can you throw a rope to a drowning lemon Just to give a lemon aid? Alison Smart, Form IVb. t 30 ]