Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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' T urning the Midnight Oil. lt is a known fact that most long-term assignments are done on the night before they are due. It is this philosophy of never doing today what you can do tomorrow which leads people to burn the midnight oil. Some people learn their lesson and prepare ahead, while others continue to live the exciting life of doing homework at the last possible moment, if at all. lBo1tom Lqfr, .-1n1r-Clockwrsel Sills is one who finds it hard to study in the relaxing Bickle House atmospherez Murray considers sleeping hard vvorkg Parrish and Donald have concluded that when the body is comfortable, the mind absorbs the most: Chris Phillips - not your average hard- working American: Mark Stewart enjoys the intellectual stimulations which a newspaper provides: Rob Taylor finds it difficult to be a pesky nevvboy and dedicated student at the same time: the disco beat is a necessity to Pindlingk studyingg Feaver and Iverson finding out the hard way, the disadvantages of last minute preparattons. fCentre1 Douglas finds his highest productivity in the library. 20 l 4 X X 1, 1-. ,jg tv p X, aw J' 1 ? I l lf ,....- l' 7- ..A.. ' s-ur. 1' Qtal . Q4 7 ,145 f' 4 -- .-. V g +

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The Cargo he ship sailed. Hans set the sails to the wind, stood - back and looked at the effect. lt wasn't good enough so he set them again, then for a third time until ne was satisfied at their efficiency. He walked to the rail to look down into the water, then snapped himself out of it. Hans had never acted in this manner before. The font of nervous energy welled up inside him remained unabated, but there was nothing left for him to do once the sails were set. The ship would sail itself, He paced furiously around the deck examining everything though there was nothing left to check. The halyards seemed fine, but that was ridiculous - what could ever go wrong with the halyards? He had forgotten the hold, so now he ensured that it was battened down, pulling at it with all his strength. lt was okay so the cargo must be okay. All that he could do now was hold onto the wheel and hope for the best. Soon it was raining and the waves broke over the bow into his face. Just standing there on deck made one cold very quickly and his hands were numb with the water pouring over them. He cursed himself for forgetting his gloves, but he had left in a great hurry. It was the first time in his life that he had worked at night and he was beat like a drum. That damn war and those damn Germans! Christ the boat creaked a lot! Was it leaking at all below? How much? The pumps would have to take care of it. As long as the cargo didn't get damaged in any way he would be happy. He had never carried this type of cargo before. He had never wanted to carry it, he wished he wasn't carrying it now, and he hoped to God he would never have to carry it again. They had to find some dumb-son-of-a-bitch and he was elected. A wave of hatred flooded through his body for the men who had sent him away with this cargo but he remembered that he had been willing enough then, so he had better face up to it now, His mind raced . . . l'd better check that hold again, you never know, it's okay. lt's all because they are Jews and I can't see what's the difference. Yet apparently Hitler has discovered a reason. lt's always the Jews and he'll kill them, he will actually kill them! Hitler is insane and these Jews are my responsibility - their lives are in my hands! He checked the hold again and found it to be secure. This ship on the seas, loaded with Jews and bound for England is here because the armies of Hitler have taken Denmark. Hitler hates Jews and Hitler is in power so all the Jews have to run. lt's a naked way to run though, cowering in the hold of my ship while l sail them to safety. The madman had ordered all Danish Jews rounded up like steers in a slaughterhouse but we would not stand around 22 to watch him murder innocent people - never! The Danes are conquered but we will fight for the lives of our Jews. That's why l'm here on the water letting the waves of the North Sea batter my boat, we won't let the Germans kill our Jews. lt was still raining hard but all the thinking had warmed Hans up a bit. Only about 9 minutes to go now. Barring catastrophe, all the early tension and apprehension of Hans had been wiped away by two new elements - cold and confidence. There were thirty-two Jews in the hold, packed very tightly with barely enough room for one of them to lie down. It would be a rough ride for them but nothing would be intolerable if they were granted their freedom and there seemed a good chance for that now. Just as long as the Germans didn't hear about the sudden evacuation quickly enough to send ships to intercept. Fear rose again in him. lf the Germans stop this ship then I won't be very popular with them when they see the contents of my hold. What would they do to him? Shoot him? Or would he be treated as any other Jew. For all of his life he had wanted to be in a dangerous position and now he dearly wished that he was back home in his bed: he wished he was safe from the Germans. He knew but refused to admit to himself that his position was more than precarious, it was inextricable. lt was then that he saw the ship. lt was a big one and it was straight off the port side, on a collision course with his ship. Butterflies danced madly in the pit of his stomach and his heart beat savagely against his chest. He was only able to discern through the fog and driving rain of early morning an approximate estimate of its size. It was a big one. Was it possible that it was a ship from England of the home fleet? Hans unconsciously crossed his numbed fingers as he clutched the wheel. lt wasn't a British shipg he saw its colours. He remembered a line from Byron Like the Wolf on the Fold - well, the wolf had taken its time about it but it was here now and only he, a nearly defenseless shepherd, could fend off the wolves from their quarry. It was a ship of the German Navy. The sense of certain doom spurred Hans to a rush of action. He hustled to the east end of the ship where they wouldn't be able to see him cast out the two main fishing lines. If the Germans are stupid enough to believe this, l'll tell them the one about the flying pig. He thought, but it was no longer funny. Would they just ask him a few questions or did they know? He saw about five sailors milling around the deck, but the number was increasing steadily. How many would he be able to shoot if he had his gun? That didn't really matter, his gun was at home. He had a knife but it