Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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A Mi ssion This story I found in Naval Records of Ships in Washington, D. C. While the battle was raging the extra radio operator threw this story, in dots and dashes, out in the atmosphere to be picked up by a special tug. It was Friday the thirteenth, December, 1917. A long, lissome destroyer bearing the name U. S. S. Kane cut through the rolling gigantic combers of the North Sea. A cold, biting wind came over her port quarter, which made the deck force shiver. It was a grey, somber, sul- len, freezing day that did not improve the spirits of the men. The Kane had been at sea for two months now, stopping for fuel and supplies. You see, she had a mission assigned to her. She was to capture or sink the German U Boat, U15, that had been sinking so many ships, warring and neutral, in that area. ' Way below decks in the bowels of the trim little destroyer the watch were working hard to keep the old crack under way. Sweating, swearing, working gobs stripped to the waist shoveled coal into the huge boilers. On deck men were cleaning, priming, greasing and oiling guns and torpedo tubes. They shivered at their work, and muttered a curse now and then. Up on the bridge officers were busily engaged pour- ing over navigating charts. Above them, on the flying bridge, signal men were busy at their work. And way up above them on the deck, at a dizzy height, the lookout hung on for dear life, but always alert and conscious. The most impressive thing was the way the men were working with silent, death-defying grimness. At that minute, from the lookout, there came a sing-song, mournful bellow, Periscope ho! From the bridge came the query, Where away? Then the answer, Two points off the starboard bow. A general alarm was sounded and battle stations were named. But before the Kane could fire, three lithe dirigible-shaped ob- jects left the U15, as it proved to be, in their white, foamy wake. The torpedoes from the submarine hit the destroyer amidships, before she could maneuver out of their way, leaving leaks hopeless to fix. Then the Kane fired her Completed first volley, but in vain. The U-boat had im- mediately dived, and the torpedoes and shells from the destroyer had been useless. To an outsider it would seem that the battle was lost, but to the Navy it had just begun. Depth bombs were heaved into the swirling brine, and on that sinking ship not a man so much as blinked an eyelid toward escape and safety for himself. Then came an eruption that seemed to come from the bottom of the ocean, but was only the U-boat blowing up. The depth bombs at last had found their target. The Kane had been almost cut in half by the torpedoes that had hit her. So the terrible strain that had been put on her broke the destroyer in halves. All hands were lost, but I know each man had a smile on his face, because he had helped to carry out their mission. Roy Tenny ' 35 Thoughts As I sat typing wearily at a letter which I had tried again and again to write correctly, my thoughts drifted away from the page in front of me. I still struck at the keys mechan- ically, but I knew not what I wrote. I was now a weary British soldier dwelling on unforgettable days of the past. My thoughts took me to an old Moulmein Pagoda in the far East, where a Burma girl knelt in devout prayer be- fore a huge stone idol. The tinkling temple bells made my blood pulse rapidly through my veins, and the soft, balmy, scented air, with the rustling and murmuring of the tall grass and underbrush, filled me with a feverish desire to be back once more beneath its spell, and away from the cold, gloomy fog of London. I sav- agely compared the heavy, beefy-faced, English maiden to that slim, dusky Burma girl. I yearned to rise once again with the dawn as it came from the depths of China across the Bay. Gradually the clicking of the keys brought me back to the dull, everv-day surroundings, and glancing at the copy in the machine before me, I found that I had typed the words to Rudyard Kipling ' s Road to Mandalav. R. MacDougall ' 33 Pane Thirteen

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Editorial Although this issue of the Reflector is in honor of Washington ' s Birthday, we must not forget that the birthday of another great man occurs in February, also. For some reason or other, no doubt since 1932 is to be marked by nation-wide celebrations to commemorate the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of George Washington, we have received countless essays on all phases of his life, but practically none on Abraham Lin- coln. Of course, this great man must not be forgotten. So we are printing a poem by Edwin Markham, which is, in our opinion, the greatest tribute we could ever hope to pay to Lincoln ' s famous name and fine character. The Editor Lincoln, the M.an of the People Then the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour Greatening and darkening as it hurried on, She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down To make a man to meet the mortal need. She took the tried clay of the common road — Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; Tempered the heap with thrill of human tears; Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. Into the shape she breathed a flame to light That tender, tragic, ever-changing face, And laid on him a sense of the Mystic Powers, Moving — all hushed — behind the mortal veil. Here was a man to hold against the world, A man to match the mountains and the sea. The color of the ground was in him, the red earth, The smack and tang of elemental things ; The rectitude and patience of the cliff; The good-will of the rain that loves all leaves ; The friendly welcome of the wayside well ; The courage of the bird that dares the sea; The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn ; The pity of the snow that hides all scars; The secrecy of streams that make their way Under the mountain to the rifted rock ; The tolerance and equity of light That gives as freely to the shrinking flower As to the great oak flaring to the wind — To the grave ' s low hill as to the Matterhorn That shoulders out the sky. Sprung from the West He drank the valorous youth of a new world. The strength of virgin forests braced his mind; The hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul. His words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughts Were roots that firmly gripped the granite truth. Up from the log cabin to the Capitol, One fire was on his spirit, one resolve — To send the keen axe to the root of wrong, Clearing a way for the feet of God, The eyes of conscience testing every stroke, To make his deed the measure of a man. He built the rail-pile as he built the State, Pouring his splendid strength through every blow. The grip that swung the axe in Illinois Was on the pen that set a people free. So came the Captain with the mighty heart; And when the judgment thunders split the house, Wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest, He held the ridgepole up, and spiked again The rafters of the Home. He held his place — Held the long purpose like a growing tree — Held on through blame and faltered not at praise. And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. Edwin Markham What Would Happen Among the Freshmen: If Alice Dixon did not answer in English? If Hilda Beal came to school early? If Max Cormickhall started growing? If Anna Burns ever got zero in math? If Mary Byrne did not blush when you spoke to her? If Vera Callahan got an F ? If Arthur Boudreau could speak English? If Franklin Burrill stopped making wise cracks? If James Connolly did not write notes to a certain freshman girl? If Gerald Carrier did not talk about Canada? A. J. Akerstrom ' 35 Paae Twelve

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Tke Family Name of Waskmgton The Washington family was of ancient Eng- lish stock, and its genealogy has been traced back to the twelfth century. At the time of William the Conqueror ' s con- quest of England there were many wealthy es- tates and towers. One of these was the county of Durham, in northern England. This place was much noticed by William the Conqueror, because it was on the frontier between England and Scotland, and was liable to invasions from the Scotch. Among the knights who owned estates in this county of Durham was William de Hertburn, the progenitor of the Washington family. He was a friend of William the Conqueror, and was a prominent figure in the country. Later the family exchanged its estate for another one with the name of De Wessyngton. Consequently the family changed its name of de Hertburn to De Wessyngton, as was the custom of the time. Nearly seventy years afterwards the family still had possession of the same estate. The names of Boudo de Wessyngton and William, his son, appear on charters of land, granted in 1257 to religious houses. The De Wessyngtons took part in many minor battles, and a few major ones. In the reign of Edward III the name of Sir Stephen de Wes- syngton appeared on a list of knights who were to tilt at a tournament at Dunstable in 1334. For more than two hundred years the De Wessyngtons had figured in various activities and kinds of life — the hunt, tournaments, county councils; and some of the family were in the clergy. But by 1400 the estate was sold, since there were no immediate heirs to inherit it. How- ever, there were some descendants from William de Hertburn, who distinguished themselves in various professions. Their names were recorded in a few history books, and were engraved in chapels and churches. By degrees the name of De Wessyngton changed to Wessyngton, Was- sington, Wasshington, and finally Washington. One of these descendants of William de Hert- burn was Lawrence Washington, to whom George Washington ' s branch of the family im- mediately belonged. Lawrence Washington was Mayor of North- ampton for some time; and received, indirectly from Henry VIII, the manor of Sulgrave, in Northamptonshire, which remained with the family for many years. All of these Sulgrave Washingtons distinguished themselves in battles. Lawrence had two great-grandsons, John and Andrew, who were the first of the family to move from England. The two brothers came to Virginia and settled in Westmoreland County, near the Potomac. John married and moved to Bridges Creek, on the Potomac. He became an extensive planter, and in the course of time was elected a magistrate and a member of the House of Burgesses. The estate continued in the family. His grandson Augustine, the father of our Washing- ton, was born there in 1694. He was married twice. By the first marriage he had four chil- dren, two of whom, Lawrence and Augustine, survived. By the second marriage he had four sons, George, Samuel, John and Charles; and two daughters, Elizabeth and Mildred. Here we have the ancestry of George Wash- ington, and also, briefly, the characteristics of some of the ancestors. Washington ' s inheritance of their qualities — military aptness, managing ability, and perseverance — certainly showed in his life. Louise Merrill ' 32 A Coal M ine in New England 1 wonder how many people realize that within a distance of fifty miles of Boston there is a coal mine in full operation producing thousands of tons of coal a year. This mine is situated just outside Providence, Rhode Island, and on the direct road to Newport. It has been in opera- tion for a great many years. Perhaps the reason it is not better known to the people of New Eng- land is that it produces a low grade of bitumi- nous or soft coal, and with the supply of higher grade coal from the west the market for this Rhode Island coal has been limited. Owing to a new development of some Ger- man engineers, by which a number of foreign el- coal to be compressed into brickettes of such a consistency that they may be dropped on a con- crete floor without breaking, this mine is now flourishing and is destined to become one of New ements are extracted, a process which enables the England ' s large industries. N. Dresser ' 34 Page Fourteen