Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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A Lighthouse Mystery The tiny figure was barely visible for the cascading waves which swirled around him in the water. Again and again he would sink down under the surface, but again and again he would rise back up. His pale face was all that was visible in the darkness of the night, and even that was sometimes obscured by his limp black hair. He was Will Rodgers, the night watchman of the luxury liner Overdraft which had just sunk hours before, after being struck by a tidal wave while cruising in the Mediterranean. He had been swimming for two or three hours in the direction of an unidentified light in the distance which he had sighted from the watch tower just before the ship went down. As far as he could tell, he was the only survivor on the ship, thanks to his isolated perch in the tower. He assumed that the others were either trapped inside the vessel or had been sucked down by the turbulence of the sinking ship, the latter of which fates he had narrowly escaped. As he got closer to the light, he could see that it seemed to blink on and off as a lighthouse does, but he could remember no land or markers on the chart for miles around. His body was now numb and fatigued. It was all he could do to cling to odd pieces of wreckage to keep himself buoyant. There were still several more hours un- til dawn when the rescue ships might arrive, if they too had not been demolished by the wave. He did not know if he could hold on much longer. He estimated the light to be less than a mile away, but that might as well have been infinity because he knew that he had neither the strength nor the will to swim on. Even- tually he closed his eyes, and lay motionless, with his arms and legs drooped over a piece of debris. His heart still beating but his mind was a blank. When he awoke, he found him- self on the beach of some deso- late island. Thousands of gulls were the only inhabitants of the island. There were the remains of old human dwellings scattered a- round a huge majestic light- house made of stone and tim- bers. Inside the lighthouse, the beams and original stairs had all long since rotted away. There was, however, a fairly new and sturdy ladder which stretched to the top of the tower where the old oil lamps had once hung to warn ships of the dangerous waters. Will decided to ascend the tower to investigate the view. On his arrival at the summit, he discovered to his astonishment that there were not old oil lamps in the tower, but a modern elec- tric generator with storage bat- teries and a light beam on a swivel. The apparatus was moun- ted on steel beams and cemen- ted to the sides of the tower. Ob- viously someone had been using the lighthouse as a beacon for signalling ships. Perhaps Will had stumbled upon a secret smuggling operation. The light had, however, directed him the night before to the only piece of land for miles around, and that he was thankful for. After having eaten a meal of boiled gulls ' eggs, he began to make a closer investigation of the island. He estimated the island to be only about an eighth of a mile in circumference. In a secluded part of the island he found an old over-turned clinker- built boat in which he hoped to soon escape to civilization. The following night he set off in the boat for the coast of Italy, af- ter having erected a makeshift sail out of some old cloth he found, and having taken on board a supply of gulls ' eggs. Several days later, tired, sun- burnt, and half-starved, he was rescued by a coast guard ship which was patrolling the area for survivors of the catastrophe. When he told them of his discovery on the island they only laughed at him and claimed that he had lost his marbles, for they knew that here was not an island nor a beacon for miles around the area he described to them. Will argued that he might have stumbled upon the heart of a huge smuggling operation, but they would not listen. On retur- ning to the location of the lighthouse several days later, the island was nowhere to be found. It was as if it had all been part of a dream. Years later as Will Rodgers sat eating his breakfast and reading the London Times, he noticed a head which read: Another castaway claims to have discovered an un- charted island with an abandoned lighthouse in the waters near ... J. Gudewill 11 A1

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PELAGUS O Neptune, cincte tellure et caelo obtecte, undae animum excitant, praetextus ingenium reddit, altitude- verecundiam ostentat. A MAN He rises with dawn, and sleeps with the dusk In a land that belongs To none. His home is sound, his family strong With the will that carries them Through life. A hard life. A short life. A life that is lived for the present, And forgotten hereafter. His faith in God binds him firmly With the land which he loves And despises. From it he fills his stomach and To it he gives his strength. His sweat brings The chance Of reward, and sometimes Of failure. He is a simple man. He longs not for death, and yet it is there, And he is not grieved. He finds love with his own, And peace with the beauty Of nature. When he is gone, His seed will continue to grow in the land, For he planted it well, And taught his young To struggle, To accept, To live As he did. S. Roloff 12E Solem aspiciens fis caeruleus, color libertatis; ventos adloquens semper irasceris; luna noctu veste argentea te velat. Nee infixus ut solum nee liber ut aether: transitus es terrae auraeque. Ascribere unum modo nomen alium tibi possum: Pelagus. Jim C. Hou Grade 13 IMPRESSION Q Everyone has gone, brought with him his voice, laughter, and my misery. The halls are empty, the air freezes. Walking through the woods with no sound of footsteps or whisperings, with no shadow hanging in front or behind, there is no sound but the dialogue between the North Wind and the branches; nor is there the odor of human existence: only the fragrance of fresh pines. Although no hymn is sung, the recollection of chantings is heard in the mind. Quietness is you alone with yourself, and then perhaps, with nature too. Jim C. Hou Grade 13 PENSEE II n ' y a pas d ' art plus difficile que I ' art de vivre. Pour les autres arts et sciences, on peut trouver nombreux professeurs pour nous enseigner les verites fondamentales. Encore, personne ne peut me montrer comment vivre, sauf moi-meme. D ' un bout a I ' autre de la vie, il me faut continuer a apprendre a vivre; d ' une telle maniere que j ' ap- prendrai enfin a mourir. Jim G. Hou Grade 13

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The House This short story, written as an English project, was based on Louis van Gastern ' s film, The House . This film has no dialogue and contains flash- backs depicting the history of an old house that is being demolished. Out of the fragments grows the mosaic of many lives. - Ed. The dull, dumb walls that make up a building do not make up a house, for a house is more than that. A house is a spirit, a mem- ber of the family just as the family is part of the house. As the family grows, the grey, lifeless rock, which is the house, takes on new colours and grows with the family. It shares the hap- piness of the growing family, the joy of a closely knit family. With the joy of a closely knit family the house gains strength. It shares the sadness of a mourning family and the evil of a crumbling family. With the sadness the house weeps, with the evil it crumbles until the living rocks are once again grey and lifeless rubble scattered on the ground. The dowry was not enough to make him rich but it was enough to build the house. Its architect, John du Point, was a man of his word and he had said that the house would be finished in time. With the last detail complete, the house lay still and dormant, ready to come alive on the wed- ding day. The master carried his wife over the threshold for the first time in what was hoped to be the beginning of a long, happy marriage. The first months were good months, as the two began to be one. With this, the house grew and was part of their lives, part of them. The house had a good future ahead of it. Things were really looking up, but like anything that goes up, it must come down. The first shadow was cast on the house ' s bright future when the wife was in Paris with her aunt who was sick with the fever. The maid was newly employed and lonely, as it was the first time that she had been away from her family. She therefore turned to the master for comfort. .The two were very content with their shady secret. No-one knew ex- cept for the master and the maid who felt no remorse; and the house, whose foundations weakened with every wink, every secret glance meant only for the other. So it went on. On her way back from Paris the wife met du Point. The subject was birds. Du Point was an ad- dicted bird watcher and taxider- mist. The wife had always had an interest in birds, so when du Point invited her to see his studio, she accepted readily. They came to the yellow- breasted woodpecker. This , he said, is very rare. In actual fact I saw one near your house about a month ago . Oh? said the wife with interest. I also saw another very pretty bird . He looked right at her. A very lonely bird . His arm knocked the light switch down, and all was dark. Nine months later little Marie was born ... a bastard. The wife could not be sure, and neither could the architect, but the house knew, the house felt it, every beam, every brick loosened its hold on its neigh- bour. Yes, the house knew. The party was going well, everyone had enough to eat and drink, especially drink, and it was going to get better. Everyone who was someone was there. Marie could hear it from her room; it seemed like such fun and she wished she could go, but her mother had been very stern on the subject. Sixteen year olds do not mingle with adults . And that had been that. She never did get along with her mother, or her father at that, the only one with any feelings towards her, it seemed, was du Point. The master staggered out into the garden and collapsed into a lawn chair. He poured himself another drink and raised it to his lips. Suddenly his fingers fell open and the glass fell to the hard stone below. He was sud- denly sober, all too sober for his liking. He got up and walked into the woods, for he had a lot of thinking to do. The deeper into the woods he got, the more sounds from the house faded, but not the picture of the two shadows embracing in the win- dow, the eye of the house, for it was burnt indelibly in his mind. The days went quickly after that, nothing seemed to matter any more, the house was crumbling. What happened after that can only be put down as a miracle of types. The wife complained of a stomach ache and retired to bed. She died soon after. The coroner ' s verdict was that she had died of food poisoning. This might not have seemed good for the house but in the long run it was. At the time of the reading of the wife ' s last will and testament Marie met a young lawyer who had just joined the family solicitor ' s firm. As the days progressed they fell deeply in love and were married.