Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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gg gg gpgl3 as the boy flung himself across the double case- ment with a flush and gasp of triumph, Mom can't find me now, he cried. Under his pudgy weight, the two thinly constructed walls creaked and buckled outwards, too far for his inefficient grip. Three seconds after the scraping stopped, the walls sprang back to their parallel position, enclosing their captive, Silence . . . Thibeau stared and stared, his whiskers bristling. Suddenly he darted with a groan of fear towards the security of the chimney corner. Voices floated through the air, up from the late afternoon awakening. Ed, where did Peter go? He hasn't been around all afternoon. I think down at the playground, dear. Well, do you suppose he took all my red and green yarn with him? I'll give him what-for when he gets home. I'll more than likely never see that good stuff againf' Up on the roof, the red rays of the sun had become less potent as it sank far across the city. Flitting breezes had dispelled the bank of oppres- sive heat. Thibeau, with ears cocked, idly tapped the swaying red and green tangle. Brenda Dougall, Grade XI. Le Printemps Le ciel est bleu Comme la mer au dessous, Les oiseaux reviennent Et le vent est rempli Du bruit de la musique Qui flotte par le monde. Dans le jardin Les fleurs fleurissent au soleil, Les fleurs heureuses Dans la chaleur du soleil. Les arbres depouilles Deviennent verts aussi Que les fleurs qui fleurissent. Les enfants courent, Sans controle. Ils chantent Comme les oiseaux Et fleurissent Comme les fleurs Leur Visage et corps montrent L'arrivee de cette saison Si charmante qui s'appelle Le PRINTEMPS. Nancy White, Grade X. An Adventure The sun had just crept over the horizon-the lake was squally. One could hear the squeaking of the boats at their moorings. An ardent sailor at a glance could tell you that this would be an ideal day for one of those leisurely sails. The boat was rigged-the painter was freed from the buoy-our bow was pointed northward. The sails 'billowed in the breeze and the boat glided swiftly along without any appearance of effort. Our yacht was a twenty-foot rigged ketch with sleeping quarters in the hold for four persons. Our crew consisted of jaye, a Texan, Kathy and Caroline, two Tennesseeans, and myself-a Cana- dian. Our destination on this misty morning was Lincoln, located on the north shore of one of the ten thousand lakes in beautiful north-western Minnesota. We sailed throughout the afternoon, with each person taking her turn at the tiller, while the others basked in the warmth of the sun. Towards six o'clock I happened to glance at the sky in the west. What I saw gave me a slight start and I told the others. They confirmed my observation. The wind had increased from twenty-five miles per hour to at least forty, and had shifted to the west. To a sailor a storm means wind. The violent squall from the thunder cloud is the most difficult with which -to contend. Few small sailboats can ride these out under sail. Even the most expert of skippers is helpless when caught in an open lake with sails up in one of these squalls. This type of storm is forewarned by a formation of cumulo- nimbus clouds, thunder, and a change in the direc- tion of the wind-usually to the west. But this phenomena had not been noticed. It looked to us all as though we were about to have an electrical storm. In a strong wind, the danger of capsizing can be averted while beating to windward by letting the sheet run out rapidly. But our sheet had been let out as far as possible. The boat was now high- siding past the guard rail. The waves exceeded four feet, and the water continued to gush in, slowly rising in the cockpit. We were immediately panic-stricken. The blood in my veins froze. If the sails were not lowered instantly, there was an immediate danger of cap- sizing, but to lower sails in a wind of this velocity was inviting certain trouble. What could we do? From the corner of my eye, I saw Kathy climb- ing onto the cockpit cover. I was seized with hor- ror. She would surely fall . . . She inched her way slowly and cautiously along the starboard side of the bow deck. Then my heart skipped a beat . . . she slipped but managed to grab the gunnel and pulled herself up. Then with determination she lay face down on the deck and with one hand on

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12 as between the busy world and the peaceful swamp. Tigre jumped into the skiff by the shore, followed by Raoul who slowly poled in the direction of Guan's old cabin. There Raoul would make his headquarters. The skiff glided through the still, murky water. The swamp held no terrors for Raoul. It was a refuge for beast and man. Smooth- trunked trees rose out of mossy banks. The foliage blocked the sunlight, but here and there a stream of light would manage to sneak through onto a sandy bar. Here alligators and turtles lazed. The swamp was an endless grey-green world. Even the birds were grey - but how they could fill the swamp with music! The curacha bird was typical of the swamp - outwardly drab but so beautiful when analysed. Raoul had read about gaudy orioles, but the curachas seemed much more appeal- ing with their throaty calls. This was Raoul's domain. The skiff drifted along innumerable water- ways and channels, all similar in appearance. But Raoul knew where he was going and with deter- mination, poled more quickly. The cabin was leaning against two century-old trees at the end of a narrow secluded bay. The skiff bumped against the decayed dock. Raoul skilfully moored it to an eroded post and stood looking at the cabin. It would need a new door. Tigre bounded ahead and stood, barking, by the cabin. He felt at home already. Raoul closed the door behind him and pulled the curtains. The swamp was cold at night. He knelt by the hearth and lit a fire, then sat meditating. The dog lay beside him. His was a great undertaking. There was a look of wistfulness and homesickness on his face but it soon turned to one of independence and resolve. He was seventeen. He was going to be a trapper like Guan. With the aid of the charm, he would succeed. Gayle McLean, Grade XI. Autumn The oak tree stood in the garden, Splendid, stately and still, She had done her best, At Natures request Her summers work to fulfill. And now like children, Grown up and gay, fihe watched as her leaves go swirling away. joy McDiarmid, Grade XI. What the Cat Saw Thibeau the cat awoke as a shadow fell across him. It was only the Child, who was clambering precariously from a window on the second floor of the apartment onto the roof to join the cat. Thibeau hoped with a sniff of protest that the Child's Mother did not know what he was doingg or surely she would carry on for hours in her harsh, tired voice. However, it happened to be that lazy time in the afternoon when everyone but little boys grows idle, It was one of those roofs of a much older generation, generously indented with sloping gar- rets and caught with wooden eaves. The one pecu- liar feature was that the slope was so gentle, there were no doors or windows opening onto it, only a musty, unused trapdoor. By grasping the chimney corner where the rotten eave had broken away, the Child could pull himself up with a foothold on the clothes-line pole. The old building con- trasted strangely with the white, superior frame of the construction immediately adjacent. The Child crawled up the pitted roof towards the cat, dragging a mass of red and green wool after him, Thibeau's eyes narrowed sleepily, but his senses quickened to a keener sense of alertness. The Child chatted happily to the cat as he spun the wool around the corner of the brick chimney, See, kitty, I'm making a bed for you. Mom'll maybe get mad 'cause I took it out of her sewing basket, but it's such pretty colours. He picked up the animal and cradled it in the tangle of soft wool. Thibeau struggled and lashed out to free himself. The Child was disappointed as Thibeau backed away defensively. He glanced around for another source of amusement. The roof-top was one of the few places in the crowded city quarter that was exposed to sunlight and healthy surroundings. Every day the cat's master reached up and put him on the roof, where he could sleep in the sun, soaking in the warmth into his thin body. Because the roof was not flat, no one had ever thought of going up to sun-bathe. Modern expansion was now overflowing into the older section of the city. Witness the huge, in- complete construction upon which Peter's ffor so he was namedj eyes alighted with the pleasure of finding a new toy. Forgetting Thibeau and the wool, he edged his way along the ridge pole to the far side of the building. With a child's cunning he plotted as to how to cross to the new thing. Thibeau, surefooted, padded lightly behind to watch the progress, his grey fur ruffling in a sudden premonitory breeze. Peter was already over the edge, testing footholds on the extended planks. Frowning with concen- tration, he reached the boarded walls which were to encase the cement foundations. The cat started

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I4 the gunnel, she reached with the other to loosen the snap on the turn buckle which would release the jib. I thought her hand would never make it . . . The first one was off, and slowly but surely she loosened each snap from the forestay. The ji'b was down! Relief . . . Having observed Kathy's courage in the face of danger, we all set about to lower the main and mizzen sails. Unsure of our footing on the slippery decks, we crawled along to the bow. Kathy went below to find some buckets with which to bale out the cockpit. Caroline crept to the stern to loosen the mizzen sail as soon as I had lowered the main. I had forgotten about jaye, but presumed her helping Kathy. I uncoiled the main sheet, then removed the peg from the eye bolt. One by one the slides slipped off the track. The sail had swung far over to the port side. Then without any warning, a dazzling flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky. It was followed by a second. The boom-the mast-I could see the crack beginning in the middle of the mast. Slowly it grew. Where were the others? Suddenly, I glanced to the starboard -there! clearly silhoueted by another flash of lightning was jaye, slowly creeping along the deck. No doubt she was coming to help me. I screamed, jaye--the boom! It was too late. The boom began swinging toward her. There was no escape. I twinged as I heard the dull thud of the boom strike her head and felt nauseated at the sight of her toppling overboard. Unconsciously and with no thought of fear, I lunged for ,laye and will be everlastingly thankful for the un- known strength that comes in a moment of crisis. With a firm grasp about her waist, I hauled her back into the cockpit and with the help of Kathy, we took her down to the hold. jaye was uncon- scious and badly bruised about the face, but we made her as comfortable as possible. Meanwhile Caroline had managed to free the mizzen sail, and it seemed that we were out of immediate danger. The storm was abating. We decided to set off flares to show our position in the hope that the eight o'clock watch would come to our assistance. What seemed like an eternity was but only a few hours until help arrived. Tears welled in my eyes as the rescue boat loomed into view, its bright light focused on our stricken craft. It was then that I knew Jaye would be in safe hands. As famil- iar faces greeted us and embracing arms enfolded us, we knew despite our harrowing experience, a new day would dawn again. Look back and give thanks. Look forward and take courage. joy McDiarmid, Grade XI. PREQCCT l saith 9 -.. EV V5 S.K. Initiation Oh, most honourable prefect! I, thy most humble servant, do bow down before thee in deep- est reverence, saying: Allah, Allah . October 28th was set aside in the life of Balmoral for the initiating of new girls into this worthy institution . New girls could be found everywhere, often on their knees before an old girl, exercising the dying art of shoe polishing. Equally numerous, so it seemed to the new girls, and seemingly everywhere, were these honourable, upright, worthy citizens, The Prefects. Down we would go on our bruised knees . . . Allah, Allah. As the day wore away, so did our knees and shoe polish. The highlight, however, came at 8:00 p.m. when new girls assembled in the lower cor- ridor in the required costumes for this occasion. Rabbits, gypsies, devils and the strangest characters with swash-buckling boots, long skirts and mous- taches, fell into line. Thus arrayed we paraded before a critical, gloating audience of old girls assembled in the gymnasium and finally arrived in two long lines, and chanted these our carefully learned phrases:- Oh honourable prefects and venerable old girls, we, thy humble new girls do bow down before thee and crave admittance to this worthy institution. There followed a greeting from the Head Girl, Diane Smith, in which she welcomed us to Balmoral Hall. Top entertainment was enjoyed from that mo- ment on amid much laughter and flashing of cameras. Grade Seven acted familiar nursery rhymes. Cleverly presented by Grade Eight was a series of scenes in which they made us guess the titles of some well-known books An amusing skit followed with Grade Nine portraying Mr. Thorsen and a beginners' gymnastic class. Grade Ten excelled in a short but very entertaining melodrama - The Lamp Went Out . Highlighting the evening was an original com- edy lby the prefects Who Stole The Ding-Dong?