Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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THE fiREEN AND WHITE 5 “RUSHING WATERS” The timbers creaked and the water rushed on. They were angry waters, black and turbulent, doing their best to annihilate man and his homes, factories and cattle. The timbers creaked again and gave way. Down came the building, seeking firm ground to rest upon only to be swept away by the river’s onrush-ing current. One less factory in that vicinity. A few hundred people thrown out of the world’s one hobby—work. Darkness, swishing and swirling of waters. A man sits alone on his roof. Below him is his house, his work, his papers, his family. All he ever had, all below in the dark waters. He looks into the night and sees nothing—nothing but blackness and ever rising waters. He is cold: lie longs for companions. Suddenly out of the darkness comes a cry, a man’s heart skips as he hears it again but alas—it is his drowning cattle. But no, he hears another one, a human cry! At last a boat, companions to comfort and warn him. Hope is in sight as the boat draws near. T he roof on which he is sitting lurches and—he falls into the black water. The sunken house floats on, and the man goes down the swollen river with all he ever had. Dawn and still the everlasting swirling of waters. The river has swollen to its highest mark and what does it leave behind—death— devastation—and ruin. Out on the black waters float houses—towns. Cattle, barns, hay, all that once meant happiness to some family. Now all is swept away by the ever-rushing waters. The rain ceases and the wind dies away, but the black water rushes on carrying with it all it could move. The timbers creaked and the water rushed on. They were angry waters doing their best to kill—to wash away everything-- It is the flood!! CHARLES YOUNG, ’30. DREAM Here comes my dream boat. Slowly and majestically she enters the famous docks of Grimsby, England, with her sails furled, defying all winds. She brings sweet incense to encourage my dreams and pass away the hours. Silks of the finest quality, spices, jewels, flashing so brightly that they seem to outdo the sun in briliance, and all the glories of the old Eastern world. The captain shows me a redwood box in which to keep my jewels. It was an heirloom of an oid Japanese ruler who, with his family had been assassinated during a revolt. A large ruby, glowing like a redhot coal, is taken out of the jewel case. I decide that I shall have a pendant made out of it and give it to Queen Mary in remembrance of happy days spent with her. Oh. what gorgeous pearls, so even and clear! The wild savages of Africa had traded them for a piece of gold money. Silks, the colors of the rainbow, and made as only the Chinese know how, with beautiful embroidery. Some of the designs of old noble emblems, which had been dead for years; others were the pictures of beautiful flowers, especially their famous cherry blossom. Oh, how my fancies fly, lulled by the sweet, intoxicating oriental incense. I see stern emperors, laughing maidens, playful boys and young children. Look out 1 I am aroused from my dreams with a start just in time to save myself from falling into the water. A boat had once more helped to make the dear old gray cement docks, off where men may be seen mending nets, unloading fish, shipping it to foreign ports, or some old seafaring captain sitting at a distance telling his grandson of past glories, famous with her lucky catch of fish, which she was unloading. Oh. where are my dreams? BERTHA CHESHIRE, '32.

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BOARD OF EDITORS Front Row (left to right)—Ella Mae Lemaire, Helen McGuigan, Miss Sisson, Miss Callan, Carmella Castriotta, Claudia DeWolf. Mary Magee. Hack Row—Fred Vera, Stanley Bennett, Michael Securo, Margaret Cicerchia, Milton Bassing, Raymond Makowskv, Antony Russo.

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6 THE GREEN AND WHITE “SHIPWRECKED” Bob, the young son of a poor fisherman, was sitting on the dock in a small fishing town near Gloucester. As he was sitting there with his feet hanging over the wharf, a speck appeared against the blue expanse of the water. It grew larger and larger, and then Bob jumped to his feet and ran into the small fisherman’s home and cried joyously, “O mother, here he comes! Come out and see him in! His mother, a worn and tired looking woman, came out of the door and they both went to stand on the dock while the ship sailed toward shore. But much to their disappointment, she changed her course and headed south. The smiles that were on their faces died out instantly, and they walked back very slowly to their shabby shack. The joy that was in their hearts when they saw the ship coming toward them and the grief that filled their hearts when she changed her course—was almost too much for them to bear. The woman’s husband had left her three years ago to go on a whaling schooner. For the last three years they had watched and waited for him, day after day. The son who was three years old when his father left was now six years old. Five weary years passed in watchful waiting but the old sailor did not return. The son was beginning to hear the call of the sea that had called his father years ago. At last the day came when he was to leave his mother and go down to the sea. The fishing schooner, a two-masted vessel—ninety feet in length—was swaying at anchor in the harbor. On the deck of the boat were the dories that the fishermen went out in after they had reached the fishing grounds Down below in the bow were the berths that were built in the side of the boats. A dark, gloomy hole with no chance for air or light. This was to be Bob’s home for the next few months. The crew was busily engaged in baiting up their fishing trawles. They were a hard-boiled “gang,” but what fishing crew isn't? One of the men was a good-hearted old soul. His hair was gray and so were his whiskers. He was short and quite fat. He took quite a liking to the new sailor. But then on the other hand there was another tar slightly younger than the latter. He was tall and lanky with a heart of stone. He was not so very fond of the new comer and if there was any dirty work to be done he saw that Bob did it. But all the other sailors were good sports and friends of Bob. As a member of this crew of all types Bob began his career as a fisherman. The weather had been quite bad for the first week but was expected to be clear for the next few weeks. After two weeks of good sailing they reached the Newfoundland Banks. The men manned the dories and dropped down the sides of the boats and threw out their lines and waited for the first “catch.” When they came “along side” of the schooner at sundown, every dory was filled high with fish of all kind, mostly cod and haddock. Their first catch had been good. For two weeks the weather was fine and fishing was wonderful. Having been favored with unusually good weather, the crew was determined to make the greatest catch of the season during the coming week, but their hopes were short lived. It had ben noted that the sea the last day or two had become calmer than usual but the “jolly tars” did not worry. However, in the early morning of the next day there was a great change in the appearance of both sea and sky which caused a great deal of concern among the crew. The barometer had also registered to a degree that was quite alarming. At this point the captain of the vessel, realizing that a storm was ahead of them, gave orders to his crew that the hatches should be made fast and other general orders for protection of the boat and its cargo. It was none to soon 1 Suddenly a fierce wind sprang up from no-wheres, the seas took on a menacing aspect and great sheets of rain started to sweep down upon the deck. There was a great hurrying by all members of the crew to get below deck until the storm had a bated but they were to wait a little longer than they expected. The boat during this time was pitching, back and forth, a plaything of the waves. The storm grew worse. Larger and heavier waves rolled over the deck. The men below became worried—anxious. At noon the storm had doubled in violence. The waves which were of terrible force had battered one of the hatches. Bob was the first to volunteer to board up the hatch way before any greater damage was done. While repairing the open space, a gust of wind came, driving a huge wave over the deck and washing Bob overboard. He shouted for help. The howling wind mocked him. He shouted again and again. Now his cry was heard. Two men ran to the deck, but with the angry sea and rain sweeping down, it was impossible for them to attempt to lower a boat and search for Bob. Driven in the wind, Bob had found a piece of driftwood and had hung on to it. Tossed by the winds, beaten by rain—he managed to cling to his log. All night he drifted. His strength was giving out. He knew that he could not hold on much longer. He prayed for help—and his prayer was answered. The rain ceased to beat down on hint. The waves tossed him a little more gently. Soon, lie realized that he had been cast up on shore. There he lay—exhausted, he must have fallen asleep because when he awakened a beautiful sun was overhead—and a calm, vast sea stretched out before him. His ship was not in sight. He realized that he was a castaway. He looked around him. How beautiful! He arose and trudged along to the top of a hill. From there he looked down on a beautiful lake and a wood, with all its gorgeous coloring. On the edge of the woods he could see a small thatched building. It was the only one in sight. He went to the hut. Knocked at the door which was opened by an elderly man. The man helped Bob in and offered him a chair. Without a question he gave him food and drink. After Bob had eaten, he felt perfectly all right. He looked about him. The