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

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THE GREEN AND WHITE 7 room where he found himself was the only one in the hut. It was unusually clean and neat. On one wall was hanging a locket which attracted his attention. He promised himself to examine it more carefully. Bob told the old man the story of how his father had answered the call of the sea and had never came back. That after many weary years of waiting his mother had given up all hopes. By that time he was old enough to answer the call himself. This w’as his first trip that had ended so disastrously. In the course of his conversation Bob mentioned Gloucester. The old man was startled. He leaned forward. “Did you say Gloucester?’’ “Yes, answered Bob. “My mother’s name was Alicia Kilraine.” Kilraine,” echoed the old man. With that he fell to the floor in a faint. The boy gently picked him up and laid him on the cot in the corner of the hut and bathed his head with cold water. In a short while the old man had recovered. He asked Bob to bring the locket on the wall. “Open it! Open it!’’ he cried. Bob opened it and beheld the picture of his mother. “Why, where did you get this?” he exclaimed. “This is my mother.” “That is the 0icture of the woman that I left waiting in Gloucester so many years ago.” “Then—then you must be my father!” shouted Bob. And he embraced the old man. In his turn the cast away told his story. His ship was wrecked, but another man and he had managed to reach this island. The unfortunate companion was stricken with pneumonia and had passed away, leaving me alone. See the mound over yonder—his grave 1 For years I have lived here the life of Robinson Crusoe, hoping that some ship might pick me up—but all in vain.” For the next few days they both lived happily. It was decided that their only hopes was to build a bonfire on a hill in back of the hut to signal some ship passing by which would rescue them. Finally, after two weeks of anxious waiting their hopes were rewarded by the appearance of a schooner off shore. The lookout noticed the fire on the hill. They were both brought on board and finally arrived at the mainland. From there they journeyed home, father and son together. The joy of the reunion of the family will be left to your imagination. MURIEL HODGDON, 30. “BEFORE AND AFTER” It was a warm summer morning. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was a large red ball which threw a ray of sparkling red across the water. The water wras calm and a dark blue. The odor of the salt brine was w'atfed on the breeze for many blocks. The breeze danced through the tree tops, just enough for the leaves to rustle. What a perfect day for a picnic! We packed our belongings on the motor-boat and left the dock when the mill whistle blew'. We kept smiling until 12 o’clock. Anchor was then dropped, and “eats” were served. After lunch we played the victrola. Everybody danced until Jack and Jim decided to fish. Those who did not care to fish went in swimming. The wind had now begun to blow harder and the boat began to sway. So we decided it was best to pull up the anchor. By the time we wrere ready to start, the sun had disappeared and large dark clouds had gathered. It became very dark and thunder could be heard in the distance. It was now 4 o’clock. The motor in the boat refused to start. Anchor had to be thrown over again. After Tom had fooled around the motor it finally began to start. Anchor was again pulled up. We started on the long journey home. A streak of lightning shot through the sky, then a roar of thunder. Rain poured down as if a cloud had burst. Everybody went into the cabin but Tom. He had to steer the boat. We went along fine after many hours of riding. The dark clouds began to disappear. The rain began to cease, and the water became calmer. We finished our journey around 7 o’clock, weary and tired. LILLIE KERSHAW, Class of 1930. SPRING The spring is come! The spring is come! The brooks are merrily pouring; And the robins are here, and the swallows appear And the lark on high is soaring. Old Winter is gone! Cold Winter is gone! And. pray, what prevented his stay? Why, March was his end, and the April rain Has driven him quite away. Look at the birds! The dear little birds! They’re singing on every bough; And strain their throats with the sweetest notes To rejoice in the warm Spring now'. They're building their nests and tending their nests And quarreling now and then; There’s the blackbird sleek, with the golden beak, And the trush, and the tiny wren. Look to the fields! Away to the fields! We’ve lingered at home too long. Care to the winds we fling, as the bright birds sing And the brooklet murmers a song. And never forget! Oh, never forget! Who it was made the world so fair Who with flowers and trees and mountains and seas Made it beautiful everywhere. MARJORIE L .MANLEY, Class of 1932.

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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

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8 THE GREEN AND WHITE THE LOCKED UP HOUSE I was walking along, going no where in particular but thinking of every little thing, when I looked up. Since travel is so broadening, I found myself at what was termed by the people as the “locked up house.” I walked languidly up the walk feeling a strange adventure upon me. Then up to the creekv, old porch covered at this time of year by honeysuckle and ivy. For a long while, I stood undecided whether or not to try to open the locked door. I put out my hand, and with a turn of the wrist and the knob I succeeded in opening the door; so in I went. 0 Man! what a feeling! Creepy! Uncanny was the atmosphere! I could see hairy hands reaching out from behind doors and chairs and everywhere; perhaps one was meant for me. I waited until I recovered my senses and entered the first room that had an open door. In the hall. I had passed through, hung portraits of great value; two stone Egyptian vases—and a Paris green umbrella. Now as I stood at the entrance of the room I had a desire to get out. and another to stay to satisfy my curiosity—so I stepped in and looked around. There was a very large fireplace on my left that reached halfway to the ceiling. A pair of rusty andirons, a few silver plates, and candle sticks, together with an old mantle clock, were its ornaments. A few feet away from the fireplace was a very shiny table with carved legs. As I looked upon the table, it began to turn around, and the carved lions in the legs blinked their eyes and snapped their jaws. My eyes blinked, too, but my jaws were too stiff to snap. Then all sorts of weird noises circulated around me, bats were flying, blinds, banging and shadows flickered all around. How was I to get out? It occurred to me the door was locked behind me and I was all alone. Impossible—now I thought. 1 began to scream. Noises, shadows, eyes, were everywhere. Then I felt a cold clammy hand against my back and awoke to find myself sitting on the pillow with my back against the cold bedpost and a terrific thunderstorm raging outside. ANNE ROHRMAN, Class 1932. “TUTELAGE” We were sitting in the library when I told Will of my approaching marriage. My friend looked at me peculiarly. “Indeed,” he drawled. There was something in Will’s tone that irritated me. Women,” said Will, breaking the silence; Women, I've always hated them; always shall—cloying, sickly, whining---” “Say, did I ever tell you why 1 hate ’em?” he demanded suddenly, his ugly features setting in a thick scowl. “No? Well, I'll tell you right now.” Will sat back in his comfortable chair and frowned ferociously: “I once met a real wom-and. She loved me—they all do. Her love was worth having—pure gold stamped on every link. Not like a modern girl who likes a man a little and his cash a lot. “It was twenty years ago when I met Alice. She came to teach me piano. The Old Man had always been a martinet and too healthy. Seven hundred and fifty dollars he allows me and leads me the life of a dog. For years I’d gone on hoping that one day his insurance ‘jonnies’ would get the smile wiped off their faces, and I’d be able to wear my black suit. But nothing ever happens: nothing ever will. “Alice loved me, women generally do. But Alice's soul used to look out of her eyes. Yes, I can read a woman’s eyes. She loved me for myself. She reckoned naught of the Parkiss wealth. It was ‘Will,’ the ‘Will’ personality.” Will stopped to light his pipe. “Well,” I prompted. “Treated her badly,” grunted Will, his face clouding. “She was mine for the asking. I—I let her down. Listen : Alice used to come up twice a week to give me piano lessons. We used to hold each other’s hands and speak with our eyes, while I gave the keys an occasional jab, to deceive thg Governor, working in his study. It took me a long time before I could persuade him to allow me to have the lessons. Told me I was wasting my money. Anyway, I prevailed, and Alice came twice a week. Days of heavenly bliss, man; I dream of ’em now. I didn’t marry Alice. No, but I always remain true to her.” “I had only $750 a year then. That was all the old curmudgeon allowed me. A man can’t marry on that. One day Alice looked deeper into my eyes and let me kiss her, while I was playing the scale with my left hand. Gad, man. I came to a decision that night. My lessons were completed as far as they would ever be. I’d never be a Mozart at the piano. I’m not musical and what’s a piano when you’ve got a peerles woman like Alice teaching you.” “I knew Alice cared, she was wild about me. I wrote to her and told her I wasn’t as rich as everyone thought. I told her I was as poor as a spider in a church box and that I had a mere seven-fifty per annum to offer her. ‘Write per return, my love,’ I instructed her, ‘and thus show me all you feel for me. If you are afraid to share poverty for some years, do not reply.’ ” Will stopped and breathed exultantly. “I knew she would not fail, she loved me for myself. Nothing mercenary about Alice; money meant nothing to her. It was Will she wanted. The letter came . . . .” Then why didn’t you-------” I began. “Why didn’t I marry her, having the letter that meant so much to me. . . . Which came hastening to me by the very next post from her dear fingers? You will loathe me when I tell you. “I felt as that letter reached my hands that I couldn’t go on with it. I couldn’t—just couldn't let that sweet, unselfish girl face life with seven-fifty between us. “With the letter unopened in my hands. I stood in this very room, before this very fireplace and my fingers trembled at the seal. At that moment the Old Man’s step came from the corridor. He was coming in here. Like a flustered fool, I lost my nerve. He was