Bryn Mawr College - Bryn Mawr Yearbook (Bryn Mawr, PA)

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ftfje Creto of tfje 2ltoafe tt T TTE ' S off again! cried Captain Rabbit as he pulled the sleeping cabin boy, i ' ' ' a little like named Anderson, from under the table. Such conduct for a mess-room ! A. Marickus Rabbit, captain of the good ship Awak, was a sea-dog of the old school, much given ro reminiscences of prom-days, lie was very punctilious as to points of etiquette, and I may say without exaggeration that he had never been seen wearing shoes with straps, either on or off the ship. Of a far different type was young Anderson, who was bunking with the captain in the hold, lie was a great trial to the captain on account of his untidy habits, and I have often descended to the hold, only to find the captain sorrowfully picking up after Anderson. Cap- tain Rabbit had come across this strange youth, swimming around the South Sea Islands and had thought the lad showed perseverance. Our first-class cabin passengers were one K. Haworth, of Spiritualistic bent; Punk Stewart, bohemian artist and vagabond; Sir Val. Wurlitzer. dilettante, dance demon and a devil when roused; and his boon companion, Landesman, a jolly curly-headed chap. Chaplain Bliss was the sky-pilot of this excellent craft. The reverend man spent most of his time in his cabin, preparing his sermons from the articles of the Weekly Bulletin. One evening the crew was assembling for mess. First to arrive was Chief Engineer Fisher, a swarthy seaman of ruddy complexion, who, all appearances to the contrary, had had quite a past. Close on his heels came the ship ' s purser, known to his familiars as Bun. Fisher, said the purser, will you cooperate with me in organizing a little committee for the promotion of Badminton on board ship? Fisher stared past him with a wild light in his eye. Can you tell me, he cried, who the first electncan was? Why, certainly, replied the chaplain, who had entered during the conversa- tion, Noah, because he made the arc light on Mount Ararat. Fisher sighed and turned his attention once more to his food. Let ' s sing a rousing sea-song, cried Gunner Tyler, who shot into view, ripping out a volley of oaths. I have just thought it would be nice to s ing a rousing sea-song, said First Mate Liddell with an air of originality. As we thundered out the chorus of the old Viking hymn, Swept along on the w ; hirhvind, I happened to notice Fisher, who under pretext of aestheticism had not joined in the singing, but was quietly and methodically stowing away oyster stew. What should a minister preach about? inquired the chaplain. About ten minutes, replied Gunner Tyler, giving vent to an obscene oath. Suddenly a shudder shook the sturdy little craft from the bowsprit to the rudder. A gym meet, a swimming meet, and a track meet had all met on the self- same day, hour, minute, and spot. It was too much. The Awak was floored. Cf. Webster ' s Dictionary: A portion of liquid or pulpy food. 15

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is more teeth than ever. But Vinton, hiding her time in the hall with a large knitting bag, quietly dons the contents thereof and crawls onto the stage as the blue tiger. Oh, triumph! Yes, gentle reader, there are blue tigers. Someone on the animal committee knew someone who had seen an article in some magazine in some dentist ' s office about a blue tiger of India or Thibet. After the animal episode there comes the grand finale in the form of the League of Nations, in which Lib is especially noticeable as Britannia ruling the waves (of the sea, not of her own three hairs). We sing Thou Gracious Inspiration, our friends tell us how great we are, and we return happily tired to bed on good terms with the world. Cornelia Otis Skinner. 3Tf)e ££ uppre£teeb ©ebutante Synopsis: Twenty-four hours before her debut war was declared. The next morning she began to brush up matriculation Latin and a few other articles in her mental wardrobe. AS she sat in the lib she tried to shut her past from memory. Her eyes were on her book but her mind wandered disconsolately over the ceiling, twined about the chandelier, and hopped nimbly over the golden globes. Suddenly the tragedy of her past threatened to overwhelm her. With a tremendous effort she thrust it into her subconscious, where it lay seething and bubbling while she soothed her outer consciousness. That evening the tympanic melodies floating into her room from the Victrola stirred within her a deep and disagreeable memory. Thanks to the faithful censor, she knew nothing of it. She merely said, I hate Victrolas; I hate anything made of wood, and began to shout the multiplication table. That same evening she gave her evening dresses to junk and hurled her cigarette case down the register. Her outer consciousness was all serene. After writing a letter in Greek to her family and composing a few sonnets, she went to bed refreshed and exalted. She had cast memories from her and delved deeply into wisdom. But shades of Freud! — no sooner had her eyelids closed than the seething cauldron of her subconscious bubbled over. The debutante, no longer suppressed, took possession of her. Rising hastily, she seized a bit of tulle and some earrings and pinned an ivy plant jauntily over one shoulder, and fled into the hall. Her friends found her jazzing madly — a wraith-like figure in the moonlight. Spellbound they watched her — all save one, who hastened to summon a psychoanalyst. A few moments of whispered consulta- tion sufficed to give him the details of the case. There is a gap between the personalities of the suppressed debutante and the student, he said simply. Only one cure will be effective — she must Bridge the gap. And he handed her a pack of cards. Anne Gabel. 14

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We are wrecked! screamed Midshipmite Gabell, hurling his little body through the hatchway. What? cried the crew. We are wrecked! gurgled the captain, draining the Yale bowl to the dregs. What? cried the crew. We are wrecked! cried Liddell. Their honest faces brightened. We are wrecked! cried the crew. Light had dawned! When the ensuing hubbub had quieted down, the crew found to their dismay that the first-class cabin passengers had been blown away. Everything had gone by the board. The sea was as calm as glass, and slightly astern Bosun Aldrich might be discerned rowing about in circles and crooning gently to himself, Oh, Zion, haste, thy mission high fulfilling. When we hailed him, he drew alongside and asked in a sheepish manner, Do you think it would be all right for me to come on board ? We helped him up, and continued on our way. We had scarcely been under way five minutes when from the crow ' s nest little Gabell piped forth in a voice of strangled joy, Goody, goody. Ship ahoy! A sail! Removing the hairpin from the thermostat, we brought it up on deck and sighting along it soon made out a queer little craft making its way towards us. On the sail we deciphered the name FIBI REN. As soon as the boat was near enough, our gallant captain accosted him. Who are you, and what is your business? My name is Norcrosis and I rents pants, came the answer. Can you cook? bellowed the captain, who was decidedly tired of our diet. Up to this time we had had no cook and had barely subsisted on raw tomatoes and the hash which had somehow managed to accumulate. As we later discovered, Norcross was a model of domesticity, and although we were destined to lose him in a few months, our regret was tempered by having the captain carefully explain to us that he was happily engaged elsewhere. Once more in an undernourished condition we found life unendurable and put into Honolulu, where we obtained a first-rate Cook, whose only vice was a passion for playing cards, which he indulged whenever the chaplain was not sitting on the deck. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. The Awak sailed on. When last seen it was a mere speck on the horizon. It is expected in port June 8th, when the Navy Department has decided to scrap it with the rest of the vessels of its class. From Radnor. •Joke. 16