Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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THE W IT A N LITERARY DEPARTMENT JV? $ DAVY JONES’ PUZZLE 1 often frequent the Buccaneer’s Arms near Ludsy Lane and listen to the rare stories told there. One aft- ernoon a white headed sailor sat across from me. He had blue eyes. Across his face ran a scar not more than two weeks old, I thought, but later found to have been made at least thirty years ago. We chatted for several minutes about ships and captains. Then he commenced this yarn as if it were a favorite. “Wal, Captain Splifins was a far- sighting man. Yes sir, he could see ahead as far as behind. He could tell a sail ten minutes afore the watch. He could read the sky like a book. He could predict a storm of half hour and it would last just that long, no more, no less. “One day we were haulin’ along, fourteen knots or thereabouts. The water shoaled ’round the bow and spray Hew up as if we were making twenty. But the capt’n said four- teen and fourteen she was. The sky was as clear as drinking water from the mainland. I said Warry a storm today, mate'. But the captain over- heard me and piped right off: 'There’s wind to west o' southwest, 'bout fif- teen. A yowler before three.’ He was right. “We had a crew o' twenty-eight, half white, t'othera black. A good lot were they, the whites mostly beachcombers from Australia and India, the blacks from a tribe of na- tural sailors on Toulos, or something o' sorts. Wal, as I was saying, they were uncommonly good men, not at all stylish like these doodabs that dress up like Timbuctoo chieftans and handle the wheel as if it ware a Barb’ry jewel. The capt'n liked them and they liked him. “Toward three the wind dropped. Cap’n gave orders to reef her down, saying we’d have a rip snorter. We were glad of the change but later felt quite diIT’rent. The breeze picked up a bit, causing the sea to rise in short chop. We waited like Carey's on the yard arms at eight bells. An etern- ity passed; then six strokes sounded from the poop. The storm piled in on us. We were tight, but did not reckon on an old break in the boat's hull. After’ards skipper said as how he was afeard something’d happen there afore it did. “When the gale was at its topmost we felt a little lunge. The whole craft quivered. At first I thought we’d struck something, but not so. “The captain .sent me below to in- vestigate. I looked everywhere ami finally, figuring from the direction of the lunge, I opened a small door that led into the little used fo’ard parts. Water poured in. After a short struggling I closed and locked it. Then I fastened the hatch. The captain already had the pumps set up. Two men got to work. But there seemed no stopping that sea, no sir, it just filled up hold after hold. The captain became alarmed, though he tried not to show it. “The storm abated. Like the ball- ahooing of dancing natives. The noises gradually died away. But the boat leaked more. The captain had turned toward the Caloos, but Fate (Continued on Page 17) II

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I II E W I I A N iVfrj. Ward, Senior Clan AJ i$or HI

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THE WIT A N C WITH APOI-OGIES TO—? 3 ( Whom it may concern) y- ' sTr- ( Whom it may concern) i,, ?U w '•Teacher said I, “thing of pvil! teacher still, if living being! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, in this edifice enchanted, In this school by wisdom haunted, tell me truly, 1 implore, Must we—must we do our homework? Tell me, I implore!’ Quoth the teacher, “Evermore.” Margaret Hersey, ’28. 0 pardon me, my English teacher. That I am slow and scrawly with my compositions; That I don’t stand in the center of the aisle And that I whisper all the while. You are the best teacher I ever had, And I promise not once more will 1 make you mad, But “A's” shall deck my monthly re- port Like six-inch guns on Niagara fort; Good marks shall be so in use That you will but smile you behold My name on every Honor Roll And then you will he glad You gave me one more chance when 1 was bad. Frank Smith, 8A2. Breathes there a stude with mind so dead Who to himself has never said: “Darn those lessons, I'm off to bed!” Burton Kirby, '20. THE LADY OF CHARLOTTE On western side the river grew, Its roofs emulsed in morning dew Or lapped in red as ev’ning drew Her chariot to the west anew. The far-famed village of Charlotte. And in its midst like Pantheon’s dome. Older than the oldest tome, Far from the madding crowd and home O’ertopped the school of old Char- lotte. Within its chambers high and low No fairer damsel could it show, Nor wiser maid of mortal glow, Whom wisdom taught its ways to know, Than the lady of Charlotte; Her cheeks as rosy as the rose, Her nose as nosey as a nose, Her figure posy as a pose, She painted best in all Charlotte. The only thing that spoiled her face (Tis said it was a witch’s grace That wished it there and wished apace In twenty years the spell replace A smile) the frown of dear Char- lotte; And naught but he who rode the plane And bathed his soul in her sweet reign Could break a smile there once again. Yea, naght but he, Sir I aughalot. The story goes, she sought a file And met with he whose winning wile Would force her face to crack a smile In Pepsodent's unheard of style; She found straightway her Laugh- alot; Rut he in sadness lost his mind, And she, meanwhile, essayed to find Her teeth—unfound, away she pined ’Till Genesee claimed her, Charlotte. Philip Burgeon, 28. 12