Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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TIIE TATTLER Page Five HUGH COUGHLAN, Editor. THE HEROINE OF THE MAGNATE. It was a stormy night, a piercing wind lashed the water and caused the excited crews to huddle closer to the warmth of the cabins while they could. From time to time the ships lurched and the decks were drenched with icy water. Those on duty found it hard to keep their posts and the biting wind stung their faces. The little fleet numbered ten small ships, sturdy, easily managed and built for patroling the coasts. They were now pressed into active service and were eagerly watchful for hostile ships. On the Flagship, “The Magnate,” the officers were assembled in the admiral’s cabin seriously discussing plans for the expected attack. In one corner of the room sat a girl, perhaps eighteen years of age. She was clad in a midshipman’s garb of navy blue, her hair was bobbed and her dark eyes flashed brightly as she listened to the discussion of the men. It is difficult to explain the presence of this girl on a battle ship, especially on a battleship expecting to be in action within a few hours. It seems she was an orphan left in the care of a disinterested aunt while her only brother went off to serve his country on “The Magnate. ” One day when her brother came ashore she begged to be taken aboard and shown about the ship. After some trouble her brother. Ensign Craig, obtained permission to take his sister aboard. Joan was delighted with what she saw and ran here and there exclaiming at the various objects of interest. In the middle of the tour Ensign Craig was hurriedly called to the office at the admiral s command, and left Joan to wander alone. In the meantime hurried orders were being sent ashore ordering the crews to return to the ship immediately. About sunset every man had returned and the -ships weighed anchor. It was not until they were several miles out at sea that Craig was reminded of his sister.

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Page Four THE TATTLER The death of Freundin Johnson, who attended Conneaut High School for three years, caused deep regret to her classmates here. She graduated from the Delaware High School in June, 1917, and died December 29, 1917.

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Page Six TIIE TATTLER A midshipman appearing at the door of the cabin, and saluting, announced: “There’s a young lady asleep in the cabin, sir.” “A what?” shouted the admiral, astonished. “Great Peter! Joan,” cried Craig excitedly. It was then necessary for Craig to explain Joan’s presence on the ship, to the admiral, after which it was decided there was nothing to be done but to have her remain on board and face the danger with the rest. Site was given a uniform so as not to be noticeable or distract the men should she appear suddenly during battle. There had been news of a small hostile fleet approaching New York and the Mosquito Fleet, as the United States fleet was called, expected battle before morning. Silently, eagerly, the crews watched and waited. Suddenly a shot from the deck watch pierced the air. The officers started and Joan jumped to her feet. The signal then rang from ship to ship. The enemy had been sighted. Admiral Johnson was immediately on deck and the crew assembled for orders. In a few minutes all was in readiness for combat. Joan followed the others out on deck but was forced back into the shelter of tin cabin. The hostile Meet opened fire about midnight. The first shot, directed at The Magnate, ripped the mast. Orders were sent by the admiral, from ship to ship, to separate and keep moving. For hours the battle raged. The angry sea tossed the ships about and a cold rain added to the hardships of the men. For a while Joan stood clinging to the post outside the cabin door. The crash of the cannon and tin flash of fire at first terrified her and she shuddered with horror. As the night wore on and wounded men were carried to the shelter of the cabin, Joan fell to work to help relieve their sufferings. Never had the night seemed so long, so never-ending and so terrible. Two ships of the Mosquito Fleet went down. The admiral had been seriously wounded and Craig was taking his place, an unprecedented situation. Joan stepped out on deck for a moment. The men were ghastly white, their haggard faces seemed almost despairing. The deck was strewn with wounded and dead and the noise of the cannon was deafening. Crash! The ship listed dangerously. Joan caught tin railing for support. Two men fell back on the deck. Joan hastened to them. She saw but one—her brother. Bending over him in a panic she called his name. Slowly he opened his eyes and whispered something. Joan bent low to hear. “The flag—it’s fallen—raise it—on the lower mast, the main one is gone, he gasped. “Tell the men to keep up their courage— tell them not to give up the ship.” Joan understood. The men were nearly exhausted with hunger