Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

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14 THE HUTTLESTONIAN “I can’t,” gasped Jimmie. “Shot—my lungs!” Down the alley came a thunder of feet. A whistle piped shrilly. “Give me just a lift. We’ll make it,” Jimmie assured, forcing his voice to hide his pain. Brag’s face paled. The police were coming. Why should he wait for Lee and cast himself into their hands? “Don’t quit on me,” begged the wounded man. “I helped you— four years ago.” Brag saw the flash of brass buttons closing in on him. The cow¬ ardly soul of Brag gazed wildly from his eyes like an evil face through a dungeon grate. Jimmie saw, and sobbed as Brag turned and fled. »] rj» The rain came down in torrents and swept in white sheets along the deck. The ship reeled and rolled as if drunk. Whenever there came a flash of lightning it illuminated a vast expanse of tossing grey water. Dick Brag standing on the bridge of the Esthonia looked on this scene and sneered, sneered at the weather and at the pale face of th e man beside him. Four years ago when he had shipped on board the Esthonia he had met Thomas who had been in the same position as he. Together they had risen in the service till, owing to Brag’s ability to drive men, he had been made captain and at the same time Thomas became chief officer. Thomas had stood by him on several perilous occasions. But for all that, the paleness of Thomas’ face caused Brag’s thick lips to curl with scorn. Then there came a rending shock. As the ship began to settle the decks, which were deserted previously, became crowded with panic- stricken passengers. A groan went up as a boat was smashed in the davits by a tremendous wave. But this was changed to a cry of joy when a sheet of lightning more vivid than the rest, showed a steamer in the offing toiling valiantly through the heavy seas to the rescue. Four boats were launched safely. Brag and Mr. Thomas left in the last boat. As it dropped swiftly to the dark water below, the ship lurched and in an instant the boat was crushed like an egg shell against its side. Brag struck the water with a cry. When he reached the surface his hand clutched at some floating debris. He clambered on to it. It stayed afloat. Then he looked about and saw the pale face of (Concluded on Page 24)

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 13 The Branched Road T HE hoarse blast of a steamer’s horn penetrated the fog, into whose pall the dark hull of a vessel was fast disappearing. Down the length of the wharf, dodging in and out among the piles of cargo, the leave-taking friends, and the sweating stevedores, raced the figure of a man. Upon hearing the sound from the steamer, he stopped and a guttural snarl like that of a disappointed beast broke from the depths of his throat. He stood for some time leaning against a pile gazing disconsolately into the fog with a sullen, bitter look on his face. The jangle of the engine room bell, signaling for full speed ahead, reached his ears across the water. He slumped down upon the wharf edge, the collar of his worn, grey coat drawn up close about his bull neck. Dick Brag realized he had missed more than the boat. When he had obtained a position as a hand on board the Esthonia it was the first real step for the better that he had ever taken in his life. And now through his own fault—his own carelessness—he had missed the boat and the chance. Brag drew himself deeper into the scanty folds of his coat. He sat staring at the dark waves that slapped spitefully at the wharf. Finally he drew himself to his feet and shambled back down the wharf to the city. sjc Sjs A circle of light played about the back room of a pawn shop in the more disreputable portion of the city. At last it came to rest on the face of a small safe. Dick Brag knelt down before it and his fingers delicately and carefully twirled the dial. He raised his head to listen. He resumed his work with an ugly chuckle. He could depend upon Jimmie Lee. Four years before he had missed a boat and instead met Jimmie Lee. He had been taught a trade by Jimmie. It was not honest, perhaps, as honesty runs, but never-the-less profitable. And in many an experience he had learned of Jimmie’s devotedness to him. So tonight Jimmie insisted upon re¬ maining faithfully on guard as the outside man. Suddenly came the sound of flying feet, a shot, and Jimmie’s warn¬ ing voice. Brag leaped to his feet and raced through the door into the alley. He saw Jimmie running but with a reeling stagger. “Gome on,” growled Brag,

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 15 Commercial Club Initiation N Tuesday, October the ninth, at 3:15 o’clock, the Junior mem¬ bers of the Commercial Class lined up outside of the gymnasium, ready to be initiated into the Commer¬ cial Club by the Senior members. The Juniors were blindfolded, and each was led into the “gym” by a Senior. Half of the Junior boys (possibly because they were bashful) came in late, but they certainly received their share of ' the initiation,—and then some. Ancient eggs, five thousand years old, crocodiles straight from the Nile, and angle worms, which were fine eating, all added to the fun at the initiation. Judging from the screams and laughter of the Juniors, they evidently enjoyed their tortures as much as did the Seniors, who watched them “take their medicine.” After going through all the stunts, the members were seated in a circle around the center of the “gym”, and each Junior had a chance to show his, or her, ability in doing a stunt, before they could remove their blindfolds. They also had to swear solemnly to live up to the Shorthand Oath: “I solemnly swear, By the hair of my head, To each night do my Shorthand, Before going to bed. I’ll not park under lamp posts, Or sit on a stone wall, For the next day in Class, My Shorthand will fall.” Refreshments, consisting of fancy cookies and ice cream were then served to make up for previous harsh treatment. The ice cream hap¬ pened to be banana, and it was suggested by one of the committee