Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

Page 9 text:

The Will of the Almighty broadside from His Majesty’s ship, Storm Bird”, roared like the mighty thunder, as she slowly swung from her anchorage into the open stream. Her yard arms were black with hurrying sailors, who cast the billowing canvas to the gentle nor’west breeze; another broadside burst forth missing its target — the trim little schooner, Venture” — on all sides. The captain of the last mentioned vessel, tall, straight, with iron grey locks, stood as a startling contrast to the mean, slouching, little man in command of the mighty frigate. However, as is not often the case, the striking master of the little schooner was running from the law, which was imper¬ sonated by the mean little man. Yet another broadside sent its screaming missels at the fleeing Venture”, but its impassive master neither broke his stride nor missed a puff at his pipe as he paced the quarter¬ deck, eyeing first his bulging, then the pursuing ship, and last, but not with the least concern, the distant horizon. They sailed a westward course, while far to windward in the gathering gloom a storm cloud could be discerned. This cloud, at first, had little significance, but soon it assumed menacing proportions; nevertheless, no one on either ship realized how vitally this same cloud would affect both vessels. So much for the physical position of the parties con¬ cerned. Now for the conditions which led these two ships to be flying westward, one pursued, the other pursuing. The mission of the frigate was obvious. She was enforcing the laws of His Majesty, the King, but the case of the Venture” was not so clear. She was one of those little — shall we say traders — who do such a flourishing business shipping the products of the West Indies through the boop-bales of His Majesty’s laws of trade. Captain Sampson, master of the little ship in this dangerous profession, was doing nothing which his conscience deemed to be wrong. What could the King know of the needs of this Yankee trader?

Page 8 text:

The Wind T he wind Blows about the house Bends the bushes Sways the trees— The wind Rattles the windows Comes in Under the door Sets the shutters to creaking — When I am out The wind Tousles my hair Whips my jacket And my skirt And sways me on my feet— I have to fight against it Push forward Struggle It challenges me Makes my blood tingle It makes me feel alive And glad that I am— My eyes are clear I take on a new self Forget care and worry Forget what troubled me Yesterday— That is gone It is today— And today I love the wind. Isabel Tuell, ’37

Page 10 text:

8 THE HUTTLESTONI AN Both ships sped onward into the gathering night and the oncoming storm. The smaller vessel having a fore an’aft rig, had a decided advantage over the picturesque, but ponderous square sails of the Storm Bird”, at least, in beating to wind¬ ward. Forward rushed the ships, the night, and the storm. The wind was rising, the sky was darkening, and even the stolid British seamen eyed their taut canvas with apprehen¬ sion. Finally, the order came. Aloft and furl the royals”, roared the mate, and before the last words were fully uttered, nimble sailors were swinging in the rigging. A look at the schooner showed that her fear of elements was not much less than her fear of the frigate. Even her small topsails were evidently more than her creaking hull could stand, for a few hauls on the clews and they were firmly brailed to the trunk from whence no ordinary wind could dislodge them. The tiny Venture” was soon out of reach of even the great long Tom mounted on the fore hatch of the King’s ship. The storm and the night were to her advantage, for who could trail a black smudge through all these little islands? The fury of the elements was not long in striking. Soon with a shine and a roar, the rain and blackness were upon them, blotting out even the faintest trace of the frigate, now far astern and a good two miles to lee’ward. Captain Sampson, being by nature a cautious man, felt the force of the wind and took warning. Down tumbled the jib and the slatting main’sl as he reduced his vessel to storm canvas, tacked her about on another course, and set out, safe from the reach of the long arm of the law. The storms and the law, however, are not the only enemies of a ship sailing the reef infested waters of the windward islands. Soon at the captain’s order, was heard the periodical call of the heavers of the lead. “Six fathoms by the mark, Sir,” came the cry, and then a pause broken only by the howling wind and the beating rain. Four by the mark, Sir,” rang the voice, she’s shallowing.” The next report was com¬ forting to the master. No bottom, Sir,” sang the voice. The captain heaved a sigh of relief; at least, he knew his position. ■