Glebe Collegiate Institute - Lux Glebana Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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On the whole, the last leg home was un- eventful and we soon anchored out in the St. Lawrence, at Quebec. The tug-boat captains seem to resent having to warp in a Canadian National Steamship, for the poor Colborne nearly bellowed her heart out before a tug decided to take pity on us and snorted up to take our line. We unloaded all that night and got away the next morning, headed for Montreal. We made that port, too. ' Montreal, being the home port, we signed off. The men go into the purser's office on the starboard side, get their discharge sheets, collect their pay at the purser's cage, go over to the second purser's table, sign on again and back to their berths. I went in the starboard side, signed off, collected my pay, did not go to the second purser's table. did not sign on again, went out the door on the port side and back to Glebe. NCWFOUIIAIBIICI NUBIICCS Frances Parker EWFOUNDLAND! The name itself is euphonious, expressive, as are all names on the Island. They were be- stowed by settlers of the sixteenth century who, according to the practice of that day called them after the sentiment aroused by the spot or after a characteristic of it. Thus we find Cornerbrook, Misery Point, Bona- vista Bay, Random Island, Paradise, Paddle Pond, and the lonely little hamlets of Come- By-Chance and Seldom-Come-By. Not only is the inHuence of these pioneers evident in place-names, but also in the every- day speech of the people. Almost complete isolation from the world has retained the expressions of their forefathers long after they have disappeared from common use in the Mother Country. One hears empt , the verb for empty which Chaucer used, futter , probably from faitour , an idler or wastrel which was familiar to both him and Spenser, jannies meaning mum- mers , a corruption of Shakespeare's zan- nies . Bang up , first class style, and cuffer , a friendly meeting of seamen to LUX GLEBANA I swap yarns , were brought out not only to Newfoundland but, by the Pilgrim Fath- ers, to New England. French has added its piquant touch. Bete de la mer has been elided to produce bedlamer , a young seal. The origin of vandu , a sale or auction, and maugre , in spite of, is easily apparent. Incidentally, in Newfoundland a girl is not kissed-she is bazzed , a verb derived from the French baisser . Even Latin is present. Talqual is used of good and middling fish taken at the same price talis qualis , such as they are. The picturesque tongues of Devon and Ireland embellish the language. Chimbly instead of chimney, and Chucklehead for a stupid person, are used by many inhabit- ants of Devon origin. In other districts, one comes across lashin's for plenty of, spiflicated applied to a man slightly the worse for liquor, and the Gaelic words scrimshanking and shinanigin both meaning hesitancy, or the plea he put the townie on me when an Irish emigrant has been rebuked for treating a stranger to un- usual hospitality because he claimed to have come from the same town in the Old Country. In addition to words and idioms, the New- foundland people have given Words well- known to us a peculiar twist. For example, from conversation one learns that a fine day is civil or wonderful , a handsome man is clever and his valuable cow like- wise, a mosquito is a nipper , fish may be scatter few or scatter big , a thunder- struck person is comical struck , any time after twelve noon is evening, and Chere is food for thoughtj an idle boy is mis- chievous! Phrases are expressive. Who can deny the emphasis of to storm the kettle as opposed to boiling it hurriedly , give us the breeze instead of we are getting mar- ried , heave the stomach , whose inference is clear, or the practical touch revealed by the statement It's a jacket colder to- night ? Imitative harmony has been utilized in coining new words. On the king of the barnyard who graces the table on Thanks- giving Day is conferred the proud title, bubbly-jock . The chattering of teeth in shaking from cold is well described in bibber . Can you not feel a dry tickling cough in the word tissic , or see sish , Page 43

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At Barbados, our next stop, where we decided a dip would be nice, the old man said no. W hy? Sharks. And yet the nig- gers swam around the ship for hours at a time, without even a single shark trying to make a meal of them. Oh, well. And Barbados was very pretty. A On to Trinidad, where we saw even more negroes. By this time, I felt that I never wanted to smell the sight of another negro. Being stuck down in the holds was a nasty job. The stevedores stole the stuff right under your eyes and you had to yell your lungs out for the mate before they would even start to think of putting it back. Then, when the day's work was through and you went ashore, there were more of them and you had to take care that you did not get the back of your head stove in for the sake of what little money you had with you. Oh, yes, it was exciting. Our last port, on the voyage south, was Georgetown QDemeraraj, British Guiana. Here we spent five or six very hot days. The mercury, hidden in the shade, shot a red finger of protest up to the one hundred and twenty mark. I, for my part, just sweated and swore. The whole time at Demerara, I think I saw no more than three white people, other than the passengers and crew. All together, things looked pretty black and British fluiana was another place I was glad to cave. Back to that rock, Trinidad, where we loaded corned beef and pineapple juice and then to Grenada. Grenada, if any of the islands, holds a high place in my affections, for it was there we had that swim. The day being Sunday, we lowered one of the life boats and rowed over to a beach about three miles distant. Man is a stupid animal. We worked hard all week and hated it, but we cheerfully took a twelve-foot oar and broke our backs slushing it through the water in order that we might run sand through our fingers and dabble our toes in the water. Still, for all the sun-burn, sore hands and stiff backs, we would willingly do it again and yet again. By the time we had beached the boat, or nearly beached it, for a life boat is a deucedly heavy thing, we had developed a tremendous thirst, but scorning the bottles of water in the boat, we dashed off, in among the palms and gathered a few freshly-fallen coconuts, tore the husks from them and, having knocked Page 42 off the head of the nut, drank the milk. Now, it may not sound very appetising, but unless you have actually done it, you cannot know the thorough enjoyment of standing in the spray of the surf, your head tipped back, with the cool, sweet milk gurgling down your throat and, occasion- ally, your chin and chest. You feel abso- lutely at peace with the world and feel that perhaps a seaman's life is not too bad, after all. No sooner have you reached this frame of mind, than, again, the bo'sun is at it. All right, shove off and grab them oars. The bo'sun never asked a man to do anything he would not do himself, the only trouble was that he expected us to do as well as he did. Never was man set a harder task. The bo'sun stood only about five foot eight, but he had shoulders that would have jammed in the Arch of Triumph, so, you see what we were up against. I have inserted this little bit of praise, because, if ever I go to sea again and run up against the bo'sun, I do not want to have to buy a new set of teeth at the next port. Be- sides, he wasn't such a bad fellow. QCan you hear me, Bos'?J That swim was the last we had on the trip. The closest thing left was a bucket of water slung at you by some obligiing fellow. We touched Barbados again and then went on to St. Lucia, where you could get a five-foot stalk of bananas for a shilling. Every man bought one-and then-the steward gave us bananas on- fruit night. Irony? Well-I do not know. Then out into the open sea. A wind blew up a few nights out and did its best to give the helmsman an overdose of exercise. The old tub would nose down into a wave as if she were going to follow through to the bottom. Oh, it was a gay affair. I should like to be dramatic and speak of the wild waves and the wind whistling in the hal- yards, but I will not. It did, though. We see-sawed our way into the Gulf of St. Lawrence until it finally smoothed out. The only damage done, was when a beauty came racing over the for'ard peak and did its best to rid us of the animal pen stuck up on the port side of the well-deck. It took away half, but must have become disgusted, for it went away, leaving us a pile of debris to clear away. Why it couldn't have taken the whole thing overboard, I do not know. LUX GLEBANA

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finely-pounded ice on the foreshore, and the lolly surface of the dark, oily sea just before it freezes into sish ? Each islander is a Professor Higgins in himself, able, like the leading character in Shaw's Pygmalion , to tell by the dialect from which cove the speaker comes. It is natural in a country whose greatest industry is connected with life on the sea, that nautical terms should have invaded life on the land. If someone tells you that Mrs. Jones is sitting on her bridge that does not mean that she is perched above a brook, but merely that she is enjoying the evening breeze on her verandah. When her small son wanders from the path through a marsh, he is said to have gone ashore . As the visitor to Newfoundland is approach- ing Port-aux-Basques by train to leave the island, he undulates to port and star- board down his carriage's length, and watches the line of railway cars going into the station stern -not bow-first , for even trains are nautical in Newfoundland. Not only is the language intriguing but the soft tone in which it is spoken delights the ear of the visitor. Thus their speech provides yet another bond between the mellowness of the Old Land and the rugged life of this New-found-land. vkifvk A Glebite ln bpalestine Blyth Young OT SO long ago, Mr Atkinson told us in the assembly hall of a former Glebe student, Michael R. Read, who was awarded the Military Cross for gallant and distinguished conduct in Palestine. Michael Read completed his studies at Glebe in 1933. He was well known among Glebe skiers. He attended the Royal Mili- tary College in Sandhurst, and in 1935 was gazetted as a second lieutenant in the Que-en's Own Royal West Kent Regiment, and proceeded to Palestine with his bat- talion. The following year he was pro- moted to lieutenant, and was twice mention- ed in despatches after distinguishing him- self in action at Tamra in May, and at Kh-Umm-Ad-Daraj, in November. We received a letter from Lieutenant Page 44 Read just in time for LUX publication. Unfortunately he says nothing about the M.C., but he does tell us some of his recent activities. He writes: Dear Editor: Many thanks for your letter, and my humble apologies for being so long in re- plying. My excuse, quite genuine, is that your letter arrived in Palestine after we had left those 'quiet' shores for Malta. As their is no air mail service between Palestine and Malta, it took a long time to double back on its tracks. I must say that I wouldn't have missed Palestine for anything. It certainly was a great experience. It gave me a slight idea, but only very slight, of what the real thing will be. The Arabs, thank good- ness, are extremely bad shots. As a battalion we were fortunate to be stationed in Haifa. One could get a bit of relaxation after coming in from detach- ment or a three-day trek through the hills. Most battalions were stationed in large Arab towns where there was absolutely no outside amusement-very trying indeed for the men. Our work consisted mostly in keeping order in Haifa, especially after the numerous bomb outrages, drives across large areas of country in conjunction with other bat- talions, cordon and searching of Arab villages for arms, and going on detachment. The latter was the most amusing: as a subaltern one ran one's own little show, completely cut off from the rest of the battalion, with the exception of wireless, of com'se. These detachments were usually situated near an Arab village, the idea being that one controlled by patrolling and ambushing at night a certain area and hoped that one might beat the bands away. The times we went out chasing the ever- elusive Arab gang have been too numerous to mentiong the number of times we bumped them was actually quite small. An Arab usually pounces on one, when one least expects it, pours in a few volleys, and then melts into the landscape. Malta is not without its excitement. We are just getting over the Albanian flop. We quite expected to be bombed off the island last Sunday or Monday by our little pal Musso . Many thanks for your letter. Yours sincerely, Michael Read. LUX GLEBANA