Hathaway Brown School - Specularia Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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The Will To ive. p THE BELLS had screamed their warning cries. The roaring engines turned over slowly once or twice and then were quiet. The huge ship lay silently waiting, waiting in the thick, foggy night, waiting while some' where out there in the black, black water, a submarine, like a lone wolf strayed from its pack, watched her with evil eyes: Far, below the decks in the sweltering engine room we stood, listening for some sound to break the awful silence. Saying not a word, moving not a muscle, we waited. Each heart beat wildly, each grimy face was white with panic. I could feel the sleek, black enemy coming closer, closer, closer, watching us all the time with wicked eyes. Then suddenly there was a violent explosion! Shrieks of agony and terror pierced the din! Blue, white, and yellow flames flashed around me. I grabbed for something to hold on to, but was thrown to the deck. My arm was crushed beneath me. Like a dry twig the bone snapped, and I felt agonizing pain shoot through my body like a bolt of lightning. With a thundering crack the huge pipe above me crashed to the deck. Then an immense wave of water leapt onto me like a hungry tiger set loose from its cage. Wildly I struggled to get loose from the pipe. The water was choking me. I could not breathe! With all my strength I tore myself free, ripping the flesh off my ankle down to the bone. I fought to the surface and gasped for air. The icy water bit my raw leg. I had to get to the ladder somehow. I had to get out! Another wave beat me against the wall. It crushed my broken arm. I bit my lip to bear the pain. I clutched a railing with my good arm as the furious waves swept me by. I was weak and was in excruciating agony. But nothing mattered except that ladder. I must get to it. The waves tried to pull me loose from my grip. My head was spinning. I dragged myself along the railing toward the ladder. Then suddenly I felt a clammy hand dragging on my leg. I saw a man, one of my friends, one of my own friends. I could hardly recognize him, for the side of his face had been blown off! He moaned, and I grabbed for him, but his fingers relaxed. Giving one last groan of agony, he sank into the black water. Panicfstrickeln, I reached for him. But it was too late, he was gone. I could not think, I could not control my will. In my brain swirled the confused sight of blinding flames, gigantic waves, my friend with only half a face, but above all the ladder., In that narrow iron structure lay all hope of life for me. I know not how nor when, but finally I found myself before it, clutching it with my hand. Ch! to get out of that hell of pain and icy water! I dragged myself up, up until at last I came to the hatch. If I could only get it open! I leaned my weight against it. With all the

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Needless to say, Mr. S-tone continued, we can have no dog here, and we have turned it over to the proper people. Jimmy, we're sure you can see that a dog is very dirty and can only bring you harm. That's all. You may go now. Remember it is all for your own good, and we don't like to see anything hinder your recent improvement. jimmy's feet turned slowly and carried him out of the room, where the two adults were smiling with satisfaction at a task well done. He could see nothing as he slowly and awkwardly limped up the stairs. His dog - his own puppy-gone --gone forever. Reaching his room, he threw himself on his bed, and the helpless boy, alone in the large stone orphange, sobbed quietly into his pillow. Barham Bates, Class of '45 ,Solifzzde The fragrant needlefbed, Piled deep beneath my feet by years of wind, ,Shuffled and rustled through the tall, silent trees. I stopped. And through a window in the forest gloom, The low, still moon shone brightly, her splendor Holding me in willing slavery. Upon a mossy log, Green with ages past, I sat in silent awe. ' As in a dream, I reached my hand to touch the moon. Her round, metallic brilliance was smooth Beneath my finger tips. All nature closed around me. Below me lay the tranquil lake, shimmering and silvery With myriads of ever moving diamonds Spread out on slender shreds of moonlit gauze. Moved by the balmy wind, the small pine trees Nodded, bowed, and whispered like slender maidens. The stars, caught in lacy branches, flickered there, Elfin lanterns hung to light the sky. Across the bay the lonely loon shattered the silence With his shrill and wailing cry. And there, beneath the hush of starlit night, I looked upon the countenance of God. Charlotte M efnk, Class of '45

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strength that was left in my aching body, I shoved and pushed. There was no hope. I could not open it. I called for help, no answer came. Then sudenly I heard two voices. I called again and they heard. I could hear them trying to get the hatch open, first with their hands and then with axes. At last! .At last! They broke through, and I could see their faces. Then suddenly the whole world went black. When I awoke, all was quiet. I must be deadll' I thought. No, there was the aching in my arm and there was the pain in my ankle, but I was dry! Yes, I was dry, dry and alive. For some unknown reason God had taken pity on me and on my ship. Yes, she had fought bravely, more bravely than I, and she too lived. For awhile she had almost died, but now she and I were on our way home, home to America. Betsy Augustus, Class of '46 lQA77Z67'Z.66l7Z ufufumn The smell of burning leaves is in the air Carried by cool and biting autumn winds, Thin wisps of smoke curl upward in the sky And fade against the paling golden sun. 'Round the barnyard fat, proud turkeys crowd, Thrusting back their heads in angry pride, Strutting on the burnished copper leaves Fallen from the maples overhead. Fat and round, with .green and orange hues, In the fields the ripened pumpkins sit. Lonely crows and swallows dart and dive, -Shadows on a curtain of blue sky. Gay chrysanthemums rustle in the wind, Now nod, now bow on stalks of grayishfgreen. The glossy apples are piled high beneath the trees, With round, ripe grapes as purple as their wine. This is autumn, the season of farewells, When summer's gone yet winter's not begun. This is America, fertile and proud, Glorious in autumn like no other land. N aucy Cbmey, Class of '45