James J Reynolds Junior High School - Beacon Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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ln the island's harbor, boats tore at their moorings. The docks were deserted except for a group of fishermen. They struggled along the dock against the wind and lash- ing rain. They stopped suddenly beside a small boat, the Siren III, and called to it's captain. Hey mate, ye aren't thinking of sailing today, are ye? Sure am, shouted the aging figure. ln this weather, are ye loony? Ye'lI sink or crash on the rocks, the fisherman exclaimed. Now matey, the captain said, l've sailed this ship every day for the past fifty years, through far harbors and distant seas, in all weather. l'm not about let this gale stop me. Before the heckler could answer, the weather- beaten craft took off with its one-man crew. The little craft plowed through the huge swells off the island's coast. The captain's slicker dripped with rain. His gray-white beard clung damply to the grooves on his face. His sharp eyes fiitted alertly to and fro from their indented sockets. So the others think l'm old, do they? he shouted to the wind and he spat into the sea. l'll show them. l'm the only one who dares to leave port today. They're afraid of this weather, but I'Il show them! l'll master this storm. I'll show them! The Siren passed the shoals and the lighthouse beams warned the captain, as did the clanging of the buoys, but he paid them no heed. He held the small boat on a steady course, a course whose end was uncertain. Hours had passed and the Siren was now in heavy seas, far from its origin. The waves tossed her to and fro and threatened to tear the wooden craft to pieces. Waves washed across the decks and the captain tied himself to the mast to prevent himself from being washed away. The boat nearly capsized at every wave, but he held the mast rope with one hand and steered the boat with his other hand. The rain became mixed with hail. The wind blew and the waves crashed, but The Siren Ill would not sink, only because, it seemed, the captain's deter- mination would not let it. .After what seemed like aeons, the storm was over and finally the captain decided to bring the Siren Ill home. The old man was victorious. He had won his battle with the sea. He was not too old to be good and he had done what no one else could. As soon as he pulled into port, everyone would know of his victory, and they would think better of him. . The Siren Ill made way through the now normal sea along the island's coast. The captain was not far from his harbor. Perhaps it was his carelessness, or perhaps his mind dwelled on his having braved the storm. Whatever it was, it took his mind off steering his ship, and before he real- ized it, the Siren Ill was on the reefs. The rocks ripped through the hull in seconds and soon the timbers began to fall apart. They sank, with the captain, down to the quiet beneath the turbulence. The day after the storm a large group of people from the rocky coast gathered on the sand. Their eyes gazed at a piece of a boat's bow. On it was written the words, Siren III. One fisherman in the groupexclaimed, I knew the old fool wouldn't get far. He and his boat could never have survived such a storm. He never even passed the rocks. by Arthur Rosenstein, 9-3 4,9

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The gale swept the rocky coast with fury. People cowered in their cottages and wondered when it would all end. Palm trees bent and sand swirled about the beach. From horizon to horizon the sky was gray. The wind howled through the trees and shrieked its torment at boarded windows.

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RETREAT TO THE SEA I go to the sea as a refuge, to think of things and of myself. It is so beautiful, in a lonely kind of way, that no one could help but find refuge there. ,As I walk along the shore, the wind sweeping through my hair, and tears stinging my eyes, I feel as though it is cleansing my mind of all its thoughts and, cares. I look out onto the ocean ,and see the incessant cycle of the sea and waves. Al am re- minded that I, too, must find my place in this un- ceasing cycle ofilife. . U A Looking down at. the peppery sand beneath my feet, I perceive the motion of the waves, going back and forth, -back and forth, across the sand, Marlene Korn cleansing it each time anew. Somehow, feeling the force myself, I think of how similar it is for peo- ple who must constantly wipe their slates clean and start anew, or become worn out too soon and too often used. As l look up into the magnificent bowl of blue, undisturbed by clouds, I feel caught up as something small and insignficant. Abruptly, I am awakened from this train of thought by a sea gull, soaring alone through the sky, piercing the quiet with its harsh and lonely cry. Suddenly, I feel an urgent desire to escape from all that is so huge, so powerful, so perpetual. l turn my back on the mighty sea, and start homeward, refreshed and renewed. by Ellen Gerschitz, 9-3 ,I-Msg: D . I I A -,--- . I - .1 'N . ,,,- . f' ...,, ', I I fr J' ' XX is 7 . :Q Leaf, I I If I I fite I X ig I A f' I . , ! 1.. I i 5 . H if gm., -1 ' fr . -1 'R ' 'X , 1,4-f-wx '34 'Eu 'I I .,,L,-Nc, A ---f-,fs KH, ir i x E .... .. Ib-van V, ,'Nv Tam' 'Y-if' -X' i 'ME .fm t,.. ., 'X X it-QWNH . ff W x -TWJ ' ww-il! - Mx jf fsfxee it time Y. ,, .Q as A XC.. if ,' I '+3PiTc: , T' lx 4-I., ...WX X rg- 'NX MXN K N AXA' I ,...-Y X .-,Hx WK 'X Ru f -' , , 1' I D f N6 f . Y V V h . A ,.t . .,. ,J . f -f A , 'E-,f FB x 3 ' S '- 1, I 'ii' ,-M fi 1:jh, - CSU .. 'fwfligf We ,...!a.e, ,t.E..,t .rsflqhl 1 ' ,, . i 1 1, 1' Y' if1.r2, 4y5..,-. -5512. JI,-3 ,J ,, -1T5'A'. , A J' N- -4, 7 ' vifgghhfgf. T'1.:ggE, g', I file. -5:13.13 iifrsgffilg-r.: f-Edin: