John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

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and not a seafaring man Chris could easily tell. Bewildered, Chris walked toward the odd figure silhouetted in the lamp light. As Chris drew nearer he saw the kindly wrinkled face look- ing at him with admiration. Reclining at the table next to him, the man beckoned to Chris to sit beside him, Chris did so. Slowly, as if each word were an effort, the man spoke. l am Paul MacDavid your father's stable master. Pausing for breath he con- tinued. l have searched Scotland for you. Then slowly, extending his arm as to touch the lad's hand, he said. You are Sir Douglas Farland, heir to Don Carlton. When Chris heard this his eyes opened wide and his jaw sank. Startled he exclaimed, What is the reason that leads you to believe l am Sir Douglas. Laddy, the old stablemaster continued with a sympa- thetic note, lt is a long cruel story, lend me an ear while l still have a spark in me and l'll tell you what l know. Twelve years ago your father died of the plague. His half-brother Bruce Lockston took good advantage of your mother once he had not to contend with Sir Douglas. He was a scoundrel and your father knew it but, he was gone. During the following year Lockston slowly seized promi- nence in the castle. He saw his chance to work a plot one day when he had finally won your mother's confidence. Using Sir Clayton's yacht 'Lock Kerne', he pretended to take you fishing. The old man gasped, And that laddy, is how you were found in the North Channel. Anger then began to flush the lad's cheeks. Go on, go on! he snapped. The rest of the story is the climax laddy, so try and put yourself at rest for the worst is to come. The shock of your father's passing away, and your death made Lady Farland, your mother, very sick laddy, evil Lockston saw his plan well pro- gressed. Soon after he turned l and all the other faithful servants' away to seek our fortunes elsewhere. The years that followed were blackened by the tyranny of Lockston. By chance one day as I wandered about the coast l met Robert Darnell, the mate of 'Lock Kerne'. He was the only surviving member of the crew, the rest had, well, had disappeared for what they saw could never be disclosed, Dar- nell, a Christian man, saved your life that night you were to be drowned. He had substituted a block ot wood for weight and in the blackness you floated away unnoticed. When l heard this l knew that you could have Don Carlton. Somehow, I sensed you were alive and set out in search of you. My search ended when an old light- house keeper repeated the story of Ben Lenserids boy a few weeks ago. Now laddy, it is up to you to regain your reign from Lockston. Chris slowly caught at the full meaning of what the old man had just said. He started to rise but the old squire stopped him. Fury lit his eye, blood flushed his cheek and cold sweat rolled from his brow No laddy, l know what you are thinking for you are the reflection of Sir Douglas. You could never win your place by your own hand alone. l am sure l can get evidence now so l plead with you not to do anything rash ,till l return. God- speed Sir Douglas, With this the frail figure disappeared into the darkness. Chris, still dazed, sat there staring at the flickering lamp light, the words still whirling in his head. Days passed slowly and Chris' impatience grew. Even the fishermen that came each night could spy a far-distant cold look in the boy's eye. Ben approached the boy several times but he could not even get more than a word or two from him. Restlessness seized him at nights. He would lay awake and 12

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THE BELL at the abbey Was striking midday on a foggy afternoon in the little Scottish town of Combrae on Rothesay Island. The quaint little fish- ing town of gray stone was shrouded in a damp mist as its people went hurriedly down the little sidestreet from the fish quays to the market place. Among the shops which lined the street stood Ben Lenseric's grog shoppe. Hardwood rustic tables and benches, a few kegs and a tap were the only furniture which filled the little room. At night when the fishing fleet returned it was the meeting place for the tired crews. Over large mugs of grog the fishermen exchanged yarns and would relate the happen- ings at the grounds that day. Now the shop was empty, all for a tall blonde lad approaching his seven- teenth year who busied himself scrub- bing the tables until they were spot- lessly white. Ben had adopted the lad some twelve years hence, and as he grew older the bonds between them steadily increased. The story was told that the schooner Black Fish found him lashed to a small piece of timber drifting in the North Channel in the autumn of 1841. Since nobody had heard of a sinking and no inquiries were made, old Ben, tak- ing a fancy to the boy, adopted him. That night the usual group came to the shoppe, singing, smoking and ex- changing yarns. The boy, whom everybody called Chris, went about waiting on' tables and filling empty mugs with grog, When early morn arrived the fishermen returned to their ships and Chris went about cleaning up before retiring. Suddenly Chris heard a feeble voice beckoning from the darkness behind him and slowly looked about. There in the dull light of the oil lamp, Chris saw an old man clad in rags. A stranger he was, for Chris knew everybody about town, 11 HELLSHHO NOSHD mr' I-1 U3 ll-I

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think. During the day he would dream. As time progressed, strange thoughts warped by impatience raced through his brain. One morning before anything had stirred Chris, giving up Cthe return of MacDavidJ started off tor Don Carlton. Riding all the way at an impatient gallop the lad reached his destination on the eve of the fourth night. The castle gates were well guarded and after being refused entrance, Chris proceeded to climb the mossy walls. Climbing the rough cut ramparts took most oi the lad's endurance. As the lad slowly slipped over the top of the wall a strong pair of arms seized h-im. The struggle was brief and the next thing the lad remembered was the cold crawling dungeon in the depths of the castle. Lockston's hate tor Sir Doug- las's father was renewed when he saw his image in his only son. After let- ting Chris lie in the slimy darkness for three days, he decided he would personally behead him. The day was set and Lockston came every evening to torment the boy. Cold and bleak the rain tell upon Chris as he stag- gered to the block. As the lamb was prepared for the slaughter, Lockston grasped the handle of the broad- sword. The bejeweled saber was a relic that had been passed down from father to son for ages. Was this the fate for which it had so ironically been saved? As the devil walked toward the heir of Don Carlton, his face was twisted in a devilish grin. Suddenly a blinding bolt from the blue crashed to the earth with a roar that ran into the hereafter. When all could see again Lockston lay motion- less on the ground, the tiendish grin still twisted on his lips Beside him lay the bejeweled sword, white hot. Paul MacDavid had already been be- fore the House of Lordis and the whole Lockston clan were imprisoned. Sir Douglas returned to Combrae and the people he loved. The rest of his years were spent sailing the seas. The only relic ot his Lordship was the sword which he prized till his death. This laddy is why I take the sword you see here besides me Cwhenever I ily my tighter bomber into battlel for you see Sir Douglas was my great grand- father. My full name is Douglas Paul Farland, Flight Lieutenant, Royal Scot- tish Air Force. A fitfzz! young fiber zmmed Firbevi' Once jisfaed for rome 1516 in 4 jirrzzre Till ll jifb with 4 grin Pulled the jirbernmzz in Nou' !l9'ey'1'e filling the jirsure for Pislver. 13 HUGO GRUARIN