Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

Page 32 text:

28 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. Dazed, his lordship, tried to pierce the inky blackness. The foul deed was done. The treasure was his, all his! Midway down the long treacherous steps he perceived the band of light. Strange, he thought, that the bulb had not been shattered to fragments. Slowly and carefully he descended the stairs. Just one more step and the light would be his and then for the—Suddenly and without warning he stumbled over the unseen crow-bar, and was pitched into space. A blood-curdling scream rent the air—a sickening thud—silence. Samuel Ianzito, ’ 28 . FEAR. The wind whistled through the struts of the plane with a high shrill scream. The ship plunged and staggered on its way, but kept its nose into the wind. The pilot peered into the darkness of the storm with his haggard tired eyes. “Jove” he whispered, “if I go into a tailspin. Oh, those tailspins!” He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind of the horrible thought. A strong blast at this moment almost ripped the plane apart. The roar of the wind drowned the sound of the motor. He struggled with the control stick, glanced at his instruments, and shook his head. “I can never make it,” he murmured. “I can never make it.” As he battled with the wind and rain, he pictured his dear old mother safe and warm by the fire. Dear mother, she didn’t want him to take up aviation, but it was in his blood. He could picture her as she was when he had broken the news of his first flight, tearful, but yet with a proud light shining in her eyes. He saw also the family doctor, their most faithful friend, who had warned him that same fateful day. He could remember vividly his words, “My boy, some day your heart will get you yet. High altitudes are not for you.” But overpowering these thoughts was his great inherent fear. “If I go into a tailspin,” he murmured, “if I go into a tailspin!” He resolutely chased the subject from his mind, and bent his will to the task of bringing the plane safely down. The violence of the wind increased. I he rain drove like hailstones against the plane and froze on the wings. It was a terrible night for flying, enough to make the strongest bend under the load. The boy, however, flew resolutely onward. “For Billy,” he said. “I’ll do it for Billy.” He thought of the blue-eyed, dusky haired maiden for whom he had risked his life. He saw her stretching out her arm toward him, welcoming him, when he arrived at her house. Tomorrow was her twenty-first birthday, and she dearly loved diamonds. I here was no jewelry stores in Dover that had jewels fit for his girl. Say, but wouldn’t it be worth the struggle to watch her eyes shine, and to see her lovely dimples when she saw that diamond? He clasped his hand over the bulge in his coat, and grinned from sheer delight. But then the terrible thought again crept into his mind. A tailspin,” he muttered. “If I ever go into a tailspin.” He clenched his teeth and bowed his head as the wind howled over the cock¬ pit. He forgot his mother, he forgot the doctor, and even forgot Billy as he trembled violently from fear, and prayed with all his strength.

Page 31 text:

THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 27 TREASURE MAD. His lordship, the Earl of Ashton, strode back and forth impatiently in his magnificent and well kept study. Tonight, together with his step-brother, he was to seek his ancestor’s treasure. Confound John, he thought. Why should he, the Earl of Ashton, share the treasure with one that had no real claim to it? He tried to thrust aside the thought that it had been John who had accidentally come upon the documents that had given the clue. An evil thought entered the head of his lordship. Why not? No one would be the wiser. He started guiltily at the sound of a laughing voice. “A penny for your thoughts, old fellow! No, no,” John said still laugh¬ ing, “you don’t have to tell me, I bet you were thinking of the treasure. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I discovered that gold was buried in our cellar, I mean, your cellar,” he hastily corrected. “Oh yes, I own up that I was thinking about it,” said the Earl slowly, sur¬ veying his brother at the same time. Strange, he thought, that he should hate such a cleancut and frank young man. but he knew the reason deep down in his heart. Wasn’t it John who al¬ ways attracted the ladies? Wasn’t it John who was the better horseman? John would look handsome even in a coffin, he thought ironically. “Say, if those documents we found are true,” John was saying, “that an¬ cestor of ours must of been a rummy old fellow. Just think of any one sacking Spanish treasure ships under the very eyes of their protectors!” “Yes, he must have been a remarkable fellow,” put in the other less en¬ thusiastically. “I think we have done enough talking, John. It is time that we go seek it.” “I’m all ready, I have my flashlight. I guess that’s all we’ll need.” “I believe we will need a crow-bar for the night’s work.” “You’re right. Lordy, old boy, it’s just like you not to over-look minor details.” John reappeared a few minutes later with a short crow-bar. “I’m sorry but that’s the best I could find. Since you sent the servants to town, I can’t find a blessed thing in this place.” “I’ll take the crow-bar, John. It will serve the purpose.” “All right, Lordy. I’ll lead the way into the haunted cellar. Make sure you don’t disturb ghosts and goblins,” he said jestingly. Curse the fellow, thought the other, always making light of everything. Why should John share in the treasure? Money meant nothing to him. He would no doubt give his share to some grasping orphan’s home. The evil thought had taken root and would not be shaken. Yes, he would go on with it. All this time they had been slowly traversing the winding and musty cor- riders in the cellar of Ashton Castle. For once John Ashton was awed. “Just think, Lordy, how many were butchered in these walls.” His lordship did not deign a reply. He was too busy with his own thoughts. John came to a stop at the head of a flight of stairs. “According to the documents, the treasure lies buried at the foot of these steps. Give me the crow-bar, Lordy.” “You shall have it, you fool, you shall have it!” came the choked words of the other. Too late the other turned—A crash. A falling body—a clanking sound—a rolling beam of light. Silence.

Page 33 text:

THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 29 He gazed hollow-eyed into the night. He was flying by dead reckoning. Not a thing was visible in the intense darkness. The wind howled, the rain swished, and still that dismal blackness. “I must do it, I must.” Then again that clutching fear. He shivered, drew his helmet more firmly over his ears, and again peered into the night. Was that a light below? Was it? The ship gave a sudden lurch, and he almost lost control in the screaming wind. It tore at the rudder, it seemed to lift the wings off the plane, and when he righted the plane, the light was nowhere to be seen. “I might have known it,” he muttered. “At least another hour of this agony. Heavens, I can’t stand it,” he sobbed. “Why did I ever do it? Why? Why?” The wind screamed anew. The rain beat in a sheet of ice over the plane. The plane lurched, it trembled, it shook. He was losing control. “Jove, a tailspin, a tailspin!” The plane spun around; it was being carried off like a kite. He clutched desperately at his controls, he tugged at them in despair, and suddenly the plane righted itself as if by magic. It was a dying gasp of the storm. He sighed and breathed easier. Perhaps he could reach it after all. The wind was dying down, and the rain had abated. “I surely can reach it,” he thought. “How good it will be to reach home, to see mother, the doctor and Billy. How fine it will be.” He regained his composure as he went on. Only a half hour now, and then —blissful thoughts. He sailed steadily on, humming a tune to the accompani¬ ment of the motor with a dreamy gaze in his eyes. Wouldn’t it be wonderful? He had fulfilled his quest. Yes, he would pop the question tonight and she would accept—he knew that. Suddenly he saw the searchlight below off Dover Field. Well, here he was, safe and sound. That tailspin stuff was the bunk. Why had he ever worried about that stuff? He pointed the nose of the plane down and descended swiftly and surely. But as he dropped, he clutched his breast, his eyes protruded, he uttered a shriek, and the nerveless hand let go of the control. The plane which had been so swiftly descending, turned on its side and fell, fluttering like a dead leaf. As it fell, the wind lifted it, and then dropped it to the ground with a sickening crash. Raymond Lynch, ’28. FINE FEATHERS. The girl looked out of her clear blue eyes into the stern brown orbs of her companion. At length she spoke. “My answer is no, Jimmy. I can’t do it. I like you very much, but I’m sick and tired of skimping and saving and going without those things which I love—beautiful clothes, expensive cars, beautiful houses. Oh, but that’s the life! No, Jimmy, I can’t do it,” she ended emphatically. “Then this is good-bye, Betty?” “Yes, good-bye.” With that the young man, known as the ambitious Jimmy Walker, picked up his soft gray hat, slammed the door behind him, and strode angrily down the walk muttering about the selfishness of women.