Mountain View Union High School - Blue and Gray Yearbook (Mountain View, CA)

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A SOUTH SEA EPISODE 19 went my family, and I headed for the blue waters, determined to end it all. '4What was my surprise, when I arrived there, to find my twelve mates, ready to launch a raft, they had been secretly making, how I know not, these thirteen weary weeks. And here those bloomin', bleedin' shipmates were prepared to quit their misery and leave me to mine. Why? 'Tis another thing I know not I threatened to call out the 'town' if they refused me a passage on their raft. 0f course they agreed, and as time was valuable, we piled in, shoved off, and set sail-for any place. We could hear the howl of our disappointed friends on shore when a mile or so out, but we resolved to feed the sharks before we woud go back there. '4We were picked- Bang! some one crashed into the saloon door swinging it violently. 'Into the room burst a hilarious sailor, sea-bag slung over his back. As he approached the group of sailors, Bill burst out with: HWell, by the holy pinktoed prophet, if it ain't 'Mad Bob' him- self. Put her here, matey, he exclaimed, as he rose, extending his gnarled fist. Mad Robert 's eyes opened wide as he shoved his mitt into Bi1l's. I c'This is luck, by Jehosaphatf' he said. t'Haven't seen Bill for thirteen years, sailed on a three years' cruise to the east coast of Africa with him! he exclaimed to the remainder of the salts. When did you get in? asked Bill. Leggo anchor about half an hour ago. Just came off the 'Las- sie Jean,' thirteen months from Rio Janeiro. Hit a dead calm half way thru the straits. Thirteen weeks we lay to until a wind struck up. Then for thirteen days we had a h- of a storm. Lost our mainm'st and mizzenms't and drowned thirteen 0' the crew. Well, I'm home now, so let the Old Pacific roar. Bill Russell 'smiled out loud' as did the other salts as Hthirteenn cropped out again. 'LWell, mates, Bill said, let's have a 'tarpaulin muster'g and drink to the health of 'Thirteen', shipmates with me on the 'Dark Sea' and shipmates with fMad Bob' on the 'Lassie Jeanf

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18 BLUE AND GRAY back had healed fully, so that I was able to get up and around from my animal hide bed to which I confined myself. Every man I passed would look at my back and then grin. Soon I began to wonder what the trouble was. I didn 't know of any disfigurement, or any laughable picture tatooed on my back, or if some April fool culprit had Just pasted 'Kick me' there, of what the matter Was. Finally one of my own countrymen volunteered the information, that where each blister had healed, it had left a white spot, as contrast with my artificial col- ored skin. 'And,' continued he, 'you look like a split between a two- legged, spotted leopard and a nigger' Now wouldnlt that keel haul you? I looking like a nigger and a spotted leopard when I'm a healthy son of Ireland! I simply told my informer where he ought to go for a warmer temperature. 'Shipmatesf Bill broke off, addressing the 'salts', when their laughter had spent itself, you remember old Paddy Murphy, the Frenchman?' They all nodded positively, grinning at conflicting name and nationality, Bill's humor. 'Well, he got in thick with the lwimmen folks there. He saved his 'windjammer' from the wreck and - Windjammer? the dapper landlubber interrupted again. What's a Windjammer? , Say, matey, where 's your nurse? You'd make a fine sailor, you would. So you want to know what a windjammer is? Well I s'pose I ought to enlarge your vocabu-thing-a-ma-jig. A windjammer, my lad, is what landlubbers and dry land sailors call an accordeonf' Oh, said the 'land fish', with relief. . Well, Bill resumed, to continue as before mentioned, Paddy got in thick with the wimmen folks. I remember him squeezing his Windjammer one day, in the solitary woods, soothing his troubled spirits, when his 'wife' 'reefed' him. With gleeful, guttural, gurglings, she heaved him on her shoul- der and headed for camp. He was like a cat-boat 'buckin sail' in mid- ocean, up there on her back. When Paddy 's wife told the joyful news to her black 'Brothers' and 'Sisters', that her 'old man' had a queer looking harmonious wind bag, and after forcing Paddy to 'heave to' and begin-Paddy, soulfully squeezing out 'Home, Sweet Home '-six more greasy females annexed themselves to Paddy lVIurphy's matri- monial larder. And all Paddy could choke up was 'Wurra wurra, wurra, ' Time progressed slowly in our little continent, and it evidently seemed that the cannibal 's idolatry for that handkerchief was wearing, as was the kerchief itself. We would soon have to make our get- away, be rescued, or would have to 'give the cannibals their postponed feed. My companions and myself were at wits end as to a method of escape, at least from our betterhalves. We were so forlorn, that sev- eral times we suggested giving the sharks in the sea a juicy banquet. However, we never had the nerve to carry this out. One night, as I lay sleeping in the midst of my family, I dreamt of snakes. An immense Anaconda attacked me and was winding its death coils around my body, relieving me of my breath. I suddenly awoke with a yell, to feel about my waist, three of my 'wives', hug- ging me, and one more near choking me. The rest were sitting on me from head to foot. I gave one grand maniacal yell, jumped up, over

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' 1 - B , miiigi nii if!ji'ijQni1q fm, ,,,,, , ,M , f it li1':i'r 'N f , Y, x i K' DQ, ,. ' I hl NWI M mX,z , lla k 1 ..2f.:.!J. .lf H .ul rn 71 ' 5 HT,-'H' Zlinr th' Svnmmna ZKnnning g5,BYgTHOS. KLECKNER,:'l5 Mgwfqeh WAS Spring. Or, at least, it should. have been, for' the mild, blue-eyed, systematic cashier in the First National Q had, that very morning, discarded his flannels, And if 45 gon it wasnft Spring, but was the, last week in Winter, the Qi 12. li season 1S probably the only thing that has escaped being A ,.4 ' ' influenced by the machine-like Bing Tinker. Bing never understood exactly why people addressed him as Bing , 'BGP But he accepted it in the same friendly, unassuming manner that he accepted everything. In fact, Bing was inclined to be offended when addressed otherwise, for his real name was Horatio Cornelius Tinker. To him Spring meant just three things, a change from heavy to lightweight underwear-he hated it for he always took cold, Spring house cleaning-he despised house cleaning-5 and Spring Vacation -he dreaded vacation. So in the First National, near the cash- ier's window there was little hilarity on the fifteenth day of April, for Bing had discarded his flannels, and that meant Spring. Bing looked at the calendar. Then he looked at the clock. He always looked at the clock after he noted the date for, as we have said, Bing was systematic. Three! It was closing hour. He took out his watch. He always- took out his watch after consulting the clock. Yes-he was sure, now, that he must go to the barber, for it was three o'clock in the afternoon of the Hrst Tuesday in the month. Yes-Bing Tinker was systematic. For nine years he had patron- ized the same barber, at this very hour once in every two weeks. For nine years on each of these occasions he had placidly listened to the barber voice his opinions on politics, baseball, prize fights and pretty girls. Each time he had quietly, yet forcefully, shaken his head at the barber ls monotonous list of queries- Electric masssage? Singe it a bit? Don't y' want a shampoo? Try this dandruif cure? And on -each occasion he had answered Wet to the barber's query, 'iWet or dry? And every time that his fine blonde hair was being plastered into submission he made it a point to refrain from looking into the mirror. He loathed vanity. But on this particular afternoon the barber had seemingly for- gotten his usual routine. lt bothered Bing. He had not even spoke