Norwell High School - Shipbuilder Yearbook (Norwell, MA)

Page 17 text:

A The Shipbuilder page fifteen arrive. But no lights appeared in the murky welter. Even now it was too late, the Andrea's bow buried itself in the seas as though every plunge were to be her last. Holbrook rang the telegraph and spoke urgently in the tube, She's going. All you men on the bridge. A mountainous wave rolled over the harassed vessel's foredeck. She had a gallant effort, but the surging weight bore her bow down. As the engineer's force gained the bridge, it seized upon the chance to take the remaining boats with no leave from the captain. Although they knew that they would be capsized, any ef- fort at self-preservation was a relief. They were hardly over the side when the old freighter pitched deeply and then with a roar of pent-up steam and heavy machinery breaking loose and sliding forward, she dove to the bottom in a great swirl that rivaled the waves in their might. As the sun cast its morning glow over the sky, and chased away the last of the breaking clouds, a few gulls wheeled about. Then they de- scended and stood on the weed-grown hulk of the Faulkner, as she rolled heavily in the dying swells. From va- rious openings under the surface, bubbles of gas from fermented grain rose and broke in the falling wind. CHRISTIAN FENGER, '38 THE FORTUNES OF WAR It was the zero hour! December 2, 1917, somewhere in France. A young American Captain glanced at his watch as he looked down at a line of men about to do or die, all strong hard men who had been through this tense moment before, except for a young private standing beside him. He puffed nevously at his cigarette. He cast pleading glanc- es at his captain and stuttered, I'1n afraid I can't go through with it sir. The captain replied Buck up youngster, the first time is always the hardest. It was too late to say more. The whistle sounded up and down the long line of men and 150 American dough boys went over the top, amid the stuttering of machine guns and the wail of high explosive shells. The captain gave the young pri- vate one glance, reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him up and over the top. They ran on for about one hundred yards when there came the scream of a big shell. The cap- tain immediately dove for the near- est shell hole as the big shell burst with a shower of hot metal and flame. The concussion was terrific. After the captain had come to his wits, he found himself still clasping the hand of the frightened youngster. Without turning his head he said, Well son, that was a close one. But there was no answer from the young- ster. The captain slowly turned his head, and what he saw made him recoil with horror. He was merely holding the hand and fore arm of what had once been some mother's loving son. The fortunes of war! May they never strike again. Betty Mesheau, Class 10 MOUNTAINS Some like to eat, drink wine, or play, Or read and dream the time away, But give to me the mountains vast, With fleecy clouds a'drifting past, Their rocky crags, gold in the sun, This is the place where I must come. To hike along the mountain's base, To drink where crystal streams do race, And marvel at the lacy spray, Sparkling with gems in the sun's bright ray. Then up along the balsamed track, Plodding higher, higher, no turning back, For the challenge of nature is in my veins, And its the spirit that grasps the reins. So I'll climb higher and reach the top, But never till then can I stop, For the lust of the climb is in my feet, And the air of the mountains is pure and sweet. So then to reach the top, what a thrill! That even the pain of the trail can't kill. To stand at the top and trace the trail,

Page 16 text:

page fourteen - The Shipbuilder - taking on her crew as it was evident that she was sinking. When he learned that she was the Faulkner, commanded by Captain Owen Roberts that was a bit too much. Why, the dirty - - , growled Holbrook, as though a fifth ace were not enough, that - - has to go out of his way to get hit, just to land me in trouble. Well, he picked the wrong man, and if it's trouble he wants, he'll have it, and I'll see that he learns to stand clear of James Rhiner Holbrook! Turning to the engine room telegraph, he yanked it to full speed astern, and instructed 'sparks' to wireless, Holbrook can play your game, too. Hope you like it. Having pulled his crumpled bow out from the gaping side of the Faulk- ner, he resumed his course for New York, leaving her to sink with all hands. This association of ideas gave rise to considerable discomfort on the part of Holbrook, who fell into a mood of profane mutterings. His rising tem- per was thus speaking for itself when the first officer suddenly pointed out what appeared to be a reef, dead ahead. The skipper made out a black mass, laced with breaking crests, which grew frighteningly with the passing of every second. We'll hit I With this he rang the telegraph to full speed astern, bellowing, Hard a-port! Mr. Barnes, have the water- tight doors dogged down. lt seemed as though Fate impelled the Andrea's plunging bow irrestis- tibly toward her doom. Poor Hol- brook, your ragged patience is so tried! Then, with a crash followed by a direful grating, the Andrea lurch- ed to port, and lost her headway. After ordering the pumps started, our man of the hour was approached by the carpenter, who announced that the lower part of the collision bulk- head was carried away and that No. 1 hold was rapidly filling. At this, Holbrook ordered all steam On No. 2 and No. Z3 holds. He knew it was hopeless to keep down the water in the forward compartment, but soon he learned more. After twenty min- utes of miserable suspense, word came from the engine room, We've every pump going, but the water 1S rising here, sir! Holbrook answered, Keep them going, and half ahead with your en- gine. He then turned to the helms- man and shouted, Starboard your helm, there I After hitting, the ship had backed off and now was starting around the obstacle. Although the captain had sent an S. O. S., he believ- ed that he might get her into shoal water before she sank. As he was thus plotting his course for the beach the telegraph rang for his attention. Bending over the voice tube, he heard the anxious words of the enginee. The pumps are slowing, sirg engine taking too much steam! And the water has come up eight inches in the last three minutes. Very well! Fire up the other boilers and make it quick! Like a wounded snake, the long minutes of anxiety dragged on, while the crippled Andrea held on for the shore. Chewing a rain-soaked sandwich, Holbrook gazed at her bow as it pitched drunkenly in the wild sea. Again the telegraph pleaded for counsel. After boilers lit, sir but the water is coming up to the grat- ings. Belay the engine, but hold the steam on the pumps as long as you can. At midnight the forward holds were nearly half full. Briny steam from the wetting fires had driven the black gang out of the boiler room, and the pumps were barely moving. At 1 a. in. the forecastle deck was awash, and the ship was now settling rapidly. Two boats were lowered and the crew was sliding down the falls to its last chance for safety and the beach. But Neptune had his own ideas, and the sea reached up great waves that caught each boat, spilling its crew among the raging crests, there to drown them in the wild abandon of the elements. On the bridge, now lashed by spind- rift and the tips of combers that curl- ed over the well deck, Captain Hol- brook retained his stand, urging the engine room force to keep the pumps going until some near by vessel might

Page 18 text:

page Sixteen The Shipbuilder That one has followed over ridge, through vale, This victory over one of nature's things, Is the accomplishment that the climb- ing brings. To sit at the top and eat lunch, too, While reveling in the mighty view. And then the descent through the darkening air, Back to the camp that you know is there. And when you reach the end of the trail, Look back at the peak and you cannot fail To gaze in wonder at what God has wrought, Which you have conqueredg which you have fought, And as you stand there you'll think to yourself, The things of man's making are of- ten clever, But they can't, like the mountains, last forever. STANLEY HENDERSON, '38 Waiting For A N. H. S. Girl in Winter Under the large old elm tree, The little old Model A stands. The driver, a patient boy is he With chapped and frozen hands. And the muscles of his frozen arms Are like frozen rubber bands. His face is stiff and blue and longg His nose is like a rose. His brow is set with holiest fret As Jack Frost nips his toes. Yet he looks the whole world in the face As he waits for school to close. Week in, week out, from morn till night You can hear his horn as it blowsg You can hear the little old Model A As with measured beat it goes. A gal coming out from school Looks in at the open door. She loves to see the flaming face And hear her boy l'riend's roar. And catch the red hot words that fly Like sparks from a furnace door. Sitting, waiting, freezing, On through life he goes. Each morning sees his wait begun Each night his wait doth close. Ah! At last! She comes Dolled up in to-the-minute clothes. Thanks, thanks for being patient dear, For the waiting you have done Mrs. L. C. T. kept us terribly late Gee, I had to run. So whispering sweet nothings she calms him down, And life resumes its run. Priscilla Merritt, Class 12 CAR DRIVERS Be careful, my lady, never drive fast There's always time enough to last. Don't gaze around and say, Oh look! For you may land up in a brook. Don't hog the road for fellow mem- bers May come along and scratch your fenders. If you toot your horn when waiting in line You should have to pay a fine. Don't turn your head to talk with your friend Because you might come to a very sad end. Keep on the right hand side of the road When driving with a heavy load. Don't drive too fast, Take corners slow It's best to be safe Than have trouble you know. Barbara Weare, Class 11 The family cat, so proud was he, Went for a walk and spotted a bee The cat looked 'round and began to frown. The bee flew up and then came down, The cat assumed a peculiar pose, The bee flew up and out of sight, The cat just felt as any cat might. Jeannette L. Porter, Class 11