Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

Page 24 text:

tinuous pounding. Our single suction pump was all that kept us from the green depths of the ocean. On the navigators word that we were drifting towards a not-too-distant shore had added the much-needed fuel to our de- jeeted minds and weary bodies. NVithout Warning, a welcome new sound was added to the roaring of the wind and sea-the familiar echo of breakers, thrashing themselves to foam on ragged rocks. We were safe. We would live again. At least, some of us would now live to go to sea once more. For only the experienced know the dangers in- volved in landing under such conditions. But we knew that the storm had failed to kill, and the sea had delivered us again into the world of life. HURRY -Pe ter Wigston Wliat is good, what is bad, Why are there sane, why are there mad, Who makes the laws, who wrote the book, VVhy do we wonder, why do we look? What is love, and what is hate? NVhv must man seek out a mate? What is sorrow and what is pain? Why the clouds, and why the rain? A million questions are asked by me- Why am I man and not a tree ? Who gave me life? I want to know! I must find out before I go .,.. Twenty

Page 23 text:

lite ary adrift -ARNOLD HUNT UR TINY vEssEL LURCHED and wallowed menacingly as each mountainous wave overtook us. For a second or two in every ten we seemed to sit motionless on the very crest of a snow-capped peak with only the boiling foam and lashing spray to mar the illusion. Then, hesitantly, as if our little ship was una.ble to decide on her next move she plunged almost straight down into the trough. The gloomy darkness ahead was grotesque and uninviting. NVe silently watched. The very gates of hell seemed to have opened be- fore us. The dim phosphorescent atmosphere that prevailed on the compara- tive safety of the crest was far more reassuring than the cold inky blackness that now engulfed us. A queer sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs commanded us to close our eyes and to try to forget our hazardous pre- dicament. Then as if by magic we were over the crisis and thankfully headed skyward. Each of these seemingly endless cycles gave us the satisfaction of believing that we were that much closer to safety although actually we had only the remotest chance of survival. VVe were all, with the probable exception of myself, rugged, hard-living men who normally would know no fear-but this was different. This was not an ordinary battle with the elements but a great show-a magnificent one- sided show of force, of undying strength, that raged on and on without mercy. Helplessly we looked on for there was absolutely nothing we or any human power could do. NVe were in the hands ot fate. We lost all count of time. Gradually the blackened storm-whipped heavens were replaced by a dull metallic gray that stretched without a break as far as the eye could see, The day was on. XVe were without food or water, and the tempest raged. In a vain effort to erase from our minds the ever- present spectacle of the turbulent seas, we turned to inspect the condition of our boat. Until this moment the little cutter had been given not a moment's notice. although this hull of wood and iron stood between our life and death, and only because of her sturdy construction was there the possibility of our de- liverance from the grip of these furious waters. Her seams had opened in several places, and a great deal of caulking had been dislodged by the con- Nineteen

Page 25 text:

the moon was blue -ToNv DREXV HE YOUNG MAN WALKI-:D our of the Broadway show slowly and unsteadily as if in a trance. He walked down 43rd Street to Broadway and into the crowd. He paid no heed to the giant lights and signs, but kept his eyes peeled straight ahead, not looking at the people around him. Slowly he made his way up to 64th Street where he turned and entered a second-class hotel. He got the key at the desk and went up to room 228. He had been in New York a week, and to-morrow he was leaving for home-and later school. He did not want to go back to that little town, with its continuous routine day after day. The radio was on, and he switched the station to get some soft melancholy music. His suitcases were lying on the floor, and he began to throw dirty shirts into one of the compartments, with a rough movement he stopped and went over to the window and looked out. It was raining and he could see giant buildings through the mist. The lights from Broadway looked like planets from afar - red, green, blue, all colours. His mind began to wander, remembering the many bars and clubs he had been in. He thought of the play he had just seen. For some unknown reason he began to shiver. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one. The window was slightly open, and he sat down on the ledge. His thought started to wander again - he imagined he was the boy in the play and he had a girl whom he loved. There was a knock on the door and instantly his thoughts were shattered. It was the elevator boy with a letterg he opened it and read it, it was not important. He wandered over to the window once againg his throat became dry, its moistness seemed to move up into his eyes, making them glisten. His mind cleared and he remembered where he was. He felt like a small child in the midst of thousands of people. He felt lonely and cold as if nobody knew him or cared for him. The noise from the streets below seemed to verify these thoughts. He sat there for over an hour, looking out on to the sparkling city. He wished there was a girl beside him who could understand his feelings. Finally he got up and turned the radio off, The water was leaking through the window and splashing on the floor-he didn 't close it. Twenty-one