Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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Z? - - 3 LITERATURE R-Foal' PINDAR'S REVENGE H a hiss of I'lying spray, the sleek ittle schooner Pinda-r boomed over the blue water before a stiff south- easter. To the westward scarcely a mile away, the high, rounded outline of an island stood silhouetted in the rays of the setting sun. The white strip of beach shadowed by a fringe o-f tall palms that lined the shore, the dark green of bushes that ran to the top of a steep hill, the surf breaking on the reef that surrounded SeXton's Bay were plainly visible. Clint Davis squatted on the deck, his back against the cabin side, splicing a rope with a marlinspike dangling from his wrist. He glanced ahead as his vessel approached the bay. The tide was still flooding, coming in strong. Astern. a thick 'bank of thunderheads was piling up in the east. There would be a squall on the turn of the tide to- night, he was certain. It was dangerous for a sailing vessel to be caught in the narrow reaches of Sexton's Pass by a sudden squall. It had been several years since his last visit here. He glanced toward the top of Sexton's Hill. It seemed as though a small space on the crest had been cleared of bushes. He gazed in- tently at the bald spot above. He fancied he saw a figure move up there, but, before he could make sure, the movement of the boaxt brought a clump of palms between him and the hilltop. The man aft was steering. He stood up. the better to see ahead, pulling his hat down to shade his eyes. A heavy hand was needed no-w. If a ship struck on the edge of fthe pass, it wouldmft last long. The Pindar crossed the bar. Down the center of the channel the white schooner rolled and swung while the blue-green rocks showed albove the surface less than a cable s length away. The channel turned to the right and The Pindar followed the blue water of the passage. The little basin, entered through the narrow cut, was secure haven even during a hurricane. The schooner cleared the entrance. and swung up to fthe no-rth. The sails flut- tered as the wind left them, and -the crew of three ably took them in. Clint Davis quickly tucked his knife back into the sheath on his belrt. His eyes streaked along the cliff a foot above the surface of the Walter. The high tide mark showed plainly. He raised his head above the level of the cabintop. In the little gap between the main -boom he saw it. A long, black hull was moored right in the center of the pond, a black sinister shape, low lying, with the slim muzzle of a gun. pointed directly at them. Behind that gun stood two men. At the sight Clinlt Davis crouched and sprang overboard. The water closed over him, cutting off his yell of warning. So quickly ha-d he moved that the iron marlinspike was still fastened around his waist. His crew was frozen to immovabillity. There came a loud, earspliting craslh and The Pindar dis- integrated in the din which followed. The explosion of the tive-inch shell was so terrific th-at the dory trailing astern flew up into the air and burst into splinters before it hit the water. Clinft Davis was deep under water when the concussion occurred, and it drove the air from his lungs. He came up fast, caught his breath, and instinc- tively dived again as pieces of plank, rope, and timber showered the spot he had just left. He swam underwater to the beach opposite the position of the submarine. The long shadows of the setting sun slowly spread over the pond. With the sunset the wind died down. A hush fell, broken only by the low murmur from out on the reef. Clinxt Davis watched a small boat with half a dozen men in it put out from the island. He hefted the marlinspike Page 31

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Pflgir' llhllE lllllll. :dll lldllmllrlllllllli hls day I5 qours to test uour worth And mount one run above the rest Although ofpalnthere 15 no dearth ln contments to east and wesl: The Crass of Fortu One ma tru To climb the ladder of success Andmaq the Golden Rule applu This agltatron to suppress Be glad that Lpou are living here And do Lpour best to pioneer These mrght have been the words of one Who lo these manu uears ago Stood staunch until the cause was w Nor let thls land of ours forego Th lorq of a pattern hrr ht OT! The brotherhood of state and slate To spread a hght ln blaoltest mght And ln tlus world perpetuate The value of a umon one for all An all for one thls 15 our call Wesley Nlokers on

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and felt his sheath knife. If they found him, he'd put up a good fight. Evidently the crew in the small boat was convinc- ed that there were no survivors, for they went back to shore. Clint tried to understand this thing that had come upon him so suddenly. The lookout on the bared hilltop had seen them entering the bay and had been ready for them. This must be a secret submarine base where the raiders went ashore to rest between attacks. They could not have found a better hideout. The hilltop formed an excellent lookout. They used swifit annihilation to keep their hideout a secret. Dead men tell no tales, he shuddered. Davis worked his way up from under the rocks. The damp, cool scent of rain was -in the ar. On the other side of the pond in the light of a campfire he could see shadows of many men. A thin drizzle started to fall. He might be able to slip along the shore and escape in the small boat. But then he remembered his crew and his fine schooner at the bottom of Sexton's Bay. A cold rage swept over him. They had sunk his ship without warning and with- out giving anyone a fighting chance. He must if ossible rid these waters 9 p 1 of the black, sinister shape. But how? On board their vessel the raider-s were supreme, but in Sex:ton's Pond Clinrt Davis was in his own environ- ment. He was swimming with scarcely a ripple to betray his progress, swim- ming out to the spot where the black shadow lay over the gray surface of the water. Even while he floated alongside, the rain had become a heavy downpour. Cautiously he worked his Way along. Amidships near the conning tower he discerned the blurred figure of the watchman huddled against the tower. As silently as the fall of a feather, he was upon the d-eck and no more than four feet from the figure. His arm swung in a swifft. short airc and the marlinspike landed on the man's skull with a sickening thud. He slid silently into the water. That one would give him no trouble. He felt for the anchor chain and slid down it until he came to the bottom. For a whole two minutes he worked on the shackle which held the last link to the huge anchor. Using his knife, he pried out the shackle pin and the anchor was loose. He floated upward. Page 32 When he reached the top, he found the tide turning and the submarine drifting out the passage! Tideborne, faster and faster it moved, dragging its useless anchor chain over the white coral on the bottom. He swam ashore and hid in the bushes close to the camp- fire. A rifle shot barked from the hilltop, and the men around the fire ran up to discover that they were stranded and their only means of escape was rapidly drifting toward the jagged reef. A grim smile of satisfaction crossed Clinrt Davis' face. The submarine had struck the reef at high water. Each tide would come lower and lower from now on. The reef held the vessel in its grip, and the monstrous waves were pounding it furiously. Eaoh surge was lifting it higher upon the rocks. The rock formation opened large gaps in her bottom. He stole the dinghy from beside the campfire and was far from land before he was discovered. He sat down on the stern of the little boat and listened to th-e steady, dull roar of the reef as each mighty wave rose and fell upon the quiet of the night. He could hear still another sound beat above the roar of the sea-the sound of steel against the jagged rocks of the reef. They had destroyed his ship. The score was even. Their ves-sel was on the reef to stay. Clint Davis began to row. It was a long stretch to the settlement and the wireless station nearest Sexton's Bay. MARTIN MCAULEY '41 WHAT PRICE LIBERTY? Ye who sit by the fireside, Come on a trip with me- A thoughtful trip, A mournful trip, A trip far over the sea. Ye who sit by the fireside, Pause a moment to hear The booming guns, The chattering guns, The guns of death and fear. Ye who sit by the fireside, Close your eves and see The flowing blood. The crimson blood. The blood of you or me. Ye who sit by the Hreside, Feel in your hearts with me The deepening love, The lasting love, The love of liberty. Clarence Cleveland '41