Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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IN THE DEPTHS Honorable Mention Avis Walker 0 recover the bodies of the S-40’s crew and salvage the submarine £ was no easy matter, for she had sunk bow first after the Sea J Queen had struck her amidships, and buried her nose fourteen feet into the mud and clay that formed the ocean floor. Neither was it a very pleasant job hunting dead men on the bottom of the sea. Tom Evans, one of the five divers on the Ellsworth salvage ship, was seated on deck, his diving suit about his waist, busily soaping his wrists before attempting to wriggle them through the tight wrist bands of his rubber suit. When he had forced his hands through the cuffs, his tender lifted the heavy breastplate and put it over Tom’s shoulders, button-holing it to his suit after smoothing down the bib inside. As soon as the lead shoes were strapped on and the weights hooked up, the tender tested the radio set within the helmet and screwed it to the breastplate. With the aid of two sailors he reached the stage. His headgear and breastplate weighed heavily on his shoulders as the stage swung up and over the side. He heard a tap on his helmet—the signal that they were go- ing to lower away. Down he dropped until the water swirled about his shoulders and covered his face plate. A steady stream of bubbles rose above him. All about was the yellow-green water in which there darted many-colored fish. The stage came to a halt at twenty feet. Tom grasped the descending line nearby which was moored to the submarine. “Off stage. Lower away!” he called into the transmitter as he started downward, hand over hand. Above him his life-line and air-hose faded out of sight, and below, the line also disappeared. It was like climbing from nothingness to nothingness. Deeper and deeper he dropped, opening his air valve to increase the pressure within his suit to cope with that of the water which grow with the added depth. His helmet no longer weighed up- on his shoulders, for the compressed air bore it up. A dark shape appeared below and a minute later he heard a dull clang as his heavy shoes struck the deck. “On the bottom!” he shouted, his voice thick and lifeless under the in- creased pressure. Evans waited impatiently for the second diver who was to help him. Finally he saw a pair of lead shoes take form above him and soon Phil Andrews was standing close by on the sloping deck, a powerful light hooked to his belt.

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A MIRAGE Honorable Mention Frances L. Carlson Today the wind caressed me with A softer touch than yesterday; Its freshness, rare and sweet, like wine, On phantom wings bore me away. It breathed a hope brim full of life; It whispered tales of love and June. It lured my fancies into dreams Of sunny days, when joy is rife, Of nights, in which a mellow moon Gilds ev’ry rose-cup with her beams. Then, all at once, I came to earth; The wind was cold, the sky, austere. My ravishing mirage was gone, —Had faded, vanished in the air. TRIADE Honorable Mention Charles H. Frome These shall be three sad things— The call of war— The realization of a lost love— And the death of a friend.

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Together they went to the rent amidships and crept in, carefully tend- ing their air-hoses from the sharp edges. Turning sideways Evans forced his way through the narrow doorway into the control room. Andrews followed. Obviously the water had rushed in too quickly to be checked, for the submarine was open all the way to the torpedo room. The first body was found just inside the second door where the rush of water had caught the poor devil before he could escape. Gingerly Evans grasped it beneath the arms and pulled it after him into the control room. He felt quite relieved when he had left that awful sight behind him near the conning tower. Gliding back he found Andrews tugging at a mass of wreckage dislodged when the S-40 had struck the ocean floor. Tom saw him signal and when he answered, Phil pointed to a yellow-haired lad a few years younger than themselves caught beneath it—a look of horror still imprinted upon his face. Unknowingly Evans swallowed a lump that had risen in his throat. Obeying Phil’s signal, he attempted to shift the wreckage in order to release the body. He stepped to one side, after a few tries, to rest a bit and and see how the other diver was getting along. Suddenly he saw the heap waver and begin to fall his way. Involuntarily he shouted, nearly deafen- ing himself. He tried to step aside, but his air-hose was caught on a pro- truding valve. He did not dare to tug the line. The next instant the wreck- age struck and, though it missed him, he was filled with added horror as he saw the severed end of his air-hose from which the life-giving air was streaming in a myriad of silvery bubbles. The little air left in his helmet was rapidly growing foul. He struggled to keep upright for he knew the air would spill out if he fell. His ears began to throb and he felt himself growing dizzy. Tom began to gasp and choke as the air deadened and all the horrible fantasies of a dying man filled his brain. Peace settled upon him as he sank to the floor. Andrews was filled with terror at what had happened. Frantically he raked his brain for some method by which he might save his friend from almost certain death. Just then his eye fell upon a loop of Evans’ air-hose caught in the wreckage. Ripping his razor-sharp knife from its sheath, he cut it loose and pulled the freed end down, then knelt beside the uncon- scious diver and slit the suit just below the breastplate. Into this he thrust the end of the hose from which the bubbles rose steadily. A breath of re- lief passed his lips when he saw the air bubbling through the escape-valve of Evans’ helmet. With the inert diver thrust before him, he managed to get through to the jagged break in the submarine's shell. From this he hurried to the mooring line. He was breathing heavily; the thick air did not seem to fill his lungs. The line was cut in a second from where it was held and he grasped it firmly with one hand. The other still clutched the unconscious diver. [Continued on page 38]