Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Vox Fluminis 21 No one ever knew you did it because I was going to marry the girl you loved. No one ever knew the real rea- son why I was dishonourably dis- charged. But you'll never forget, you'll never forget. You ruined my life, and now your own is being ruined . . . is being ruined. With a low moan John Langdon fell to the floor. Meanwhile, the doctor was sitting at the window of his room, looking out upon a never- ending sea of misery and pain. The knowledge that people were suffering untold agonies all over the world, and the realization of his own helplessness, filled him with utter misery, and it was only when he fell into a drunken stupor that peace came to his weary mind. Next morning the London papers included this announcement on their front pages: ULANGDON MYSTERY Yesterday evening, the coastguard of a small fishing village in Scotland sighted a yacht drifting aimlessly to- wards the shore. As the ship was in danger of foundering on the rocks, a boat was launched to investigate. The landing party, however, found no trace of any members of the crew on board, only four dead bodies. When the yacht was safely docked, the bodies were identified as the Hon. Peter Langdon, a well-known business man, Captain John Langdon, of the Indian Army, his song Doctor Chris- topher Langdon, his nephewg and Mar- garet Langdon, his niece. A post- mortem is being held, but so far no reason is given for their deaths or for the disappearance of the crew. The late members of the Langdon family were found lying in their bunks, and the look of anguish, pain and in- describable torment depicted on their faces is the only clue to the manner of their deaths. Truly, they must have been through hell. Dulcie J. E. Ellershaw, Grade XII, Garry Hall. DELUDED BY DEATH Forty-five Lost at Sea . . . Among those drowned was the famous English pianist, Franzel Burk- ett who joined the Navy at the out- break of war. Franzel's brilliant work as a pianist won him fame throughout the British Eimpire. His concerts al- ways attracted large crowds of music lovers. He is survived by his mother, Freda Burkett, and his brother Londiff. Londiff is serving in the R. A. F. Mrs. Burkett was very fond of music and F ranzel spent many evenings playing for her as she sat by the fireplace knitting. Franzel was 293' Music, a lamentation of deepest sor- row, echoed in the massive stillness of the drawing room in the home of Com- mander Stitson. A young girl of twenty- five years sat at the piano in the corner of the large room. Her pale, tearful face was turned towards the large French windows which composed one wall. Her dark and doleful eyes stared out into the windy night. Only the moon's rays and a dim lamp lit up the room. The girl's fingers slid over the keys in a slow, audible expression of grief. Softly the music penetrated her heartg her face lifted to the sky as sorrow wrung her heart and her lips offered a silent prayer. The music continued. The murmur and groan of the wind in the trees, the creaking of a gate and the slight rattling of the window panes accom- panied her music. It grew more ex- pressive of her feeling, her tears were a part of it, her pitiable condition influ- enced the melancholy strain. A discord! Her beautiful head fell over the keys as sobs wracked her body. A folded newspaper on the bench be- side her was the explanation of her grief. Mad'moiselle Duprey and a com- panion sat at dinner together on the same evening. It's a shame, isn't it? remarked Mad'moiselle Duprey, who had recently arrived in England. Such a fine young artist he was too! I'm sure it was a

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20 Vox Fluminis A VISIT T0 HELL THE good ship Devil's Trill, so called after a certain piece of music of which her owner was fond, had set sail with four passengers on board. They consisted of the Hon. Peter Lang- don, a fiery-tempered man given to swearing, his son John, a captain in the Indian army at present home on furlough, his nephew Christopher Langdon, on shore a well-known doc- tor, on ship a very poor sailor, and his niece Margaret, Christopher's sister. They were sailing along the coast of Scotland one night, when the storm came up. It was not the usual type of storm, swift to come and swift to go. Its arrival was heralded by a low moan- ing around the hatches, and it con- tinued to increase in fury, until on the night of the third day, Peter Langdon was heard to say, that he would sell his soul to the devil in hell to know where the hell they were going. The oath had hardly left his lips, when a mighty roar rent the heavens and a thunderbolt crashed to earth. The boat whirled around in an eddy and the last any of them remembered was the fiendish laughter which filled their ears . . . When Margaret came to her senses, she was lying in a very modernistic room of red and black design. Sitting up, she saw that her Uncle Peter, John and Chris were all in the same room. Before they could say a word, how- ever, part of the wall slid away and the tall figure of a man stepped down into the room. He was tall and slim, black moustache and 7 Q with a little pointed goatee, which gave him a sleek. well-groomed, nonchalant air. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and only the suspicion of a sneer, which played around his mouth, spoiled his appearance. With a slight bow to Mar- garet, he addressed himself to her uncle. I must introduce myself, he drawled. I am your humble servant, the Devil. The devil you are, replied Peter. In that case, would you mind telling us where the hell we are? Not at all my dear fellow, I would be charmed. You are at present in my study in Hell, and in a little while you will be escorted to your rooms, where you will undergo a slight process called 'Hell on Earthf It is fairly pain- less, we use absolutely modern meth- ods. With a suave smile and slightly inclined head, he was about to go out, when suddenly he turned, and address- ing Peter Langdon said, I am sure you would like a game of golf. The caddies are waiting. Will you come? Peter rose, and with an abrupt nod. at his companions followed the devil from the room. Outside the air was cool, and Lang- don and the Devil walked in silence for a few minutes until they reached the golf-course. Langdon being a golf- fiend, was looking forward to the game. A caddy approached and offered him a ball, and Langdon placing it on the tee, turned with a smile to choose a club, but suddenly he froze. There's no club, he said. I must have a club to play with, I must! That's the hell of it, shrugged the Devil. Just think, you'll have to stay here trying to hit a ball without a club, until your soul is extracted, and you are ruined. It won't be long! And with a fiendish laugh he vanished. As he had said, it was not long before Langdon had fallen writhing to the ground, his lips mouthing the words, There must be a club. In heaven's name, give me a club. Back in the house, Margaret, John and Christopher had been taken to their rooms and were undergoing the process of Hell on Earthf' Margaret lay motionless on her bed. Her head was whirling and in her ears there echoed a fiendish laugh, and the words, You'll soon forget. You'll soon for- John Langdon's room, the was walking up and down. was twisted with pain, and perspiration hung upon his voice was whispering in his get. In occupant His face beads of brow. A ear: Don't you know me, Langdon? I'm the friend you had court-martialed for insubordination to a senior officer.

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22 Vox Fluminis terrible shock to his Poor mother- such a loyal English woman and so proud of her son's achievements. Ah! oui, mad'moiselle, agreed he: companion, The other son, is he serv- ing his country also? Yes, Londiff is in the R. A. F. They joined up as soon as war broke out, you know. It is a pity, is it not, that this young Franzel had to die? Such an intelligent young man, mad'moiselle. I remember, Pierre, when I went to two concerts given by Franzel Burkett in Paris last spring. It was at the Con- servatory of Music. A charming per- sonage! I say again, his mother is such a fine English Woman and so proud to think that her dear sons were fighting for England. Ah, it is a shame, there will be more of this. Sandra Hopper and Richard Charles- ton waited at the London Station for their train which was leaving for the West coast that evening. I do hope we can get out of this mess before it's too late, Richard said as they walked up and down the plat- form in the cold night air. You hope! I've just got to be in New York on October fifteenth for the wedding. Why, Jane wouldn't know what to do without me! Sandra ex- claimed. Well, she may have to learn. Weill have to go through a lot of red tape to get out of the country. An inquisitive lot, the English, aren't they? Boy, paper please- Any news? asked Sandra to make conversation. Not much, replied Richard, Forty- five sailors drowned-poor devils. One of them was Franzel Burkett. Remem- ber him? He was in New York a couple of years ago. Quite a lad. Says here that his mother was pretty proud of him-why would they put that in? People could gather that if they had any brains. They knew you were going to read it, Dick. No, but seriously, I suppose his mother was all broken up about it but then whose mother wouldn't be? asked Richard. 'fIt's just showing the people what may happen to them. It's a gentle warning. That poor lady has probably lost her one joy in life. She loved him and his music, you know. Maybe-say, did you bring the camera? Good! Our train won't be here for another five minutes. Let's go and grab a cup of coffee and get warm. This wind is cold. On the same evening in a small, cozy livingroom beside a fire there sat an old lady. There was silence except for the creak of her rocking chair and the click of her knitting needles as she worked. On the mantel, there were two pictures, one of a young boy in an Airforce uniform and another of a boy in the Navy. The old lady's gaze fell there and she paused in her work to let her mind rest upon the two. Her face wrinkled into a sweet and aged smile, and then she turned her head to gaze fondly upon the piano which brought stirring memories to mind, memories of a boy who had played for her during the evenings as she sat by the fire, knitting. She sighed-it seemed to be a sigh of relief-and put down her knitting. She brought out a letter, opened it, and read, and as she read she mur- mured the words- It is best that he go now. It is best that he go like this. God forgive him. Then she leaned forward and set a corner of the paper in the flames. With a smile on her aged face she watched the words burn one by one. Franzel Burkett, agent of the Ger- man Secret Society. Betty Dowler, Grade XI, Douglas Hallj .1. Barbara Hunt: My father thought I was expelled last night. Lorraine Ingram: How's that? Barbara Hunt: I took some books home.