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

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Vox Fluminis 31 smother those motors. I'll go over your orders. We'll stop the engines about fifty feet from the docks, and you must swim in. Be sure to keep the dynamite dry. Crawl along the docks, keeping in the shelter of the waterfront shacks. The objective is a railway bridge about half-a-mile inside the town. When you've planted the charge, go a hun- dred yards before you press the deton- ator. That's all, but these orders must be carried out! The boats will start out again in thirty minutes. If anyone fails to return by then-he's on his own. Good luck, men. God save the King. He then motioned them to be silent as the dim outline of the town became barely visible. The chugging of the motors slowed and ceased, and the men slipped soundlessly into the sea. One by one, shadowy figures mounted the dock ladders, and crept along the wharves. Shapeless forms skulked through the crooked, cobbled streets of the sleeping town, drawing steadily nearer to their target. Abruptly a tall, dark figure darted into a doorway, and down a flight of rickety, wooden steps to a seemingly deserted cellar. Moments were eternities in the vacuum of silence, and then came a low rumble, swelling to a thunderous roar. The earth shivered, a whistle- blast shattered the night, and the town was jolted into life. Grey-uniformed monsters in high boots clattered through the streets shouting terse commands--searching houses for elusive enemies. The wail of sirens filled the night. Frightened townspeople trembled in their beds. Gruff voices ordered them to unbolt their doors. Noise and confusion were everywhere. Suddenly one of the soldiers plummetted down the stairway into the musty cellar, to come face to face with a stooped old man, tapping his way over the cement with a cane. The intruder clutched at the old fel- low's collar, as if to wrench the coat from his back. Has anyone come here? he barked, shaking his defence- less victim. No one, stammered the old one. Not content with this, the tyrant stamped through the basement knocking over boxes and wine casks. Satisfied that the man was alone, he wheeled about and leaped up the stairway to the street, just as outraged shouts rose from the docks. Spluttering and coughing, the barges had sprung to life and started out to sea, while searchlights stabbed help- lessly at them in the dark. In the moonlight, a mocking smile appeared to flit over the wizened features of the old man, before he disappeared in the doorway. In spite of the Commando attack, the sun rose brightly on the town next morning. But its frightened people did not share the spring-like mood. On the outskirts of Jever, a shabby, grey-haired individual was plodding his way along a hot, pavement road. He would have been tall, had he not had a stoop, and a slight limp, appar- ently obliged him to carry a cane. This he tapped along the road in time to a tune he was humming. Presently a cart pulled by two horses came rattling along. The burly driver drew them to a halt and bellowed, How about a ride? Without raising his head, the old man muttered, 'Tm not going far, thanks, and the cart rattled on. The swish of wind and stinging of tires on pavement heralded the passing of several military vehicles, and then a creaking hayrack approached. A hard, unshaven fellow leaned down to in- quire-- Haven't seen a pigeon, have you? The old man's head turned slowly, and, meeting the farmer's curious gaze evenly with his dark eyes, he asked, A white pigeon? The cane tapped the pavement. That's right. Let me climb up and I'll show you where you can find it. So saying, the old chap slowly got up on the seat be- side the driver, and the rack started off again. They jogged in silence until the outer parts of Varel, a small manufac- turing town, were reached. Then the farmer leaned over and whispered,

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30 Vox Fluminis Exit Gabrielle. Mother: Well now perhaps I'll get some work done--I hope! Curtain. Scene II takes place in the same stateroom but trunks and suitcases are neatly piled against L wall. Gabrielle and her mother sit on couch. Gabrielle rises as her mother says: Mother: Gabrielle, don't you think that was lovely of the Captain to put us at his table. I just adore his mustache, the way it curls around his ears. He reminds me of your dear, sweet father Csniif, sniifb. I miss him so. 6She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief! Gabrielle: Mothah, I'm going to dance this evening with Count de Bussy. He's a connoisseur of art, you know. So refined and worldly. He's going to show me his reviews and etchings tomorrow. Mother: Oh, how nice. Is he any relation to the Long Island De Bussy's? Gabrielle: 'CI wouldn't be a bit sur- prised. He has a beautiful ring set with a large diamond. He said that someday, I might be wearing it. Did you see that Marion girl's face when the Count asked me to dance? CKnock at the door. Enter D.R. a large swarthy man, well-dressed and having a long black beard.J D Gabrielle: M o t h e r1Count De Bussy. Count: Charmed, Madame! CHe kisses her hand.D ' Mother: Oh, isn't that nice! Now run along children. As they say in France 'Bun jur!' CEnter Junior from R. with two ships' officers and they restrain Count De Bussy.D First Officer: He's the man we want all right! Take off that beard, Casey, your caught in your own little trap. Count: I beg your pardon! You must be mistaken. I am the Count De Bussy, heir to the De Bussy estate, grandson of Earl De Bussy, great grandson of- Second Officer: John Dillinger. Come on. We've had notices out for your arrest after you snatched the Delhar necklace but we didn't expect you on this voyage. You probably could have faked the Count' forever, if Junior hadn't been a 'Junior G-man' and seen you catch your false beard in the state- room door. We have a nice little suite down in the hold for you, so let's go to it. ' First Officer: Mrs. Jones, the Cap- tain requests your presence and that of all your family at a party in the salon in honour of Junior Jones. Junior, 'hero of the S.S. Harmonic. There will be chicken, vegetables and a dessert of ice-cream, if it is all right with Master Jones. Junior: Momma, I don't feel so good. My stomach is running around on the ceiling and my ears feel as though they were scraping the ground. Momma, I'm sick. Curtain. Marylyn Carey, Grade XI, Nelson Hall. fha-' 9... G' HIGH SOARS THE PIGEON A MUFFLED chug, a ripple of water, and the low barge churned on through the murky darkness. The moon, uncovering its face for a moment, mocked the tense, little group huddled on the bottom of the scow. Its war light glimmered faintly on steel bayonets and the blades of daggers- Commando daggers! One khaki-clad figure stirred silghtly, sighed, and took off his camouflaged helmet. The dark curls underneath were dark with perspiration. How goes the time, Derry? came a muffled whisper. The young soldier raised his arm. The faint light sil- houetted a square chin and prominent nose, and was swallowed up in his dark eyes. A slight frown creased the high forehead, drawing together heavy black brows. A little after one, came the reply. We should reach Jever in a few minutes. Keep low in the boat and

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32 Vox Fluminis When will the pigeon reach its goal? Tonight, was the terse reply. Then the old man swung down from the wagon, and ambled into the village. e Q 0 o Q s Around mid-day an elderly man hobbled through the streets carrying a brown paper parcel. He moved ahead looking neither to left nor right. Presently he rounded a corner and came in sight of a mass of chimneys and large, brick buildings. Surrounding them was a high, wooden fence guarded by goose-stepping soldiers. The old fellow approached the chemical plant and walked slowly around its walls tapping his cane-rat, tat, tat, rat-and carrying his parcel. Slowly the stooped figure circled the enclosure, keeping up his incessant-rat, tat, tat, rat- Just one guard appeared to notice the man, and this raised his arm quickly, and repeated on the wall-rat, tat, tat, rat- Only then did the figure stop. Glancing about him, he shuffled up to the soldier, and murmured, This is a pigeon pie. Immediately the sentry lowered his riiie, took out an enormous ring of keys, and inserted one of them into a great iron gate. It swung back, and the bent figure hobbled through with his bundle. The soldier stood at attention for several minutes till the mysterious stranger reappeared. Then the gate was locked, and the figure faded into the glaring sun. Back at the chemical plant, a new squad of soldiers came on duty at two o'clock. They had just begun their tour about the walls when a monstrous explosion thundered in their ears. In a panorama of flame and smoke, the buildings burst apart, throwing up a barrage of bricks and ruined ma- chinery. Sabotage! As the sun was lending its last glory to the firey inferno in the heart of Varel, a grey-headed old fellow stooped in the doorway of a small hut. Glancing furtively about him, he drew out a downy, little ball. Taking a scrap of paper from his vest, he scribbled the words, Pigeon killed at sunset-D.N. As he straightened up, he released the white pigeon. It rose with a flapping into the evening sky, circled once, and headed into the north-west. For one fleeting moment, the stooped form became lean and lithe, and the dark eyes that glowed under the bushy brows were those of exultant youth. He raised his hand in salute to the diminishing white speck. A shadow darkened the ground behind him. It glided nearer - stopped -- tensed, - raised one arm. A shot screamed in the night! The shabby form stumbled, swayed, and sank to the dust. Red tinged the white hair, and matted its dark brown roots. Red glazed the dark eyes. Red trickled over the prominent nose and firm jaw. But through the night a pigeon soared, bearing hope and new life in its message of destruction and death. A group of grizzled British tars gathered about a bar in the mellow light, thumbing through the papers as they quaffed their ale. The voice of one rose above the murmur, Did yuh see 'ere where they've blasted another German chemical plant! At Varel this time! Must make them Jerries boilin' mad to see us dumpin' the blinkin' war in their laps. They'l1 see a. lot more of it before it's over too! The stinkin' swine. o u I Q a s In the glimmering firelight, a solitary figure sat rocking. Her delicately molded face bore lines of suffering and sorrow. But her snow-white hair s e e m e d deceiving. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, but pride glowed in their depths, as they drew the words from the yellow paper in her lap- Mrs. Elizabeth Newey: Your son, Derek Newey, has been awarded the Distinguished Service Order for gallantry inthe presence of the enemy. Awarded post- humously. Nancy Complin, Grade XI, Douglas Hall.