Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

Page 11 text:

Safety First. By J. J. Bitshell. This is a yarn; not a sermon. It is merely a statement of fact : it is one of the might-have-beens of my lifetime. Merely a very young man, employed by the late W. T. James, contractor at the time of my story to H. M. Navy and Army, ship agent etc., I was sent to one of the warships to receive payment of various bills amounting to a large sum of money and sailed to Grassy Bay in Mr. James ' yacht, the Iris, accompanied by his boatman. There was no difficulty in board- ing the ship, wind being light and sea calm. Then, in canteen and mess, it was: What ' ll you have? Oh yes, nice thing for a youth to keep on the right side of men whose good will was important to his firm — and to him. But I had learned how to say No in a pleasant and courteous man- ner — even though I was not, nor am I, a prohibitionist. I was merely on duty; my job was to collect the money — and to bring it back to Mr. James. I went on deck with my leather satchel heavy with gold coins and probably some silver — I think there was over £1,500 in gold alone in it. Lots of jollying because I took only a soft drink; good natured banter from the Paymaster. Qut on deck and down the gangway to the water-level. But the boat could not come alongside, because the wind and sea had risen. The boatman tried several times to get close in 30 that I could pass the bag with certain safety into his hands, after which I could have made a jump on his next call. But sach time a roll of the boat made the transfer of the bag a matter of (in my opinion) too much risk. As for jumping — to leap out over at least five feet of water towards a moving and rolling boat, with a bag weighing twenty-five or more lbs., worth nearly £2,000 looked a foolhardy proposition. A sharp call from above; the Captain was there. I went up and was congratulated on my commonsense in not yielding to deck advice and banter about tossing the bag into the boat or why don ' t you jump. He ordered a boat to be launched, and [ was rowed out in good navy style to my sail boat, and got aboard with my bag of money. The Captain had arrived on the scene just as the sailboat came up for a last trial and he was glad that I did not attempt to jump. Now there has always been a question in my mind : suppose, — just suppose, that I had accepted the several courtesy drinks — would I have had the nerve to say no to the risk of losing the bag of money — maybe losing myself along with it? You see, it is nice to be popular, and a jolly good fellow , but it is nicer by far to be faithful to duty — and get home safely. 9

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The Editor Speaks Here is The Magazine — we ' ve tried to edit In such a way that you, when you have read it. Will not say This is Bad. So do your best To read, mark, learn and inwardly digest. But don ' t stay any longer on your shelf, It ' s you who ' ve got to send things up yourself. Let your own contribution not be stinted — Just think how good it looks when it is printed ! If you have talent, then we won ' t neglect it. And if you ' ve got the goods, we won ' t reject it, If it is clever we will not refuse it, Or hum ' rous — we ' re very glad to use it. Put pen to paper and let inspiration Produce some new original creation; It does not matter if it ' s verse or prose, It only need be good — and in it goes! Notice : The prizes for the best contribution have been awarded in the Upper School to L. Vorley. In the Lower School to D. Nicholl. 8

Page 12 text:

Two Sea Shanties. (The Poet, on being asked to write a piece of light, humor-ouH verse on a Bathe from the North Shore plunged us into a sea of Hexameter.) Woe unto me! What vast appalling mountains of water Surging towards the skies — even now about to engulf them — Seethe and rage about me: yet, when the waves subsiding Yawn to the very depths with chasms, awful, tremendous. Terror still grips my heart, as at Hell itself bursting asunder. Gaze where I will there is naught but battling sky and ocean, One with its threatening clouds just as dire as the other ' s wild billow Fierce in the space between, the struggling winds are in torment; Hard for the waves to know which to own and obey as master. Eurus from out of the East comes in all his violent fury, Yielding in force to the wild West wind ' s grim evening anger. Boreas too, with his chill icy blast sweeps down from the Northland, Even the gentle South wears an aspect angry and vengeful. All at a loss in the strife of the winds is the terrified helmsman Seeking in terror a way, or to guide, or escape from destruction; He not alone but his art, in the furious strife unavailing. Doomed are we to die, bereft of the hope of safety. Now, as I cry aloud the spume of the swallowing billows Beats in my face: the prayer that in vain I pray in my anguish Dies in my throat, too late, as the rising waters o ' erwhelm me. There once was a man named Charlie Gray, Who into a river fell, His wife came out with a rolling pin — The rest I hate to tell. Now Charley was trying to catch some fish, And kill them with great slaughter. But as he thought of this evil deed He only caught salt water. He suddenly felt a tug at his line, And then he committed a sin — He fell into the water, and that Framed him the rolling pin. And after this beating by his wife Poor Charlie felt so sore, That he vowed and vowed with all his might That he would fish no more. ANONYMOUS. By David Nicholl. 10