Shawnigan Lake School - Yearbook (Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia Canada)

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rope trick. But in this part of the world fakirs seem to be in the minority. The problem is still unsolved unless, of course, you are extremely wealthy and a helicopter can be obtained. Another problem is the draught through the walls and the floor. This is apt to raise the heating bill and give the inhabitants cold feet. But let us stop here. I hope that by this time I have dissuaded you from even thinking of building a castle in the air. Frankly it is a waste of time. Building castles in the air is quite impossible in actual fact. It is possible, however, in the imagination and this is why the expression has meaning. Indeed, if all my castles had been built I should now be better off than a fakir or a Rockefeller. —J. MADDEN. ft ft ft THE RIVER AND THE RUINED A faint breeze rippled the water, sending the rushes and reeds bowing back and forth. Jan stood on the river bank staring out across the stream at the spot where Hungry Pete had died. The soft evening light bathed his face, accentuating the lines and hollows. His hands shook as he filled his pipe and lit it. The bite of the tobacco, instead of being an anaesthetic, provoked his thoughts, and he found himself thinking about the day ' s happenings. What was the cause of the tragedy? The snag? But he had allowed for that when he judged his drift. Hungry Pete ? Certainly Hungry Pete was at fault, but even so, if he had had more time he could have untangled his net. The freighter ? damn those profiteering murderers. No matter who was at fault, Jan had lost his net, his means of livelihood. His mind probed further into the past. He remembered the peace and quiet of the evening before. A duck quacked, and rose, wingtips splashing the water ahead of the boat. Jan looked up. His eyes ran along the row of floats that marked his gill net, to the little raft at the end, whose lantern winked in the gathering dusk. He noted his boat ' s rate of drift against the shore, glanced up and down channel, and then let his eyes rest on the worn grey planking of his gill netter. Jan was not interested in the scenery about him. For forty years the river had been his home and his provider during the annual salmon run. Bu t forty years had changed the river as well as Jan. Where once the river ran fast and smooth, supporting the traffic of men and material, it now basked (full of silt and snags) languidly in the last rays of the setting sun. Jan was like this quiet slough; his days of rushing were over, and the marks of the years stood, like the silt and snags of the river, on his weatherbeaten face. Jan was not a thinker of great thoughts, yet in his mind he had summarized the character of the river. It was to him a spiteful woman that could not make up its mind where to go or what to do next; seemingly innocent, yet possessed of the power to destroy. This evening Jan had been worried. Not a pressing life or death worry, but a gentle ache. It was to do with Lew Khow the grocer, a man who often advanced credit at his store to needy fishermen. Such had been Jan ' s fate, and now Lew Khow was clamouring politely for the money owed him. Of course he would be paid when the annual salmon run arrived and the fishing became better. Lew Khow was a good fellow, but a trifle impatient. Jan puffed harder on his pipe when he thought about this. The ferry whistled, and Jan decided to pull his net. He ducked into the tiny pilot- house, and soon the unhurried chug of his engine rang out across the water. He came out of the pilot-house, clambered into the stern cockpit, reached for a lever, and the net drum began slowly to revolve. Each float whacked the stern roller as it came over the side. Jan could see the mesh as it trailed away into the turbid water, and, as he watched, the strands tightened and a fish appeared, entangled in the wily meshes of the net. Jan unravelled it and stood gazing at it for a moment before he let it fall to his feet. It was a fresh-run sockeye salmon, with the deep-sea silver still resplendent on its sleek sides. Jan took six more such fish from the net, tossed them into the hatch and whirled a bucket of water over the deck. He stood for a while, gazing out across the river and marsh. The reeds made a dark line against the silver of the stream. The cottonwoods and poplars, silhouetted against the sky, looked like a row of giants bending over the river. Their branches waved, and the wind brought a smell of wood smoke and rotting vegetation to his nostrils. From the farm across the river came the sound of a cow lowing, and somewhere beyond the marsh a dog barked. Jan shivered and the motion awoke him from his reverie, and realizing that his engine had died, he went into the pilot-house to start it. The engine running once more, he swung the helm over and headed the boat down-river to Ladner. A row of piles rose out of the gloom. Jan cut his engine speed, and the boat glided into a little float at the base of the piles. He touched the reverse, there was a brief whine Page Twenty-Eight

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Society; subscriptions to either of these are received at 1331 Marine Building, Vancouver, B.C., with all the old-world courtesy of a starving jaguar let loose in a butcher ' s shop. Over fifty Old Boys, and a number of parents, are contributing regularly, some in small amounts and some in large, to the War Memorial Society which has financed some important school expenditures and is endeavouring to build up an endowment fund for scholarships and other projects at the school. Cheques to this worthy and indeed essential cause should be made payable to Shawnigan Lake School War Memorial Society, and all contributions are deductible from taxable income. CHAIRS FOR THE BIG SCHOOL Old Boys who have not already presented chairs for the Big School are advised that these can now be obtained from Mr. Carr at the School Hobby Shop, suitably carved with name and years at the school, at a cost of $25.00. Additional chairs are urgently required to take care of the increasing enrolment at the school. MARRIAGES Park e-Swanson — On September 17th, 1955, at Christ Church Cathedral, Vancouver; Gordon Parke (1945-49) to Cecile, daughter of Dean and Mrs. Cecil Swanson. Maclnnes-Shaw — On May 10th, 1955; Duncan Maclnnes (1947-51) to Molly Lou, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H. Shaw of Vancouver. ft ft ft cJLiteraru Section A DESK TOP It has never been varnished, but someone has tried to correct this omission with disastrous results. It bears upon it the scars of many battles, always between it and a pen, and it has invariably lost. Let us survey its peculiar and characteristic marks. In the upper left hand corner is someone ' s name stamped in block letters. Under- neath this is the inscription R.V. Then comes the thirteen-times table, together with an intricate geometric design, the result of painstaking effort. There are a series of gouges lower down, put there for no apparent purpose except to amuse the gouger. The greater portion of the right hand side is taken up by a diagram illustrating the differences between the American and the European agricultural belts (in blue, the colour of my ink). Someone has been at work on the edges of the desk. Now they are scalloped like an oyster shell, dinted and notched. These disfigurements interspersed with other markings make it look somewhat less than new. And I am not sure if a conglomeration of French idioms; of ill-assorted words such as Cyanide, Smudge, and Rut ; and of ugly ink-blots add to its already negligible beauty. — R. C. MALKIN. ft ft ft CASTLES IN THE AIR Castles in the air. Surely it is only in the English language that such a phrase can be found. The French, who are known for their logic, soon realize that a castle in the air is quite impossible. The Germans, who are admittedly an imaginative race, simply shake their heads in pity. Even the Danish, who love folk song and myth, find the expression rather foolish. In the first place, building a castle in the air must be very difficult unless one makes a habit of practising the art of levitation. Architects tell us that for the construction of any building it is necessary to have a firm foundation. This at once presents a problem. It would, I think, take a fair stretch of the imagination to consider the atmosphere a firm foundation. Another problem that arises (if one assumes that a foundation has been built out of air) is how to keep the castle from shifting. It would be inconvenient for its occupants on returning from a visit to find their ethereal castle had blown away. To anchor it to the ground would hardly be in keeping with castles in the air. This problem must be left unsolved. Assuming that construction has been completed, one finds that many inconveniences have arisen for the occupants. The first and most natural problem is how to mount or board this fortress in the sky. If you are a fakir the problem is easily solved — the Indian Page Twenty-Seven

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and the boat came to a smooth halt. Shutting off the engine, he stepped out on the float, seized the lines, and made fast. He looked around, listened to the lap of the waves against the pilings, and climbed the ramp to the wharf above. He walked to a street corner, and standing in the glare of a street lamp, he pondered whether to go home or to Lew Khow ' s. He chose the Chinese store on the excuse that he could tell him that the fishing was better. Crossing the street, he walked briskly the length of the block and stopped in front of a small shop. It bore the name Lew Khow — Grocer in faded gold letters which reflected dimly the light from across the street. All the available woodwork was cluttered up with tin placards, which were chipped and dented by time and weather. The window held an assortment of vegetables and last year ' s Hallowe ' en fireworks. A loose sheet of newspaper rattled about Jan ' s feet; he kicked it aside and walked in. An old Chinaman sat behind the counter, idly drumming his fingers on the change mat. He peered up, his gold-rimmed spectacles bouncing the light emitted by a single light bulb in the ceiling. He said nothing but stared into Jan ' s eyes, his smooth face turned upwards in an expression of expectation. Jan fiddled with his cap, shifted from one foot to the other and said, with a suddenness whi ch startled himself, I caught seven fish tonight. His eyes avoided the Oriental ' s and hovered over the shelves, falling on the basket of eggs at the Chinaman ' s elbow. Lew Khow studied his visitor and then a trace of a smile appeared on his features. He replied with a long drawn out, Yes ? The sound of his voice made Jan look up. The coarseness of his own face was reflected in the smooth Oriental one. Jan was aware of it and it added to his discomfort. He faltered and then said, They were all fresh run, too. He added, as if to clear himself in the Chinaman ' s eyes, The run can ' t be very far off. I heard from Maurice that they were getting them in the Gulf. Lew Khow considered this, took off his glasses, polished them, and said, Yes, that is true, yes, maybe. His voice had a wistful sound, a sighing quality which gave him the air of a Confucius. He went on and the tone of his voice lost its ethereal quality and became hard. You owe me money. Why you not pay me ? Jan made a little gesture of weariness but the watchful eyes of Lew Khow held him and he continued, You need a tank of gas. I know. I know you not pay me long time. Why ? The Chinese leaped to his feet and stood quivering over the counter. Jan stood still, his eyes downcast. Lew Khow, I didn ' t come here to tell you about the fishing, I came to ask if I could have a little bread and bacon to keep me going. I ' ll pay you when the fishing is better. Lew Khow sank back into his chair, a faint smile playing across his lips. Presently he rose, brought the articles and placed them on the counter, tossing a packet of tobacco and a chocolate bar beside them. Jan murmured, Thanks, Lew Khow. But the old Chinaman had again seated himse:f and was absorbed in his thoughts. He did not look up when the bell tinkled softly, marking Jan ' s departure. The next day was cloudless with a southwest wind rippling the river, sending little pulsating flashes of light from each wavelet. The light was harsh, and the cottonwoods along the bank appeared almost grey instead of silvery green. Jan sat on the wharf, beside his boat, carefully inspecting his net, which he had spread out on the racks. His fingers worked nimbly as he mended the rips and the tears. As the tide was still flooding there was no point in fishing until it turned. An engine coughed, caught hold, a clutch wined in reverse and a gill netter swung into the channel. Jan recognized the man at the wheel as Hungry Peter, a Portuguese, who was an eager, if unsuccessful, fisherman. It rankled Jan when he thought about Hungry Pete. He remembered the day Hungry Pete had set his net across Jan ' s bow and prevented him from towing his net free of the snag above the ferry slip. It had nearly cost Jan his net. Having arrived at the fishing grounds, Jan leaned out over the side of the boat and dropped the raft into the water. He paid out a few yards of net by hand to ensure that all ran freely, and then climbed into the pilot-house and kicked in the clutch. The boat swim? away from the -bank, the net paying out over the stern. Jan ran straight for the opposite bank and then, when he was two hundred yards off shore, turned and ran downstream until his net was in a huge curve. Then he shut off his engine and climbed out on deck. If he had timed his drift accurately he would be pulling his net just as that freighter, which was coming down river, was parallel with the ferry slip. That would give him plenty of time. He checked to make sure his judging was correct and seated himself on the deck. He did not see Hungry Pete pull away from the ferry slip, where Page Twenty-Nine