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

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ne had awaited the turn of the tide. Before Jan had noticed, the Portuguese had made a similar set about one hundred yards upstream. Jan cursed the other boat under his breath, partly out of annoyance, partly out of spite. This was just like Hungry Pete, always afraid that he would miss some good fishing. Jan muttered on, unaware that his net was slowly being stretched taut. Something in the motion of the boat made Jan glance up. He jumped to his feet. He was snagged. His first thought was to start the engine, and as he ran into the pilot- house he saw Hungry Pete ' s boat drifting down on his, looking like an idiotic duck as it bobbed in the waves. Jan shouted. No answer. It was then that he saw the freighter bearing down on them. Even as he looked, four puffs of steam belched out of the whistle and a moment later the sound burst forth. The unmistakable warning of Clear channel. Jan knew that the ship was unable to stop in the narrow channel, nor could it manoeuvre. The engine chose to be balky, and by the time Jan had it started Hungry Pete was close alongside. Jan raced for the deck, and stepping out, a smashing jar threw him on to sharp coaming. Hungry Pete was on deck, gesticulating and swearing in Portuguese. Jan ignored him. He rushed aft and threw the net drum into motion. The drum reeled in a few yards of net, pulling the boats backwards. A fold of Hungry Pete ' s net caught in Jan ' s and the machinery ground to a halt. Jan threw out the clutch and looked up. The freighter was no more than seventy-five yards away and bearing down fast. An officer was on the bow, yelling and waving in a frenzy. Jan screamed at the Portuguese to cut his net and run. His only answer was more cursing. Jan drew his knife and slashed at the net. It parted at last and the end slipped over the stern. He flew into the pilot-house, kicked in the clutch, and the boat moved into safety. Jan looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Hungry Pete alongside. Instead, he was standing on the deck of his boat, still shouting, directly in the path of the ship. Jan gasped with horror as the sharp bow of the freighter sliced into the boat, crushing it and rolling it over. Even worse was the scream of terror uttered by Hungry Pete as he was flung into the foaming bow wave, to disappear in the current. The freighter swept relentlessly along, men rushed along the deck towards the stern, as if trying to stop the thrashing propeller, for in that turmoil nothing could survive. As soon as the ship had passed, Jan swung his boat around, heedless of the wash, and raced for the scene of the collision. Bits of wreckage floated about and to one of these clung Hungry Pete. Jan dragged him aboard. As he laid him on the deck he recoiled in horror. The man ' s legs were gone. The few last feeble spurts of his life stream reddened the deck and Jan was still gazing when the man shuddered and died. A flood of tears burst forth from Jan. He wondered why he was crying, the ma n had never been his friend. But he could not stop himself. He was still sobbing when he turned the boat and headed for Ladner. It was not until he had reached Ladner and had carried the mangled form of Hungry Pete to where an ambulance was waiting that Jan realized that his net had gone under the freighter, too. It, as well as the life of Hungry Pete, was gone forever. A faint breeze rippled the water, sending the rushes and reeds bowing back and forth. Jan stood on the bank of the Fraser, staring across the muddy stream. He tried to dismiss the thoughts from his mind but it was as if his intellect was owned by someone else. You are broke now, he thought. Who broke you ? The question snapped something in the back of his mind. He realized the spirit at fault. It was not the snag, Hungry Pete, nor the freighter. It was the river, the placid stream, hiding in its deceptive currents the snag which caught his net. It was the river which brought Hungry Pete on to Jan ' s boat, it was the river that killed Hungry Pete. It was the river that ruined him, he, Jan of the forty years. He gazed in revulsion at the brown water. In the ripples he saw a myriad of sneering, hateful faces. Jan turned and walked away, he would go to Lew Khow ' s. Lew Khow would understand. Behind him he heard the water lapping at the shore. The river was laughing. — F. M. BOYCE. •= 30 Page Thirty

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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

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Cy ante 5 uppiemen 1st RUGBY XV Back Row: R. C. Simson, R. Cooper, R. A. Douglas, C. T. Battle, B. N. McGavin, K. A. Greenwood, B. Cuppage, R. W. Brown. Sitting: G. A. B. McGavin, C. D. Brooks, H. D. Read, J. A. Kaye, J. V. Stewart. Front Row: J. C. Slick, M. M. Macaya RUGBY 1954 - 1955 — 1st XV It is pleasant to look back upon a most successful season. Although we failed to win either of the St. George ' s matches, we made them struggle their hardest to preserve their unbeaten record. It must be seldom that two schools had two such good teams during the same season. University School, though heavier, were no match for us and we beat them easily twice. We were victorious also over Victoria High School, Oak Bay High School. Victoria College, Oak Bay Wanderers, J.B.A.A. Seconds, and the Old Boys; we managed to tie H.M.C.S. Venture, though with a detei mined effort we could have won as we outplayed them during most of the game. Our only other defeat came at the hands of Oak Bay High School, to whom we had no right to lose. Oddly enough the 1st XV was a better balanced side before Christmas when we were missing both David Read, our Captain, and John Kaye. During Easter Term the team never recaptured its early season form, although it played well and gave a good account of itself. Our strength lay in an active pack of forwards who kept themselves fit and were seldom far from the ball in a game. They were well led by Joe Stewart and Gerald McGavin, while Bob Cooper and Tucker Battle were in the thick of every fray. Our backfield, though not lacking in speed, did not develop into a powerful scoring unit. Here the trouble lay at stand-off and centre where we had players of the useful rather than the brilliant variety. Jack Slick, on the left wing, was by far our most consistent scorer, where his speed and elusiveness proved the undoing of more than one defence; he fell away sadly, however, towards the end of the season and seemed to lose that extra zip which had marked his play before Christmas. Brooks, who is really a wing, played very hard at centre and never disappointed us. He lacks that little bit of imagination which would make him into a really great player; although he scored some beautiful tries, his value lay more in defence than in attack. The other centre position was never really decided upon, and having tried out many players for that place, we finally settled on Bobby Simson. Macaya at scrum-half played very well in some matches, but was another who was guilty of fading away towards the end of the season. In Burke Cuppage at stand-off we have a player of great possibility. Last season was a difficult one for him and, although he has much to learn, he has the necessary ability and should be a tower of strength in the future. Kent Greenwood at full-back came through the season with flying Page Thirty-One