Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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IO THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR turned and said: “It looks as if the fog might shut in at any minute, and there arc wind clouds off in the east. In short. I won't go, and you shouldn't. Such undeniable arguments, founded on perfect knowledge, should have convinced us. but we had decided to go. and instead of listening to reason, we were soon sailing down the river in my small sailboat. This river flows into the bay about a half a mile below our cottage, and this short dis- tance was quickly covered, and we were soon steering straight for the fishing trap or weir that had been most successful that summer. As the wind was still dead astern, we were alongside within fifteen minutes. We went around the end and came to anchor under the lee of the weir. The fishing around these traps is better than either farther off or close in shore, because perch and flounders feed on the small marine growth on the poles, and the distance at which they are placed from shore has been proved by experience the most profitable. It is not desirable to anchor di- rectly to these traps, however, as there arc leaders under water in which your tackle is likely to be- come entangled. After we had been fishing for about two hours, it became very evident that the boat was dragging her anchor, for we had left the trap far behind, where we had originally anchored. We had not noticed this before, although we had won- dered what made our lines trail out so. As the fishing, which had at first been very exciting, now began to abate and the wind rapidly increased, we saw the necessity of changing our position. Still we fished on, each waiting for some one else to move, until at last we were two miles from where we anchored originally, and our lines could no longer reach bottom. There was no use waiting any longer: indeed, we had waited too long al- ready. Large masses of wild fog were floating over our heads, and night was setting in nearly an hour earlier than usual. We hauled our lines in together, and while Mr. Morrill took in the anchor, Harold set the jib and I hoisted the mainsail, so that we were soon under way. But it was obvious to me almost immedi- ately that little or nothing could be gained by sail- ing. for every wave was so large that they continu- ally threw the boat’s bow off and shook the wind out of her sails, and before she could gain any headway the operation was repeated. I gave up the tiller and took the oars, while Mr. Morrill, who was not yet convinced, tried his hand at sail- ing. By our combined rowing and sailing, we at dusk reached the weir we had first anchored near, but now the trap was directly in our way. and we had either to come about and work up so as to pass to windward of it. or to abandon sailing entirely. We decided upon the latter course, be- cause of the saving of time, and as 1 had been rowing continually since we began to sail. Mr. Morrill relieved me at the oars. The wind had risen to quite a gale, and we began to see the wis- dom of my father's advice. Mr. Morrill rowed until he was exhausted, and we had scarcely gained a hundred feet. Each wave carried the boat with it. and it took one’s entire strength to hold, while on one of these billows, what he had gained with much exertion. Harold and I now took an oar apiece, and it was soon evident that we had gotten to some ex- tent under the lee of the shore, both by our prog- ress and by the size of the waves. It was now dark, and our only guide was the lights in a group of cottages which we knew to be just above the river mouth. What was our astonishment to sec them disappear simultaneously even as we watched! Harold gave several guesses as to the cause, but I knew that the fog that had been lying in a bank off to windward all day had crept in at sundown, and unless we reached the beach before we lost our sense of direction, we would have the opportunity of spending a night on the water, which I personally did not fancy. I took both oars now. and rowed as hard as I could, until it seemed as if we should have reached the beach had we been traveling in the right direc- tion. Just as we had decided to change our course, a verv dangerous thing to do under the conditions, what was our surprise to feel the boat stop abruptly, accompanied by a soft, grinding noise under our bow. On close examination, we found we were really aground, the water and the sand looking so much alike that we had approached it unconsciously. 'I he fog was now so thick and it blended so perfectly with the water that it was nearly impossible to tell whether you were float- ing in fog or water. We followed the shore within ten feet of the water's edge, as there was no surf to hinder us. and after considerable diffi- culty found the river mouth. And what a strange looking river it was! Although I thought I knew every inch of it. I didn't know my way in it. and its strangeness was increased bv the strained condi- tion of our eyes. At last we reached home, and found my father anxiously awaiting us; lie had worried more than we had. We were too tired to do anything but eat our supper and go to bed, reserving the story of our experience until the next day.

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THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR 9 prising youngster, who thought he was going to earn a quarter, and started up the wharf. When I got to the head of it, the outlook was not en- couraging. There was just one street. On one hand a gentleman was assuring strangers that the best shore dinner could be had on the right, while on the other hand another gentleman was just as positive that we should go to the left. I did neither. Instead. I got into a carriage and took a drive through the town. I was calmly enjoying the quaint little city, when the carriage came to a sudden stop. The reason? Oh. simply we had met another carriage, and the question arose as to who should back into the broader part of the road. It was finally decided that we should turn around and go back over our course. Inside of fifteen minutes I was in a train and on my way up the peninsula. 1 pushed uo the cur- tain and looked out. Sand, sand. sand, and then some more sand, just for novelty's sake. Was there ever such a country? Add to barren reaches of sand an August sun. and ask yourself what beauty there could be in such a scene. Gradually the outlook changed. Here and there patches of grass appeared and stunted pines struggled sturdily for existence. I v the time 1 reached North Truro the aspect of the country was quite changed, and I took courage. As I plunged down a steep hill from the station in a strong country carriage. I looked with interest on the little village. Just one street wound to the north. hite farmhouses snuggled down among eld apple trees, and the village church looked across the street almost into the face of the squat little post-office. Then the well-kept lawns gave way to hay fields, which stretched away, swaying gently in the sun. The sandy road began to wind up and down over hills pretty to look upon, but oh. how trying to the pedestrian! The farmhouses came less and less frequently, and lo! we were away from the village and out in the open country, an undulating, dazzling combination of greens and yellows well calculated to win the heart T f the visitor. That evening I started out from the farmhouse where I was visiting, towards the beach. It was hidden from my view by a high hill, but when one reached the top what a sight greeted the eyes! The water of the bay stretches oft toward the horizon, guarded only by the protecting arm of the cape. Toward the west the sun was just sink- ing behind the little glistening city of Province- town. And as old Sol sank to rest. I turned away, well satisfied that such a scene should end my first day on Cape Cod. It jfisbtng Crip tit Jfoggv JSy? C. JE. 1b. tTClcatbcr HERE'S nothing the matter with the weather. W hy don’t you go fishing now? I’ll go with you. said Mr. Morrill, on entering the woodshed where Harold Atwood and I were sitting early one afternoon on a cold, cloudy day of last July. I was spending my va- cation in one of the outermost towns of Cape C od, Harold was passing a fortnight with me, and Mr. Morrill was a summer visitor with whom I had gone fishing on several previous occasions. Such was his answer to our question as to when, in his opinion, the weather would allow us to go fishing and have some small hope of success. And why shouldn’t we go fishing? Here was an opportunity to give Harold some new experi- ence, for as vet we had been unable to enjoy even that sport on account of continual disagreeable weather. Besides, my mother had remarked that morning that the house was nearly destitute of food, for. like many other small summer resorts, the question of knowing whence your next meal is coming was not one of the least puzzling. Then we were all ready to go. not even having to stop and get bait, because I had dug some on the pre- vious day. not knowing when we might need it. After considering everything to be gained by go- ing. we decided to go. W hile we were running about getting our oiled- skin coats, fishing tackle, and other necessities, my father, noticing our unusual activity, asked us what we were going to do. I told him. and invited him to join the party. Instead of responding, he looked displeased, walked to an easterly window, and stood looking out. while we impatiently awaited his reply. After a moment or so, he

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THE SOMERVILLE RADIATOR 11 tTbc Stroke of fortune 36 ? Hllison IRewton, X., ’09 jj HY was such a fuss made over the old place, anyway?” was the question he kept asking himself. To be sure, he had been born and had lived there all his life, but the world had no terrors for him. His imagination carried him to nothing worse than what he had gone through the past year, or what his father had be- fore them. Me could remember work from morn- ing to night for one single purpose, to keep the mortgage paid up. And why? Was there any- thing different about that place from any other? They couldn't be bound to it on account of the neighbors, for lie could trace even in his recollec- tion the different ones that had gone '“to the city. and call to mind easily that this was one of the few things that ever aroused his father from his apathy sufficiently to induce him to pass any sar- castic or heated remarks. And yet his father just a year ago to-day, on his dying bed. had said: “Dickie, guess I’m about through. There’s money enough in the stocking to pay the interest to- morrow, and you'll tend to it after I'm gone. The sobs of his mother had just ceased from above. Why did she care? She wasn’t born here. What had the old place brought ever since lie could re- member but hard work and sore trouble? The mortgage would be lifted to-morrow all right, and he didn’t give a “hang if it was. What did he care if he was turned out of house and home? If this was home, he’d like to trv something that wasn’t home. At last he arose from the table littered with papers, and sweeping them all together, chucked them into the fireplace. Stooping to pick up those which he had dropped, he noticed one that was a piece of parchment, and when he had tossed the others into the fire, he brought this over to tV light and examined it. Undoing the parchment, he saw that on it was fastened a piece of half-burnt paper, which read; I he money, ten thousand dol- lars ($10,000). to wit, hath been pla----- tpid this was as far as he could decipher. Below was ap- pended a note which read to the effect that James (irantham had amassed a considerable fortune, hidden it somewhere, and made a will, imparting to ho one its provisions; that as he was rum- maging one night for some papers in his strong box. the lamp had set fire to his papers, and that the old man, attempting to extinguish the flames, had been so severely burned that he had (lied from the shock, .leaving nothing but this piece of paper giving a clue to the where- abouts of his fortune. He read this over again, and then remembered of hearing his father tell about how he used to search when he was a boy. If he only had that ten thousand now! Well, he might lift the mortgage, as mother seemed to care so much about it. and then perhaps it would be better for her to stay at home. It would be pretty hard to support two in the city the first year. Not that it would make any difference ultimately, but then, it would ease off the first two or three years. But what’s the use? I haven't got it, and. furthermore, there’s no chance of my getting it. so I'll quit thinking about it. By this time he had become so wrought up that his head ached, and he felt feverish all over, as if something would burst. So he put on his hat and coat, and strode out of the house in the direction of one place which at least would recall many pleasant memories. As he drew in the inspiriting night air. he began to look at the place in a more favorable light. He had had some mighty good times when he was a kid on this same old place. As he wandered over the fields, each object seemed to recall some little incident, and each incident brought back some pleasant recollection. At last he stood before the old oak. with the huge rock beneath and the brook near by. Here he was completely lost in thought. Yes, he did wish he had that ten thousand dollars. Five or six years would really be a short time to make such a fortune as that. Wonder if he would be able to save enough at the end of the year to come back just a day or so to see everybodv—under the tree, of course. Ten thousand dollars would come in mighty handy. A thunder shower had just broken overhead, but so deep was he immersed in thought that he stood there unmindful of it. When the lightning Hashed the whole panorama before him, he would take notice, and when it thundered draw his coat close about him. Suddenly, a blinding flash, a splitting crasn! Clapping his hands to his head, he is thrown over, almost stunned. By the next flash, some- what recovered, he has begun to look about