Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR WHEN THE SEA GAVE BACK ITS CAPTIVE Lois P. Gibson, '22. The wind howled outside and the rain beat furiously against the windows of the village store as Ed Taylor went on with his story. “Yes, mates,” he was saying, “t’was just such a night as this, about five years ago, and the only one saved from the wreck was a little three year old girl. She was taken in by someone in the village, there being no clue to her identity, and later found to be the grand- child of a man who lived in the village there. He was —” But hark! What was that? The men sprang to their feet and listened. Xo, they were not mistaken, a ship was signalling for help! Had Ed turned prophet suddenly? But they spent little time in thought of this kind, for with the cry, “A ship in distress,” they hastily started for the beach where they found the simple-hearted New England fisher folk already collected. “Come, boys, a fire,” shouted Ed, who was always a leader. “May be ’twill warm their hearts a bit at this distance to see a sign of life.” With this they soon had a blazing fire. Meanwhile the poor vessel blown unresisting toward the rocks, still called for help and showed that she could not hold out much longer among the raging elements. “Pretty rough sea for rescue work,” mut- tered Ed under his breath, but not one of them faltered, they quickly manned two boats, vanished into the storm, the women tended the fire and watched them go with a prayer in their anxious hearts. And then came the heart-rending suspense as they strained their eyes through the darkness for a glimpse of their loved ones. In the meantime the men struggled and fought wave and wind inch by inch. Would they be in time, or was all their labor to he for naught? A flash of lightning illumined the sky, for an instant, and the picture was as clear as daylight. But even as they watched, the ship gave a lurch forward, one last ef- fort, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks. Then the picture was gone and all was black once more. “No one can live in this sea,” shouted one of the men. But they went on to be sure. The women, also, had caught a glimpse of the picture before it faded, and they, too, wondered if the men had been too late. The time passed in anxious waiting and after what seemed to be hours a shout was heard through the darkness. The boats soon grated on the sand and the men exhausted and wet, were welcomed to the fire. “Was anyone saved?” was their greeting. Wait! What was that bundle which Ed Taylor handled so tenderly? Motherly hands soon undid the many coverings, dis- closing to view the sweet face of a little girl about three years old. She sat up and eagerly scanned the circle of faces above her only to fall back, however, with a plain- tive little cry, “Where’s my mama? I want my mama.” “What’ll we do with her?” was the next question, but Aunt Susan, aunt to the whole village, quickly settled the matter by her answer. “I’ll take her,” she said, and suiting her actions to her words she soon had the little one in her arms and sound asleep. In the following week it was discovered from wreckage which was washed ashore, that the vessel had been the “Albion,” a trader from New York. And the child had, evidently, been the only survivor. Had she any relatives? Might they not, even now, be searching for some word of her? How- ever, as time went on, nothing more was learned and the child remained a mystery. So little Jean McLane, which she informed them was her name, became one of them. Now, in the village, sitting far back from the street stood an imposing, cold-looking house, which seemed out of place among its more homey-looking neighbors. To the village people the occupants of this stately residence were as much out of place as the house itself. An cld man lived here with servants. As Ed Taylor expressed it. old “Stony-Face” was too “stuck-up” to make friends among the honest fishermen and their wives. Indeed even the children were afraid of his cold expression and ran away when they saw him coming, although he seldom went outside his house and grounds. At least this was the case until Jean came into his life and then the miracle was per- formed.

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR A COURAGEOUS CROOK Charles Platt, 21. On a hot sultry August day, a motorist, touring through the country section of Vir- ginia was forced, by engine trouble and short- age of gasoline to stop at a small garage in a little country town. As the motorist looked hot and tired, the garage-keeper, who was also the stationmaster and postmaster, besides being the police and fire departments, invited him to be seated. The motorist, thanking him, sat down on a rickety chair at the end of the platform (the garage was also the railway station) and took a survey of his surround- ings. It was a typical country town of tre hilly section of Virginia. A short distance from the highway was a cluster of old-fash- ioned houses, evidently composing the vil- lage. through the midst of which ran a wind- ing street. Further away the motorist could see the farms dotting the country-side, while the hills rose hazily in the distance. Such was the dead silence, that the motorist, in order to break it, inquired, “Is there ever any excite- ment around here? The stationmaster an- swered from under the auto, the nasal twang of his voice cutting sharply through the heavy silence. “I couldn’t say thar was,” he answered. “About the only thing that thar’s happened in the last ten years war a fire in Judge Carle- ton’s house, about five years ago. What gave the excitement was a burglar who war thar the same night. The judge kept a small gar- age which was jined to his house, and he used to throw all the oily rags into his cellar. That were what started the blaze. Anyhow, the judge woke up that night and saw someone walking around in his room. Hashing a light. The judge jumped halfway out of bed and then jumped back again. The burglar jumped around like a flash and rammed a gag in the judge’s throat. He was going to tie him up when suddenly he stopped and snuffed the air. “Have ye got a fire in yer furnace?” he asked the judge. The judge managed to shake his head no. “Wait here then,” com- manded the crook, not stopping to tie him up. for the judge was too skeered to move. The crook sneaked out of the room but was back in a minute. “Yer house is a-blazing,” he said, “I’ll let you go if you don’t say a word about me.” He raised the revolver menacingly. The judge pulled out the gag, promised to be silent and jumped from the window into the garden below, yelling, “Fire! Fire!” In a moment the whole town was out. The fire spread over the house quickly and the judge ran and got his wife out just as that part of the house collapsed. Suddenly the judge gave a yell. “We’ve left the baby behind!” he cried. Someone spoke at his elbow. “Where is the baby?” asked a familiar voice. The judge turned around to see—the crook. “Up there,” he said, pointing towards the room over the garage. Without a word, the crook ran into the house, up the burning stairway, and crawled through the smoke-filled hall into the blazing pedroom. Grabbing up a small rug he wrapped it around the baby and ran back to the hall. The stairway had disappeared. He stumbled back into the bedroom to the window. The garage below was blazing. There was only one thing left to do. The villagers below heard his voice above the roaring of the flames, and caught the baby as it fell. Suddenly, with a blinding flash, a large tank of gasoline exploded, showering burning oil on all sides. The “crook” had no time to jump. The whole side of the house blazed up higher, tottered and then collapsed. The next day the town subscribed a sum of money for a tablet of marble to have en- graved on it the four words, “To a Courageous Crook.”

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IO SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR The whole village had learned to love the little child in the short time she had been with them and Aunt Susan lived in constant dread lest her charge should be taken away from her. She seemed used to the sea and loved to roam around by herself. One day in her wanderings she came to the house of old “Stony-Face.” She was used to going and coming as she liked among the homes of the village and seeing no difference here, she walked up the path. “My, what a big house!” she thought. “Guess I’ll go in.” Accordingly in she went, for, as the day was warm, the door had been left partly open. “I wonder why it’s so still,” she mused as she w£it into the front room. She started to look at the many pictures on the walls but she soon began to feel drowsy because of the stillness and warmth. Even the clock in the corner with its loud ticking seemed to say “Sleepy, Sleepy.” So, sitting down for an instant in the big arm-chair, she was sound asleep before she knew it. Soon the door opened and a man’s face appeared in the doorway. Mr. Strong en- tered from his walk in the garden, with a paper in his hand, seeking the quiet and solitude of his favorite easy chair. Greatly to his surprise, he found it occupied and upon going closer he discovered that the interloper was a child. At first he was startled and annoyed, then gazing more in- tently at the small figure curled up there, its rosy face with the dark hair falling light- ly about it, he started forward with an ex- clamation of surprise, “Jean, Jean.” He stopped, for the little one moved and sud- denly sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Who called me?” she asked. “Why. I guess I fell asleep. Who are you?” looking fiedly at the white face before'her. “I—I guess I’d better be going,” she added in a small voice, swallowing hard, as he still stared at her. “No, wait a moment, please,” he finally said, trying to reassure her with a smile. “What’s your name, little girl?” “Jean. What’s yours?” feeling more at ease. “Jean,” he breathed,” can it be?” But no, it was impossible and he straightened his shoulders with a ierk. “Probably only a fisherman’s child.” And yet he did not send her out as he should have done had he thought this the case. “What’s the matter?” asked Jean, looking a little frightened at his set expression. “Why, once upon a time, I used to have a little girl named Jean,” he answered very slo vly, “and I sent her away from home. That’s all—” with a sigh. “Oh,” said Jean with interest as she slip- ped down and stood beside him. “I’Tl be your little girl. Then I can come and see you again.” “I don’t want another”—but he stopped and looked at her as she gazed innocently up at him. “Yes, please do,” he added hastily. And thus this friendship started and Jean crept more and more into the heart of old “Stony-Face” or Mr. Strong, as the vil- lagers now called him. For little by little as time went on the village noticed a change in him. Now he smiled at the children and they no longer ran away. Now he mingled with the people more and always he watched little Jean with a wistful light in his eyes. Then one memorable day, a lawyer came to the village and remained with Mr. Strong, after which they both went to Aunt Susan’s to see Jean, and finally the storv was un- folded. Mr. Strong’s daughter, Tean, had loved the sea—and a sailor. When these captured her against her father’s will, he proud as well as rich, had disowned her and lived in loneliness ever since, hating the sea although some undefined impulse had always kept him near it. And then the little Jean had come into his life and from the moment he saw her, he had been torn by doubts and suspicious until finally, he had traced the events of his daughter’s life as far as the shipwreck about a year before. And now it was proved that the little one was the grand-child of old “Stony-Face.” The sea had given back the treasure it took, in the form of little Jean. “Now,” he said to Jean, when the story had been told her, “will you come and be my little girl really?” Jean, thinking he meant that she must leave all her good friends, was undecided, but when he explained that with Aunt Su- san as housekeeper they would stay there by the sea, she agreed happily. And Ed Taylor remarked that night to the circle in the village store, “Funny, isn’t it. how events of life repeat themselves?” “And,” he added, “the sea gave back what she captured in both cases.”