Spartanburg High School - Spartana Yearbook (Spartanburg, SC)

Page 13 text:

The Scribbler 9 The wind whistled around the chimney, and Kirk drowsily wondered if that could be the wind whistling through the masts. Slowly the room faded, faded, and everywhere, as far as he could see, there stretched great wastes of white-capped waves. Leaning over the great ship’s side, he scanned the horizon for a sail. Suddenly Kirk saw, descending on them from the west a huge ship with black sails. Closer and closer she drew, like a huge vulture. “To the guns, my hearties!” roared the captain, for he realized that they could not possibly escape. Everything was thrown into confusion, and Kirk thought how very differently they had acted in the book. With scrupulous care he examined his big pistol, and then hurried to procure a cutlass. Nearer and nearer came the black ship, and he could see cruel faces peering over the sides. Looking around him, the boy saw that the “Angelica’s” crew was armed to the teeth and he felt much better. “Stand off, villians!” shrieked the gunner, and as he spoke the cannon belched forth a choking cloud of heavy smoke, and the decks rocked. The buccaneers were upon them! In a moment the air was filled with horrible groans and shrieks. Kirk, swinging his sword valiantly, heard a terrible scream that died away in a hoarse gurgle as the boatswain fell upon the deck, the victim of his assault. For an hour they fought back and forth across the slippery decks. A crimson mist swam before Kirk’s eyes and he swayed as he swung his sword. Suddenly from the struggling mass, there appeared a frightful figure. His blood-shot eyes darted about until they spied Kirk. Weilding his dripping cutlass he charged upon the boy, and in a moment they were fighting for their lives. Breathing blood-curdling threats, they fought back and forth. The pirate’s cutlass was sent spinning from him, but snatching a sword from another man, he renewed the fight. Suddenly, a pirate fell against Kirk, and losing his balance on the slippery floor, he fell flat on his back. In an instant the buccaneer was upon him with a dirk. Closer, closer drew the leering face with its livid scars and serpent eyes. The greasy mat of hair, peeping from ’neath the tattered silk, and

Page 12 text:

8 The Scribbler THE PIRATE “A gay, bold life on the ocean ware, Young, strong and never a fear; A dirk of steel and a cutlass true, I'm a rollicking buccaneer!” IRK clasped the book tightly in his fat fingers and gazed unseeingly into the glowing fire. Oh, to be a pirate! To fight to the death, to draw forth your sword dripping gory blood! With a sigh he returned to his book, and for half an hour there was silence in the cozy room. “There, before their astonished eyes, lay thousands of shining dubloons. Nicholas thrust his hand into the gleaming pile and let the gold pieces slip through his rough, scarred hands. “ ‘ ’Twas worth it,’ exclaimed Mark. ‘ ’Twas worth the perils and the dangers. Did ye ever see a goodlier treasure ? By the King’s crown, we shall be the richest men in Havershard town!’ “ ‘Aye,’ answered Nicholas, from his seat by the gold, ‘and never did I see so great a pile of moneys. I will purchase a great vessel with my share and sail upon the high seas. Come pirate or no, I shall sail to that new, strange land where are our colonies. Comrades, will ye venture with me?’ “ ‘Aye,’ quoth they, ‘right well ye know we will venture with you, Nicholas Van!’ “And so they returned to Merrie England whence they came.” Kirk closed the book and wandered to the window. Out in the windy street, a group of boys were chattering over a game of marbles, but he had no desire to go forth. “Why can’t there be any pirates now?” he pouted, “I bet I could knock those old fellers crazy!” He drew an imaginary sword and parried and thrust at the table right manfully. “You dirty old sea-robber, you!” he howled. “Whatcha think I am, anyway, a Til ole girl? Well, I’m not, suh, an’ dawg-gone it, don’tcha gimme none of yuh impudence, suh!” Suddenly remembering that these were decidedly not the words of Nicholas Van but those of Captain Lewis, who lived next door, he retired to his chair.

Page 14 text:

10 The Scribbler the heavy gold ear- and nose-rings were forever indented in Kirk’s mind. Just as the cut-throat drew back his hand for the final thrust, Kirk shut his eyes. When nothing happened, he opened them again. The face was still there but it looked strangely familiar. As it grew clearer, he recognized his life-long comrade, Bob Taylor. He leaped furiously for Bob’s throat, but stopped short, when he saw that Bob was grinning. The mists of sleep fell from his eyes and he gazed at his friend suspiciously. Hadn’t he been sitting a few minutes before in the very chair that Bob was holding? Then how did he get on the floor? Slowly a look of furious comprehension came over his face, and completely forgetting the bloody buccaneers, he followed in chase. Clelia Mathewes, ’23. -------------o------------- SONNET ON DEW The dew is thick upon the velvet grass, The tall green blades bend with their dewy load, While flowers beside the green-grown pasture road Are weighed with drops, like bits of crystal glass. And as through jeweled paths and lanes we pass, We see the flashing gems in old earth’s breast, In settings of green-gold they seem to rest As if set by a master in a mass Of purest metals. Some are more enhanced By greenest green, which forms a plush-lined case. Their sparkles all unite and form a ray Which beams and glitters, and the dark is lanced. The silk of Nature’s robe is trimmed with lace Of God’s own gems, the pearl’d dewdrops of May. Estelle Gash, ’22.