St Thomas More High School - Utopian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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I've heard the name, but can't place him. Anyhow, it's O.K. with me, provided you assume full responsibility. What about his family? I have arranged everything. For a kid thir- teen, he's a fairly capable hand to have aboard, as you'l1 see. Malone stuck his forefingers into his mouth and gave two sharp blasts. From amidst the confusion along the waterfront appeared a bronzed youngster clad in a pair of khaki trou- sers the legs of which had been trimmed away at the knees. Under his arm was a small package, his wardrobe no doubt. Siki bounded up the dock with the grace of an antelope. Me go, too, Meesta Jeem? he hopefully inquired. Malone nodded, then introduced me to the new arrival. I made a last minute check of everything and prepared to hoist sail. By eleven o'clock we were under way, pointed south by southwest. Once around the cove, we began to heel to starboard. The mainsail flapped noisily as it began to suck in the breeze. I fancied that from the shore, my 29-foot Blue Dolphin, with her white sails gleam- ing in the sunlight, made an attractive picture. Malone and the boy went below to unpack and stow our gear. The following afternoon, thanks to a good run all the way, we caught our first glimpse of the Carolines. We counted upon reaching Luoano about nightfall, or with the aid of a full moon, shortly after. Malone had ruled out my suggestion to lay over until the following morning. If we can make it tonight, then to- nightl he grumbled impatiently. The last traces of twilight still lingered in the West when Malone, standing in the bow, pointed to a dark mass barely distinguishable on the pur- plish horizon. I glanced at my map and at the binnacle. It should be, I said, feeling very grateful for a successful trip, and not a little bit proud of my navigation. An hour or so later we were looking for a suitable location in the mouth of Luoano har- bor. Under foresail alone, we eased our way in. When Siki's sounding line told me what I wanted to know, I called to the boy to cast the anchor over the port bow. Malone, however, stopped him with an excited Wait a minute! Seizing his binoculars, Jim peered intently at the outlines of a sleek looking yacht moored about 100 yards to our lee side. We can't stay 62. right here, he added with an air of desperation, though I want to be close enough to read her name as soon as it's light. We glided quietly by, and hove to about a half mile further down the coast. As we sat smoking in our cabin that night, Jim Malone explained that the one name we wanted not to read the next morning was that of William West, owner of the ship which bore his name. If that's the West, he confided, things are going to take on an entirely dif- ferent complexion. When I rolled into my bunk that night, it was with little expectation of a sound night's sleep. It now appeared that Malone had been a lieutenant in the last war, had been commis- sioned to scour this area for possible naval bases, had made Luoano his personal headquarters after he had chanced to find a valuable pearl in the water here. He believed there were plenty more where that beauty had come from, and planned to return for them when possible. The one real drawback, he said, was that another lieutenant, John Dorne, originally a close friend of Malone, shared the secret, and the same in- tention. Later, after a quarrel, Dorne had gone his way, and, as Malone now knew, had spilled his plans to the boss of a gambling establishment where he had worked before the war. William West, the boss, told his friends he was off for a long, much-needed vacation, left the States, and joined up with Dome, both to finance the cost of the diving, and no doubt to see that Uncle Sam's Custom Men collected no taxes from their haul. Dome met me in a San Francisco restaurant one day a few months ago, Malone said at sup- per that night. Though we were not the friends we had been, he was at least decent enough to tell me of his intentions, and even invited me to tie in with him and West. I wanted no part of West and his mob, and told him so. Soon after, Dorne telephoned me one night to clear out of town if I wanted to stay alive. West was afraid I might inform the authorities about his in- tended vacation in the Pacific. I cleared out all right! I headed for Hawaii by Clipper . . . and here I am. Yes, I rolled into my bunk that night with a worried mind. There hadl seemed little else to do but follow with what Malone had started. The . THE U TOPIAN

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ua! a PllASlIIll CRUISE O SAY THAT he looked impressive, even in a T-shirt and blue dungarees, is to register my first impression of the man who stepped from the dock to the deck of my boat that day in Hawaii. Though of only medium height, he had a massive pair of shoulders. He wore his Navy ofiicer's cap with an ease that suited well the clean-cut lines of his weather-beaten face. A wisp of soft black hair was visible under the visor. His voice suggested a military training. Are you the owner of this ship, Mr .... uh? Masters is my name, I told him. Matty Masters. How do you do, he continued. My name's jim Malone. While waiting for my reply, he slowly surveyed. the ship. It looked good to him. Yes, I said, I own the Blue Dolphin. What can I do for you? I want something about this size for about a month's voyage. At the moment I am not pre- pared to pay the fanciest price, though I will look after the provisions and a few extras, and maybe, when we get back, do a little better. In fact, if my venture succeeds and I like this ship, I may be in a good position even to buy her at a right handsome price, just for pleasure. I realize that all this doesn't make much sense, but if you will settle for the over-all picture, it's about what I have in mind. With no immediate plans, and with a bank account that was but a shadow of what it had been when I came to the islands, I decided to listen. Go on, I said. Our destination would be Luoano, ex- plained.Ma1one. Ever hear of it? If you mean the island to the south of the Carolines- That's right. Been there, by any chance? No, I replied, but I know of the place. We THE UTOPIAN . BY WILLIAM C. McGINNIS, '51 won't need a month to get there and retum. True enough. However, I have some business there which- Here he broke off momentarily, then went on to explain that a short stop-over should be profitable to both of us. His casual manner somehow led me to the conviction that this was to be no more than a pleasure cruise with a touch of business on the side, possibly to collect an old debt or something. Why he had picked my ship was no profound mysteryg the fewx others still in port that summer afternoon were owned by natives. As I said, he impressed me: maybe that wasiwhy, despite the loose ends, I shook hands with him and closed the deal. The next morning, after a sound sleep, I came on deck to see a cloudless sky, and Malone trudg- ing up the dock with a large box on his shoulders. Several even larger ones on deck showed why he was bathed in perspiration. He must have got an early start. In fact, he seemed a bit impatient that I was apparently unready to set sail. I read his thoughts and assured him that in another hour we would be under way. I counted upon his having provided at least enough supplies to make Luoano, where it would be easy to replenish our needs, if necessary. Malone came aboard, dragging the last of the boxes after him. From his pocket he pulled an old rag with which he wiped his brow and arms. My references to wind velocity and favorable directions met with his instant approval. Since I talked with you last, he observed, I learned something that will make an early arrival highly desirable. I wondered, but said nothing. By the way, he continued, if you have no objections, I would like a young friend of mine to accompany us, a native boy named. Siki. Know him? .61

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possibility of operating on a quiet basis just outside the harbor, out of West's range, was taken into account. Siki had had some experi- ence in pearl diving, and the promise of a 4072, cut in whatever we gathered made me decide to tag alone with Malone, come what may. For the next three days heavy rains pinned us below deck, and what was worse, curtained off our view of the yacht whose identity was our greatest concern. Even if West had not arrived from Honoipu Landing where his yacht had been based, we knew that probably he would show his meddlesome hand before long. A change in the wind about noontime drove the rain clouds off, giving us a welcome glimpse of the sun and an unwelcome glance at . . . yes, the William West. Malone recognized her in- stantly through his glasses. He had seen her pic- ture several times in a Sunday rotogravure. While Siki got busy mopping the deck, Malone and I went below to prepare lunch and to talk over our plans. As we lingered over our coffee, never so much as imagining that our presence in Luoano's waters was known to a soul, Siki stuck his smiling face through a porthole in the galley and cheer- fully announced: Meesta jeem! Nice big boat come along side. Look like come to pay visit maybel Startled, Malone and I leaped for the com- panionway and struggled to the deck. Already two of West's crew had reached across with grap- pling hooks and had secured our side firmly against their ship's. West, a small, pompous man in yachtsman's attire, bestowed a sinister sneer upon Malone and me. Behind him a yard or so stood a man I later learned was Dorne. on either side of the two were another pair of mean- looking characters. Each had his hand in his coat pocket, as though to impress upon us the fact that he was armed. West spoke. So, Mister Malone, we meet again! You might have known that my men in Hawaii would have spotted you the minute you arrived there. I, too, like to ily . . . privately! West paid little or no attention to me, nor can I say that I felt neglected. Malone listened to the big boss, but kept his eyes upon Dorne, hoping to read on the latter's countenance some sign of what to expect next. Dorne simply stared at the deck. West's voice softened a bit as he THE UTOPIAN . leaned forward on the rail. I'm not a hard man to get along with, Malone. For your old friend's sake, I've decided to give you a break. Come on over . . . alone. You should be very interested in the offer I have in mind. My partner studied the faces of the whole group before concluding that it was better to board the West than to have its crew board our smaller ship persuasively. He said something in a low voice which I could not catch, then swung over the side to the deck above. He ex- changed a few comments with the fat man and with Dorne, then beckoned me to join him. Un- willingly, I did so. The upshot of the conference was that we had been invited to work with West and his men, from their boat. I was to anchor the Blue Dolphin about 100 yards to the stern, with two of West's crew aboard tol stand watch each night. Siki was pressed into service to direct and to as- sist the diver West had engaged, and who wore full diving parphenalia in order to work the longer. Siki liked no part of working for a stranger, but at our bidding, made the most of his opportunities. Jim and I had little chance to plot escape, but we, likewise, made the most of our opportunities. So did West, to humiliate us. Time and again he would whip out of his pocket the little velvet bag in which he kept the haul. For all we knew, he might have shown us the same display each time, yet, Siki said that business was surprisingly good. On the moming of the eighth day, West was particularly arrogant. C'mon, Masters, lean on the paint brush, he said to me. And never mind eyein' that ship of yours every few minutes. I forgot to tell you, I have two men over there, so I wouldn't get any fancy ideas. Lucky for him that Jim came up behind me and grabbed my arm. The tenth day off Luoano brought us our first real opportunity to wriggle loose from the ten- tacles of the fat octopus, as I had come to think of him. Dorne and his boss had spent most of the afternoon over two bottles of native rum which one of the crew rowed out from the island that morning, along with several baskets of food, mostly fruit. Evidently the crew themselves had split a proportionate number of bottles, for it became apparent that their interest in our pres- ence had dwindled to a fraction. The cook was .63