Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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Grey Shore Long wastes of sand upon a distant shore, A gull, a rock, the sea, and nothing more Dull crash the breakers farther up the shore Grey walls of water, spray, and nothing more. A reef of rocks, unbroken grey, Across the East the line of breaking day. Far out, the swell, of sullen grey What good will come from out this new-born day? A seagull resting on a restless wave Half lifts a feathered wing, in question grave. He sees no hope of answer in the wave. And flys away, denying it was grave. Jean Scrimger, Form IVa. A Boating Adventure TEARLY everyone has, at some t. ' me or other in their lives, an adventure on water. Most people, after one of these adventures, return to land and duly proceed to inform everybody they meet, of the thrilling experience they have just had. Unfortunately, I am no exception to this rule, and as I have had one or two minor thrills, I shall endeavour to elaborate and exaggerate, as is customary in the relating of such tales. I, or rather my father, happens to be the fortunate possessor of a small launch called the Petrel. It is only thirtyeight feet long, but it is a jolly little craft and one in which the family as a whole, have a great deal of fun. Last year, sometime in June, we gaily decided that we should travel up the Ottawa River, for a couple of weeks ' holiday. The first day, the weather was lovely. The second day it was inclined to be dull with intermittent rainfall. This was unfortunate for us, for as we were proceeding up a very narrow channel, the whole scene was suddenly blotted out by a terrible cloudburst. The channel was marked out by buoys, but there was plenty of opportunity for wandering astray and ending up on a sandbank. After wandering around for sometime in a daze, we took one of these opportunities, and having selected a pleasant looking little bank, we rammed the nose of the boat well and truly into the middle of it. When the storm cleared we found we were about a half a mile off our course. The water was extremely shallow at one end of the boat and extremely deep at the other, as I discovered, much to my annoyance, when I lightheartedly jumped off the stern and immediately found myself sitting on the bottom of the river with about twelve feet of water above me. Of course, sensible people will want to know why I wanted to jump in anyway. Well, if you really must know, it wasn ' t because I wanted to hold communication with the fish, but because I thought the water was shallow all round and I wanted to investigate the damage, if any. But we will pass lightly over that phase of the adventure. It holds rather embarrassing memories for me. About an hour after this little incident we were still sitting gently but firmly on the sandhill. We had tried practically every method we knew to extricate, or rather, excavate, ourselves from our awkward position. We had reversed our engine, rocked the boat frantically from side to side, pushed from the shallow end and pulled from the dinghy off the deep end. Our sole remaining hope was to kedge. By kedge I mean that we tied a long rope to the anchor, rowed about twenty feet from the stern, dropped the anchor, then pulled on the rope from the launch. The next half hour passed quietly enough in pulling, on a very long and damp rope. At the end of this period we found that we had pulled in the anchor instead of the anchor pulling us off the sandbank. For a [17]

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Retribution A T LAST his moment had come. The sweetness of revenge would be his. The pain and suffering of the last ten years would be wiped out, and he would be able to eat and sleep without being haunted by his obsession. Ten years ago, Jim Hall, his supposed friend, had ruined him financially, and had been the cause of his wife ' s death. The picture of the rogue ' s sneering and taunting smile was ever present in his mind. But to-night all debts would be paid. Life could be begun anew. His son, his pride and joy, would arrive from England in a day or two; and together they would set out for America, leaving old memories and tragedies behind them. Something rustled outside. He stood rigid for a moment, then slowly relaxed. It was only a sound of the night. He went to the window of the shack and peered out into the jungle. He could feel rather than see the wild life that teemed in its dark depths. Soft restless noises and the scent of damp earth and heavyperfumed flowers, were borne to him on the breeze. The darkness was intense. Nature seemed to be in co-operation with him. An undercurrent of excitement and expectancy surrounded him. What a perfect setting for his plan! Feverishly he paced the room, drawing his hand over his moist brow. It would not be long now — if only he could keep his nerves steady. He could visualize in his mind what was to happen. A step on the porch, the sudden pulling of the hidden vine, the releasing of the poisoned dagger, a low moan and then silence. Silence, he muttered to himself, silence. Yes, that taunting voice would then become silent and life would become bearable. Suddenly the sound of a footfall was heard. The man ' s eyes gleamed with fiendish anticipa- tion. Nearer and nearer came the unsuspecting man. The plan was working. The fly was being lured into the web. The man in the room seemed to cease breathing. The tick of the clock on the mantlepiece sounded like cannon shots. The man gripped the table to steady himself. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead. The caller mounted the steps, one, two, three. Now he was at the top. Why did not something happen? What if the plan miscarried? The tension was unbearable. Suddenly there was a soft moan, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. For a second the watcher hesitated ' breathing heavily as if recovering from a long run. Then with a bound he burst open the door, and reached the silent figure. At last the debt was paid. He was free, free! Oh, life was wonderful! He bent over the body to see if the dart had completely fulfilled its mission. Then a hideous mocking, insane laugh, burst through the jungle. The wind caught it up and flung it tauntingly through the tree tops. A nearby bird, startled from slumber, uttered a weird, wailing, cry. Then the jungle settled back into a silence even more profound than before. The man on the porch now clasped the lifeless body of his son in his arms. Dorothy Brooks, Form Upper Vi. [ 16]

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while we were too stunned to move. It looked as if we were doomed to remain on the bank for the rest of our natural lives. But while there is life there is hope, .so we tried again, but this time, we included the reversing, rocking, pushing and shoving at the same time. And it was these combined forces which filially brought about our happy release. Twenty minutes later the Petrel could have been seen chugging nonchalantly up the river towards Ottawa. Our adventure was over. Patricia ue Merrall, Form Matriculation II. An Old-Fashioned Winter T ONG before the Winter Season of 1933 arrived, many of the old settlers m the rural districts ' of Canada, had predicted that it was going to be one of the coldest ever experienced. Their statement they confirmed, by the way Mother Nature had supplied the trees and shrubs with great quantities of nuts and berries. The squirrels also, must have sensed the severe weather about to come, for large numbers of them migrated to warmer countries. For many years past, our winters have been moderating, and people thought our climate had changed for good. This year has proved differently, for the first cold spell arrived in the middle of October, bringing with it a heavy snowfall, which caused tremendous damage to trees, as the leaves had not then dropped. This low temperature continued and navigation was stopped, earlier than usual. Finally, at the end of December, this district experienced one of the coldest spells on record, when the thermometer registered 43 degrees below 7,ero. Bli?2;ards swept the Dominion from coast to coast, covering the land with huge banks of snow and in many places making travel by road and rail impossible. The Winter of i933 ' 34, could not be better described than by a few lines written by Long- fellow, nearly eighty years ago: O the long and dreary winter! O the cold and cruel winter ! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river; Ever deeper, deeper, deeper Fell the snow o ' er all the landscape, Fell the covering snow, and drifted Through the forest; round the village. Zero weather continued for several weeks, and many people found out for the first time, what a tricky fellow Jack Frost was, when he gave them a gentle nip, which in some cases proved very painful. Many of these victims resorted to old ' time precautions, such as mufflers and ear muffs, while others were clever cnougli to invent a muff for the most prominent part of their face. I 18 I