University High School - The Cub Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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CARGOES On the decks the cargo waits To be stored lielow. Boxes, cartons, bales, and crates All with us shall go. Closely ]jacked within the hold, Safely put away — e ll value it far more than gold. On some rainv dav.

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EDITOR ' S NOTE: We are interpreting the liter- ary section as those an- chors of sacredness which one -will find liiddein in the personal Ijaggage of a traveller on the Clipper Cub . Wandering through this personal weight of cargo, we find and here bring to light a few of the idealistic essays stored carefully in steamer trunks, stories locked in the scat- tered suitcases, and the lighter treasures, such as poetry and rhythmical im- ages, within the hatbo.xe. . BARMACLE BILL THE SALIOR (The Sad Chronicle of His Reformation) T HERE are few persons left who can truthfully say chat the}- have not heard the song of Harnacle Bill the Sailor but important as the song is, it is only a ])art of the liijle stfiry A hich I am about to relate. It all took place in a little Massachusetts sea port town with wide clean streets and plenty of breathing space between the k)w white houses. The main street ran down to the b each where a small wharf extended into the bav- to take care of the occasional whaler that dropped anchor there. When there was a shi]) at the end of the wharf, the town was filled with a cheerful bustle, the school children were given a holiday, and everybody took a hand in the pleasant task of relieving the jolly tars of their wages. When the ship sailed away, the town settled down to its usual state of coma, stolidly facing the violent storms. On one of these ships Barnacle Bill arrived. Let me introduce ycjii to Bill himself, a huge Scotchman, a weathered sailor. Dressed in dirty dungarees and heavy ])ea jacket, he directs the unloading of the cargo, with his red hair to frame his weather beaten face. His bellowed commands come across the water like the booming of some distant fog horn. When Bill pushed through the swinging doors of the village saloon that evening, he found his mates well ahead of him on the road to delirium tremens. Bill accepted the handicap cheerfully and at once set about cut- ting down their lead. Bill was well able to uphold the old Scotch traditions. Within an hour he had the others hopelessly out-distanced. He had pro- posed to the bar maid, reduced the furniture to a heaj) of splinters, fought the village police force to a stand still, and now. having the saloon to him-