West Side High School - Legenda Yearbook (Saginaw, MI)

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A Tale of an Early Ale-House Charles Fredericks Having left my good home in Warwickshire at an early age. I, David Henderson, now found myself working as servant boy in the first public alehouse in Liverpool. This gathering place was in the posses- sion of one, John Balemore, who had come into the ownership through the death of his father, a money lender. The house in question was situated rather far back from residences and nearer to the river front. It had before it, as a sign, a crouching lion, which had been carved by a sailor who was also a patron. John Balemore was an unmarried man and one whose first glance seemed to be melancholy. During the serving of my apprenticeship we slept together in a room in the rear. Soon after the beginning of my work in this alehouse I came to know that my employer ' s melan- cholia was only assumed in the presence of strangers in the gather- ings. I soon deemed it a clever method of procuring important news of the times, but, as for myself, I was never enough of an actor to make the ruse work. In these times, persons who attended the Church were deemed sinners if they drank their ale in a public place. This was the reason for Balemore ' s house not always being crowded. Our trusty patrons numbered two sailors, three retired fishermen, a decrepit old gentle- man, who professed to have been a surgeon of skill, and a farmer, who came but rarely, and then he usually stayed to pass the night. Besides these there came travelers who were passing by way of Liverpool. I shall also mention that there was, at this time, a rumor of a quarrel with Spain. Spain, one should know, at this time had the strongest navy afloat, and one which numbered the most men. The feats of Drake and others had also made the Spaniards long for revenge. One evening, when all the old cronies had departed to their lodg- ings, I heard the tattoo of hoof-beats on the cobbles by the side of the shop and then an oldish man, in the garb of a monk, burst into the shop through the side door. He asked me the direction to G , all the while leaning against the open door in a listening attitude. Master John had been invited over Vernon way to sit in a game of the ever- popular whist, and had not yet returned. I was unable myself, because of my meager knowledge of the countrj-, to give the information. He then asked me if he could bide the night with us, and as I was alone, I could hardly refuse. To my surprise, he beckoned to someone outside the door, who presently joined us. The latter, unlike the huge person- age of the monk, was a thin, worn-to-the-bone person, who seemed to be under the hand of the monk. They forthwith adjourned to another room to sip a pot of ale. After I had served their order I was imparted the knowledge, by the monk, that if any strangers asked me of the whereabouts of two riders, I was to deny any knowledge of them. This was to be can ' ied out at the risk of my life. Surely enough, within the quarter of an hour, there

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Here he strode forward, drawing his heavy, yet transparent sword. My knees were trembling, and my whole frame was paralyzed — I couldn ' t move a muscle. I saw the transparent sword fall swiftly down upon me — then darkness. When I awoke all was darkness. At first I couldn ' t remember where I was. Then I recalled the journey down the passageway, the trap door, the vast treasures, and the ghostly king. The sword had evidently put me in an unconscious condition. I felt about me and my hand struck the lantern. I lit a match and was astonished to find that I was on the floor in the room which the landlord had assigned to me. I saw over in the corner the bed and the chair. But there was no door in the wall. I lit the lantern, and got up, stiff from lying on the cold, hard floor. I walked over to where the door of stone had been, but I pounded on all the lower bricks with hopes of releasing the spring catch. I could find no trace of my certainly true experience which had so recently taken place. I searched the entire room, but found nothing. Then reaching in my pocket for my pipe, which I was about to resort to, I felt a hard something that wasn ' t a pipe. Drawing it out, I saw a piece of gold, which seemed to be an ancient Etruscan coin. I recalled that I had held this just before that feeling of fear, and must have unconsciously put it in that pocket. That coin is the only evidence that I am not telling you a fairy tale, or that I was not sleeping, and dreamed all of this. Here, he continued, drawing from his pocket a black purse, which he opened and drew a coin from, is the coin which I took from that old treasure pile. Probably some of you believe that I have told a good fish story, but I have no further proof, and I will have to let you draw your own conclusions. At last Dad said, Bob, I don ' t know what to say. This is the first thing of its kind that has ever seemed true to me. But, Bob, that coin of yours is no counterfeit, I am a little judge of coins, myself, and that is a true Etruscan type. It seems to me what you ' ve said must either be true or this friend of mine is a professional story-teller. Then, since I had to get up to go to school in the morning, mother sent me, strangely affected by the story, upstairs, and I was very careful to look under my bed and in my closet before I retired.

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came an official-looking person to inquire. I fervently denied having seen anyone, and the stranger galloped off. My anxiety grew great, however, when the guests grew boisterous and I fervently waited for Balemore. Then the leader of the two, who was far beyond soberness, decided to leave in the darkness. They departed, but before they did, the smallest of the two asked me in a whisper, Lad, as a favor to me, will you, as the clock strikes one, swing a lantern at the end of point, yonder, so that it can be seen on the east shore? Lad, it means the salvation of England. Promise me, lad. I did not have the heart to refuse this appeal and so I gave the old man my hand. Both men de- parted and again I heard the hoof-beats. Not long afterwards Master John returned home and after hear- ing my story, he decided with me that the signal should be given. We both went to the point with a lighted lantern. When the hour had come, I climbed a rock and swung the light. A few minutes later a rocket soared into the air. It seemed to come from the harbor down river. Several more rockets soared. Within a quarter of an hour guns were booming all over the harbor and coast. The Spanish Armada had come. As for the two strangers, I found that the smallest was the real monk, while the larger was his captor, a spy. A FAREWELL The dear old school, dear Arthur Hill, A tribute deep but sad we bring; Though we now leave thy hallowed walls. To you our thoughts will ever cling. We ' ll test what we have learned from thee In book of life ' s unerring page. If thou hast taught us false or true, The wondrous problems of the age. We ' . ' l prove and you will stand the test Of all stern critics have to say. You ' ve led us in the path of right, We followed where you blazed the way. So farewell old school, ' tis a sad goodbye. Your faithful task at last is through ; And softly, swiftly we ' ll depart. The dear old class of 22. Sara Pritchard