BIRTHDAY GIFTS

Southland Times, Issue 20963, 21 December 1929, Page 22

BIRTHDAY GIFTS

BLACK SHIPS. OF THE NIGHT. A pitch dark night, a sky laden with inky black clouds, an air oppressive with muggy heat, a sloppy sea that rolls slowly by—and a black ship, schooner rigged with no lights showing, her long black lines denoting speed and ease, cutting swiftly through the waves. Such was my first impression of the "Serpent,” pirate of the Spanish main—“the devil ship of the night” she was called by the officers and crew of the “Vindictive” seventy gun ship of IBs Majesty, King George 111. Everyone in the Spanish main had heard of the “Serpent,” and very' few who had ever paced on her decks told of the doings on board that ship. If they did they died an ugly death. To be keel hauled for half an hour, and then lowered temptingly in a basket over the side till just out of reach of the sharks was not a pleasant ordeal, but what was done to the unfortunate victims after that no one could tell, but if the nerve-racking screams sometimes heard were anything to go by, they suffered no natural death. However, to continue, I was a young “middy” on the “Vindictive,” and I had never before seen the pirate so one can imagine my surprise when I saw’ her that night, her long clean cut bows leaving a phosphorescent glow behind as she sped swiftly through the seas. And then as if to cap all the tales I had heard, there came an earpiercing, awful, scream. “No! No! No-o!” screamed the voice again and again, accompanied by a demoniacal laugh and an awful curse that were drowned by another terrible scream in a few seconds. A hand was laid on my shoulder, and I- started violently. It was the lieutenant, who was always on good terms with me.

“Well, Peter boy,” was his greeting as he stepped beside me. “Listening to the “devil ship” reception?” "It sounds good, doesn’t it,” I agreed as another scream gradually rose and died away with the passing of the ship. “I wouldn’t like to be there to-night.” The Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. “Nor should I,” he said, “but at any time we may find ourselves in their, the captain’s and crew’s clutches.” “It is certainly something to look forward to,” I smiled, as I turned round—then—“lx>ok, behind the poop!” For I was certain I had seen something white flutter and pass behind the poop. The Lieutenant, whose name was Dick Lawson, looked at the spot my outstretched hand indicated and then at me.

“Those screams have made you see things lad,” he said. “Don’t you think so?” And although I nodded my head, I knew that I had seen something. However, I bade Dick goodnight and was on the point of entering the forward hatch, when something whizzed alarmingly close to my ear and buried itself in the wall a foot from my head. I spun round, saw nothing, and was turning again when I heard a long low hiss, just like the hiss I had heard a cobra give once in India. Again I spun round, but I could see nothing at all, so I transfered my attention to the knife which was buried three inches in the wall. As I twisted it to draw it out, something white on the hilt caused me to examine it more carefully. It was a piece of rice paper, and on it I could faintly discern letters. Straining my eyes to the uttermost, I made out the words, "The Serpent strikes to Kill.”

I gave an involuntary shiver as I read the neat but- gruesome little note. Had that knife been thrown to kill, or just to serve as a warning, I reflected? I believed

the second reason, for the knife had just passed my ear; besides, “The Serpent” never killed its victims straight away; sport was wanted. However, placing the note in my pocket, I pulled the knife out of the wall, and also examined it, but not very well, for time was Hying. I put the knife in my trouser pocket, went down and tumbled into my bunk, fully clothed, to sleep a dreamless sleep. I awoke with a start; something had alarmed me, and as my eyes vainly tried to pierce the darkness, my thoughts wandered to the knife. Immediately I reached downward; a dim form moved at the foot of the bunk, and, as I put my hand in my pocket, a low snakelike hiss made itself heard. I groped in iny pocket —the knife was gone! In a second I was out of my bunk and to the hatch. Somehow I sensed that the intruder had not gone out. He was there somewhere now in the darkness, his hand gripping his knife, the knife that I knew had a razor edge, and I guess, a poison tip also. “Who’s there,” came a sleepy voice from one of the bunks, accompanied by a revengeful hiss. “Hist,” I said, for I recognized Jack Lancaster’s voice. “Get your knife ready. This is Mayfield!” “Knife —?” began Jack. “Look!” I cut in. “Look, by my bunk! See?” “Hullo,” exclaimed Jack, out of bed in a second, “are we having visitors?” “Visitors from the ‘Serpent,’” I supplemented ominously. “The gentleman with a knife! Listen!” A long low hiss was heard distinctly by Jack and me, and as it died away, Jack sprang forward with his pistol raised. Something bright whizzed over his shoulder, and grazed my face, and I knew that the knife thrower was again to work, and that his aim was more correct by the trickle of warm blood across my chin. The night air was shattered by two pistol shots, there was a resounding crash, and a dim shape lunged towards me. -Instinctively I grabbed my pistol and fired. Bang! As the crash of the pistol filled the cabin, I became aware of a pounding of feet behind me. I spun round; too late! Something seemed to crash above my head, the floor rose to meet me, I swayed for a moment in a swiftly growing darkness, and fell. It seemed ages later that I became aware of a sensation as if thousands of cogs were working inside my head. Gradually the feeling diminished in intensity, and I became aware of a figure at the side of the bunk which I assumed I was lying in. “Water,” I said, because it was the first thing that came to my mind; then, "Where am I?” A modulated English voice gave me an answer and a veiled face was lowered near mine. I drew back a little. “Who are you? Where am I?” “You are at present my prisoner,” came the sinister reply. “As for who I am, the fact that this ship is sometimes called the Serpent, may convey some name to you! I am exceedingly sorry my men hurt you, for I believe you will turn out a promising recruit!” “Me?” I gasped. “On the Serpent?” “Yes” my guard informed me, smiling grimly, “and you are already enlisted as one of the crew!” Suddenly the terror of the situation I was in gripped me. I was to be a member of the crew of the Serpent. A pirate! I shuddered.

“Where are my friends?” I inquired anxiously. “As far as I know they are quite safe. You were my game, and now I intend to make use of you.” was the reply. "Why?” I gasped. “Because you know where and when the Vindictive is going to attack the “Spanish Queen 1” “That is no business of yours!” came my heated answer. “No?” smiled the pirate. “I might inform you that the Spanish Queen is my treasure ship, and therefore I do not wish it to be captured.” "Then why didn’t you ask vour accom plice?” I said, determined to at least presume a brave front. “Because, bar the captain, you are the only person who knows,” my guard informed me. “And we intend to make you tell us!” “Which is more than you’ll ever do,” I replied readily. “Don’t shout till you’re out of the wood, mv young bantam cock, or your body may be found where it has never been before, and it won’t be a pretty sight!” “I don’t s’pose so,” I sneered. “It will be something like the Spanish Queen when the Vindictive is finished with her!” “Huh!” snorted the veiled pirate turning away, and I knew that I had heard that voice somewhere before, but where, I could not tell. My head was aching horribly and what I had just heard didn’t tend to make it any better. But my mind was made up. The pirates would never know anything from me. As I lay there half asleep, half awake, many persons passed me, all veiled, and all armed to the teeth with pistols ami knives. Altogether it seemed as if I’d have little chance of life if I didn't tell all I knew. I wondered dreamily when the test would come, and wondering, I fell asleep. I was awakened by a rough shake, and was told to get up and follow my guard. I did so, and at the hatch three others joined us. One marched in front, one on each side and one behind. I was not going to have much chance to escape! We marched right down into the ship then, at last an iron bound oaken door was opened, and we all entered. Thumbscrews, boots, racks, all the implements of torture were there, and I shivered a little as I gazed at them. My guard opened another door carefully and slowly, and I looked in. I jumped back in alarm for fully twenty venomous snakes of different kinds writhed and fought on the stone floor. Around the walls were fastened strong chains and the meaning of this chamber of horrors became apparent. They were for the sport of the "Serpent.” “You see what is awiting for you,” said one of my guards, grinning evilly. I did not reply but began whistling airily and by great good luck I whistled a tune I had once heard a snake charmer play in India. Before my guards realized what was happening, a huge hooded cobra began slowly to rear himself up and sway from side to side until it slid slowly over the floor towards me. Desperately I did all I could remember of the snake charmer’s tricks, and in a few moments the great tail was twined round my body, and the huge ugly head was still lying on my hand. An exclamation from one of the pirates galvanized me to action. I dashed to the door of the torture chamber and stood there. The pirates gasped in alarm and took a few steps forward. Up went the cobra’s head, it hissed alarminglv and its forked tongue shot in and out. I began my tune again, and as the pirates stood

petrified watching me, more of the snakes were coming out of the door behind them. Hiss-ss-ss! A huge boa-constrictor raised himself on his tail, and to a man the pirates spun round. It was my chance! In a second I was outside the door, grabbing the key from the inside as I went, and as the lock shot into the bolt, I heard muffled screams from inside! My plans were formed, however, and I cautiously crept up the hatchway, the cobra’s head still resting in my hand. Right to the bridge I crept, unmolested, and mounted it. The captain was standing there, peering away over the horizon. “Ship ahoy,” yelled the look-out, "On the port bow!” The captain shifted a little, and I was directly behind him. “Captain of the Serpent,” I said, and he spun round, a look of rage and hatred on his face. “You will kindly steer in the direction of the Vindictive, which, I presume, is the ship at present just in sight.” "Curse you,” he cried, raising his pistol, but I brought the cobra into sight, and as he saw the hooded head and staring eyes, he jum|X?d back terrified. “Help,” he cried. There was a pounding of feet, and several of the crew came rushing to the bridge. The sight of the cobra, however, held them at bay, though a few raised their pistols. But I warned the captain, who was directly in front of me, that a move would be the sign for the cobra to strike, so no pistols were fired. A long parley resulted, many arguments and heated words being produced, but apparently not one could come to a satisfactory ending. “Boom!” t A shell skipped over the water, and with a crash it struck the stern, sending bits of wood and iron flying. The Vindictive had crept up unseen, and had found the range! There was a movement of the crew. “Move,” I cried hastily, “and your captain dies!” But the crew were desperate. There was a rush up the bridge and I was borne down. I felt the cobra free himself, heard the screams of those ■whom he had bitten, and the curses of all. The yelling crowd rushed over me as I lay and shielded myself as best I could. There came a welcome crash, I heard the clang of boarding irons, and knew that the crew of the Vindictive were boarding. The pirates, taken by surprise, made little resistance. A few guns boomed, I heard the clash of knives and cutlasses, and then the captain of the Serpent rushed up the bridge, and without seeing me, struck a match and lit a fuse. In a moment I sprang up. “Back, back,” I cried wildly. “The ship is going to be blown up!” A scurry of feet betokened that my warning had been heard, and I turned round just in time to see the pirate captain springing towards me. He bowled over to a bunched left and lay still. I sprang down and tore off the veil and Jack Lancaster’s face gazed into mine. But this was no time for reflections and I began to pull the inert body off the bridge. Too late! I felt myself rising ever upwards, then I twisted round and fell. Would I never stop. Faster, faster—the sea rose towards me with a rush and I knew no more. *-• » * When I awoke I was quite collected, though- my head buzzed a little, I must admit. I lay there ruminating. Had I been asleep, and for how long ? Then everything came back as I heard Dick Lawson’s voice. “Well, Peter,” he said, smiling, “Still alive and kicking.”

I smiled slightly. “We’ve cleaned up the Serpent,” Dick informed me. “You are the onlj' one to escape, but it’s rather a pity that .Jack Lancaster was killed. By the way, who captured you two?” “The Serpent captured me. As for Jack Lancaster he was the captain of the Serpent 1” “Rot,” was Dick's retort, but he changed his mind when 1 told him how Jack Lancaster had “ran with the hares and hunted with the hounds.” So that's how the “Serpent” was ended with. —Cousin Peter Ferguson (15) Underwood. THE PAPER BOY. “Paper, Sir, paper? All the news for two pence, paper sir?” A little voice rang out down the crowded street, and many a pitying eye was cast on the ragged little boy who was selling papers at a street corner; and, oh my! What looks of sympathy were bestowed upon the poor boy, clad in almost nothing but rags, lie was hatless, and his feet knew no protection. It was Christmas Eve and people hurried here and there, hither and thither, in and out of cake shops, some carying great parcels under their arms, some holding baskets containing toys and Christmas presents, while others held by the hand, little children, who were looking and admiring the wonders of a Christmas Eve; but each and everyone regarded with awe-stricken sympathy the small figure of the shivering ragged boy, with his voice which cried to anyone who would listen, “Paper sir, paper?”

But Tom (for that was the boy’s name) knew no Christmas. In all his life he had never known what a Christmas was. He wondered why Santa never paid a visit to their homestead, “a singularly ugly attic room,” might be a more suitable name for his dwellings. “I suppose,” thought Tom, “Santa doesn't like coming down dirty chimneys like ours. Anyway it can’t be helped, for Mumsy has not enough money or time to clean it. I suppose Santa just comes to those who have clean chimneys.” Occasionally someone bought a paper so as to assist the [>oor boy with his meagre savings, with which he bought his supper, and took some fish and bread home to his mother and brothers. It began to snow now, and Tom proceeded to shiver even more than before; but, determined to obtain more money for his mother, his shrill voice still rang out through the cold night air, "Paper Sir, paper, all the news for two pence, paper Sir?" And now let us take a look at his home where his mother and brothers wait for him to bring their supper. * * * * First of all open the cracked glass door and take a peep at the surroundings. The first thing that we notice is a rather scratched looking table in the centre of the room, while two broken chairs and a shabby sideboard comprise the furniture in this room. Sitting round the dean fireplace with half burnt cinders in it, are the mother and Tom’s brothers. Tom’s mother has grey hair, and a care-worn but beautiful face, with kind, blue eyes; and she looks very thin and tired. Tom’s brothers both resemble him, and have the same kind look as that of their mother. Their clothes look shabby, and they seem very cold. While we are regarding them, their mother speaks. “Well, dears, Tom is very late to-night. I do hope nothing has happened to him, for it is to dear Tom that we owe our lives. Perhaps he has an extra large quan tity to sell to-night.” The two boys smiled a beautiful smile, and the elder boy said, “Oh you have no need to worry, Mumsy, Tom will be safe, and when I become a little older, I shall carry on Tom’s work, and so earn money’ for my dear Mumsy. You mark my words!” Let us here close the cracked glass door again very quietly, lest we should disturb the brave happiness which invades the miserable surroundings. “Paper Sir? paper? two pence paper Sir?” Still the little voice rang out in the cold air and still the people pushed by. Tom’s bundle had decreased considerably and he stood with two remaining in his hands; when there was a scream from a well-dressed woman passer-by. Tom’s intelligence told him to look round quickly, and there, in the middle of the road was a little girl about eight or nine years of age. Motors whizzed here and there along the street, and bicycles also tried to get through the busy’ thoroughfare. Tom hesitated a moment .’.... he could not bear to see the girl standing out there in the busy street . . . . • there was a car approaching could he reach her in time? Clenching his teeth, and shutting his eyes, Tom ran straight for the child. His head was dizzy with excitement and anxiety, but he was determined to save her. He put his two hands in front of him, felt her dress, and caught her up in his arms. Bidding her to "hang on to him tightly, he raced back to the footpath and safety. The car rumbled past the place where, two seconds ago, the little girl had stood, panic stricken with fear, but now I ..... . she was safe. I Tom was just turning to go to his papers [ again when a quivering hand caught his I strong little arm. “Boy, however can I thank you,” a voice said, “My little girl, my only child; however can I thank you. She went over to the other side of the road for a message, and, on returning, she evidently became fixed to the ground with fear. My poor little Emily. My boy, however can I thank you?” “Oh, that wasn’t anything,” said Tom hanging his head, “nothing at all. Very’ pleased to do it Madam. Hope the pretty little girl is not at all hurt. Well, now, I must be getting home. Mumsy will be wondering what is the matter. Goodbye Madam.” “Oh no, my boy, that would never do, after you have saved little Emily’s life. Come, we will go home with you, and see your mother.” So they all went to the meagre surroundings in the little attic-room. Emily’s mother was so sympathetic at the sight of such a pitiful house that she at once started to arrange for improvements and to let Tom and his brothers have their stockings filled. It was duly arranged that Tom, his mother and brothers were to live at Emily’s home with her mother, and soon Tom was given a very good position in a large office in the city, while his brothers both -worked as delivery’ boys. * * Ten years have now passed, and the contented family live in a delightful bungalow. Tom is now a big clever man of twenty-two

years, while Emily is eighteen years of age, and you can guess, can’t you? Tom and Emily are engaged to be married. Often when on their happy wanderings their minds reflect back to that night in their childhood days when Tom saved Emily’s life. He often thinks how he used to call to the passers-by . Paper Sir? two pence, paper Sir?”—sad in ono way because of the miserable house he lived in, but happy in another because, in selling papers, he had found his lovely partner. _ —Cousin Jean Nichol (13) 166 Clyde Street, Invercargill. DREAMS. Last night I lay for several hours on a sleepless pillow. My opportunity’ to sleep, seemed to have slipped by. But what cared I, when I was entertained by music coming from the next, door neighbour’s! Sweet strains, yet sometimes harsh strains, echoed and re-echoed as I lay’ thinking. The world was young and sweet to me, and I was the happiest person on earth! How could that baby at the corner house be crying, when there was nothing to cry about; and while my thoughts pondered I thus, I soon found myself in dreamland. Not that dreamland that is covered with ice-cream rivers, and chocolate trees, and cocoanut houses, (I hadn’t had anything sweet to eat at tea time), but I was lining in a perfect world! There, there was no poverty, no sorrow, no bitterness, no gambling, no stealing, no drunkenness, and no wickedness. I woke up. Alas! it was but a dream. —Cousin Molly Lorraine Fell (15) 3 Rugby Street, Invercargill. A VISIT TO THE DENTIST.

One night at the pictures, I ate too many chocolates without thinking of my beloved teeth. In bed that night 1 was awakened with twinges of toothache and sleep was impossible. In the morning, as the pain was still very acute, I told mother who said, "You must go to the dentist.” “Let me wait, it may be better soon, but if it isn’t, I shall go to-morrow, perhaps,” I said. “You will be sorry if you wait, but please yourself,” said mother. Not taking any notice of mother's remarks, I went away to suck cloves, which unfortunately did not relieve the pain. All that night I was in agony but told no one. The next morning I very unwillingly went to the dentist. Mother had made an appointment for me, so I had to go. Very slowly I opened the outside door and walked up the stairs which seemed to creak when my feet touched them. In a few minutes I was ringing the bell and the nurse told me to sit in the waiting room. I picked up a book, but could not fix my attention on it. In the room on the left hand side, I heard a man saying “It won’t hurt, it won't hurt, sonny,” then I heard a piercing scream. “Did it hurt?” asked the dentist. “Oh no,” said the little boy, “but I thought it was going to.” “Would you like to keep your tooth, asked the dentist. “Yes, I will put it under the mat and the fairies will give me a penny,” said the proud boy. The door opened and the little boy ran happily down the stairs. In the room on the right hand side the only noise was the “burr” of the drill, but it made me feel sick. Before five minutes had passed, the noise of the drdl stopped and I heard the patient walk away. “Oh, now it must be my turn,” I moaned to myself. The nurse took me into the surgery and the smell of the disinfectants and dentistry smells made me quake in my shoes. Trendyling, I stepped into the chair and nerved myself for the ordeal. After a few proddings and pokings the dentist informed me that I had a cavity to be filled. For a few minutes, he went out of the room, but came back with something in his hand. I opened my mouth with a sigh and the “something,” which was cocaine was put into my gum. There was just a little prickly sensation then a nasty taste. Soon, my gum stiffened, then the dentist started boring, boring. “Oh, what a horrid feeling this has,” I said to myself. It seemed that he was never going to stop, but he did. The nurse was called in to make a mixture with which to fill my tooth. Very soon there was no hole at all. “Now, don’t bite on that for a while,” said the dentist, as he lowered the chair. Then I was free to go home feling glad that that was over for a time. —Cousin June Mitchel (15), Enwood. AN OLD-TIME DRAMA. Once upon a time there lived a bad, bold villian of the basest type, known as Baron Blackheart. One day this bad man was striding up and down outside his castle, looking fiercely around him. “The plot is set” he grumbled through his beard, "but where is the golden-haired hero. Here I have spent days organizing beauty competitions, till I found a damsel, whom any hero would be glad to rescue, yet no hero comes, forsooth!” Then a strange thing happened to his countenance, a beam, like a flash of sunlight on a pot of tar, played amongst his whiskers. An idea had struck Baron Blackheart. “I know” he roared, “I’ll advertise for a hero to rescue the damsel from my terrible grasp. Aha! gadzooks! a right merry idea.” The Scene changes. Sir Baby Face sat dawdling over his breakfast as he read his morning’s paper. Suddenly he set down his cup with a bang on a scone which lay on his plate. Luckily the scone sustained no injury though the cup was broken. “Odds bodkins!” ejaculated Sir Baby Face, what’s this? Wanted:—A brand new hero, in good condition, to rescue a damsel in distress from Baron Blackheart’s deepest dungeon.” “Why this job was made for me,” he exclaimed. Jumping up he seized his sword, mace, spear, and two-handled battle axe, dashed into the courtyard, leapt to the seat of his (t)rusty steed (an ancient Ford car) and rattled off. Two days later after numerous stops to allow his steaming engine to cool, he arrived at the villian’s castle, two hours ahead of a crowd of other heroes, also hastening to rescue the fair maid. “Hey! knavish one” yodelled Baby Face, “come put and joust with me.” For answer the treacherous Baron Blackheart, poured a cauldron of hot soup over the. luckless Sir Baby Face. Enraged at this dastardly trick, Sir Baby Face selected a carrot from the soup and at the sneering face of the Baron as he hung gloatingly over the battlements.

Taken unawares the Baron over-balanced and fell, landing at the feet of the astonish ed hero. Drawing his sword Sir Baby Face was about to deal the death blow, when the Baron gasped out. “Stop! you. may have the maid, I’m tired of capturing fair damsels. This one says she >*nts to marry me. It appears that she always did like cavemen, and I happen, unluckily, to be both a villian and a caveman. She has already started cleaning out the dungeons, and she has used the gallows for clothes posts. Last 1 night she even complained about me spilling cigar ash on the carpet. If she stays much longer she’ll stop me putting my feet on the mantel-piece, so take her at once, I’m giving up my bad ways and starting a chicken-farm. Disguising his astonishment like the hero he was, Sir Baby Face strode into the castle, seized the fair maid, just as she was about to darn the villain’s socks, and slinging her over the bonnet of his Ford rode madly towards his ancestral tower. As usual they were married, and I suppose they lived happily ever afterwards. —Cousin Graham Witt (14), 159 Lindisfarne Road, Invercargill. A STORM. The sky was overcast and the afternoon had been warm. Soon the sun became obscured and dark clouds were seen floating round the sky. By nightfall the rain was coming down in torrents. It began to thunder and there were terrific flashes of lightning. The little sheep had to be shifted off the island run for fear of being drowned and the bridges were in dire danger. A howling wind arose and the gale increased in fury. How thankful everybody was when it was back to normal again.