Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 29, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 April 1936 — Page 21

APRIL 14,1936

Today's Short Story THE SAIL BOAT By Henderson Oxford

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THE sailboat was the boy’s very own. Mama said so. Mama had Insisted that John build it all himself—with Capt. Henry’s help. At first John had been sure he couldn’t do it, but now it was done, he felt more confident. In his boat, the boy could escape from his loving family. He liked to Slid* through the blue quiet where his two sisters couldn't boss him or make him feel small with older ulster scorn. On the water, his father’s booming voice couldn’t startle him with orders to help wash the car or return serves for his father’s tennis practice. With the rudder in his hand, he didn’t have to listen to long, heart-to-heart talks from Mama, urging him to have more pluck. Os course, Mama was “oke.” The sailboat was her idea. He heard her tell his father that if John had something all his own, it would give him more spirit. His father was splendid, too, but he had a way of always being right. In his sailboat, the boy could make mistakes without hearing about them afterward. This morning was a washout. Os course, he shouldn’t have made such a mess in the parlor, taking apart the radio. At first, he had only meant to investigate a tube or two. He had been whistling in a happy world of wires and bolts and screws when his sister Jenny’s shrill voice startled him. “Wait till father catches you!’’ she rejoiced. n tt tt HIS whistling stopped. He hurriedly tried to assemble the set again. Os course, as Mama said, he shouldn’t have left the radio with half its insides out. He agreed with Mama that a surgeon operating on a patient would never do such a thing. He tried to replace the parts unhl his father called him away to help change a tire by holding the nuts and wrench. Mama looked hurt to think he'd want to shove the blame on Daddy when Daddy was so good and kind to him. Os course, it wasn’t his father’s fault that the Garden Club's president chose that moment to call and be entertained in a parlor strewn with radio. John knew he shouldn’t hang his head and sniffle when his father came roaring in. Mama always told him it only made Daddy roar louder because he loved John so much. “Such a baby!” his sister, Alvina, jeered. “You’d think he was three instead of 12,” Jenny put in. If he could have slapped each of them hard, he would have felt better. But Mama said a manly boy never hit a woman or girl. He glared murderously at his sister and then tore out on the porch, sobbing. He could hear his father blaming Mama for making such a mollycoddle of her son . . . and Mama’s apologetic voice pacifying him. m tt m AS he fought sobs on the steps, he caught a glimpse of his boat in the harbor below. The tears dried on his cheeks. It would be fun to go for a sail. With a skipper’s eye, he considered the horizon. There was a fine stiff breeze blowing . . . but that cloud didn’t look so good for boats. Captain Henry said that kind of a cloud meant a doubleheader. Sailing in his boat just then would have made him happier than winning the Junior Tennis Tournament, but he wasn’t going to risk a wreck. At least he could be sure his boat was tied safely. A few minutes later he was whistling happily in his anchored boat, inventing a sailor’s knot that would defy a hurricane. It was a kind of game, racing to see whether he or the storm would get possession of his boat. “John!” His father, of course. The boy crouched down in the bottom of his skiff. Perhaps if he kept quiet, they would pass by without seeing him. Footsteps crunched nearer. “Why John, why didn't you answer baddy?” Mama reproached him. a a a THE faces of Mama and his father were looking down at him like a double-headed god, catching him in sin. He hung his head. The new- sailor’s knot didn’t make him happy any more. Probably it wouldn’t have been any good anyhow. “Get the sail, John," his father commanded. “Mama and I are go.’ng for a ride.” “But there’s a storm coming,’’ the boy objected. “Nonsense, It will pass over," his father dismissed the cloud with a glance. “Give us a good breeze.” “But Captain Henry said . . the boy protested. “No whining! Do as I tell you!" Unhappily, the boy scrambled out to obey. His feet might have been anchored, he dragged them so slowly to the locker room. There was a storm coming. He knew it! If the boat was hit . . . But it was no use, no earthly use arguing. Reluctantly he hauled the sail out and flung it before his father. “Why John! It isn’t like you to be no contrary,” Mama made her eyes wide and sorrowful. “Hey, give us a hand with that aail," hi* father called. tt a m had the boy put up the

then excitedly contradicted them. At last, the boat was ready. Mama and his father climbed in joyfully. The boy flung the rope out to them. They waved to him gaily as the boat leaped to the waves. The boy didn’t wave back to them. It would serve them right if they both were drowned! A mutter of thunder sent bathers scuttling homeward. Alone on the dock, the boy watched, his breath catching as big waves played handball with the boat. If his father would only reef the sail a little. In the boat he might have felt exultant with them. Here on land he was in an agony of helplessness. He wanted to call Capt. Henry, but he stood, rooted. A flash of lightning terrified him, but he dared not leave now. There! At last his father was swinging the boat around for home.. Before it happened, the boy knew what was coming. He tried to scream and couldn’t. A great wave caught the boat broadside! The boy shut his eyes. The thunder howled triumphantly. tt n n “IVyfAMA . . . Daddy . . . out there IVJL . . . capsized,” the boy, dranched and panting, burst into Capt. Henry’s boathouse at the far end of the dock. Capt. Henry didn’t stop to ask questions. Close at his heels, the boy plunged into the rain after him. At the ladder Capt. Henry waved him back. Obediently, the boy hung over the w T et dock above. Would Capt. Henry ever get his engine started? John wrung his hands helplessly. He forgot his rage against his father. He forgot his fear of lightning. His teeth chattered every time the overturned boat with those two clutching figures disappeared in the trough of a wave. “Hurry! Hurry!" he pleaded, though the captain couldn’t possibly hear him against the wind. Frantically, the boy ran along the dock ahead of the motor boat. As he turned out on the pier, a wave lashed at him. The wind almost hurled him off his feet. But he fought his way, as if he were racing to the rescue, too. Capt. Henry was having a tough battle. What if he couldn’t reach them? The boy ran faster as if his desperate effort could give the motor boat more power. At the end of the pier, huge hurling waves stopped him. In the crashing downpour, he stood, shivering uselessly. “Mummy, Daddy . . . Mummy, Daddy,” he prayed as the motor boat beat its way past him toward the capsized boat. tt tt tt WHEN at last Capt. Henry pulled Mama and Daddy to safety, his legs were shaking and he felt dully ashamed of the sissy tears on his cheeks. Unwilling to be caught blubbering, he plodded back to the house and flung himself, trembling, on a secluded couch in the far corner of the living room. By and by the excited voices of Mama and his father passed through the hall. He could hear them upstairs, dramatically telling his sisters of their adventure, ordering themselves hot drinks and dry clothes. They were so exultant, he felt resentful. He wondered if his boat had been rescued. Well, he wasn’t going to ask them. “We might have been swept out to sea!” Mama thrilled to the glorious danger. “If I hadn’t shouted to Captain Henry . • .” His father explained to the girls how lucky they were to have a father with such presence of mind. Warmed by the hot drinks and dry clothes and exurberant at their narrow escape, they came downstairs and noticed that John was still sulking. “I’m surprised at you, John,” Mama grieved. On the couch the boy shivered in the wet clothes Mama had not yet noticed, and said nothing. “Didn't you w’ant Daddy and Mama to have that wonderful experience?” she coaxed in the sugary tones of the Make Believe Lady on the radio. “Aw ” the boy’s rautter trailed off into a defeated whine. He hid a gulping sob in the pillow. It didn’t matter if his bo?’ wasn't res ,ued. After all . . .iJ matter wnat Mama said ... it didn’t belong to him. THE END. DR. WINTBRS CANDIDATE F °R I. U. TRUSTEESHIP Local Physician Was Star Athlete at Bloomington School. Dr. Matthew Winters. Indianapolis physician, has entered the race for alumni trustee of Indiana University. Dr. Winters received his A. B. degree in 1915 and an M. A. degree in 1917 from Indiana. A member of I. u. football and baseball teams. Dr. Winters received the conference medal for scholarship and athletics in 1915. A graduate of Rush Medical College. Chicago, in 1921. Dr. Winters is state chairman of the American Academy of Pediatricians, secretarytreasurer of the State Pediatric Society, a member of the medical council of the Indianapolis Medical Society and professor of pediatrics, I. fJ. medical school. ChurM* ° f ***** Prefi “

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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THE TARZAN TWINS

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While the Tarzan Twins both failed miserably in their efforts to dispatch deadly arrows at the on-rushing cannibal band, Ukundo wfis more adept. The pygmy drew the shaft far back, and when he let it fly it embedded itself in the breast of a shouting Bagalla.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Then the cannibals halted. They danced fiercely and shouted insults at the four. “Why don’t they shoot at us?” asked Dick. “They want to take us alive,” said Bulala. “Very soon,” prophesied Ukundo; “they charge from all around. W© kill some, but they take us!”

With Major Hoople

OUT OUR WAY

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The pygmy’s prediction, however, did not daunt the brave boys. Instead, Dick gave vent to an inspiring battle cry: “Remember Tarzan!” Doc flung away his ineffective bow and stood ready with his spear. “I never did like an old bow and arrow anyway,” he said.

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Nor were the savages daunted by the pitiful preparations of the resisters. With wild shrieks they closed in. “Here they come!” exclaimed Dick; “good-by, Doc.” “Good-by. Dick," his cousin replied; “don’t let them take you alive.” “Poor mother!’ Dick breathed.

COMIC PAG!

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crana

—By Hamlin

—By Martin