Evening Star Newspaper, September 4, 1921, Page 42

THE PASSENGER WHOM NO ONE SAW N those days when the limer crossed the Invisible boundary dividing very-far-east from that which is neither west nor east. but Oceania, every one was happy. Always, in this happy, golden girdle of the earth, seas were warm, and sky and water jewsl-colored; islands Were always green and fresh, flowers grew on coral beaches day in and day out forever. On the ship the decks were dark- ened by cool awnings: people lay in long, cane chairs, reading, smoking, calling the black boys to bring iced drinks, and watching the matchless panorama of the midtropic world slide by. Sometimes they went for days without a sight of land; again. group after group of fairy lslets came and stayed and passed beyond the rail; smoking volcanoes reared their dragon-heads; canoes with crab- claw sails and wild brown sallors clad in a scarlet walst-cloth and a knife went flying by upon the barest surface of the sea. The passengers were very content to take life easy. And they had crossed the line into Oceania. and it ‘was now the Land-of-Lots-of-Time, forever and evermore. . . . Yes, there would be a jetty and a port Some day. even customs' officers — tickets—trains. They knew these things, but they did not believe them. So the passengers on the liner were very happy. and said so. They told each other that they had never had a voyage like it—not a thing wrong from the sixties to the equator; no- body quarrelling;: no bad weather, even where it was to be expected; a perfect ship, and all the marvels of all the world widening out before her as she went on. They were seven days out from the last port when Fortune turned and smote them. Agnes took ill with pneumonia. Agnes was aged sixteen, a girl like a lily—if one can imagine a lily pos- sessed of a strong sense of humor, and a taste for deck sports. HEN il no one * % k% V she became thought that it was very much Just at first. All the young people were fond of sitting out upon the fore- castle head after dark, to enjoy the cool river of wind that pounded over the ship’s bow; colds had been caught in that way; other things besides colds, without doubt, for these even- ing winds were best enjoyed, and most sought after, in pairs. Agnes and an American boy, of not much more than her own age, had been especially fond of sitting out there after dinner, the girl in evening dress. displaying. her thin but pretty neck and shoulders. It was not considered dangesous in those latitudes; at least, it had mnot been, till now. When Agnes took ill the forecastle-head was deserted—to the entire satisfaction of the officers, who had long maintained that pas- sengers were better in their own part of the ship—and wraps that had lain untouched in cebin trunks since the ‘ Mediterranear came suddenly forth again. In cabin 21, occupied by the girl alone (she was traveling with her father), the stewardese had hard work to keep her little patient as quiet as the nature of the iliness de- manded. All day long steps passed up and down, and voices inquired at the door. The cold Storage was.ran- sacked for fruit; eau-de-Cologne de- scended in a deiuge. Agnes was 50 young_and childish, and such a uni- ‘versal favorite, that nobody minded her friends, men and women, coming in from time to thme. It: happened that there were: extremely few wom- <n on the boat, and thut two of them, Jjust at this time, went down with some small tropical ailment, and were confined to their cabins; however, the two others, Mrs. Arthurs and Mra. Waite, also at least a dozen Of the man passengers, kept coming in and out, until the stewardess put down her foot, and declared they were making the young lady worse, and must stay away. . ‘Whether the visitors were the cause or not, the girl did grow worse, with terrible rapidity. The stewardess, who had traveled longer and more widely than any one else upon the ship, said she had never seen a case of pneu- monia as bad. es’ father was half out of his mind; the little girl suffered terribly, and nothing could be done. Like too many tropical steamers, they had no doctor on board. He was convinced that her life could be saved if only medical aid were obtainable, and he counted the hours and the miles, over and over again, to the nearest port. Port Tor- res was the name of the place; chlef and, one might say, only town of the great island of New Gaboon. There was a government medical officer there of sorts and a hospital of sorts. It was evening before they made New Gaboon; already the giant peaks of that strange, unknown island were lifting through the blood-colored sun- set sky, when the captain came down from the bridge and knocked at the door of cabin 21. The stewardess an- swered through the lattice. sir, I'll come ont and speak to_yo “T'll come in; I want to see her.” 'No, sir.”” The stewardess’ voice was firm. “T'1l come to you on the after deck directly.” Captains do not usually take orders from stewardesses; but the command- er of the ship turned away at once, and went on deck. whistling softly and unpleasantly as he did so. It was very quiet there; all the passengers were at dinner in the grand saloon. amidships. The stewardess came out in a min- ute—a tall, lean woman, with dark eyes and graying hair, and a qulet, secretive face. Yet there was some- thing likable in it, too. “Well?" said the captain, looking straight at her with hi , Sea- blue eyes. “She’s going fast, sir,” sald the ‘woman. “Last till we get in?" *“I think so, sir.” * ¥ x ¥ ¢-yOU know, it may be nothing— nothing at all. Can’t pronounce ‘without the doctor. “Yes, sir,”” her manner was respect- ful. “But—that last port was full of it. They were keeping it qulet, sir. I heard after we'd sailed.” “What about my having a look?" “We can't afford to have you ma a contact, with the crew you've got." She had momentarily dropped the sir, but neither noticed it. There was something abroad that night, that made little of ship rank. z “I ought to, damn it,” sald the cap- tain, angrily pulling bis beard. “Sir, those Malays——"" *All right, all right. Let me look at mer across the alley-way; and keep your tongue between your teeth.” “I'l] keep it; it won't be for long, probably,” said the woman. “Why, you haven't—"" “Oh, no, But if it is, I shall ‘You know the percentage of contacts.” "My God, you're a brave woman,” d the sailor, looking at her calm, ‘worn face. ‘T've nothing to leave behind,” she sald, following to the cabin-door. which she opened wide. The captain stood at the other side of the passage. | Arth looking at Agnes' flushed, thin face lying on the pillow. “If T hadn’t such a set of confound- ed ninnyhammers as officers——" he said,, impatiéntly. “But if the Malays take charge, there’ll be the devil to fl‘,' and no pitch hot. And they will, TSI P A VIVID TALE OF TROPIC SEAS By BEATRICE GRIMSHAW Illustrated by C. D. Batchelor “IF YOU GET OUT OF THIS, AND I GET OUT OF IT, I'LL MAKE SOMETHING OF YOU, A SAILOR'S WIFE,” HE SAID. D, C, =1 [available here, The wretched half- caste doctor had been afrald to land on the island all through; he came only once, lcmmlni at launch that his duty to the town wouls Inol permit him to run the risk of car- Tyl infection; asked news of the num| cases, slung some carbolic re, and ‘“chunked’ l'“ filln as ;speedily as his engineer coul e him. town that would wlllll.lsly have drowned them all, they work: their way un- helped. The liner was gone; she could not walt after pratique was given, knowing that it might be many weeks dead. Another boat came in, but did not land a passenger; &s s0On a8 & launch came out from shore and spoke with all speed and steamed out within with all speed, and stamed out Wl“"g: island followed her with aching eyes. Each one of them was convinced that he was not going to take the Dhgu-. 1t only he could get away. Oh, to be out on that happy steamer—out, and away, Mrs. Arthurs would not give In at first to the truth; the trouble was slow in taking hold of her, and for a day or two she kept about, shivering, breathing hard, and trying her plucky any theory of her own about the power of the mind over the body or not one cannot say. She never told what she thoughit; there was not time. On the second afternoon she dropped fainti a perfectly 'calm expression of face, stepped forward in her neat blue print and white apron to lift her up and help her away. * % * % no one recognized. The steward- ess turned round. It was Mrs. Walte, still wearing the eighteenth century hair-dress, and with the “aristocrat™ fon as if frozen on her face. am not canallle. For myself I have no fear. 1 speak for these others. Why, then, should they have to die? Stew- ardess—look here, stewardes: denly changing her manner. “I say, who goes has to kill some one else. .. . ‘Why do you go with her? She's half insensible. She could very well do alone. Give her a tin of water, and them from hii 1So, all alone, within sight of & terrified before all the contacts were free, or the half-hour.” The prisoners on and safe! best to fight it off. Whether she had on the sand, and the stewardess, wit ¢ QTOP!” cried a hoarse voice that —I am not afraid,” she said. “I it's an awful shame that every one stay away. Why should you die?” AN N N ~ N —_ N N /& “I don’t understand you, Mrs. Vi /.,/7 Waite,” said the stewardess, coolly. "9 7, She was supporting Mrs. Arthurs N RN now—supporting brushwood house. “Well, I'll make you!" screamed the other, beyond all control. “You'll be the next, and I shall have to nurse you—I shall have to die!” “I guess not,” said the American lad. “I'll tend to the lady myself. There lsn't any Mrs. Grundy on a plague island. Stewardess, you needn’t nurse that lady there. anyhow. I'll do it. T guess we cant spare ou ladies, no any more of them, that i They all spoke of Mrs. Arthurs as dead: the hundred per cent toll of the fatal disease was known to every one. And indeed the unseen passenger's last victlm scarce seemed to know what was going on about her. It must not be held against the stew- ardess that she hesitated. The scene in the liner alley-wa. came rushing through her mind, as scenes and faces pass before the eyes of the drowning. - “I've no one to leave behind me. - . “If we get out of this, I'll make a sailor’s wife of you. .. ." Had she hind—now? ther toward the NN UL -, TN "/ |indeed no one to leave b The sea-blue eyes of the “only man on the s " looked at her out of the shadown that lay upon the brushwood house. Other visions rose, passed and faded, and left her senses clear once mor r to the burning sand, the do no good. She’s unconscious. Don't make a contact of the only real man on the ship, sir.” Again the presence that was aboard stood between them. and waved away the bar of rank—ship rank, that is more rigid than anything ashore. The stewardess spoke as woman to man. The captain looked the stewardess straight in the eyes. 5 ¥ “If you get out of this, and I get out of it, I'll make something of you, and that will be a sailor's wife,” he | ! i | “Yes, sir,” said the stewardess. “The passengers are coming out from din- ner, sir.” Out upon the flaming blue of Port Torres harbor, the liner lay—far out, a mile from shore. She would lle there for a week, and then she would' steam on (as if nothing had happened on board)for her next port of call. Sh was in the strictest of quarantin a cance was allowed to run within a hundred yards of her tall, gray sides, not any boat from the town must ap- proach her—except the doctor’s, which was free to come. but did not make use of the freedom. Dr. Coster, the man with the two beautiful black eyes, and the marvelous white teeth, and the musical, clipped accent—Dr. Coster had said it wasn't necessary. The captain could signal for him if he was wanted. And he was very busy at present on shore. He was; he had to take his own temperature every hour, and look at himself in the glass every time he was left alone. And he had to do a good deal of Bible-reading— Dr. Coster, once Da Coster, had been brought up a mission school in India, and W religious, especially since the day before yesterday. when he had examined a dying little girl, looked at a bead of saliva in his mi- croscope, and pitched the slide and the instrument into the sea. * ¥ ¥ % E had hardly nerve to give the necessary directions, but he gave them, saw the boat start from the side of the ship, saw a thin, canvas parcel plunge from the rail (the stew- ardess, with & perfectly calm counte- nance, and no help from any one, had lashed little Agnes up in a plece of weighted sail-cloth the moment the breath was out of her body), and then 1 made for the township himself in his | p) launch, sweating with terror. Half-| skinned with disinfectants, he kept to) his_house till next day, alternately reading up tropic diseases and saying his prayers. In a week, his piety re- laxed; in ten days, it had faded like a hibiscus bloom plucked from the stalk. Ten days was more than enough. And his duty to the township (he was very certain) absolutely de-| manded that he should expose himself to no more actual risk. Of the liner there Is little more to say. She lay for the prescribed time, making no signals to the shore and telling no tales. What went on on board, when the three hundred and eighty colored fourth-class passen- gers realized that they were shut up on a plague ship with sixty or sev- enty whites, death grinning in their faces, and land and safety (so they thought) just a mile of blue water away, s not in this-story. But it was well for the whites. and for the ship and for the township of Port Torres, that the captain was not, after all, among the “contacts.” The boat that went away from the side was stéered straight for an nd that lay two or three miles out ship’ 1sla; to sea; a low, long island, not ten feet above high water at any point: a glaring barren island of sand and stunted palms, with two ‘weatherboard one-room ho ing on the highest point. It ;nnrnmu 1 used heretofore by rt Torres for the fsolation of dys- tery among the uatives, and ne till now occupied by whites. It was a strange boatload that gl over the coral gardens of the inner reef, and through Jade-blue passage into the green lagoon water. The boat was badly rowed: thers were no sallors in it, only a few, man passengers, Mrs. ‘Waite, the stewardess new, plain, uses stand- as the plague—pneumonic the horror that slays with 100 of victims, and something like 80 oent of those who come into the dis- oo Sent per con- tact with the infection. The black death of the middle ages, which is the bubonic plague of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, is mild compared with the rarer and more terrible pneu- monic disease. There was not one of the passengers in the boat who did not know by this time what they took away with them; did not feel the presence of that other passenger, whom no one saw, as they | slipped away from the liner's side— they, the contacts. and one other . . . All the time, when they had been laughing, flirting, and card playing, and dreaming, on the liner, this passenger had been with them. unseen. He was with them still, and they knew that his hand was raised to strike. But whom, and when, they did_not know. The island was all sand and Wwind and sun; it seemed to be steeped in light and heat. Light flashed from the windy palmz that shook always against the white-hot sky sparked back from the hard, like pandanus leaves. and {clear through the thin tangles of{ }creeper and liana, as if they had been | made of glass. Light beat in one's face from the glaring sand and flash- ed from a brazen sea. There was not a spot of shade on the whole place, save In the hot, verandaless houses, where the party of contacts hastened to carry their belongings and their food. The houses at least were new nd clean, and no one had lived In them: furniture and a few rough cooking utensils in an outhouse. * ¥ % % THEY all sat down to table to- gether that night when the food was ready; the three young men, Arthurs the clergyman and Mrs. Ar- thurs, his wife; Mrs. Walte, the smart society widow; the broken- down, miserable man who was little Agnes’ father. the stew: and the stewardess. They were as cheerful as they could manage to be; they talked of the voyage, and the ports they had seen, and the -wonderful weather, and ‘what typhoons were like; they did their best to hearten up the bereaved father, whom no one could hearten or heip, and nobody sald a single word about pneumonic le, and nobody thought, for one solitary second, of anything else. Ar- thurs, ‘the clergyman, a bright, mid- dle-aged man with the Oxford man- ner, felt, confusedly, that it was all very like the dinners in the Concler- gerie prison during the time of the French revolution, when the aristo- crats under sentence of death made it a point of honor to be frivolously say and to avold all mention of guil- lotines. Afterward, walking up and down on the moonlit sands with his wife and Mrs. Walte, he said some- thing of the kind. Mrs. Waite fast- ened on the idea; she was a woman of poses, and was already smasingly pleased with her own dauntless cour- age in the face of such an awful danger. Later the women went to into one house and the men ln".:lfl:: other, and camped as best could. No one slept much; the l;l‘z tant singing of the reef and neare- rustle of dry palms were constantl; broken by restless turning and tou{ ing and long Ifiq inside the hot, small houses. T the Passenger Whom No One Saw was with them, and every one of them ail feared lest those unseen footsteps should Pause by her or him. Next morning was better. They re- minded themselves that many escaped contagion; each hoped to be one of the They looked at the liner's out the blue, e _tiny res mo lecks. The: 'v.:n lfl‘ :‘n':-; and told each other they lives, Some of the men went for a walk around the island, six miles or so, and turned fimflot wit] ‘l.“ll, but alme gay. 6 women did some sewin and told each other alleged humorou steries, about the funny things they had known cats and dogs do. These made them lau very much, with loud, ehrill laughter. When Mrs. ‘Waite was not laughing, she sat with her mouth open and her chin a little dropped; her eyes had :llh in her head ‘since morning, an un- fortably at .aau, if you spoke to It was n ble that lh.%ld dressed her hair high up, over ‘an im- provised pad, and wore a lace hand- com: her. there were bare necessaries of ! SEPTEMBER 4, 1921—PART 4 sick wom: she sald. “But I'll see her through; it's my duty, u know, and I didn’t take it from s Agnes.’ St ¢ said some of the men, with an air of erelief from responsibility, “she dldn’t take it—she's proof—she'll get through.* The stewardess moved away with Mrs. Arturs to the brushwood house. She did not say good-bye. Mrs. Waite, losing all self-control, flyng herself about and screamed to the stewardess to come back. Nobody took an of her, and she went angrily into the women's house, alone. “&'ll be the next. I won't be the nex e sobbed to herself. And then ille! Canallle! But I will show There were some afterward who id that the horrors of that time d really turned Mrs. brain. And there were others who said that she had never b madder than she always with vanity and love of In the brushwood house, beside the , the stewardess sat upon the sand; there was no furniture In there—nothing but & mass of soft any wes—mad self. dried grass for bedding, and a hurri- cane lantern to use in the long night. A kerosene tin full of water stood in- side the door, for drinking was be; and a cocoanut shell de it. Mrs. Ar- thurs' own cocoanut-shell lay at her head. The stewardess was not going to .lose any chances that she could keep. Had not she got through with the other case? She disinfected her hands; she kept a wad of grass over her mouth and nose when attend- ing to the patient. There was a chance; she must not forget that. To refleve you will escape helps you to it But If she did not escape—what then? Who would insist on caring for her—who would lay down a life to make her last Some one would, she was certain. It would be of no use for her to refuse: the spirit of martyrdom was abroad; the white man's law. that demands care for the sick’and dying at any and every cost, held good., here on the little lonely island of death, far from human help. The hideous chain would be linked on and om, till it closed round the last of all. Sitting_ there on the sandy ground, under the dim, brown roof of the brushwood house, with the half-con- scious woman moaning and raving beside her, the stewardess thought, and saw no end to it all. The day wore on; red rays of sundown shot through ‘the low door. Mrs. Arthurs complained feebly of pain; the stew- ardess lit a fire, and improvised a poultice; propped her up on the bed of grass, raised her when she sank and stifled; held drink to her lips. Moskuitoes tormented them—they had been troublesome all the time on the island. The stewardess fanned them off with a frond of palm. * ¥ % ¥ PBYE-AND-BYE the patient seemed sasier, and the other woman, Mrs. Waite's, to keep away the mos- quito horde more effectively. thought she would go over to the lamp and 1 few hours easier?; the i '| shone out | | | | friom the case the i making a rough paper fan like foolish | Lo SniLe anip his comrades live. ‘The stewardess 11 id down the pa- looking out through nkl opening of . Palm branches waved low and dark against the dim steel of omewhere mot far away the small, bright lights of a steamer. The stewardess looked at them all as & ghost might look from the tomb at a world in which hi share has away. Then sl rose up. and went over to her patient. Ing up his last fow days of life to help| ought,” said Mrs. Waite, doubt- T thought 1 saw some one near a last night. She may have in. One never knows—and fallen there was a bottle of wine missing, [ think.” “Hold your tongue, she devil!” said one of the men. “I belleve you know more than you care to tell.” Mrs, Waite did not enjoy the pro- bationary week that they had still to after ignaling to the doctor -+ . The men were e afterward told her “perfect bears’ Mrs. Arthurs was sinking fast. triend. Especially disliked the “And not too soon, sharp-tongued American youth. When ardess. “l shall e time, but no|the launch came at last to take them more than 1 need.” Bhe took her|off and convey them to the steamer clinical thermometer out, and slipped | outside the reef (not their own liner, it under her own arm. The mercury | which was far away), she drew het marked & hundred-and-one. | skirts away from him as she steppe Next morning she tled the rope to Mra. Arthurs' feet, and the men came and drew her away. and slung her into the tide-race, and the current of the reef passage her out to sea. The stewardess stood on the bare rocks close to the channel, and looked curiously st the depth and force of the sea-river that rushed ;.'hro‘u'[h it. When they called to ask er The day and the evening passed. Night came, with & rushing sea and a flerce, high-tide rip in the channel. The men in the men's house, sitting dull and depressed over their pipes, heard it in the pauses of the languld talk. Mrs. Walite, in the women’ house alone, heard it as she stood at the door, and watched the men for company. Once she thought she saw something—a shadow, a spirit, she could not tell what—slip past in the far dusk, and vanish through the moonless night, somewhere near the roaring channel edge. Her halr crept upon her head—she knew there was no one living upon the island but her- self, the men, and the stewardess busy with disinfectants in the brushwood house. This thing was not of earth, therefore. She could not brave the silence of the house:; she picked up her skirts and ran to the other, beg- ging them to take her in. They did. for, though they despised her out- bre of a day or two before, she was yet, a woman, and, as such, re- tained her sex’'s inalienable claim to care. They made her a bed with the best they had. near the door where ! there was cool air, and she slept till morning. With the early light, the men got up to go down and bathe. and Mrs. ‘Waite returned to her house. On the w_something white upon —a plece of paper., written on with a charred stick. The writing had been well and carefully done, and was legible some way off. “Do not touch thiz" it began. *“Read and throw a match on it Half curious, half terrified, she read: read: “Some one has got to break the chain. We are taking it from each other now: the period of infection is lons 1 iave decided that it is best for me to break it. My temperature w58 high last night, and is very high tonight. 1 feel sick., and am sure that [ am taking it When it is dark read a bit of paper, before it was ut-irnd the tide is high, I will get into terly crumpled. Reading matter was scarce upon the island, and every bit of print had its value. The newspaper was comparatively fresh: she had not read the telegrams it contained, and she found them in- teresting. Anything was welcome, to the tide race. Mrs. Waite need no! | L e been afraid; she is safe. Good- all~ OhL!" said Mrs. Waite. “On!” Her breath seemed to fail her, and #he sat right down on the track—not rear the poper. however—she flung relieve one's mind a little, here in,away from that this dim, windy shed, with the sea and the night-birds crying outside. and the lantern swinging on its nail at_her elbow. i Presently, shz pullcd herself to- ether, rose and locked round to see if any of the men were in sight There was not one. She ran for a Among the telegrams was one from | match, Jit it. flung it on the paper, and the south polar rescue expedition. It told the tale of the men who had i watched till every bit was burned up. * % x % he on board and hissed & word passed him. which was th only word she addressed to fore Bydney separated the part good. *What'd she say to you?' asked one of the men. “Ounlled me & ‘canal nfi‘:’h' —or care,” W l“1‘lflr'-'. :J'-'ne had a _good deal of &hod- ing to do In H!dn.{l. b“.‘""-(ht ady of refinement who had loat g greater part of her clothes through the cruelties of gquarantine regula tions. After & very busy morrpl.ln the Palace Empo:lllm'm::‘ld "Im"»‘ Jones, Brothers, lll-“d i s somewhat tired out, wi y . mfiuln of the unlucky ind her chalr an Taughter with & new pocket handker- chie! mad?" she askod of the e Tll::mltur- and the emporium at_large. & % “Not mad, only married.” answere the glnul burying his face In his andkerchief again. “It is such & T M really can't help It To see you sitting there like & cold fowl in the storage room, snd know all the time that you went and burned that paper and never told and thought the sea 1trelf was going to tell on you— oh, my good lady, It is & Jok Mrs. Waite, with a choke in her throat, tried to draw herself up and asked majestically: “To whom do you suppose you are speaking?’ But she could not find the words. For there, at the captain’s elbow, stood a tall, dark-eyed woman with graying halr, handsomely but quietly dressed. a woman who looked younger and brighter than ever the siewardess had looked, on ship or shore, and vet who was, unmistakably, the Stewardess. “Good God!" was all that Waite could find to say at last. “Don’t_have a fit" said the cap- tain. “They don’t like people to fit expensive resting rooms, where the E-lite go shopping. Let me explai My wife didn't have pneumon: plague at all. She had malaria fever: small wonder. in an ixland full of mosquitoes. But she didn't think Mrs. e sake of the rest of the peo islund. including you, you—: suid the ex-stewardess, warningly. “Well, she didn't kill herself enough, because the tide rip and her clothes floated ber out to sea. and she was picked up Insensible by a steam- er that was just leaving the port—a steamer that had a doctor on board. And they patched ber up. And there she is” “Very Interesting.” sail with a factitious yawn. nice arrangement for people in your class of life. Good morning.” brassy ims, the hooting wind from | been found too late; of the long his- | “Let her go.” said the captain's the sea. and ihe bright watching face | tory of self-sacrificing and bravery [ T'HERE was wondering and talking | wife. as the captain betra ed some of the lad beside her—so young a|left behind in their diaries: of one that morning; afterward dismay, | tendency to follow and “have it out” face! She thought of her graying halr, | Who wrote, planned, considered, to the | 4p o ve and calls, a wild hunt all over | She didn't harm me. Anything I did. of the “years that the locust had eat- | very end of all, with death sitting at | i 1 did myself. And all's over and done. his side as he held the pen: of o,,,llhe tiny island. It ended soon. The|But there's nothing. Juck—nothing “Thank you, sir, i good of you,” | who went out alone into the sno giv- | stewardess was not to be found. that will bring back the dea ~mewnm FVERY CADET AT WEST POINT NOW v Kkerchief tied round it under her chin, eighteenth le. She used the word occasionally, and dropped the final “t." = MADout ¢ o'clock in the afterncon, |BY CAPT. ARTHUR G. DUNCAN, | |our present methods are Inadequate. rs. Arthurs, who was a comfortable, e C. " | |that they have failed. «nd that they motherly woman, full to her plump Qo (13 ASS ATHLETICS™ Started at the will continue to fail to perpetuate & j<hin of simple common senge, o F-all the experiences gath- d Wi sound race unless some drastic step is { , with which she R 3 taken t i d v: jLslisauoCSmithiml chysheptiad f fus éred tfom the world war. United States Military Academy After | |taken to stem this trend toward tne | house to the assembled company, and opening as they did new . With the €xception of the two serv- jsala plainty: R vistas in almost every It Was Found in the Late War What a | [ice schools, West Point and Annapolis. ife, none 5 Lo imstitution in the country has nonsense. We're here because we're | Phase of our every-day life, = - 4 likely to got pneumonic plague, some | was s0 vial to us as a race, & Stadgenng Number of American Boys Were {,"‘,‘}:;m‘,’;,('fi,‘"’:hi“;h‘;’.x};’;}c:l:;;u‘::; of us or of us. 8 any one know | fraught with dangerous conse- . of 1ts student body upon the same tneiperiod ofiinractionza s wwences, as the one that brought | | Physically Unfit—Every Officer Now Would Righ Dlane a8 the development of the martingale, fanned herself with a pa-{ us face to face wtih the astound- - .- . PR e e S SECE Or Eathek iper fan she had made during the fon, that the ratio of Be Able to Train Raw Recruits in Athletics as | |the lack of it at anl other institutions. Hay. and laughed—a high, whinnying| \DE realization, that the has always been overwhelmingly in ; ' the physical unfit among us had W ll Mu- S . favor of the intellectual to the detri- t is all equal to me," she said. “I| reached an alarming figure— I cll as 1tary Science. S L L S do not care. We meet death as gentle- |y ; Koehler, Lieutenant Colonel, | ' - - R et er e P “Poppycock!” said the American| U. 8. A., Master of the Sword. parison of values to the student body. of education founded upon a sound |tional methods, and with the experi- lad, quite rudely. “Stewardess, Sound sportsmanship and physical{ They are important and their value |and rational psychological basis. Re- |€DCc Of the war before us, it is diffi- gless you know something about it.” ly developed| ! Beneral is beyond question. 'That|sults show that the academic board |cult to conceive how such conditions “I do, sir,” said the stewardess. “Not | fitness is more readily is particularly true at West Point, |has not only discharged a debt it|C3N Dersist, unless i be that our edu- much, but the doctor told the | through participation in mass athletics| where the student body forms & cen- [owed the academy and the service, | ©ators do not possess sufficient cour- period of incubation was three days |, .. by any other method. This is| ter about which a community of in-|but also to the country at large, in |&&€ to advance the obviously sound to a week.” thantiby any; ed by | Lerest is established, throuxh which, | that it pointed the way to a saner, |d0ctrine that because of its priority “And how long does the thing take. |the consensus recently expressed bY ! better than by any other means. |broader and more effectunl systons of (in the order of development of the it you get it>" officials of the United States Military | corps spirit and corps pride are fos- | national education. It is their firm |Duman species, and by reason of the? “Different periods,” sald the stew- The believe that person-|tered. ~The underlying principle of |belief that the educational system |f8ct that it is {he physical that deter- ardess. She had seen Mrs. Walite's |Academy. o 2 mags training at the academy is edu- | of our schools and colleges through- | Mines the destiny of the infellectual, | eves, and the parted lips. like those{al contact with one's fellows in|} catio E i ool aud colleges thronghe |1} e rer Shonld st losat ba treated of the Lost Soul in Michelangelo's | o ion1y rivalry is the best medium | kreatest number. In this respect | false premise. as the co-equal of the latter in any “Judgment.” that showed behind the |00 %, “0hich to inculcate fair play | only is West Point diametrically op- |along lines whi system of education founded upon & | down-dropped paper-fan. She was not and square deal. posed to the principle of competitive | tion its chiefes asset—a mentally, | 50und basis. B t athletics from its incept 3 7 | morally and physically strong race. ! VAR SEN i e going to tellall she knew. e ; s inception at | intercollegiate athletics, when con- 1y and = = *| Athletics having been gl h * x % % West Point In 1920 has demonstrated | fined to a relatively small number of | ‘That the cadets of West Folat are D e ihe, Seelny o eulises 1 HEY all knew next day, for Agnes’ | to be groundless the apprehension that, | et 8 OREe PrOes, Pro Lol Ore | Delne trained for a special purpose |Ten of the Army, the necessity of pre- irit with which cadets father refused food at breakfast; |£00 e oniitive contests, such an complained of bitter cold during the |{elaborate scheme of activities, most of morning—in a temperature that kept { which are of the personal and counter 1d result in a large number overy one gasping for breath—and | 2PH WOL" "ol diqering the numbers by lunch time was terribly, unmis-|engaged, the percentage of injuries tained has been incredibly small. ;!:':l‘:::ucll‘(l. o e ;\":1! ln;lllry of a serious nature has been rded. He would not come into_the house, | "“The incalculable value of mass but sat moaning and fighting for|¢raining has already manifested itself breath upon the burning sand below.iin various pronounced ways in the And there, with a face like an angel, !jndividual cadet and in the corps in the commonplace curate of the Oxford {general. Aside from the many. physi- manner joined him, and led him away jcal benefits it has already proved a into the long brushwood shed away t powerful ald to discipline. By behind the palms, which none had|establishing _athletic democracy, spoken of. And in that rude isolation | which brings members of the various ward Arthurs did his best for thelclasses into most personal contact, a first to fall, knowing well how little | mutuality of respect is engendered there was to be done. It was a worse | between individuals and classes that case than the first. Within twenty-|cannot fail to contribute very ma- four hours Agnes' father was dead. |terially, eradicating any tendency on Arthurs took the body by the feet,|the part of upper classmen to take drew it along the sand, away from |advantage of fourth classmen—rela- the houses, and dropped it into the|tively speaking, members of the channel t ran through the reef.|freshman class. The tide went like a mill race out to| ~ As most of the activities at West sea when It turned; the sharks would | point are contests in which the par- do the rest. Then he disinfected him- ght into contact self, bathed, dressed and joined the others again. But now the hand of lcourage and dar the Unseen Passenger hovered almost visibly above his head; and the face of his wife was pitiful to see. From this time on the two spent hardly & minute apart. They sat away from the rest, talking to one another, in the little oblongs of shadow thrown by the houses early and Iate in the day—the only shade to be had out of cided role, manliness, aggressivene; assurance, confidence, and keenne, conception are developed in a degree impossible by any other means. Hundreds of cadets in whom these attrblutes might have never been vitalized, are for the first time given a chance to find themselves. In this consciousness of their ility to do, doors. Their voices were low and|they have learned to dare. In scope|it was too individual. Under it ca- made little sound; there was little |and in the object sought, this under- | dets upon graduation were prepared phyi sound of any kind on the island in|taking—the Introduction of mass ath- to instruct and supervise the train- letics in military training—is with- |ing and conditioning of men in their out precedent. In general, the whole | charge only by means of the usual trade, :httu : et scheme l-’ telurl:ded upon precisely the dlnlgllnny ":,I?e r: t:;{n‘morhnld ne: n palms -ai e high, same principles upon which - the | which up to ik ua scream of parrots, red, green, violet and yellow, flying ‘homeward when the sun went down. The factitious gayety of the passengers hi ll!;)‘t‘th'r 8- " fa United States Military Academy is founded and to which e owes the unique position among institutions of learning world over—the 80 at the expense of their less for- tunate and more needy fellows. N WEET POINT'S object in mass trairing is the physical develop- ment of the entire corp of cadets through means that are supple- mental to the requirements of the regular prescribed course of the dis- ciplinary physical training, which must always be considered as the foundation of all other forms of physical activities. The installation of a desire for wholesome, rational bodily activity, and by groundin cadets in the theory and practle of the various prominent athletic ac- tivities, make possible for them to later transmit this knowledge and experience to enlisted men of the service. the experiences gathered during the world war it became apparent to the authorities of the Military Academy that if this institution would live up to its un leled prestige and rec- ord certain parts of the curriculum would have to be reorganized or re- modeled, in_order to insure the ai tainment of the maximum of e ficiency in its product ,along the lines of recent experiences and the deduc- tions drawn from them. This has been accomplished by a general reor- ganization of nearly all the depart- ments, in which the course of instrzc- tion in physical training was in- d. c'rlgelny criticism can be made of the system formerly used, it is that in light of present y experience were &,08pf Sifictent for” that purpose not only o our service, but also in every other. The experience of the war appeared since Agn her died. |equality of her students i = d, however, that these means Ana still 1t was only four days eince | spect and in all things > " |Nere insuffcient and inadequate— they had left the ship. In ourse of mass athletios such | that it was necessary to go eyond iAot am West Polnt affords, competitive | them, particulsrly when it became His wite went with him to the brush |intercolleglate athletics have & wall [ “question of whipping e . defined place, as the evils o crude and e e various camps d | againat them do not exist, o - Y. | duced to & minimum, Ho'e:l:.r.fr::n the very nature of the restrictions, esente o litary units in the e “available, The mea: Somy both as to the number and the finally hit upon to supplement the Taedoy gl Tormer a0 |1ty of the participants, and e [ eual aincjplinary snd mill il oo ® | count of conditions thst are at va-|ing in order to accompl . H "q':. e aod o m'y'?:wfl'i'fl riance with the principles of mass|poss aimed at were athletics—‘mass i , but Wi cs.” O e T s oty Gy e L athletics . \ng the present system of s paage ihrough the reef. | ™ |tha sole object is to win, these physiosl training. the West Pobat m Mrs. Arth ter, despite the promise given them, ymic board had the courage to least valuable In & school of mass training, so _far as el fluence upon the physical standard of coliegial thietics or ta detract from their importance—it is just a com- 0 . Sy harged By Heve coequal practice the perfectly ob- lnm”“. ‘::ury t.hxt because of put. A in the development of lority h; = les, and because of R e 1 e o e aoutos | 3. S S, ot s uh:: '::auw: lfa"l'h‘l.w.:n Lm:‘- Tain 'Hs destiny of the tnnlloetnl. the former should -be treated .s the of the latter in any system In the deduction made from |, in which physical fitness counts for S0 much that the methods applied have no bearing on students edu- cated other than for military pur- Poses is refuted by the statistics of the war. Of all the experiences gath- ered during the late emergency mone is so fraught with dangerous conse- quences to us, as a nation, as the one that brought us face to face with the astonishing and humiliating faet that the ratio of the Pphysically unfit has reached an alarming figure. Thirty-five per centum of the mil- lions inducted into the service during the war falled to Dpass the physical re- quirements and this despite the fact that draft standards of physical r quirements were far below those o sisted upon for admission to the Reg. u}:r Army. When it is considered that this ratio of the physically unfit is confined to our Young men between !l’;e ages of twenty-one and thirty-one, of which under ordinary circumstances 'ry right to beli the very flower of our young man hood—the bulwark of the nation in times of peril—the seriousness of the condition confronting us can hardly be exaggerated. It is not within the province of this h the reasons tha article l(.gllegrc are responsible for this lamentab] of affairs, when every lhimllyzaz American of fighting age is barred on account of physical unfitness from rendering service to his government. In general, however, this condition can be attributed to the physical neg- lect of the government and to that of the various states. So long t llhllll!lcl Prove conclusively that tl he he fcal and athleti Youth is bein, c education of our negl . g neglected for the men- a continuation of this pol Reglect can lead tq but ome repuls From the beginning the general gov- érnment and that of the various states has been concerned with the intellec- tual development of our youth, No effort, however, has been made except in isolated cases to ?lm the control of d the responsibility for their physical training in the hands of a centralized government authority with sufficient power to make compulsory nd athletic training man- 11 schools and educational istitutions throughout the country. *x % IT s only through such a step as this that the lamentable conditions uncovered by the experiences of the late war can be remedied. This state- ment s made with a full knowledge of the argument advanced by educa- tors agalnst any pesition looking toward the centralisation of control of educational matters in the general goverament, Imv ul ever, If any arguy- xhn-n 18 1y to meet those made ning, as they al that fl" other military d paring graduates of the academy the theory and practkice of at least the elements of the wvarious prominent athletic activities was recognized by the introduction at West Point of what is, no doubt, the most thorough and claborate scheme of supervised, compulsory, mass athletic training ever attempted anywhere. The term “mass athletic training” is applicable to this course of imstruction only so far as it refers to the number engag- ed; as the greatest number of cadets assigned to any coach in any one particular activity never exceeds twenty-five, the Instruction is really individual. At present the instruction in-mass athletics if placed on a par with the military drills; two periods per week being given to each during the entire academic vear—one-half corps being engaged In physicai training while the other half is engaged in military drill. Athletic instruction is divided into the following periods: From July 1 to August 28, for mew cadets: from September 1 to Decemver 4, for all cadets: from December 5 to March 30 and from April 1 to June 15, for all cadets. During the initial year 1920- 21, the number of cadets who received instruction in mass athletics 1is a follows: Foot ball. 641: soccer, 641; Incrosse, 550: tennis, 337; basket bail, 263 ; basé ball, 240 ; track and field, 100; golt, 25, and polo, 16. This does not include the instruction of the 600 new cadets during the summer perlod, each one of whom received the preparatory course in base ball, foot ball, Jacrosse, tennis, track and ficld and games. Al though mass formation is compulso: there are various voluntary indoor athletics, such as ing, boxing, wrestling, fencing, gymnastics, indoor meet and hockey, Besides these activ- ities cadets may of their own accord engage in some form of recreation Wednesday. Saturday and Sunday aft- fall and spring taff of approximately sixty icers required to conduct in- struction, Only one professional conch is employed, the other coaches being officera or civillan instructors regu- larly attached to the academy. The playing flelds required consist of threa foot ball flelds, three soccer flelds, three lacrosse fields, three basket ball coul and the regular academic is located on the old cadet facts are in addition to those used by the varsity team, Profiting by war experience, the United States Military Academy has adopted a course of supervised, com- pulsory mass athletics, In the future the Army will not have to depend upon those outside the miif Y o8- tablishment to come to its assistance in conducting this phase of the sol- dier’'s training, as it did during the re- cent war. Graduates of the academy ‘will in the future enter the Army pres~ to coach the men under their command as el!elonuty In athletio re to field, whicl site. These - o A E I e ST AU LR IR Al fd BN M LA A AR A LA AL LAA LA 4 0 AR et i e LR D L P utiea,