The Wingham Advance-Times, 1936-02-06, Page 6PAGE SIX WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES
SYNOPSIS: . . . A luxurious five-
month cruise around the world aboard
the “Marenia” brings together a
group of passengers for adventures,
romantic, entertaining . , and tragic
» , , Like in “Grand Hotel" these pas
sengers offer a study in human ac
tions and reactions, which uncon
sciously bare their souls. . . , These
characters are aboard the ship; Mac-
<luffr dour Scotchman, single, of mid
dle age; Miss Mudge, school teacher,
spending the savings of 20 years;
Angela, faithful wife of Lovat, gigolo;
Dick Charlton, first officer; Claire, a
person of experience; Joan, a dissi
pated flapper; Jenny, run-away wife,
and Peter; Captain Baring, master of
the ship . . , and his soul. . . NOW,
said,
on?” *
don’t suppose
smooth as it
duU," said .Patty suddenly.
Dick laughed,
“I wish it were,’’ he
“Why, what’s going
“Plenty, Patty. You
that everything’s as
looks on the promenade deck, do
you? You can’t believe that the men
down below go calmly along, week
after week, in this infernal heat with
out disturbance? We had one man
try to stab another today, and the
chef threw a carving-knife at a pan
try boy last Wednesday, and men fall
sick and in love and behave like a
lot of puppies generally.’’
“Really, I’m amazed,” said Patty.
“Everything seems so orderly and
serene.”
Dick laughed. “Well, I’m glad that
it looks that way. Did you notice the
boat slow down in the middle, of the
night on Friday?”
“No, I was probably sound asleep.”
“That was to bury a member of the
crew who died of malaria. And when
shrunk from seven millions to blue
ruin since he sailed. Haven’t you no
ticed him hanging* around the stock
board? He faces bankruptcy and
endless troubles when he gets back.
And there's the spinster who filled
her pockets with pebbles by the Sea
of Galilee, and has fallen madly in
loye with the captain, who has never
spoken a word to her."
“Oh, how thrilling!" cried Patty.
“I never thought of it in that light.
Do you always have things like this
happen on a cruise?”
“Of course we do. This is a com
paratively dull one so far.. I’ve given
you only the sketchiest idea of what
takes place on a cruising boat. I call
it ocean madness. Roll a score of
Atlantic crossing into one; add
moonlight on Waikiki Beach, sunset
on the Indian Ocean, night in Peking,
cherry blossoms in Japan; fling to
gether men and women away from
their homes, their friends, the forces
that impose restraint—and what have
GO ON WITH THE STORY.
Clare was ducking through the cur
tain into her stateroom, her dark head
t-urned over her shoulder, invitation
on her lips. Peter was at her heels.
Jenny could see his back as he bent
his head to go under the curtain. His
hand shot out and caught at his com
panion’s upper arm as he disappeared
from view. Jenny closed her eyes and
clutched at her heart. She had not.
K believed it possjble in spite of Peter's
recent coolness. Her face went white
as she stood in the corridor, weakly
clutching the hand-rail. The boat
lurched and her feet moved mechan
ically along the linoleum-covered cor
ridor. She knew that she iliust b.e
walking like an absurd marionette.
Now she had arrived at her own
stateroom. She walked under the
tain and hooked the door.
Jenny lay down on her bed
’ covered her eyes with fingers
fluttered nervously. Her throat
swelling till she thought she would
choke. It couldn’t be possible—not
now, so soon. They had been togeth
er only two months. She >had run
away for a lifetime, believing that
Peter loved her enough to spare her
all regret, and now it was like this,
with a cheap woman on the boat.
“What a blind fool I’ve been!” she
thought. “He can’t have loved me at
all, not for a minute. But it isn’t his
fault. I brought it on myself.” •
* * *
Dick was dancing with Patty under
pleated lanterns. that swayed like
drunken sailors. She looked like a
puff-ball in a cascade of white chiffon.
Hard to believe that she was the thin
young thing who had slipped through
the water that afternoon like a sharp
blade.
“Patty, you’re looking very sweet
tonight,” he told her, humming the
waltz as he swung her around.
“And I could dance forever with
you, Dick.”
“It’s the sky and the lanterns you
like, silly infant.”
“Now, you’re teasing.”
“Honour bright, I’m not.” The
waltz came to an end and they sat
down.
“I think the boat’s getting a little
cur-
was
She imagined herself in his arms, dancing, while he leaned down to hiss her
I
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we leave Ceylon we must slow down
again to toss a wreath out at the spot
where one of the cruise men was bur
ied last year. He ate some bad food
in India."
Patty shuddered. It had not oc
curred to her that the Marenia was
anything but a peaceful pleasure
boat.
But Dick was going on: “Don’t for
get that this is a village afloat, and
not nearly so peaceful as the anchor
ed variety. Do you want to know
what’s really going on around you
among the passengers? In one state
room a husband comes in late from
a poker game each night and threat
ens to kill his wife. They’re a blowzy
pair from Cleveland who curse and
swear at each other, and are always
drunk. We’ve had to go in and still
them a few times. I think he’ll mur
der her yet, when he gets drunk en
ough,” continued Dick.
“And there’s the little teacher who
has been saving her pennies for 20
years to go around the world and
now that she’s on the boat, she’s
afraid she hasn’t enough to take her
safely home. She daren’t go ashore
by herself, because of the constant
demand for tips and
“It’s Miss Mudge,
rupted Patty.
“Yes, since you’ve
a very good sport, too.1
“Then there’s the man who’s run
ning away from his wife and is delug
ed with frantic radios every day. And
the American whose fortune has
*
fees.”
isn’t it?” inter
guessed it, and
»r
you?"
Patty lay awake for hours that
night, thinking of the Marenia as a
vast building with dozens of separate
apartments, and a little drama going
on in each.
* *
Down in 454 Miss Mudge was
reading Conrad’s Typhoon, given her
by the chief officer. She was elated
at the end of another gala night. He
had danced with her three times and
sat out a tango. Every night was gala
night on the Marenia, particularly
since she had met Mr. Charlton, the
first officer.
She lowered her book and deliver
ed herself to the full enchantment of
her thoughts of Mr. Charlton. Heav
ens! Miss Foster was making whoop
ee again. She had learned “making
whoopee” from some of her gay com
panions, and she liked the sound of
it now. It was so unlike Ohonto. Mr.
Charlton roared with laughter every
time she said it. Some nights, things
were rather quiet next door, with on
ly one man in the room and nothing
much in the way of noise, except a
clinking of glasses and a an occasion
al burst of laughter. There must be
a party going on tonight. She could
hear the voices of at least four diff
erent men, and their hostess seemed
to be feeling gay.
Miss Mudge wondered what it
would be like to be surrounded by
four different men, all of, whom prob
ably wanted to kiss one. The idea
did not appeal to her so much as hav-
STILL PREFER THIS TURN-OUT TO MOTOR CARS
1
Since the days of Queen Victoria
right tip to present, the Misses Mor
timer and Elsie Clark have almost
daily driven
horse-drawn
| raff id crash
about ’Toronto in their
“victoria.” Despite a
in which a motor truck
struck and so badly injured their
horse that it had to be destroyed,
they plan to coutintte this leisurely
and pleasant mode .of getting about
the city. Photograph shows the hiss
es Clark, who are daughters of the
late SirAVilliam Mortimer Clark, for
mer lieutenant-governor of Ontario,
in their equipment In front of their
home.
frig one man In that mood. There
must surely be very little point to
public lovemaking. Things were quiet
next door for‘a minute or two, and
her thoughts flowed back to - Mr,
Charlton. She imagined herself in
his arms, dancing with him, while he
leaned down to kiss her cheek.
Miss Mudge sat up straight in bed
as she heard Joan Foster's laughter
come splintering through the parti
tion.
“Let’s throw him out,” one of the
men exclaimed, “It’s time to break
up qnyway. One more song and we'll
leave little Joan to her beauty sleep.”
Miss Mudge was sure that it was
the voice of the man whose wife was
ill.
They had all gone now, except the
man who usually stayed the longest,
'the conversation was pitched on a
lower note, and there were long paus
es when nothing was said at all,
At last she fell asleep, but not for
long. Wakening with a sense of dis
turbance, she switched on the light
over her bed to look at her watch.
Half-past three and a commotion next
door! Miss Foster and her friend
were singing at the pitch of their
voices. A glass went smash and the
song broke off.
Miss Mudge disappeared beneath
the clothes until only her hairpinned
fringe showed. Miss Foster started
the • victrola, choosing the song, “I
wanna be loved.” As soon as it was
finished, she put it on again, By the
tenth time it was getting a little bor
ing. An hour later the man stumbled
out of the cabin. Still the victrola
went on.
Miss Mudge was desperately tired.
The girl must be mad. Sitting up in
bed, > she knocked hesitantly on the
wall, but there was no reply, except
the clinking of ice in a glass, Seven
o’clock and the music still went on;
like a tireless hurdy-gurdy.
Worn out, Miss Mudge fell asleep
at last. A noise wakened her at ten.
The victrola was grinding the same
refrain. At last she was angry; she
would stand no more. She thumped
loudly on the wall. The music whir
red to a slow stop. ’ Miss Foster
flopped noisily on her bed.
* * *
Jenny was in a light-hearted mood
when the Marenia anchored off Pak-
nam i'n a thick heat haze. Her mind
no longer locked in high tension, and
she talked with delicate animation.
For three days Peter had been his
old tender self. So far as she knew,
he had seen nothing of Clare. Go
ing ashore, she wore a gay flowered
frock of poppy silk and a wide straw
hat.
“I’m happy today, Peter,” she
nounced.
“Why are you happy, Jenny?”
gaze was on her suddenly, cool
searching. He caught her hand, turn
ed it over and kissed the cupped palm.’
Jenny did not answer.
Peter brought out his cigarette-
case, a flat gold one, with his initials
engraved in the corner. Jenny had
always admired it, and she felt sure
that there was a story connected with
it, for he seemed to prize it more than
any other thing he possessed. He
took out a cigarette, flipped the case
over to her, and remarked: “Put it
in your bag, Jenny.”
“Why?"
“Merely because I want you to. It’s
something I’m extraordinarily
of. Doq’t forget that”
“You must expect to have
pockets picked in Bangkok.”
“Perhaps I do.”
He smiled and she dropped it into
her bag.
Leaving the train at Bangkok they
drove past trim white houses and
through immaculate streets.
They
up the
slowly
cluster
to Jenny to have sprung full blown
from the pages of Flans Andersen,
They walked past the devas, giant
grotesques, intended to frighten away
the devils.
“I think when we choose our -home
in England, I should like a deva to
guard my door,” said Jenny, laughing
at the spiked monsters.
They wandered through the.court*-
yards of the compound, Jenny’s face
alight with interest, ‘ Peter was sil
ent, She had rarely seen him look
so handsome,
“It’s nearly twelve
marked, twisting his
at His wrist watch.
“As if time mattered hl the least!
I feel that this is q^spot where hours
have no meaning,”
They went into the temple that held
the Emerald Buddha, It was like go
ing into a dark cave filled with green
water, ’ For several 'minutes they
could see nothing but a filtered jade
mist, for the sun was still in their
eyes. Jenny leaned on her parasol and
rested.
< “Jenny
ently.
“Yes?"
ponse to
touched her hand and whispered! “It’s
nothing, it-doesn’t matter, but you’re
very helpless, aren’t you, dear?’
an-
His
and
fond
your
boarded a launch and sailed
Menam to the king’s palace,
approaching the wats that
about it. The .scene seemed
o’clock/’ he r-e-
elbow to look
darling!’” said Peter, utg-
She swung around in res*
something in his voice, He
She noticed that ho looked a little
strained, and that his hands were
shaking.
“Without you, I should be, Peter."
(Continued Next Week)
WINGHAM IN THE
LATE EIGHTIES
As Remembered by a 12-Year-Old
Boy.
On McKenzie’s bridge with my
pockets full of stones, skimming them
down the mill pond, George McKen
zie walking briskly wearing a Ptme
and venerable whiskers, Pete Deans
drives by in light delivery on way to
flour and feed store. The tan bark
at the tannery is soft underfoot, Mrs.
Sadler’s piggery across the way. The
hay presser nearby where I crawled
under and up on seats to hear Sir
Jol\n A. and Sir' Edward Blake .Old
man Storm at Crossing with red flag
(later knocked down cattle guard and
killed) .* Billy Sutton thru station
window, jerking lightening. . . Com
ductor Walmsley slowly walking to
Dinsley House, carying cap and lan
tern . . . Billy Black "bus this way
for any part of town” . . John Dins
ley, white shirt and vest, ringing din
ner bell, Norma looking on . . Watt’s
mill humming across the way, Tom
my Elliott at engine room door , . .
The grave yard, subsequently con
verted to a park, . My first heroes,
George Duffield and George Mooney,
battery for the home team. The 'Babe
Ruth’ of this period was Charlie
Knechtel, who could drive, the ball
over Watt’s mill;,. . . Skating rink
later blown down . . . Simmons Tav
ern, and Archie before he joined the
Army . . . George Mason, smart and
business-like, closing the gate . . Cur
ly Wells, with a “Y” sling shot , .
Bill Holmes’ blacksmith shop, smell
of burning hoofs, and horses stamp
ing wildly, a commanding voice tell
ing them where to go and, when . .
The Fleuty family at the gate . . Bell’s.
facorty . . Holme's Law Office . , .
Jack Stphenson, peak cap, smudged
face, trundling a wagon wheel . , Jim
Chisholm, riding his safety bike un
der the maples (the first in town) .
Davy Ross, general store . . . Fred
Roderus, on leather seat chewing wax
and .pegging soles . . Jim McKenzie
ice cream . , . Fred Korman and big
Barney, handing out big schooners ,
R. A. Graham, checkers- and grocer
ies . . Ben Wilson’s home, hillside
terrace, green, cool and inviting, em
bellished with cedars, pines and ma
ples Jack Wilson, V.S. . . George
Pettapiece (Chief) . . Jack Moore on
crutches . . Carr’s flour and feed, Art
weighing a load of hay . . . Davy
Campbell with sack of flour . . Town
Hall, old Mr. Coad ringing bell1 with
my assistance for privilege of hav
ing rope jerk me up to ceiling on last
stroke . . Alf. Nichol’s bakery . . .
Hanna’s store, cod fish in box at the
door, Mrs. Hanna and Priscilla be
hind counter,. Bill McCutcheon car-
Wellington Mutual Fire
Insurance Co.
Established 1840.
Risks taken on all classes of insur
ance at reasonable rates.
Head Office,' Guelph, Ont
ABNER COSENS, Agent.
Wingham.
V
Thursday, February 6, 193$
WHERE OLYMPIC SKIERS WILL PERFORM
The daring young man of the fly
ing trapeze will have nothing on the
Olympic skiers/ when they take off
their flight down this giant Olympic
jump at Garmisch-Partenkirchen in
Bavarian Alps of southern Germany
in the fourth winter Olympic games
■■ '■ ■ ■ I •
rying up butters .-Dr. McDonald’s
home, his pretty daughters .playing
croquet with the bank clerks . . Jack
Drummond’s butcher shop, saw dust
floor . . Queens Hotel corner, the
centre of gravity . , Jack Clegg, Beau
Brummel of his period, clean-shaven,
waxed moustache, tight pants with
satin stripe, cigar at one angle, derby
at another, talking to Wash Tamblyn,
they agree to match and pass through
swing door, closely followed by Ned
Sherman and George Duffield and
Bill Yates . . Mr. Roe, shrewd and
kindly of face, at* the window . . .
George Roe driving by with Lady
Garfield, her forefeet well weighted,
George leaning far forward, getting
the low-down on her action ... Pass
Duffield’s tin shop, strong smell of
coal oil from empty barrels in lane
at rear . . Bob Cornyn’s coffin fac
tory across the way, later burned
<r
ADVERTISE
IN THE
ADVANCE-TIMES
t
J. W. BUSHFIELD
Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc.
Money to Loan.
Office — Meyer Block, Wingham
• Successor to Dudley Holmes.
next week.. Several of the Olympic-,
entrants have been injured in their-
practice trials on the steep jump. It
takes plenty of skill, nerve and cour
age to negotiate a jump like this one-
and the winner will be a real champ
ion.
down . . . Pass church, now at school
gate . . Bert Chapman doing his Rus
sian dance on sidewalk . . School yard
recently planted with young maples
the size" of my wrist . . . Standing
about waiting for fell are, Tom (Red)
Scott, Jimmy Dawson, Ed. Rankin,..
Athol Griffin, Billy Watt, Sex Kent,.
Wynn Lloyd, Hank Elliott, George
McManus, Jack Ritchie . . Geo. Scott
with shinny stick in hand, knocking
stones and mud in our direction . .
Principal Groves, Miss Case, Miss.
Burgess, Miss Reynolds, Miss Catley,.
passing through gate followed by,.
Alice Johns, -Eva Dawson, Ella..
Deans, Minnie Fessant, Laura Hodg
son, Mabel Kent. . . Bell is ringing,,
lines -forming . . Clark and Minnie-
Elder runing across street from their-
home . . . Now at iron force pump,,
half-way down hall, no cup, so hold,
hand under spout, and pump . .
HARRY FRY
Licensed Embalmer and
• Funeral.. Director
Furniture and j
Funeral Service (j
Ambulance Service? a
Phones: Day 117. Night 109. f
THOMAS FELLS
AUCTIONEER
REAL ESTATE SOLD
A Thorough knowledge of Farm
Stock.
Phone 231, Wingham.
r
1 .............. ...........................
Dr. Robt. C. REDMOND
M.R.C.S. (England)
L.R.C.P. (London)
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
J. H. CRAWFORD
Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc.
Successor to R. Vanstone.
Wingham . / Ontario
It Will Pay You to Have An
EXPERT AUCTIONEER
• to conduct your sale.
See
T. R. BENNETT
At The Royal Service Station.
Phone 174W.
„ ■
DR. W. M. CONNELL
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON
Phone 19.
R. S. HETHERINGTON
BARRISTER and SOLICITOR
Office —. Morton Block.
’Telephone NO. 66
J. ALVIN FOX
Licensed Drugless Practitioner
CHIROPRACTIC > DRUGLESS
THERAPY - RADIONIC
EQUIPMENT
Hours by Appointment.
Phone 191. Wingham
.................................... ...... ;..................'
W< A. CRAWFORD, M.D.
Physician and Surgeon
Located at the office of the late
Dr. J. P. 'Kennedy.
Phone 150 Wingham
F. A. PARKER
OSTEOPATH
Ail Diseases Treated.
Office adjoining residence next to
Anglican Church on Centre St.
Sunday by appointment.
Osteopathy , Electricity
Phone 272. Hours, 9 a,m. to 8 p.m.
A. R. & F. E. DUVAL
CHIROPRACTORS
CHIROPRACTIC and
ELECTRO THERAPY
North Street Wingham
Telephone 300.
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