Antony Baker, class '17

-

Full of youthful enthusiasm and determination to succeed, Antony Baker, who left Castleknock in June, 1917, boarded the R.M.S. Leinster on the morning of October 10th, 1918. He had just been appointed a probationer cable operator, and was proceeding to take up work in the Commercial Cable Company's Office, London. By a tragic coincidence his father was at the receiving instrument in the Cable Station at Waterville when the awful news was flashed across the wires, a few hours later, that the Leinster had been torpedoed. Then followed a painful time for poor Antony's parents - the anxious rush to Dublin and the nerve-wracking search, amidst gruesome scenes, for the remains of their beloved boy. But no trace of him was found. From the following account given by a survivor—taken from the November issue of The Zodiac, the Submarine Cable Service paper—it would appear that Antony went down with the doomed vessel:—

Immediately following the explosion of the second torpedo Baker walked up to Richards, to whom he extended his hand in farewell, saying. " Good-bye. old man." Richards, still quite cool, asked Baker if he was not going to make a fight for it. There was no response. But young Baker was quite calm, no weeping, no complaining; he just accepted the tragedy as it stood, and was resigned to death. Quite unknown to Richards, though. Baker was not a swimmer, and, having no lifebelt, knew his chances in such a sea were about equal with those of remaining on the doomed ship. Doubtless, also he did not wish Richards and Paul to know he could not swim, believing, and quite properly, that if they were made aware of his difficulty, they would jeopardise their own meagre hope of reaching safety by rendering assistance to him.

Baker, then, must have gone down with the "Leinster" and in doing so, rather than risk the lives of his friends in securing from them some measure of his own safety, showed that a generous nature and a brave heart are synonymous both in life and in the face of death.

Adapting the lines of the poet, we may say

He sleeps in quiet waters where Kish towers,

'Mid sand and slender sea-grass soft and deep,

Through all the sunlit and the moonlit hours

He sleeps.

The news of his death - under such sad circumstances - came as a great shock to both Professors and boys. Many prayers and Masses were offered for the repose of his soul. To his parents and friends, Castleknock offers its heartfelt sympathy.

Requiescat in Pace