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diff --git a/minionlivesmatter/templates/assets/tether/examples/element-scroll/index.html b/minionlivesmatter/templates/assets/tether/examples/element-scroll/index.html deleted file mode 100644 index e93181a..0000000 --- a/minionlivesmatter/templates/assets/tether/examples/element-scroll/index.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,499 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html> - <head> - <link rel="stylesheet" href="../resources/css/base.css" /> - </head> - <body> - - <div class="scroll"> - <p>For a long time after the course of the steamer <em>Sofala</em> had been - altered for the land, the low swampy coast had retained its appearance - of a mere smudge of darkness beyond a belt of glitter. The sunrays - seemed to fall violently upon the calm sea--seemed to shatter themselves - upon an adamantine surface into sparkling dust, into a dazzling vapor - of light that blinded the eye and wearied the brain with its unsteady - brightness.</p> - - <p>Captain Whalley did not look at it. When his Serang, approaching the - roomy cane arm-chair which he filled capably, had informed him in a low - voice that the course was to be altered, he had risen at once and had - remained on his feet, face forward, while the head of his ship swung - through a quarter of a circle. He had not uttered a single word, not - even the word to steady the helm. It was the Serang, an elderly, alert, - little Malay, with a very dark skin, who murmured the order to the - helmsman. And then slowly Captain Whalley sat down again in the - arm-chair on the bridge and fixed his eyes on the deck between his feet.</p> - - <p>He could not hope to see anything new upon this lane of the sea. He had - been on these coasts for the last three years. From Low Cape to Malantan - the distance was fifty miles, six hours' steaming for the old ship with - the tide, or seven against. Then you steered straight for the land, and - by-and-by three palms would appear on the sky, tall and slim, and with - their disheveled heads in a bunch, as if in confidential criticism of - the dark mangroves. The Sofala would be headed towards the somber - strip of the coast, which at a given moment, as the ship closed with - it obliquely, would show several clean shining fractures--the brimful - estuary of a river. Then on through a brown liquid, three parts water - and one part black earth, on and on between the low shores, three parts - black earth and one part brackish water, the Sofala would plow her way - up-stream, as she had done once every month for these seven years or - more, long before he was aware of her existence, long before he had ever - thought of having anything to do with her and her invariable voyages. - The old ship ought to have known the road better than her men, who had - not been kept so long at it without a change; better than the faithful - Serang, whom he had brought over from his last ship to keep the - captain's watch; better than he himself, who had been her captain for - the last three years only. She could always be depended upon to make her - courses. Her compasses were never out. She was no trouble at all to - take about, as if her great age had given her knowledge, wisdom, and - steadiness. She made her landfalls to a degree of the bearing, and - almost to a minute of her allowed time. At any moment, as he sat on - the bridge without looking up, or lay sleepless in his bed, simply by - reckoning the days and the hours he could tell where he was--the precise - spot of the beat. He knew it well too, this monotonous huckster's - round, up and down the Straits; he knew its order and its sights and its - people. Malacca to begin with, in at daylight and out at dusk, to cross - over with a rigid phosphorescent wake this highway of the Far East. - Darkness and gleams on the water, clear stars on a black sky, perhaps - the lights of a home steamer keeping her unswerving course in the - middle, or maybe the elusive shadow of a native craft with her mat sails - flitting by silently--and the low land on the other side in sight - at daylight. At noon the three palms of the next place of call, up a - sluggish river. The only white man residing there was a retired young - sailor, with whom he had become friendly in the course of many voyages. - Sixty miles farther on there was another place of call, a deep bay with - only a couple of houses on the beach. And so on, in and out, picking - up coastwise cargo here and there, and finishing with a hundred miles' - steady steaming through the maze of an archipelago of small islands up - to a large native town at the end of the beat. There was a three days' - rest for the old ship before he started her again in inverse order, - seeing the same shores from another bearing, hearing the same voices - in the same places, back again to the Sofala's port of registry on - the great highway to the East, where he would take up a berth nearly - opposite the big stone pile of the harbor office till it was time to - start again on the old round of 1600 miles and thirty days. Not a very - enterprising life, this, for Captain Whalley, Henry Whalley, otherwise - Dare-devil Harry--Whalley of the Condor, a famous clipper in her day. - No. Not a very enterprising life for a man who had served famous firms, - who had sailed famous ships (more than one or two of them his own); who - had made famous passages, had been the pioneer of new routes and new - trades; who had steered across the unsurveyed tracts of the South Seas, - and had seen the sun rise on uncharted islands. Fifty years at sea, and - forty out in the East ("a pretty thorough apprenticeship," he used - to remark smilingly), had made him honorably known to a generation of - shipowners and merchants in all the ports from Bombay clear over to - where the East merges into the West upon the coast of the two Americas. - His fame remained writ, not very large but plain enough, on the - Admiralty charts. Was there not somewhere between Australia and China a - Whalley Island and a Condor Reef? On that dangerous coral formation the - celebrated clipper had hung stranded for three days, her captain and - crew throwing her cargo overboard with one hand and with the other, as - it were, keeping off her a flotilla of savage war-canoes. At that time - neither the island nor the reef had any official existence. Later the - officers of her Majesty's steam vessel Fusilier, dispatched to make a - survey of the route, recognized in the adoption of these two names the - enterprise of the man and the solidity of the ship. Besides, as anyone - who cares may see, the "General Directory," vol. ii. p. 410, begins the - description of the "Malotu or Whalley Passage" with the words: "This - advantageous route, first discovered in 1850 by Captain Whalley in the - ship Condor," &c., and ends by recommending it warmly to sailing vessels - leaving the China ports for the south in the months from December to - April inclusive.</p> - - <p>This was the clearest gain he had out of life. Nothing could rob him - of this kind of fame. The piercing of the Isthmus of Suez, like the - breaking of a dam, had let in upon the East a flood of new ships, new - men, new methods of trade. It had changed the face of the Eastern seas - and the very spirit of their life; so that his early experiences meant - nothing whatever to the new generation of seamen.</p> - - <p>In those bygone days he had handled many thousands of pounds of his - employers' money and of his own; he had attended faithfully, as by law - a shipmaster is expected to do, to the conflicting interests of owners, - charterers, and underwriters. He had never lost a ship or consented to - a shady transaction; and he had lasted well, outlasting in the end the - conditions that had gone to the making of his name. He had buried his - wife (in the Gulf of Petchili), had married off his daughter to the man - of her unlucky choice, and had lost more than an ample competence in the - crash of the notorious Travancore and Deccan Banking Corporation, whose - downfall had shaken the East like an earthquake. And he was sixty-five - years old.</p> - - <p>His age sat lightly enough on him; and of his ruin he was not ashamed. - He had not been alone to believe in the stability of the Banking - Corporation. Men whose judgment in matters of finance was as expert as - his seamanship had commended the prudence of his investments, and had - themselves lost much money in the great failure. The only difference - between him and them was that he had lost his all. And yet not his all. - There had remained to him from his lost fortune a very pretty little - bark, Fair Maid, which he had bought to occupy his leisure of a retired - sailor--"to play with," as he expressed it himself.</p> - - <p>He had formally declared himself tired of the sea the year preceding his - daughter's marriage. But after the young couple had gone to settle in - Melbourne he found out that he could not make himself happy on shore. He - was too much of a merchant sea-captain for mere yachting to satisfy him. - He wanted the illusion of affairs; and his acquisition of the Fair - Maid preserved the continuity of his life. He introduced her to his - acquaintances in various ports as "my last command." When he grew too - old to be trusted with a ship, he would lay her up and go ashore to be - buried, leaving directions in his will to have the bark towed out and - scuttled decently in deep water on the day of the funeral. His daughter - would not grudge him the satisfaction of knowing that no stranger would - handle his last command after him. With the fortune he was able to leave - her, the value of a 500-ton bark was neither here nor there. All this - would be said with a jocular twinkle in his eye: the vigorous old man - had too much vitality for the sentimentalism of regret; and a little - wistfully withal, because he was at home in life, taking a genuine - pleasure in its feelings and its possessions; in the dignity of his - reputation and his wealth, in his love for his daughter, and in his - satisfaction with the ship--the plaything of his lonely leisure.</p> - - <p>He had the cabin arranged in accordance with his simple ideal of comfort - at sea. A big bookcase (he was a great reader) occupied one side of his - stateroom; the portrait of his late wife, a flat bituminous oil-painting - representing the profile and one long black ringlet of a young woman, - faced his bed-place. Three chronometers ticked him to sleep and greeted - him on waking with the tiny competition of their beats. He rose at five - every day. The officer of the morning watch, drinking his early cup - of coffee aft by the wheel, would hear through the wide orifice of the - copper ventilators all the splashings, blowings, and splutterings of - his captain's toilet. These noises would be followed by a sustained - deep murmur of the Lord's Prayer recited in a loud earnest voice. Five - minutes afterwards the head and shoulders of Captain Whalley emerged - out of the companion-hatchway. Invariably he paused for a while on the - stairs, looking all round at the horizon; upwards at the trim of the - sails; inhaling deep draughts of the fresh air. Only then he would step - out on the poop, acknowledging the hand raised to the peak of the cap - with a majestic and benign "Good morning to you." He walked the deck - till eight scrupulously. Sometimes, not above twice a year, he had to - use a thick cudgel-like stick on account of a stiffness in the hip--a - slight touch of rheumatism, he supposed. Otherwise he knew nothing of - the ills of the flesh. At the ringing of the breakfast bell he went - below to feed his canaries, wind up the chronometers, and take the - head of the table. From there he had before his eyes the big carbon - photographs of his daughter, her husband, and two fat-legged babies - --his grandchildren--set in black frames into the maplewood bulkheads - of the cuddy. After breakfast he dusted the glass over these portraits - himself with a cloth, and brushed the oil painting of his wife with a - plumate kept suspended from a small brass hook by the side of the heavy - gold frame. Then with the door of his stateroom shut, he would sit down - on the couch under the portrait to read a chapter out of a thick pocket - Bible--her Bible. But on some days he only sat there for half an hour - with his finger between the leaves and the closed book resting on his - knees. Perhaps he had remembered suddenly how fond of boat-sailing she - used to be.</p> - - <p>She had been a real shipmate and a true woman too. It was like an - article of faith with him that there never had been, and never could be, - a brighter, cheerier home anywhere afloat or ashore than his home under - the poop-deck of the Condor, with the big main cabin all white and gold, - garlanded as if for a perpetual festival with an unfading wreath. She - had decorated the center of every panel with a cluster of home flowers. - It took her a twelvemonth to go round the cuddy with this labor of love. - To him it had remained a marvel of painting, the highest achievement of - taste and skill; and as to old Swinburne, his mate, every time he - came down to his meals he stood transfixed with admiration before the - progress of the work. You could almost smell these roses, he declared, - sniffing the faint flavor of turpentine which at that time pervaded the - saloon, and (as he confessed afterwards) made him somewhat less hearty - than usual in tackling his food. But there was nothing of the sort to - interfere with his enjoyment of her singing. "Mrs. Whalley is a regular - out-and-out nightingale, sir," he would pronounce with a judicial air - after listening profoundly over the skylight to the very end of the - piece. In fine weather, in the second dog-watch, the two men could hear - her trills and roulades going on to the accompaniment of the piano in - the cabin. On the very day they got engaged he had written to London - for the instrument; but they had been married for over a year before it - reached them, coming out round the Cape. The big case made part of the - first direct general cargo landed in Hong-kong harbor--an event that to - the men who walked the busy quays of to-day seemed as hazily remote as - the dark ages of history. But Captain Whalley could in a half hour of - solitude live again all his life, with its romance, its idyl, and its - sorrow. He had to close her eyes himself. She went away from under the - ensign like a sailor's wife, a sailor herself at heart. He had read - the service over her, out of her own prayer-book, without a break in his - voice. When he raised his eyes he could see old Swinburne facing him - with his cap pressed to his breast, and his rugged, weather-beaten, - impassive face streaming with drops of water like a lump of chipped red - granite in a shower. It was all very well for that old sea-dog to cry. - He had to read on to the end; but after the splash he did not remember - much of what happened for the next few days. An elderly sailor of the - crew, deft at needlework, put together a mourning frock for the child - out of one of her black skirts.</p> - - <p>He was not likely to forget; but you cannot dam up life like a sluggish - stream. It will break out and flow over a man's troubles, it will close - upon a sorrow like the sea upon a dead body, no matter how much love has - gone to the bottom. And the world is not bad. People had been very - kind to him; especially Mrs. Gardner, the wife of the senior partner - in Gardner, Patteson, & Co., the owners of the Condor. It was she who - volunteered to look after the little one, and in due course took her to - England (something of a journey in those days, even by the overland - mail route) with her own girls to finish her education. It was ten years - before he saw her again.</p> - - <p>As a little child she had never been frightened of bad weather; she - would beg to be taken up on deck in the bosom of his oilskin coat to - watch the big seas hurling themselves upon the Condor. The swirl and - crash of the waves seemed to fill her small soul with a breathless - delight. "A good boy spoiled," he used to say of her in joke. He had - named her Ivy because of the sound of the word, and obscurely fascinated - by a vague association of ideas. She had twined herself tightly round - his heart, and he intended her to cling close to her father as to a - tower of strength; forgetting, while she was little, that in the nature - of things she would probably elect to cling to someone else. But - he loved life well enough for even that event to give him a certain - satisfaction, apart from his more intimate feeling of loss.</p> - - <p>After he had purchased the Fair Maid to occupy his loneliness, he - hastened to accept a rather unprofitable freight to Australia simply for - the opportunity of seeing his daughter in her own home. What made him - dissatisfied there was not to see that she clung now to somebody else, - but that the prop she had selected seemed on closer examination "a - rather poor stick"--even in the matter of health. He disliked his - son-in-law's studied civility perhaps more than his method of - handling the sum of money he had given Ivy at her marriage. But of his - apprehensions he said nothing. Only on the day of his departure, with - the hall-door open already, holding her hands and looking steadily into - her eyes, he had said, "You know, my dear, all I have is for you and the - chicks. Mind you write to me openly." She had answered him by an almost - imperceptible movement of her head. She resembled her mother in - the color of her eyes, and in character--and also in this, that she - understood him without many words.</p> - - <p>Sure enough she had to write; and some of these letters made Captain - Whalley lift his white eye-brows. For the rest he considered he was - reaping the true reward of his life by being thus able to produce on - demand whatever was needed. He had not enjoyed himself so much in a - way since his wife had died. Characteristically enough his son-in-law's - punctuality in failure caused him at a distance to feel a sort of - kindness towards the man. The fellow was so perpetually being jammed on - a lee shore that to charge it all to his reckless navigation would be - manifestly unfair. No, no! He knew well what that meant. It was bad - luck. His own had been simply marvelous, but he had seen in his life too - many good men--seamen and others--go under with the sheer weight of bad - luck not to recognize the fatal signs. For all that, he was cogitating - on the best way of tying up very strictly every penny he had to leave, - when, with a preliminary rumble of rumors (whose first sound reached - him in Shanghai as it happened), the shock of the big failure came; - and, after passing through the phases of stupor, of incredulity, of - indignation, he had to accept the fact that he had nothing to speak of - to leave.</p> - - <p>Upon that, as if he had only waited for this catastrophe, the unlucky - man, away there in Melbourne, gave up his unprofitable game, and sat - down--in an invalid's bath-chair at that too. "He will never walk - again," wrote the wife. For the first time in his life Captain Whalley - was a bit staggered.</p> - - <p>The Fair Maid had to go to work in bitter earnest now. It was no longer - a matter of preserving alive the memory of Dare-devil Harry Whalley in - the Eastern Seas, or of keeping an old man in pocket-money and clothes, - with, perhaps, a bill for a few hundred first-class cigars thrown in at - the end of the year. He would have to buckle-to, and keep her going hard - on a scant allowance of gilt for the ginger-bread scrolls at her stem - and stern.</p> - - <p>This necessity opened his eyes to the fundamental changes of the world. - Of his past only the familiar names remained, here and there, but - the things and the men, as he had known them, were gone. The name of - Gardner, Patteson, & Co. was still displayed on the walls of warehouses - by the waterside, on the brass plates and window-panes in the business - quarters of more than one Eastern port, but there was no longer a - Gardner or a Patteson in the firm. There was no longer for Captain - Whalley an arm-chair and a welcome in the private office, with a bit of - business ready to be put in the way of an old friend, for the sake of - bygone services. The husbands of the Gardner girls sat behind the desks - in that room where, long after he had left the employ, he had kept his - right of entrance in the old man's time. Their ships now had yellow - funnels with black tops, and a time-table of appointed routes like a - confounded service of tramways. The winds of December and June were all - one to them; their captains (excellent young men he doubted not) were, - to be sure, familiar with Whalley Island, because of late years the - Government had established a white fixed light on the north end (with - a red danger sector over the Condor Reef), but most of them would have - been extremely surprised to hear that a flesh-and-blood Whalley still - existed--an old man going about the world trying to pick up a cargo here - and there for his little bark.</p> - - <p>And everywhere it was the same. Departed the men who would have nodded - appreciatively at the mention of his name, and would have thought - themselves bound in honor to do something for Dare-devil Harry Whalley. - Departed the opportunities which he would have known how to seize; and - gone with them the white-winged flock of clippers that lived in the - boisterous uncertain life of the winds, skimming big fortunes out of - the foam of the sea. In a world that pared down the profits to an - irreducible minimum, in a world that was able to count its disengaged - tonnage twice over every day, and in which lean charters were snapped up - by cable three months in advance, there were no chances of fortune for - an individual wandering haphazard with a little bark--hardly indeed any - room to exist.</p> - - <p>He found it more difficult from year to year. He suffered greatly from - the smallness of remittances he was able to send his daughter. Meantime - he had given up good cigars, and even in the matter of inferior cheroots - limited himself to six a day. He never told her of his difficulties, and - she never enlarged upon her struggle to live. Their confidence in each - other needed no explanations, and their perfect understanding endured - without protestations of gratitude or regret. He would have been shocked - if she had taken it into her head to thank him in so many words, but - he found it perfectly natural that she should tell him she needed two - hundred pounds.</p> - - <p>He had come in with the Fair Maid in ballast to look for a freight in - the Sofala's port of registry, and her letter met him there. Its tenor - was that it was no use mincing matters. Her only resource was in opening - a boarding-house, for which the prospects, she judged, were good. Good - enough, at any rate, to make her tell him frankly that with two hundred - pounds she could make a start. He had torn the envelope open, hastily, - on deck, where it was handed to him by the ship-chandler's runner, who - had brought his mail at the moment of anchoring. For the second time - in his life he was appalled, and remained stock-still at the cabin door - with the paper trembling between his fingers. Open a boarding-house! Two - hundred pounds for a start! The only resource! And he did not know where - to lay his hands on two hundred pence.</p> - - <p>All that night Captain Whalley walked the poop of his anchored ship, as - though he had been about to close with the land in thick weather, and - uncertain of his position after a run of many gray days without a sight - of sun, moon, or stars. The black night twinkled with the guiding lights - of seamen and the steady straight lines of lights on shore; and all - around the Fair Maid the riding lights of ships cast trembling trails - upon the water of the roadstead. Captain Whalley saw not a gleam - anywhere till the dawn broke and he found out that his clothing was - soaked through with the heavy dew.</p> - - <p>His ship was awake. He stopped short, stroked his wet beard, and - descended the poop ladder backwards, with tired feet. At the sight - of him the chief officer, lounging about sleepily on the quarterdeck, - remained open-mouthed in the middle of a great early-morning yawn.</p> - - <p>"Good morning to you," pronounced Captain Whalley solemnly, passing into - the cabin. But he checked himself in the doorway, and without looking - back, "By the bye," he said, "there should be an empty wooden case put - away in the lazarette. It has not been broken up--has it?"</p> - - <p>The mate shut his mouth, and then asked as if dazed, "What empty case, - sir?"</p> - - <p>"A big flat packing-case belonging to that painting in my room. Let it - be taken up on deck and tell the carpenter to look it over. I may want - to use it before long."</p> - - <p>The chief officer did not stir a limb till he had heard the door of the - captain's state-room slam within the cuddy. Then he beckoned aft the - second mate with his forefinger to tell him that there was something "in - the wind."</p> - - <p>When the bell rang Captain Whalley's authoritative voice boomed out - through a closed door, "Sit down and don't wait for me." And his - impressed officers took their places, exchanging looks and whispers - across the table. What! No breakfast? And after apparently knocking - about all night on deck, too! Clearly, there was something in the wind. - In the skylight above their heads, bowed earnestly over the plates, - three wire cages rocked and rattled to the restless jumping of the - hungry canaries; and they could detect the sounds of their "old - man's" deliberate movements within his state-room. Captain Whalley was - methodically winding up the chronometers, dusting the portrait of - his late wife, getting a clean white shirt out of the drawers, making - himself ready in his punctilious unhurried manner to go ashore. He could - not have swallowed a single mouthful of food that morning. He had made - up his mind to sell the Fair Maid.</p> - </div> - - <div class="pointer"></div> - - <style> - body { - cursor: pointer; - } - .scroll { - height: 80vh; - width: 80vw; - max-height: 600px; - position: fixed; - top: 5em; - left: 10vw; - - overflow-y: scroll; - padding: 4em; - box-sizing: border-box; - line-height: 1.2; - } - .scroll::-webkit-scrollbar, .scroll::-webkit-scrollbar-track, .scroll::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { - display: none; - } - - .pointer { - height: 3.6em; - width: 77vw; - border: 5px solid #CCC; - border-radius: 15px; - background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.05); - pointer-events: none; - } - .highlight { - background-color: rgba(255, 255, 0, 0.3); - } - .hover { - background-color: rgba(0, 255, 255, 0.2); - } - </style> - - <script src="//github.hubspot.com/tether/dist/js/tether.js"></script> - <script> - var pointer = document.querySelector('.pointer'); - var scroll = document.querySelector('.scroll'); - - // This creates the pointer tether and links it up - // with the scroll handle - new Tether({ - element: pointer, - target: scroll, - attachment: 'middle right', - targetAttachment: 'middle left', - targetModifier: 'scroll-handle' - }); - - // Everything after this is for the highlighting effect - var paras = document.querySelectorAll('p'); - for(var i=paras.length; i--;){ - var sents = paras[i].innerHTML.split('.'); - for (var j=sents.length; j--;){ - if (sents[j].trim().length) - sents[j] = '<span>' + sents[j] + '.</span>'; - } - paras[i].innerHTML = sents.join(''); - } - - var spans = document.querySelectorAll('p span'); - - function highlight(){ - if (!spans) return; - - var bar = pointer.getBoundingClientRect(); - - for (var i=spans.length; i--;){ - var coord = spans[i].getBoundingClientRect(); - - if (bar.top < coord.top && bar.bottom > coord.top){ - spans[i].classList.add('hover'); - } else if (spans[i].classList.contains('hover')) { - spans[i].classList.remove('hover'); - } - } - - requestAnimationFrame(highlight); - } - - highlight(); - - document.body.addEventListener('click', function(){ - var els = document.querySelectorAll('.hover'); - for (var i=els.length; i--;) - els[i].classList.toggle('highlight'); - }); - </script> - </body> -</html> |