An Annapolis First Classman

"Where were you when you woke up?"

"That's what has been bothering me. Stone, I found myself in the basement. How in the world I got there, what I was doing, I have no idea. I woke up with the most awful feeling of terror a man ever had, and I didn't know where I was. If it hadn't been that young Bligh was down there I'd have lost my grip; I didn't have much of one as it was. Bligh saw I was in bad shape, and grabbed me and half carried me to the floor above."

"What was Bligh doing there at that time?"

"I don't like to say, Stone; you must remember he did me a good turn."

"Well, I know what he was doing, he was breaking training; I suspected that; I detected the odor of tobacco on him that night, and I've had this same notion before. If I learn that he's breaking training I'll fire him off the team. Do you know, Farnum, I've heard you were seen going up on the fourth floor a little before ten that night. Have you any recollection at all of that, any dream even?"

"None except a most horrible dream; I shudder to think about it. Say, Stone, I hope you won't talk about this; I'd hate to have the notion get among the fellows that I had been crazy."

"I won't speak of it, old chap, to anybody; but I can tell by your very appearance you're going to have no more trouble. Say, our next game is with the University of Virginia, and after that we play Harvard; by George, I hope we make a good showing. Good-bye, old chap; I'll drop in to see you every day or so until you're back with us."

On his way out Stonewell stopped in to see Dr. Pickron. "Doctor," he said, "Farnum is doing well. What was the operation you performed?"

"We trephined his skull. He received a hard blow on the right side of his head in the Bucknell game; this caused a rupture and resulted in a hemorrhage or blood clot, which was formed between the membranes of the brain and the skull; and there was a slight depression of the skull over this area. I wanted to operate at the time he was first hurt, but the blood clot was mostly absorbed, and apparently Mr. Farnum regained his normal condition. But actually there remained a thickening of the membrane over this area, and this, with the slight depression of the skull, caused a constant pressure. This resulted in a certain form of epilepsy, which was his condition when you brought him over last Friday night."

"Doctor, while in this condition could Mr. Farnum have walked about, unaware of what he was doing, as if he were asleep, and later know nothing about what had happened?"

"Yes, indeed; it's quite likely that very thing happened to Mr. Farnum."

"Thank you very much, doctor," and Stonewell left and went to the athletic field, where football practice had already commenced.

"Bligh," called out Stonewell sharply, "I believe you've been breaking training. I give you fair warning that if you are caught at it you'll be kicked off the team without ceremony."

Bligh looked uncomfortable and commenced to bluster. "Who says I've broken training; just let me know who it is! Don't I play quarter well enough for you, Mister Stonewell?" he continued sneeringly.

"Blunt can take your place any time," replied Stonewell shortly. "He's playing better every day, and your playing is at a standstill. Now get busy."

"Oh, you're one of the mighty Stonewell's pets," muttered Bligh to Harry Blunt. "Your bootlicking begins to draw interest."

This uncalled for and unexpected insult was too much for Harry Blunt's uncertain temper; full of rage he jumped at Bligh and struck him heavily in the face. The two lads clinched, but were immediately separated, Harry's face aflame with angry indignation, and Bligh furious with mortification. Stonewell called them sternly to time, threatening summarily to dismiss both from the team if they didn't bury their personal differences: nor would he listen to any explanation from either.

"Shut up, both of you, and get to work," he ordered peremptorily.

After this the rivalry between Bligh and Blunt became bitter. Blunt secretly was tremendously encouraged by Stonewell's remark that he could take Bligh's place any time. In the next game, against the University of Virginia, Blunt was put in at quarter, and won golden opinions. Virginia was beaten 10 to 0, and there were many that now openly said: "Blunt is every bit as good as Bligh, and with another season's experience he will be better."

Bligh was aware of this sentiment, and it exasperated his already bitter feeling against his rival; he had much enjoyed the reputation of being the Naval Academy's best quarter-back. He showed this bitterness by a sullen behavior that was evident to everybody and which brought down upon him severe criticism and reprimand. But he did not change.

On the next Wednesday, Annapolis was matched against Harvard. The wearers of the crimson came to the field smiling and confident, but it wasn't long before they commenced to look worried. Annapolis immediately commenced to tear great holes for steady gains through the Harvard line. To the enthusiastic midshipmen on the bleachers it seemed like a regular walk down the field. When ten yards from Harvard's goal, Lumsden, a second classman, took the ball. No one knew just how it happened, but the ball slipped from Lumsden's grasp, and quick as a flash the Harvard captain emerged from the scuffle with the ball under his arm and an apparently clear field before him. Robert Drake downed him on the Annapolis fifteen yard line.

Harvard now tried rushing tactics, but to her dismay could make no headway, and on the third down kicked a goal from the field. From now on Annapolis played with wild desperation. Chances looked bright for them, but without realizing it the team was exhausting itself. Toward the close of the second half Annapolis had the ball seventeen yards from the Harvard goal line, and now Stonewell realized, too late, that his men were exhausted, that Harvard had better staying powers. Twice Stonewell threw the entire strength of his team against Harvard, but the latter stood the shock easily. The midshipmen were worn out. And then on the third down, Stonewell whispered to Bligh, the quarter-back, to try a goal from the field. "Our best and only hope is to tie the score," he said.

Once more the two teams were lined up, Annapolis bracing itself for a final effort, Harvard doggedly determined. And then Bligh gave the signal.

"Thirteen, twenty-one, ninety-seven, forty-six."

"Time, time," called Stonewell, suddenly, running out and holding up his hand. "Blunt, oh, Blunt!" he shouted to the side lines.

"Get off the field, you hound," Stonewell said in tones of contempt to Bligh.

The latter had given the signal for the Gates forward pass.

CHAPTER VII

THE WEST POINT GAME

In another moment, but for Stonewell's quick action, the ball might have been put in play.

All the Naval Academy players instantly realized what Bligh had intended, and every one was intensely angry.

Gates, who had heard the signal, came running out on the field from the side lines; the Harvard players were tremendously surprised and did not know what to make of the commotion among the midshipmen, and the umpire was angrily ordering the midshipmen to play and Gates to get off the field. Short shrift was given to Bligh; the latter's attempted expostulation was cut short, and Stonewell passionately ordered him away. Blunt took his place as quarter. A place-kick was attempted, but was blocked, and time was soon called. The game ended with the score Harvard 3, Annapolis 0.

The midshipmen players ran to their dressing rooms, and much hot and angry talk followed. Some were for reporting Bligh and having him dismissed. Others were for giving him a physical beating; others proposed that he be put into complete "coventry."

"None of this will do, fellows," said Stonewell, after listening to a lot of angry proposals for Mr. Bligh's discomfiture. "Not one of us here will ever speak to the man; that goes as a matter of course; but we must be very careful to avoid doing anything that will tend to create discussion. Bligh's leaving the field was not understood by anybody but our own players. If he be put in 'coventry' or thrashed or reported or disciplined for what he did to-day the matter might leak out. West Point scouts were present watching our play, and Harvard plays Yale soon. The only thing to do is to keep absolutely mum; in this case the ends of justice and of discipline must give way to football necessities. We must keep faith with our friends of Yale."

"But is such a hound to be permitted to remain a midshipman?" burst out Harry Blunt. "I've been brought up to believe a midshipman could not do a dishonorable thing and remain a midshipman; is Bligh to do a scoundrelly act and not only go unpunished but also to have the secret of it kept by us who would have been disgraced if he had succeeded in his purpose?"

"Just so, Blunt," replied Stonewell. "There's nothing else to do. Should we report Bligh it is quite possible the whole thing would come out, and Gates' forward pass from a fake kick formation would become a matter of common knowledge. We may win the West Point game through it. Yale plays Harvard the same day we play West Point. Each of us must avoid doing a thing in regard to Bligh that will cause comment or discussion. His leaving the field at that time and his being put off the squad is bound to cause talk in the brigade. If anybody asks why, just say he didn't suit, and change the subject."

"That's right," broke in Professor Danton, who had been an interested listener, "but I just want to add one thing; in the many years I've been here, there have been at different times bad characters entered as midshipmen; but they're invariably found out and dismissed. Mark my words, Mr. Bligh will be no exception – he's undoubtedly a dishonorable character – don't worry about him; he'll not last a year here."

Much discontented grumbling followed, but all realized there was nothing to do except follow Stonewell's directions. As a natural result impotent rage was felt by the midshipmen players against Bligh. In spite of Bligh's dastardly act they were to be powerless to show their contempt for him or their resentment of his conduct, nor could the midshipmen of the brigade be told until after the football season had ended.

"And just think of the brigade giving Bligh the 'four N yell,' fellows, as he left the field," grumbled Harry Blunt.

The members of the team talked of Bligh's conduct rather than of the game in which they had just been defeated. Before the game they had hardly dared to hope for victory against Harvard, and all had now a satisfactory feeling that a good battle had been fought, and that no apology was necessary.

Amongst the midshipmen of Bancroft Hall much enthusiasm was felt for their team, but great surprise was exhibited when at supper Bligh was seen to go to his regular seat in the mess hall instead of going to the training table. It became instantly known that Bligh was off the football squad, and "Why?" was the question asked everywhere.

Bligh was very quiet, and in reply to numerous questions said he could not talk about the matter. Then all knew that he had been dismissed from the squad.

"Pass the word, Pete," said Glassfell to Peters, "that Stone says that no questions are to be asked, and Bligh's leaving the football squad is not to be talked about." It was wonderful how loyally this mandate was observed. It soon got to every midshipman of the brigade and in spite of the intense curiosity that existed every midshipman felt it a duty to the team to carry out Stonewell's wishes.

That same Wednesday night, shortly before half-past nine, Bligh appeared in the room occupied by Stonewell and Robert Drake.

"By what authority are you visiting my room in study hours?" demanded Stonewell in coldly official tones.

"From the officer-in-charge, sir; I told him it was most important."

"What is it?"

Bligh's reply came in halting, jerky sentences.

"I wish to explain that signal to-day, sir. I was wild for our team to win; we could have won by the play; I gave the signal without thought, sir. It just sprang from my lips – I never once thought about the promise – and besides, it would be a greater honor to win from Harvard than from West Point – and probably we would have won by it from West Point, too – we have never yet won from Harvard. Don't you see, sir, I was working for the Academy? I was carried away at the time; it was a tremendous minute and the desire to use a play that would win crowded all other thoughts out of my mind; it's well enough to think of promises when you have time to do so; it's easy when you're sitting in a chair doing nothing, but too much outside matter should not be expected of the quarter-back in the middle of a fierce game. I want to go back on the squad."

"Mr. Bligh, from the very best possible construction of your act, even if it were agreed that your character is high, that with you a promise intentionally broken is impossible, your conduct has shown you to be irresponsible, a person in whom trust cannot be reposed. But from your words I judge you regard a promise lightly – to be broken easily. Your action was particularly bad because it might have caused other men, who have higher regard for their word than you have, to be faithless to a promise. But I'm going to make you one promise, and that is as long as you are at the Naval Academy you will never play football here again. You may leave my room, sir."

"Do you think I'm going to stand this?" cried Bligh, in passionate tones. "Do you expect me to sit idle while you are ruining my reputation? I'm not powerless, perhaps I know of some way I may injure you – and some others," and Bligh's eyes glared with savage intelligence.

"I know what you're thinking of, you miserable plebe. You're thinking you will write to both West Point and Harvard about the fake kick."

Bligh gave a violent start.

"But let me tell you," continued Stonewell, "those people would spurn a correspondence with you. If you attempt such a thing as that I will learn of it, and then I'll make you another promise; if you should do it you'll be drummed out of this place to the tune of the Rogue's March. Return to the officer-in-charge, sir, and report you have concluded your important matter."

Bligh turned and left the room. Angry feelings dominated him. In his statements to Stonewell he had unconsciously expressed his sentiments; honor and truth were in fact not salient characteristics of this young man, and when giving the signal for the Gates forward pass he had not given much thought to the promise he and all of the team were bound by. So he left Stonewell with a sense of injury and resentment, not of remorse.

Stonewell and Robert lived in the corner room of the ground floor, armory wing. Bligh roomed with Sexton in the main corridor, next door to the room used as an office by the lieutenant-commander in charge of the first division of midshipmen, that officer occupying the room only during the day.

When Bligh returned he found his roommate, who had been off on some unauthorized visiting since supper time, leaving the room again with his arms full of clothes.

"What's up? Where are you taking those things, Sexton?" inquired Bligh.

"I have permission to change my room; I'm not going to room with you any more."

Sexton was on the football squad, and so knew of what Bligh had done. "So you're against me too, are you?" shouted Bligh, now beside himself with anger; he then left the room and started down the corridor, and in a moment saw Harry Blunt coming toward him. He did not notice that Blunt, on seeing him, suddenly clenched his hands and seemed to breathe hard. In fact Harry's anger was yet intensely alive, and the sight of Bligh set his nerves on edge.

Bligh's overwrought feelings now left his control; he wanted somebody to hate, and because of his previous troubles with Blunt it was very easy for him to vent his passion on that young man. So as he passed Harry he suddenly stopped and said:

"So the Great Stonewell's pet chicken has bootlicked himself into quarter, has he?"

And then an avalanche struck Mr. Henry Bligh. Before he thought of defending himself a steam hammer blow slammed him against the corridor wall and in the space of three or four seconds blow after blow was rained upon him; blows sent by Harry Blunt, animated by intense personal animosity and utter detestation. And then Bligh dropped to the floor, covered his face with his hands, acknowledging defeat, and groaning in utter despair. To that overwrought fourth classman it seemed as if the entire world had combined against him.

Stonewell came running down the corridor. "What does this mean?" he demanded savagely of Blunt.

"He said I was your pet chicken, and had bootlicked myself into quarter. I hit him; I had to, I couldn't help it. I hadn't said a word to him when he insulted me."

"Go to your room and keep away from him. Get up, Bligh, and go to your room."

After this episode Bligh was very quiet, and kept much to himself. But whenever he passed Harry Blunt or Stonewell a peculiar expression crossed his face. One would have said that though he never spoke of them yet he thought much about them, and these thoughts evidently were not pleasant ones.

The football season now drew to a close, and finally those ancient friends but football rivals, Annapolis and West Point, once more faced each other on Franklin Field, in Philadelphia. It is not the purpose here to depict that glorious struggle; that is a matter of too recent history and has been told many times.

The teams seemed about equally matched. In the mighty rushing of one team against the other neither side could make much, and but few first downs were recorded; end runs were nipped in the bud. All in vain would one team hurl itself upon the other, and many tremendous efforts accomplished nothing. And so before the end of the first half kicking tactics were adopted by both sides. Twice when Annapolis had recovered the ball from a punt down the field a place-kick was tried, but each time it was blocked by West Point.

Once more, while there was yet ten minutes to play, the midshipmen were within striking distance of West Point's goal, and once more Blunt gave the same signal for an attempt for a goal from the field; a signal the West Pointers now knew perfectly well. But they did not appreciate a difference in Blunt's manner of giving the signal, something well understood by every midshipman player. Stonewell fell back in his place, the midshipmen braced themselves as usual, and the West Pointers prepared to block the kick.

On the bleachers the mighty host who had been yelling themselves hoarse were momentarily silent. Harry Blunt now grabbed the snapped ball and then, with terrific force, West Point plunged into the Annapolis line. The shock was backed by all the strength and pluck and spirit that the West Pointers possessed. But bewilderment overtook them, for something out of the usual had happened, and in awful dismay they were like men groping in the dark.

Blunt grabbed the ball when it was snapped back and ran seven or eight yards to the right; and at the same instant, with the speed of a deer Robert Drake sped far over to the right. He then turned and caught the ball which with unerring skill Blunt had thrown to the point where Robert was to catch it.

In but a few seconds Robert was lying flat on the ground between the goal posts. Annapolis had made a touch-down. And now from the Navy side there broke out prolonged roars and shouts from fifteen thousand enthusiastic Navy friends, while over on the West Point side there was nothing but silent dismay.

There was no more scoring, but all Annapolis was wild with delight; for the first time in four years she had defeated West Point.

But on the midshipman stand, surrounded by excited midshipmen in blue, there was one young man who did not participate in the general delight; for with brooding face and troubled eyes Midshipman Henry Bligh sat silent.

CHAPTER VIII

"THE MAN WORE A SLOUCH HAT"

"Bang," went the reveille gun at six in the morning, rattling every window in Bancroft Hall; and out of bed jumped Robert Drake in a hurry. He first took his customary cold shower-bath, and then quickly threw on his clothes. "Turn out, Stone," he called to his roommate, who was in his own sleeping room across the study. A suite for two midshipmen consists of two sleeping rooms separated by a longer room used in common by both, a large clothes closet, and a shower-bath.

Hardly had the reverberating roar of the morning gun died away than Bancroft Hall was filled with the harsh, sleep-blasting notes of discordant bugles.

"Turn out on this floor, turn out, turn out," called out Robert in the corridor just outside of his own room.

Then he entered the room next to his own, in which Peters and Glassfell roomed.

"All right, Bob," came from each sleeping room which opened into the study room where Robert had entered, and Robert left and rushed into the next room. It must be confessed that Robert was hardly out of the room when Glassfell was once more sound asleep. And further it is admitted that Robert did not give the same stern inspection to first classmen's rooms that he gave to those of the lower classes. He was satisfied with the report from his own classmates of "all right," but saw with his own eyes that all others were actually turned out. On this particular morning Mr. Harry Blunt, midshipman third class, was strangely very tired after what should have been eight hours of sleep, so tired, in fact, that neither gun-firing nor bugle detonation awakened him.

"Turn out, Blunt, turn out," called out Robert, standing over him. "Get up; you're on the report for not being turned out at reveille inspection."

Harry slowly turned out, and Robert rushed away to continue his inspection.

Breakfast formation came half an hour later. Most midshipmen were in ranks before roll call, but at the last note of the bugle swarms of midshipmen rushed madly from Bancroft Hall; midshipmen who had taken a few winks after reveille inspection, hoping to get to the formation without being marked late. This was Glassfell's habit, and he had developed remarkable skill in dressing himself while running at full speed. He would leave his room half dressed and at the end of a dead run he would appear in ranks ready for inspection.

"By George, Stone," said Robert later, "can you imagine there is anybody in the world who does more mad rushing than midshipmen do? We are jumped out of our sleep by a cannon going off right under us, and we run about in a feverish hurry all day long, always having to be present at some formation or other, always fearful of punishment if we are late at anything. And one day is just like another; we were jumped about all day long when we were plebes, and we are still at it."

Every minute of Robert's life was interesting and never had it been so full of zest as in this, his last year at Annapolis. He enjoyed his rank with its duties and authority as cadet lieutenant, also his studies and drills were engrossing. These days, though so crowded with detail, were much the same; several hours daily were spent in preparing lessons; recitations followed, and then at four o'clock came the afternoon drills. The practical drills supplemented the theoretical work in class rooms, and all was based upon what was to be required of the midshipmen after graduation. And as an important duty of graduated midshipmen is to teach and train enlisted men, Robert, in common with the rest of his classmates, was drilled at many different things. He commanded his own company at infantry and artillery manœuvres and felt proud and important in this position, but at other times he was to be found at a forge, dirty with grime and sweat, or taking the place of a fireman at a boiler. He could now turn out a fair piece of work at the lathe, shaper, or drill-press; and he was quite at home in sailing a boat, running an engine or manipulating a twelve-inch gun turret. For at Annapolis drills are many and varied, and the mind, eye and hand are all trained together.

December passed and with it football was forgotten. In the last of January came the semi-annual examinations; of the first class there now remained but one-half of those who had originally entered.

In February occurred an incident of much interest to Robert. At a Saturday night dance he saw his first commander, Captain Blunt, and with the latter was Miss Helen, his daughter, and Harry Blunt's sister. It would be hard to decide who was most pleased at this meeting. Captain Blunt evinced real pleasure in meeting Robert again, and Helen's welcome was a genuinely glad one.