An Annapolis First Classman

CHAPTER XV

STONEWELL RECEIVES A LETTER

When Henry Bligh became a midshipman he was not at all a vicious young man. But he arrived at Annapolis with an unformed character. His predominating trait was a desire for applause, and early in his fourth class year his football ability had many times earned for him vociferous applause. It was his predominating desire, a passion to become personally famous, that had urged him to give the signal for the Gates forward pass when playing against Harvard – the dishonor attached to the act had not been clearly fixed in his mind. The immediate result, his dismissal from the football squad in disgrace, his execration by the entire brigade of midshipmen – the change of his position from one of bright fame to contemptuous disesteem, had immediate effect upon the unformed character of Mr. Henry Bligh. He was plunged in the blackest of gloom and he brooded day and night over his troubles.

It was a pity he had no close friend to talk with, no older midshipman to be advised by. Amongst the midshipmen there had been a burst of anger against him and then he had been left entirely alone.

No organized "coventry" was declared against him, but a most effective, far-reaching one existed. Its direct result was to make Bligh continually unhappy, and this engendered in him passionate anger. Anger must find an object, and Bligh's directed its full force upon Stonewell and Blunt. The former, so he believed, had been the cause of all of his troubles; the latter had supplanted him at football, had defeated him in a personal fight.

On that first night when the midshipmen of Bancroft Hall had been so startled by the awful cry of "Save me," Bligh had been in the basement; he heard the cries and found Farnum, out of his head, seated in the boatswain's chair at the bottom of the ventilating shaft. Bligh of course immediately knew what had happened, but he kept this knowledge to himself.

On the night spoken of in the last chapter, Bligh had been on the sick list, and therefore was excused from company muster. It occurred to him that he could perpetrate this act and scare the hundreds of midshipmen who had showered such contumelious treatment upon him.

It really would have been a good joke had it succeeded, but unfortunately for Bligh his detection rendered his position almost unbearable. He had been roughly treated by Stonewell; and now whenever he passed a cadet officer he was halted and given directions.

"Brace up, Mr. Bligh, put your heels together, little fingers on the seams of your trousers, chest out, belly in, head up, chin in."

Had the joke been done by Glassfell or perhaps any upper classman it would have been laughed at. But to have been perpetrated by a plebe was an indignity to time-honored midshipman custom. And that the plebe should have been Mr. Bligh made the act worse than an indignity; it was an unbearable thought. And so for a while Plebe Bligh figured on every delinquency conduct report. Cadet officers suddenly discovered that Fourth Classman Bligh's hair was too long, his clothes not brushed, his shoes not shined. Bligh grew nearly frantic, morning after morning, at hearing such a report read out as:

"Bligh, Wearing torn trousers at morning inspection.

"Same, Soiled collar at same.

"Same, Not properly shaved at same."

Bligh, much as he was to be blamed, really was to be pitied. No midshipman was ever more friendless, ever more in need of kindly direction. Under some circumstances he might have developed a useful character, a high standard of thought and action. But in his lonely life there was nothing but black, bitter hopelessness. Bligh was in a state of mind to yield to dark temptation if it presented itself. Had his mental state been known some one might have taken him in hand and befriended him and directed his thoughts to more wholesome subjects. But Bligh made no advances to any one and in sad silence unknown and unthought of, brooded tempestuously.

Beautiful May once more held dominion over man and nature at Annapolis. For the midshipmen there were studies, to be sure, but the studies were all reviews of previous lessons and therefore were easy. And then there were drills, but these, this last month, were always in the presence of hundreds of visitors and therefore of particular interest to the midshipmen drilling. Cadet Lieutenant Drake, marching his company across the parade ground, and giving in stentorian tones such orders as:

"Squads right, full step, march," "Company shoulder arms, double time march!" felt particularly important in so doing, and thought all eyes were on him; and little Fourth Classman Mumma, handling a rifle instead of a sword, and obeying instead of giving orders, knew in his own mind that the people were really looking at him, so he was filled with pride and martial ardor; and so with all of the rest of them.

And after drills were over the Academy grounds were thronged with midshipmen and their friends, and the happiness ushered in at Annapolis by every May seemed to enter all hearts.

Robert Drake now frequently called at the Blunt household and always found a warm greeting there. Harry Blunt gladdened his mother's heart by getting on the first conduct grade, and so at times was to be seen in his father's house on authorized liberty. Robert never spoke to him, and though Helen wondered why he should so cling to animosity against her brother, and thought him unreasonable, yet she contrived it that Robert and Harry were never at the same time together in the house.

"Bob," remarked Stonewell the next Sunday morning, just after the commandant had finished room inspection, "this is a glorious day; what do you say to a ramble? Let's go across the river and strike into the woods; I know a trail through there, where the woods are wonderfully thick; it will be beautiful to-day."

"Do you mean the path that leads by two old chestnut trees, trees of enormous size and now almost dead?" inquired Robert.

"Yes, that's the place; those trees must be hundreds of years old. Then wild flowers and ferns will be out, all so fresh and lovely this time of year. Don't you just long for the woods when the spring-time comes?"

"Indeed I do, Stone," cried Robert, "and this will be a fine day for a stroll."

Soon the bugles rang out their call for brigade formation and hundreds of midshipmen rushed out on the terrace. Here the companies were rapidly formed and then Cadet Commander Stonewell came to an about face, saluted and reported:

"Sir, the brigade is formed."

Upon this the commandant, accompanied by a staff of officers and cadet officers, passed in front of the long line, scanning each midshipman closely, and corrected those who were careless in dress. The ranks were then closed and the brigade was marched to the chapel.

After service was concluded the midshipmen were dismissed and Robert and Stonewell went back to their rooms together.

In their absence mail had been distributed, and on the table in their room lay two letters, one for Robert, the other for his roommate.

Robert's letter was from his father, and was full of cheering home news, and it was eagerly read by the young man.

"By George, Stone, father enjoys his work with the Light House Board ever so much. He says – Why, Stone, old chap, what is the matter?"

Stonewell was standing at the open window, looking blankly across the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. In his left hand, crushed, was the letter he had just received. His face was drawn, and in it Robert recognized an expression he had seen but once before. Intense apprehension and worry, perhaps fear, shone from Stonewell's eyes. Apparently he was oblivious to his roommate's question, for he took no notice of it.

"What's the matter, Stone?" again cried Robert, rising from his chair, and going to his roommate.

"Oh, Bob, excuse me for not answering your question – I was – I was thinking of something else."

"But have you had bad news? You surely have, Stone. Can't you talk it over with me? Just think how much good you did me when I had bad news."

Stonewell gave Robert a look of great affection and said: "Thank you, old friend, there is no one on earth I would talk with so quickly as I would with you. And it may be that I will want to talk something over with you later, but just at present, Bob, there is nothing I could say – you must excuse me." And with that Stonewell picked up his hat and strode from the room.

Robert was full of surprise and worry. It was plainly evident that Stonewell was under deep emotion, and just like him, he could not or would not speak of the matter that so affected him.

"I wish he would talk it over with me," thought Robert; "it always makes a fellow feel better if he tells his worries to a true friend. What a lot of times old Stone has helped me in my troubles – and some of them were big ones, too! When we take our walk this afternoon I'll try to get him to tell me."

Robert now went out in the grounds, thinking he might meet his roommate, but he did not, and as they sat at different mess tables he had no chance to talk with Stonewell until after dinner.

As soon as they were dismissed after dinner Robert found his roommate, and said:

"Come along, Stone, let's start out right away; it's a beautiful day and we'll have a glorious ramble."

"Bob, I can't go; I find I have some letters I must write; get somebody else to go with you, old fellow – I wish I could go, but I really can't."

Robert looked blankly at Stonewell. His anticipations of a pleasant walk suddenly vanished and the day seemed dreary. He knew his roommate too well to try to expostulate or argue with him.

"I'm awfully sorry, Bob," continued Stonewell, laying an affectionate arm on Robert's shoulder, and with real concern noticing Robert's evident disappointment. "I do wish I could go with you, but I really can't."

"I think I'll write some letters too," remarked Robert in a dull, forlorn sort of way.

"Oh, don't waste this beautiful afternoon that way!" said Stonewell; "why don't you get Helen to take a walk with you; she's probably thinking you may call to-day."

"I'm going to write some letters," reiterated Robert stolidly.

"Why, Bob, that's ridiculous; go out and enjoy the day," urged Stonewell; "it will be awfully tiresome remaining indoors all afternoon."

But Robert was as immovable as he knew Stonewell to be; the latter seemed more anxious for Robert to go out than the circumstances called for.

In a few minutes both were in their room, writing, and both ill at ease. As a matter of fact neither wanted to write letters.

"Stone, I want you to tell me what has been bothering you," Robert finally blurted out. "You have helped me any number of times and I have never done a thing for you."

"You are constantly helping me, every day," replied Stonewell; "you can have no idea of how your opinion and regard for me have kept me braced up. I know that my course here at Annapolis is considered a successful one; I know, Bob, you think I am superior to you. Now I know I'm not; you have qualities of steadfastness, of decision of character that I can never hope for. I have a certain faculty of quickly solving problems that has given me my class rank, but, Bob, I know you have qualities that will outlast mine; and it is your attitude of mind toward me that has kept me striving, and to you is largely due the success I have won here. So never again say you have not helped me. You have been my constant inspiration. Now, Bob, you think there is something on my mind. If there is, it does not concern myself, and I assure you I want to forget it; and I cannot talk about it even with you. But I promise you I will come immediately to you if the slightest thing should arise in which you could help me. So oblige me, Bob, by dismissing this matter from your mind."

Robert listened like one astonished. That he could have been of such help to his roommate he had never imagined and the thought of it made him very happy.

"Bob," continued Stonewell with his rare smile, "I'm sure Helen Blunt will be surprised if you don't drop around to see her this fine afternoon, and as that scamp of a brother of hers is on the first conduct grade it won't hurt if you see him at her home."

"All right, Stone," rejoined Robert, cheerily. "I see you want to be alone and I won't bother you any more; but I'm sorry you're going to miss that stroll across the river. I'm much obliged, old chap, if you think I ever helped you; I never knew I had, and I'm very happy at the thought. I think I'll see if I can find Helen and persuade her to take a walk."

CHAPTER XVI

BLIGH MAKES A FRIEND

"Well, Robert Drake, I'm glad to see you; I was hoping you might come over this afternoon," exclaimed Helen Blunt as Robert appeared on the porch of her home; "suppose we go out for a walk. I want to do an errand for mother in Conduit Street; and then suppose we walk over the bridge and go through Eastport; there are some gorgeous woods beyond there. Come along."

"That's just what I wanted to do," replied Robert as they started off. "But did you really expect me to-day? To tell you the truth, Stonewell and I first intended to spend the afternoon in the woods across the river, but he found he had to write some letters, so he decided not to go out to-day."

"So I come next after Stonewell, do I, Robert?" queried Helen.

"I'll tell you where you stand – as one of the best friends a fellow ever had," replied Robert earnestly. "It is not a question of standing next to Stonewell; he's just like a big brother to me; do you know, Helen, he is one of the most remarkable characters alive; why, if he had studied law I believe he would some day be President of the United States. He excels in everything, and besides all that he is just the best fellow imaginable."

"He is indeed a splendid, a most superior man, Robert, but I believe Mr. Stonewell isn't really as ambitious as you are, that he is more influenced by your extravagant opinion of him than he is by the abstract desire to excel as a naval officer. You see it is so easy for him to excel if he only half tries. But, Robert, as much as I admire him, I do not feel that I really know him. And come now, after rooming with him for four years, do you feel you know his intimate thoughts? Are you really certain that you know Mr. Stonewell just as he knows you?"

"Indeed I do," Robert stoutly maintained. "I know all about him. I know he's one of the finest fellows that ever lived."

"And you know all about him, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"And he couldn't go walking with you to-day because he had some letters to write?"

"That was the reason; but, Helen, it seems to me you are asking some very odd questions."

"I know I am, but while we've been walking down here, you have been looking this way. Suppose you look around in the other direction and tell me who you see walking at such a rapid rate – I don't mean on Main Street, but down Conduit Street, where we will turn in a minute."

Robert did so, and to his intense surprise saw Stonewell. The latter evidently had not seen Helen or her companion. He was swinging down Conduit Street with rapid strides, perhaps a hundred yards ahead of them. Robert was so amazed that he could say nothing. It was now evident to him that Stonewell had received news of some nature that caused him to break his engagement to go walking, news that brought him in this great hurry on Conduit Street, a part of Annapolis not much frequented by midshipmen; and news that he certainly did not care to discuss with his most intimate friend.

"Now what do you think of that, Mr. Robert?" cried Helen triumphantly. "He broke his engagement to write some letters, and as soon as you leave he rushes out to Conduit Street. There, he's gone into that big yellow house. Now, do you think you know as much about Mr. Stonewell as he does about you?"

Robert was silent. He too thought it was queer. He was too loyal in his friendship to Stonewell to tell Helen of the misgivings he had felt since he had seen his roommate so affected by that morning letter. And Stonewell's action now was decidedly mystifying. Robert instinctively knew his roommate was in deep trouble and he longed to know of the burden upon him and to share it with him.

"Do forgive me, Robert," said Helen a little later, noticing how sober he had become. "I'm awfully sorry I called your attention to Mr. Stonewell; I know how devoted you are to your friends. Let's try and forget about it and be happy. We'll go into the woods and gather some violets and dogwood – the woods are so pretty now – full of moss and ferns – let's walk fast."

Robert was cheered up a bit, and when they had finished their errand on Conduit Street they hastened to the woods. Leaving their troubles behind them, these young people were soon in a happy, merry mood. The woods were soon deep about them, and they drank deep breaths from the forest-perfumed air. Robert told Helen the great secret of his gun drill and the means he had taken to win the flag.

"And, Helen, if my company wins it I am going to ask you to present it; if we win it that will be my privilege."

Helen was enthusiastic, of course, for the greatest glory a girl ever wins at Annapolis is to be chosen to present the colors to the winning company.

"You'll win it, I'm sure you will," she cried; and then, woman-like, she immediately became deeply pensive.

"Why so quiet?" queried Robert.

"Oh, I was thinking about what kind of a dress I shall wear, and I must have a new hat too, – I'm sure you'll win, Robert, just as sure as though it had really happened."

Mr. Henry Bligh continued to lead, in a crowded community of light-hearted young men, a solitary life. He commenced to experience a certain kind of cruel pleasure in being the martyr he considered himself to be. Calm though he outwardly was his mind was in a continual ferment, with a direct result that he was never in a humor to study; naturally he did poorly in his daily recitations and worse in examinations. The time for the annual examinations was now near and Bligh knew he had but little hope of passing. Only by heroic effort could he hope to make a satisfactory mark for his final average and thus become a third classman. Bligh was in no mental state to make this required heroic effort. In fact it was practically certain that he would fail and be required to resign.

One Saturday in the middle of May, Bligh went out in the city of Annapolis and walked around in an aimless way. He wandered in the State House grounds and finally sat down on an iron bench near the statue of Chief Justice Taney.

After a few minutes he observed a young man approach on the walk that led by his bench. Bligh gave him a careless glance, and as the young man passed he happened to look at him again. And then a startling change came over Mr. Henry Bligh. His eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets; involuntarily he half arose from his seat; his breath came in quick gasps; he gave every evidence of complete amazement. Then he suddenly sank back, relaxed and gave himself over to uncontrolled merriment.

"Oh, what a joke," he cried; "oh, my, oh, my! – who would believe it?"

It had been long since Bligh had laughed so heartily. And it was strange indeed, because there was nothing particularly remarkable in the appearance of the young man who had so affected Bligh. He was dressed in a well made gray suit and wore a straw hat. His features were undeniably handsome. He had a broad forehead, and under heavy eyebrows there gleamed a pair of thoughtful gray eyes; he was tall and powerfully built, and walked with a swinging gait. Before the civilian had gone far, Bligh arose, in a hesitating way, and half-heartedly followed him. The stranger walked around State House Circle into Main Street, and turned down that street; Bligh followed. Soon he apparently gathered courage and drew nearer to the man ahead. The latter went into a drug store, stopped at the fountain and seemingly ordered a summer drink. Bligh had a good look at him through the open door, pausing there for a moment; then he went inside and stood by the counter and ordered an orange phosphate.

"It's a good cooling drink for warm weather," he observed to the young man on his right, looking squarely at him.

"Indeed it is," replied that person, looking at Bligh with friendly interest; "but try a lime phosphate some time; the West Indian lime is very cooling."

"I will," replied Bligh heartily. "You're a stranger here, aren't you?"

"Yes, and I see you are a midshipman. I've heard lots about the Naval Academy; it's a fine place, isn't it? I imagine midshipmen live a most interesting life."

"Some do, I suppose; I know others who don't. Some fellows here make a false start, slip up on something, you know, and get in a bad light, and after that they have no chance; everybody gets down on them." Bligh spoke bitterly.

"That's pretty hard luck," observed the stranger; "my sympathy always goes to a fellow in that fix. Even if he does slip up once there may be lots of good left in him, and a man should not be utterly condemned for one mistake. That isn't fair at all. If I had to choose a friend between two men, one of whom had been careless in some act and acknowledged it, and the other was of the I-am-better-than-thou-class, I'd take the first fellow for a friend every time. But my thoughts can hardly interest you, – I don't suppose they apply to you at all," and the speaker turned a thoughtful, penetrating glance upon Bligh.

Tears suddenly gushed from Bligh's eyes, and in a broken voice he said: "See here, you are the first man that has spoken to me in a friendly way for months."

Bligh showed genuine emotion and feeling when he spoke. He was totally friendless, and he suddenly felt great pity for himself.

"Why, my dear fellow," exclaimed his newly-made acquaintance, "you will pardon me for my inadvertent remarks – but suppose we take a walk; come over to my rooms, and if you feel like it talk things over with me – I don't know you, but I want to know you. I don't believe I see anything bad in your face, though I imagine there is sadness there."

These kind words were to Bligh like heaven-sent manna. Until this moment he had no conception of how he yearned for just one single friend, one person who believed there was good in him, one to whom he could open his heart and pour out its griefs. Instantly this newly-made friendship became precious, and he felt brighter and happier than he had for months. Sincerity and kindness were written in the features of this new friend.

Bligh spent several hours with him in his rooms, and acquainted him with the troubles, mistakes and heartburnings that were his daily portion in his now unfortunate condition; in doing this he saw himself in a new light; and now when his new friend pointed out where he was blameworthy, where he had been wrong, he eagerly assented. For this grave friend, sympathetic though he was to the sad story that rushed from Bligh's lips, in a kindly spirit severely criticized Bligh for his wrong actions. He laughed heartily at Bligh's woeful story of how he had lowered himself in the ventilating shaft. "That was good, Mr. Bligh," he said; "but it's a great pity that you were caught."

When Bligh returned to his quarters he was like a different man; more happiness to his wounded spirit had come to him this day than he had had for months.

"If I had only had a friend like this when the year commenced," he reflected, "my life here would have been different. But now I'm afraid it's too late; I'm pretty sure to bilge."

CHAPTER XVII

AN ILL-FAVORED, RED-BEARDED ROGUE

"Bob, I think I've got the flag this year," remarked Cadet Lieutenant Blair, to his fellow three striper, Robert Drake; "everybody says my company is better than yours in artillery; I've an even chance with you at infantry – members of my company have had part in baseball and football games, fencing, rowing, tennis, gymnasium and all other contests. The second company, I think, will get the most points in seamanship, and I have more trained marksmen than you have. I've got you beaten, Bob, old boy."

"Don't you be too sure of that, Sam; the first company has a notion it wants to carry the colors next year; and look here, Sam, I'll put you on to something if you'll agree to keep quiet about it."

"What is it, Bob? I'll keep mum," replied Blair expectantly, impressed by Robert's earnest manner.