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.