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.
[Illustration: _HE HALF AROSE FROM HIS SEAT_]
"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."