"BLIGH, BLIGH, BLIGH!"
That Sunday afternoon the Naval Academy was in an uproar, for the
complete history of Harry Blunt's disguise had become known to all
midshipmen, and every one of them was fascinated and intensely amused at
his daring.
It was not the commandant's intention that the facts should become
generally known. But Harry Blunt never yet had been very amenable to
orders. First he told two or three intimates under strict injunctions of
secrecy, and each of these told three or four of their close friends in
confidence; and in this strictly confidential way the history of Harry
Blunt's disguise became known before dinner was over to every midshipman
of the brigade.
Now the stern officers who inculcate discipline and a few other things
on the minds and character of midshipmen know that these young
gentlemen should have been pained and grieved to learn that one of their
number had left a disguise in the office of the dreaded
officer-in-charge of the first division of midshipmen; in that office
where demerits were assigned and daily preachments were solemnly made to
erring midshipmen. And we know they should have been dismayed that yet
another one had proposed three groans for the highest authorities at the
Naval Academy. But to be candid one is compelled to admit that the
midshipmen's sentiments on these matters were far otherwise.
Indeed, the fact is Bligh's audacity thrilled and fascinated every
midshipman of the brigade. It came as a violent shock; and after the
thrill came amazement, and then uproarious laughter.
That a midshipman should have kept civilian clothes for months right
under the nose of an austere lieutenant-commander touched the brigade's
"funny bone."
It was felt that Harry Blunt had a good joke on that
lieutenant-commander. Toward Bligh there suddenly developed great
admiration. His proposing groans for the superintendent and the
commandant was the most audacious thing that had happened in the memory
of any midshipman then at Annapolis. And his frank assumption of the
guilt of the acts charged against Third Classman Blunt, a man with whom
he had been on the worst of terms, suddenly awoke all midshipmen to a
belief that the despised Bligh had not merited the obloquy so
universally cast upon him.
"Poor beggar," remarked Glassfell to Farnum, "he was only a plebe, and
hadn't yet been educated up to the niceties of honor. He was only trying
to save himself from bilging; and he hasn't been treated decently here,
that's a fact. But what unparalleled nerve! Goodness! The idea of his
standing up and shouting out those groans! Well, I think a good many of
us have groaned more than once at the superintendent and commandant!"
and Glassfell chuckled.
When Harry Blunt left the commandant's office that Sunday morning he
went straight to Bligh's room.
"Bligh," he cried, "you are white, and by jingo! everybody in this
Academy is going to know it before night. I've treated you badly, Bligh,
right from the start; and when I think of what you did this
morning--well, I'm ashamed of myself, that's how I feel. Look here,
Bligh, would you shake hands?"
"Do you mean that, Blunt?" exclaimed Bligh, joyfully, his face aglow
with happiness.
"Mean it? I'm proud to be your friend if you will only let me!" and
these two young men who had so long cherished bitter feelings against
each other jumped into a warm, generous friendship.
With the tale of Bligh's audacity went everywhere the story of how he
had saved Blunt. And midshipmen were touched deeply in suddenly
realizing the sad, lonely, ostracized life Bligh had led; of the
generosity of conduct by one so universally despised. And thus there was
a reaction by leaps and bounds of generous feeling toward that once
unhappiest of young men.
Bligh's character was hardly changed in these few days; the strongest
thing in it was still a desire for applause, and he fairly drank in the
kindly words that were now profusely showered upon him. The direct
effect was to make him tremendously happy; Bligh really had never been
hopelessly vicious, unwarrantable as had been some of his acts. And no
midshipman had ever lived a sadder life at the Naval Academy. And the
sudden change from ostracism to popularity overwhelmed him with
happiness and filled him with ambition to merit the kindly feelings that
went with him in his final days at Annapolis.
On the following Wednesday Bligh received an official letter from the
Secretary of the Navy with the curt information that his resignation as
midshipman had been accepted, and so the fear of disgraceful dismissal
vanished. He was to reƫnter civil life without the stigma of expulsion
from the naval service. He was all packed up and left on the afternoon
train.
Beside him in the car sat Frank Stonewell.
"Stonewell," remarked Bligh, "you will never know the good you've done
me; you came to me with your friendship when I had no friend and when I
needed one badly. I was going to the dogs and hated everybody; you
helped to restore my self-respect and gave me a hope I might be of some
account after all. I'm going to try to live right from now on, to make a
point of deserving friends."
"You're all right, Harry," replied Frank Stonewell; "you just needed to
get a good grip on yourself; you had the academic regulations and
standards on the brain when I first met you; you were actually morbid
about them. Perhaps I pushed my defiance of them a little too far when I
played the last trick, but I love to dare. However, it's all a phase of
life. But, I say, Bligh, look out there! What are all those midshipmen
running into the station for?"
"Oh, that's Blunt and a lot of third and fourth classmen. I guess they
had a late dress parade and are trying to get to this train to bid
somebody good-bye. Probably some girl is aboard whom they all like."
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.
Then came a sharp cry in staccato words, from the well-known voice of
Harry Blunt. "Four N yell, fellows," he cried, just before the train
started.
And then from over a hundred throats came a well-known Naval Academy
shout, as follows:
"N N N N
A A A A
V V V V
Y Y Y Y
Navy--
Bligh, Bligh, Bligh."
It was in this way, and with this shout tingling in his ears, that Bligh
left Annapolis. His eyes glistened. A mist swam before them. A moment
later he turned to his companion and said: "Frank, I've heard that same
call before--but I'd given up all hope of ever hearing it again--I can't
tell you what it means to me--but it seems as if those good chaps have
forgotten scores of mean things and have remembered the one decent thing
I did at Annapolis."
Three years later a recent Princeton graduate was speaking at Annapolis
with Cadet Lieutenant Sexton.
"Tell me about Bligh," inquired Sexton. "I've heard you chaps at
Princeton liked him there. He was here for a while, in fact was my
roommate--he had a hard time at first, but everybody here liked him
when he left."
"Liked him!" exclaimed the Princeton man. "I guess we did; we more than
liked him. Harry Bligh was one of the squarest fellows that ever lived,
and one of the kindest and best besides. We were proud of his football
record, of course--he was probably the best half-back in the country
last season. But he was lots more than that. He was a helpful friend to
all of us. I remember he once pulled me out of a deep hole; and I wasn't
the only one. Just let a fellow get into trouble and before long you'd
find Bligh helping him out. Bligh could never be turned against any one.
I remember one of our fellows did something off color; he offended our
class feeling; well, we were going to do something--I don't know
what--but Bligh sort of took charge of affairs and said: 'Let's not
condemn that fellow; we may only succeed in shoving him deeper into the
pit he is in; let's see if we can't find some good in him, or point him
right, anyway.' Well, we did, and we were mighty glad of it afterward.
He was always helping a fellow that needed a friend. I once said to
him, 'Harry, what is your ambition?' He seemed to think quite a while
and then said: 'I want to be square, and I want people to believe I am
square.' And you just bet, Sexton, that a bullier, squarer chap than
Harry Bligh never lived."