GRADUATION
The annual examinations commenced the next morning and lasted throughout
the week. It was a time of apprehension to some, of exultation to
others, and of tremendous interest to all; for these examinations,
averaged in with the previous records made in daily recitations and
monthly examinations, were to determine the class rank of each
midshipman. The examinations were written; they began at eight o'clock
each morning and lasted till one. In the afternoons hundreds of
midshipmen were to be seen streaming through the pleasant grounds of the
Naval Academy, many of them accompanied by pretty girls who seemed to
think that the institution's chief purpose was to provide them with
pleasant times. For though the examinations took all of the mornings, in
the afternoons were teas, launch parties and impromptu dances. And happy
were the midshipmen who were without fear of failure, and so could
afford these social pleasures. There were other midshipmen who, not so
fortunate, with puckered brows and worried faces, feverishly worked at
their books, and among these was Harry Blunt.
The week passed quickly, and at its close Robert Drake knew he would
graduate fifth in his class. That Stonewell would graduate first had
long been a foregone conclusion. The Blunt family were now out of
suspense and knew that Harry had passed, his application to his studies
in these last days being well rewarded.
Graduation week came, and with it the Annual Board of Visitors, who are
supposed to make a serious investigation of the Naval Academy in all of
its parts. And for one week the midshipmen are required to show off
their various accomplishments.
On Monday morning, the midshipmen as a brigade of infantry passed in
review before the Board of Visitors, and Robert Drake, commanding the
first company, felt proud indeed as he snapped out the order, just
before he reached the reviewing stand, of:
"First company--eyes right!"
After dismissal the midshipmen rushed into their working clothes and
dispersed into different shops, and great was the hammering in the
blacksmith and boiler shops as the Board marched through. In this week
of each year the Naval Academy is on official exhibition for this wise
Board. And for its benefit sham battles are fought, young men scramble
aloft on antiquated sailing ships and feverishly loose and make sail,
haul on buntlines, clewlines, sheets and braces. They are mustered in
the different class rooms and the Board sees them at the blackboard,
pointer in hand, in the act of explaining an intricate valve motion to
an earnest lieutenant. What the Board does not see is the alacrity with
which pointer, blackboard and room are abandoned as soon as the Board
has passed on.
So this week there were, as there always is at graduation time, sample
machine shop drills, gunnery drills, electrical drills, steam engine
drills--and many others. And the tired, earnest, hard-working Board was
marched through it all at a lively pace. This Board was composed of
statesmen, professional men, and business men of established
reputation; but it is not certain that any of them knew the difference
between a Stephenson link of an engine and the club link of an anchor
chain. However, they worked hard and wrote a voluminous report of fifty
printed pages, which, covered with dust, is lying with fifty other
similar reports in a pigeonhole at the Navy Department.
On Wednesday occurred the great day for Helen Blunt. At ten in the
morning she was in the receiving stand gowned beautifully in simple
white, and carrying a huge bunch of American Beauty roses.
Soon martial music was heard, and then the brigade of midshipmen was to
be seen across the parade ground, marching with its precise military
stride. Then loud vibrating orders were carried to the ears of ten
thousand spectators and bugles rang out their harsh notes. In exact
unison the seven hundred midshipmen, who had been in column of squads,
wheeled into line, and marched steadily to the front until they were
within a hundred paces of the reviewing stand, where they halted. In the
centre of the long line were the colors, unfolded and waving to the
breeze.
"Color guard to the front," was the vibrant order from Cadet Commander
Stonewell.
"First company to the front and centre," followed immediately.
The old color guard with the colors marched slowly to the front, and on
the right of the line some quick, jerky orders were heard, and the first
company broke from the line and came marching toward the centre of the
brigade.
Thousands of spectators now saw a pretty ceremony. A young girl stepped
from the receiving stand and advanced toward the waiting color guard;
the Academy colors were handed to her, and the ex-color guard was then
marched off.
Helen did not remain alone for many moments, but for an instant a pretty
picture was presented on the drill grounds. A beautiful girl, carrying
in one arm a huge bunch of red roses, and in the other steadying the
glorious colors of the Naval Academy, standing alone, facing seven
hundred blue-coated statues. But in a moment another color guard
approached, the color guard of the company judged to have won the
flag. And with it marched the captain of the company, Cadet Lieutenant
Drake.
[Illustration: _IT MUST HAVE BEEN A VERY PRETTY SPEECH_]
The new color guard halted a few feet in front of Helen, and then Robert
stepped forward.
The air was very still save for the robins chirping to their young. An
absolute hush fell over the many thousand spectators. It was evident
that the young lady was presenting the flag, and was making a speech to
the captain of the winning company. But so far away she was, and so
softly she spoke, that none heard her words; that is, none save Robert
Drake and the new color guard. But people said it must have been a very
pretty speech. After apparently saying a few words, Helen seemed
suddenly to pick up the colors and fairly throw them into the hands of
Cadet Lieutenant Drake.
"Wasn't that pretty?" was an exclamation made by many of the onlookers.
"You have done very well, Mr. Drake," faltered Helen; "your company has
done splendidly. Oh--I had a good speech made up, but I've forgotten
all about it! Father wants you to come to dinner to-night--he has a
surprise for you--oh, dear, what am I talking about? Won't this do?
Haven't I said enough?--Oh, take the flag!" and Helen threw it at
Robert.
The next day the papers said that Miss Helen Blunt had made an eloquent
little speech of well chosen words when presenting the colors to Cadet
Lieutenant Drake, but of that one may judge for himself.
"Thank you," said Robert, simply and gravely, taking the colors and
handing them to his color sergeant; "the first company is honored."
And then Stonewell, in clear ringing tones shouted:
"Three cheers for the girl who has presented the colors."
"Hurrah--hurrah--hurrah!" rang out in perfect unison from over seven
hundred young throats.
Then Cadet Lieutenant Sam Blair stepped to the front and proposed,
"Three cheers for the winning company, and its cadet lieutenant," which
were heartily given.
"What's the surprise, Helen?" asked Robert that evening at seven o'clock
as he entered the Blunt house.
"I won't tell you; you must find out for yourself," replied Helen
happily; "come into the drawing-room."
"Mother--father--oh, what a happy surprise," cried Robert a moment
later. "Captain Blunt, you have had my mother and father come to my
graduation!" Indeed Robert could hardly speak for sheer joy.
"Yes, Robert," said Mr. Drake, "Captain Blunt has asked us to visit him
for your last days, and here we are; we thought to give you a happy
surprise."
It had been many years since Mr. Drake had visited Annapolis. He vividly
recalled his own midshipman days, the joyful strife and the friendly
rivalry. These had long passed, but he found classmates and many old
navy friends with whom to renew old scenes and almost forgotten times.
The first class german took place that night in the Armory, and only
first classmen and their chosen partners went on the floor. These
midshipmen had donned for the occasion their new white officer
uniforms, and the young ladies all wore pure white dresses with ribbons
of old gold. Stonewell led, and with him, radiant with happiness, was
Nellie Strong. The first classmen, seventy in number, were all present.
On the balcony overhead were thousands of visitors enjoying the pretty,
novel figures made by the handsome couples on the floor below.
The next night the evening promenade concert occurred. The grounds were
made bright with numbers of lighted Japanese lanterns hung among the
trees. The Naval Academy band played beautifully, and Robert, walking
between his father and mother, followed the crowd of happy promenaders,
talking of his four years within the Academy walls, of the difficulties
he had had, and of the friends and good fortune that had come to him.
And the following day was Robert's graduation.
The brigade was formed with the band on the right; next came the first
classmen about to be graduated, without arms. Then came the brigade,
with rifles, the temporarily appointed cadet officers of the second
class wearing swords. Soon the brigade marched off with slow measured
tread to the chapel, the band playing all the way that tune, full of joy
to midshipmen's ears, of: "Ain't I glad to get out of the wilderness?"
It finally had a special meaning to the young men about to receive their
diplomas. In the chapel the chaplain, dear to generations of midshipmen,
made an eloquent, heartfelt prayer, and then the superintendent
delivered a short address.
"Young gentlemen," he began, "your lives in the navy are now to begin in
earnest. You have been here for four years, surrounded by a naval
atmosphere, and drilled in those things required of our naval officers.
From now on your work will be on familiar lines, but yet there will be a
great difference. Here, at the Naval Academy, if you make a mistake in
your navigation work, you will receive a low mark. Aboard ship you will
do the same exact kind of navigation, but if you make a mistake you may
cause a ship and hundreds of lives to be lost. The great difference is
that in the outside naval service you are at all times under great
responsibilities; here your responsibilities have been but slight.
Here, if you drill well, your company may win the Academy colors, and
that is what many of you have worked for. Aboard ship, if the enlisted
men under you do not drill well, it will be your fault, and it will mean
your men do not shoot accurately, that your engines are inefficient,
that your ship is neither an honor to the flag, nor could an admiral
depend upon it in battle when the interests of your country were at
stake.
"Here you have been under instruction. You have for long years been
drilled in the duties of the private in the ranks, of the fireman at the
furnace, of the machinist at the lathe, of the electrician at the
switchboard, of the gun pointer in the turret, of the helmsman at the
wheel--there is no duty that an enlisted man can be called upon to do
aboard ship that you have not been drilled in at this institution. But,
besides this, you have designed steam and electric engines, and built
them with your own hands in the shops; you have gone deeply into the
mathematics of natural law and can not only operate a machine, but you
can design it and build it.
"Gentlemen, you have been under a most expensive instruction here, for
which, as yet, you have rendered no return.
"You are now splendidly equipped for your life-work in the navy. You
will find that aboard ship your principal duties will be the instruction
of enlisted men. You were gathered here, not only that you personally
might become accomplished officers, but that you might receive
instruction for the purpose of imparting it to others. You must prove
that the earnest efforts spent upon you have not been wasted. You must
apply full benefit of the training you have here received to the
enlisted men who will soon be in your charge, or else the purpose of
this institution has failed.
"We expect to hear good reports of you; we are proud of you, but we will
know our confidence in you is not misplaced when we hear that your guns
shoot straight, your engines steam well, and that the enlisted men under
you are contented and believe in you. When we hear that we will be
content, for we will know our work here has produced results.
"For a last word, never forget the glorious record made by our navy in
every war; and may it enter your hearts that you all have a special duty
to do your utmost to keep bright our naval history."
As the superintendent sat down the choir sang:
"God be with you till we meet again."
The midshipmen were now marched out and formed a line near the band
stand, the graduating class in front of the brigade, who stood at "Order
arms." The superintendent and other officials proceeded to the band
stand; the superintendent studied his watch anxiously. "He should be
here now," he remarked. "Ah, there is the carriage." The carriage he
looked for stopped on the walk in front of the band stand, and Robert
Drake's heart thumped when he saw who got out of it.
A rather thick-set, not overtall, fair complexioned gentleman jumped out
of the carriage. Everybody about glanced with much interest at him, and
all hats came off.
"I couldn't help being late; I had much to do this morning," remarked
the gentleman; "did you receive my telegram, admiral?"
"Yes, Mr. President, and we went right ahead," replied the
superintendent; "but you are in time to give out the diplomas."
"Good."
Stonewell's name was the first called out to come up for his diploma. A
storm of applause broke forth from his classmates and friends as this
erect, manly young officer approached the President. Cheer after cheer
greeted him, for by this time Stonewell was appreciated outside as well
as inside of the Academy.
The President shook Stonewell's hand warmly and handed him his diploma
with a smile, saying, "We all know you, Mr. Stonewell; I feel like
joining in that cheer myself."
Farnum came up next, then Sewall, then Ryerson, and all received
generous cheers. Then the name Drake was called. Tumultuous shouts and
applause now broke loose. Robert was liked and respected by the entire
brigade, but as the captain of the winning company in the flag
competition he had sixty devoted champions in ranks who were not willing
that any graduating midshipman should receive more applause than their
own popular cadet lieutenant.
Robert's father and mother in front seats were filled with happy pride
that their son should graduate so high in his class, and with such
vociferous evidence of warm regard. And then a strange thing happened, a
little incident that overwhelmed not only Mr. and Mrs. Drake with
amazement, but also thousands of spectators.
When the name Drake was called, the most famous man in the world of his
day left the platform where he had been standing, and rapidly approached
Robert, meeting him half way. He greeted him warmly, and said: "Mr.
Drake, one of the reasons that induced me to come to Annapolis to-day
was to have the pleasure of personally handing you your diploma. The
superintendent has told me your father and mother are present. Are they
close at hand?"
"Just in front, sir."
"Present me, please."
The President said to them, "Mr. and Mrs. Drake, I am delighted to meet
you. I congratulate you on your son. I am proud of him. A year ago at
this time he rendered signal service to his country."
In this way the President of the United States showed that his formerly
expressed appreciation had not been lightly forgotten, and thus he
publicly performed an act of kindly recognition.
That their son should be so wonderfully honored filled Robert's father
and mother with a deep happiness that outweighed all other thoughts, and
they were much affected by the President's attention.
One by one the remaining members of the graduating class received their
diplomas and a hearty handshake from the President; and soon the
graduation was over.
But one more scene occurred in Robert's life as a midshipman at
Annapolis. That night the much talked of graduating ball, given to his
class, was held. The great Armory was beautifully decorated with flowers
and plants, and in between and overhead were flags and bunting
tastefully arranged. And on the floor were beautiful girls and manly
young men.
"It has been a wonderful life to me, Helen," said Robert to his partner;
"as I look back it seems that I never lived until I entered Annapolis.
I've had glorious times; my life has been full of hard work, but the
results give me intense satisfaction. And besides the work, there has
been almost complete contentment; it is so satisfactory to work hard and
work successfully. And in addition to all this are the friendships that
have come to me, that of you, and your family, Stonewell and others."
"Yes, Robert," replied Helen wistfully, with half a sigh; "all this is
so, but to-morrow you are to leave us for those dreadful Philippine
Islands, and how we shall all miss you! That is the sad thing about
naval friendships; we enjoy them daily and deeply for a short time and
then suddenly our dear friends are torn from us and we do not see them
for years. And then--oh, then things are changed and nothing ever seems
so happy and bright as it once was," and Helen's voice trembled and her
eyes filled as she thought these happy days could not continue.
"Helen, you will let me write to you, won't you? And you will answer my
letters?"
"Oh, yes," replied Helen sadly.
"And, Helen, I am coming back to you, just as I am now; nothing can
change the thoughts that are part of me."
Helen suddenly looked at Robert and a glorified beauty shone from her
eyes. They walked slowly around the Armory satisfied just to be with
each other. And a beautiful content rested upon them.
Other Books in this Series are
AN ANNAPOLIS PLEBE
AN ANNAPOLIS YOUNGSTER
AN ANNAPOLIS SECOND CLASSMAN