Friday, graduation day, dawned beautifully. The sun’s rays that beamed
through the midshipmen’s rooms and that glanced merrily up from the
sparkling ripples of the water of Chesapeake Bay seemingly danced their
congratulations to the hundreds of happy midshipmen, some of whom were
to be graduated that morning; and all of the rest were happy or more
correctly, all but one sad hearted young man, because they were to be
promoted to a higher class.
At six o’clock the morning gun boomed its reverberating roar, shaking
window panes for miles, its echoes dying in the far distance. And
immediately in midshipmen quarters were to be heard the hoarse
notes of the reveille bugle blasting the last moment of slumber of
several hundred midshipmen. And then the Academy awakened from quiet
restfulness to uneasy, restless, impatient activity.
“Turn out on this floor, turn out, turn out,” were calls that resounded
all over the building, and midshipmen of the day’s duty ran from room
to room, shouting their cries of, “Turn out,” and throwing open the
doors of rooms to see the occupants therein were out and their bedding
thrown back. Half an hour later came the bugle call for breakfast
formation, the signal for midshipmen to fall in ranks. Some, waiting
for the call, went leisurely to their appointed places. In the last
few seconds of the five minutes allowed before the roll-call, scores
of midshipmen, anxious to avoid demerits for being “late at morning
roll,” ran at breakneck speed trying to beat time, to their respective
companies. Then came the final blast of the bugle, and where but a
second before noise, confusion and disorder reigned, now a body of
several hundred young men, in two unwavering ranks, stood silent, quiet
and in complete order. And now came the muster of each company; one
heard the stentorian shouts of the cadet lieutenants, the last time
each was to officiate as such.
“Third company, left dress! Back in the center, carry it along, up a
little on the extreme right! Steady, front!”
Soon the adjutant had reported: “Sir, the battalion is formed.”
“Publish the orders, sir,” directed the cadet lieutenant-commander.
“Attention to orders,” rang out the clear, vibrating voice of the
adjutant, and unfolding a paper he carried in his hand, he read as
follows:
“_Navy Department, Washington, D. C._,
“_June 4_,.
“SIR:--
“You are informed that the court before which you were recently on
trial found you guilty of hazing and sentenced you to dismissal
from the Naval Academy and the naval service. This sentence has
been approved. You are therefore dismissed from the naval service.
A formal copy of the court martial order in your case is hereby
enclosed.
“Very respectfully,
“HENRY BROWN,
“_Rear Admiral, and Acting Secretary of the Navy_.
“MR. RALPH OSBORN,
“_Late midshipman, second class_.”
Well, it was all over. There was nothing more to be said or done. Poor
Ralph! There was a lump in his throat and an utter forlorn sadness in
his heart. He was thus rudely torn from the dearest ambition he had
ever had; and until this moment he had not known how dear this ambition
was. And he was to give up an association with beloved comrades, and to
enter fields in which they had no place.
Yes, it was all over; and Ralph thought bitterly of how he had finally
reached the summit of his ambition, to lead his class, only to be
completely overthrown and have all of his hopes wrecked. “This is the
day the midshipmen get out of the wilderness,” he thought sadly, “but I
never expected to get out in this way.”
After breakfast his classmates crowded around him and expressed their
sympathy, and many others of all classes came to him with kind words;
for Ralph’s frank, kindly nature had made countless friends for him and
they left him saying, “Poor Osborn, it’s such hard luck; he’s such a
fine fellow,” and like expressions.
The preparations for the great day went busily and merrily on, and
Ralph was forgotten for the time. But not by all, for three classmates,
Himski, Bollup and Streeter, remained with him, and he felt their
warm sympathy. They said but little; their hearts were too full for
ordinary talk, but with saddened, deadened spirits, they helped Ralph
pack his trunk and get his effects ready to be sent out. Finally they
had to leave to put on their full dress uniforms for the graduating
ceremonies, and Ralph was left alone. He was dressed in civilian
clothes and was looking at his unfamiliar appearance in the mirror when
he heard his door thrown open and a voice say: “This is Mr. Osborn’s
room, sir.”
He turned around and saw the white gloved officer of the day usher into
his room a gentleman of perhaps fifty years old, gray in beard, red in
face, with bushy hair inclined to curl, and kindly blue eyes.
“Why, Captain Waddell!” he cried, at once recognizing his visitor.
“Ralph, my dear boy,” said the captain, “I only received your letter
yesterday and I took the midnight train last night.” And he shook hands
warmly with the young man.
“Why, captain, did you come down to see me, to help me in my trouble?”
“Indeed I did, Ralph, but I don’t like the looks of your civilian
clothes; what does it mean?”
Ralph silently handed the captain the acting secretary’s order
dismissing him, and the court martial order of his trial.
“Bad, bad,” ejaculated the captain; “how did you happen to do it,
Ralph?”
Ralph rapidly related how he had been provoked by Mr. Chappell and how
he had lost his temper and had stood Mr. Chappell on his head.
“Who is Mr. Chappell, Ralph?”
“A candidate, sir; he comes up for his entrance examination next week.”
“And where did this hazing occur?”
“In Annapolis, in the state capital grounds, sir.”
Captain Waddell read the court martial order over again, and then
opened his eyes wide, and seemed lost in thought. Then turning to Ralph
he said quietly: “What I am saying to you now is in the most absolute
confidence; you must promise me you will not talk to any one about what
I am going to tell you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Ralph, wondering what could be so confidential
between an officer of such high rank and himself.
“Ralph, I was assistant in the judge-advocate general’s office for
three years and made a deep study of all naval law. I refused the
appointment of judge-advocate general, preferring to go to sea. Without
undue conceit, judging by the questions that now are occasionally
referred to me by the Navy Department, and by the demands continually
made upon me by the Naval War College, I judge I am considered an
authority on legal questions as they affect the Navy.”
“Yes, sir,” said Ralph, for want of anything better to say.
“Well then. The charges made against you were entirely illegal and
never should have been made. The court that tried you were in complete
error in finding you guilty; the sentence is ridiculous, and the
judge-advocate general made a great mistake in not discovering it.
You are just as much a midshipman as you ever were, and I promise you
before long you’ll be back in that uniform of yours.” And Captain
Waddell thumped the table savagely.
“Captain, captain, what are you saying, what do you mean?” cried
Ralph in excitement. “Why is it illegal? Do you mean I may hope for
reinstatement?”
“Hope?” said Captain Waddell. “Ralph, I tell you your dismissal is
utterly illegal and I shall have no trouble whatever in having that
court martial and all that pertains to it declared void.”
This was too much for the lad who had nobly borne up in his grief; he
was not prepared for the joy that now overwhelmed him, and he broke
down completely with sobbing happiness. Captain Waddell, grim visaged
veteran that he was, became affected by Ralph’s emotion. Ralph never
thought of questioning the captain’s statement; it entered into his
heart naturally that his friend knew exactly what he was talking about
and Ralph had entire belief in his words.
“Now, Ralph,” said the captain, “I’m not going to tell you anything
more, nor why your sentence is illegal and won’t stand. I’ve told you
this much to dispel the woe that had enthralled your soul. You’ll go
to Washington with me this afternoon and we’ll find a boarding-place
for you till this matter is settled. I don’t want that friend of yours,
Short, to know where you are nor what you’re doing. You tell me he’s a
millionaire or supposed to be. It may take six weeks or two months to
get the decision reinstating you, and I don’t wish anybody to have any
idea of what you or I are doing.”
Ralph’s face fell. “I haven’t enough money to pay my board for six
weeks, captain,” he faltered; “I have barely enough to pay my railway
fare to Toledo.”
“I saw your Uncle George yesterday,” said Captain Waddell, “and showed
him your letter. He is much disturbed about you and gave me two hundred
dollars to give to you. Here it is. This is a large amount of money to
your uncle, but he is a very generous good man. When you get restored
you will receive back pay and can return it to him.”
“My Uncle George!” exclaimed Ralph. “Am I never to see or know this
good uncle? Can I not go to New York to see him, captain?”
Ralph’s heart overflowed with love for this dear uncle whom he had
never known, and whose helpful affection was flowing into the channel
of his own life.
“Won’t you tell me about my Uncle George, Captain Waddell? Can’t I
see him? Now that my dear father is dead Uncle George is my nearest
relation. Why don’t I know him better? Why do I hear from him so
seldom?”
“All in good time, Ralph. Your uncle is a splendid man; he has my
entire respect. But he left for England this morning to be gone several
months. You may write to him care of my address; his own is uncertain.
But I promise you one thing, your Uncle George and I will be here a
year from now to see you graduate at the head of your class.”
With that Ralph had to be satisfied, for Captain Waddell did not seem
disposed to talk any more about the young man’s uncle.
“Now, Ralph, be at the train at four o’clock. I’m stopping with the
superintendent and am to be present at the graduation ceremonies. I
want you to write out for me a complete history of what you know of
that Short and of all of these mishappenings that have occurred to
you at different times, and write a full and complete account of that
alleged hazing. At Washington I will get a copy of the record of the
proceedings of your court. Good-bye; I’ll see you at four o’clock.”
After Captain Waddell had departed Ralph wondered why his court martial
and his dismissal were illegal; he had not the slightest notion and
soon dismissed that puzzle from his mind, but he had not the faintest
doubt of what the captain had told him.
So he danced about the room in a state of happy exhilaration, attending
to sending his luggage off, and then he went to the Maryland Hotel
where he wrote the account asked for by Captain Waddell and a letter
eloquent with love and affection to his Uncle George; he then had a
late lunch and afterward went to the Maryland Avenue gate where he had
agreed to meet Himski and Bollup and Streeter at three o’clock, to
exchange good-byes. Sympathizing deeply with Ralph in his trouble, it
was natural that they should be sorrowful and totally unprepared for
the rush of happy enthusiastic spirits which Ralph poured over them.
He laughed and rallied them merrily because of their woebegone demeanor.
“What’s the matter with you three chaps?” he cried, as he gave them
each a hug. “You look as if you’d been to a funeral instead of a
graduation.”
Bollup stared at him in amazement, then got close to Ralph’s mouth with
his own nose and sniffed audibly three times. This was too much for
Ralph. He burst into peal after peal of laughter; then he drew their
heads together and breathed into their faces and said: “There’s nothing
there but Maryland Hotel grub. I know what you think, Bollup, but I’ve
never taken a drink in my life; but I was never so happy, never so
happy.”
There was no doubt that Ralph’s good spirits were perfectly natural and
unaffected, and being so they were infectious and soon Himski, Bollup
and Streeter bubbled over with happiness and nonsense.
These comrades loved each other, and seeing Ralph so wildly happy the
gloom that had so enveloped them was as quickly and as completely
dispelled as a northwest wind lifts a thick fog from the Maine coast.
They escorted Ralph to the railway station and good-byes and mutual
promises to write were exchanged, and thus Ralph left Annapolis.
And then the amazement returned to the three friends. “What can have
happened to Os?” wondered Himski in deep thoughtfulness. “He’s as happy
as if he had been reinstated.”
“It’s something big,” remarked Bollup, “and we couldn’t get him to say
a word about it; but I’m feeling much better, aren’t you, Himski?”
“You bet I am, and I’ve a queer happy feeling that we’re going to have
old Os back with us, and that he knows it.”