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.

"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;[201]
[202] 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."