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.

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[355]
[356] 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