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"A beautiful shot, Mr. Drake," cried Commander Brice, delightedly. "Mr. Joynes, as soon as we are near that yacht I'll slow down and stop and you lower the life-boat; get your armed crew aboard, and row over to the 'Robert Centre'! Take three men and a small boy from her – and let go the yacht's anchor; we'll let the 'Standish' tow her in after target practice."
"What is it, Brice?" asked Commander Shaw, who had gone up on top of the pilot house.
"Read this wireless message from the superintendent. It's evident that the kidnappers of Georgie Thompson stole the 'Robert Centre' and now are on board with the boy. By Jingo! Mr. Drake did some fine shooting. Between wireless telegraphy and good shooting villainy isn't profitable these days."
Before long three silent, gloomy men and a small boy were brought on board. Two of the men were on the verge of collapse; new life had come to little Georgie, who wondered what it was all about.
"Master-at-arms, put these men in a cell and place a guard over them. Where is the wireless operator? Oh – send this message immediately. Look here, my little man, is your name Georgie Thompson?"
"Yes, sir. Where is my papa? Is he here? What were those awful noises, Mister? May I have a piece of bread and butter? I'm awfully hungry. Where is my papa?"
"Steward, take Georgie to my cabin and keep him there, and get him something to eat, right away. Full speed, both engines, hard aport the helm. Now we'll run back by the buoys again. Take charge, Shaw, and fire as you will."
Before long Blair's crew fired at its target, and in quick succession the remaining four targets were fired at, and then the "Nevada" ran up to the targets to count the shot holes in them and the "Standish" went up to repair them.
Never did Robert Drake have a more exultant feeling than when he saw the holes his shots had torn through the canvas. He had fired twenty-two times in his minute, and there were nineteen gaping holes in his target. Blair had fired sixteen times and had made thirteen hits. Robert now knew the flag was his and he was glad indeed. Six more crews were to fire, but he knew in his heart that none could hope to equal his record, because none had had the practice his crew had had.
Nothing could have exceeded the cordial congratulations of his closest rival, Blair.
"You've beaten me out, Bob, but, by George, you deserve to. I'm not ashamed of my score; thirteen hits is not a bad record – but what luck you have had – what a wonderful bull's-eye you made when you knocked down the 'Robert Centre's' mast; you deserve the flag, Bob! There's no doubt of that fact; you've won it, and by no fluke."
The targets were soon patched up, and the remaining six gun crews fired their shots. On the whole the target practice was very good and the midshipmen and the ordnance officers present were jubilant.
The "Nevada" returned to her wharf at six o'clock, and found a great crowd waiting for her. Present was a middle-aged gentleman, Mr. Thompson, who had come down from Baltimore on a special train; he was full of emotion and feeling, and wild with eagerness to see once more the dear little boy who had been so rudely torn from him.
Among the crowd were police officers, sailormen, and a company of marines. The transfer of the three miscreants to the police did not take long. Outside of the Naval Academy gate a howling, derisive mob of whites and blacks had gathered and they jeered the miserable criminals as they were taken through the streets to the railroad station.
Language was not powerful enough for Mr. Thompson to express his gratitude. "What can I do for you, sir?" he asked of Commander Brice. "I had determined to give the kidnappers the ten thousand dollars they demanded; could I – may I – "
"Your train doesn't leave for a couple of hours, Mr. Thompson; suppose you take dinner with me – and of course you know how glad we all are your boy is restored to you. But I'm going to introduce to you the midshipman who knocked the mast out of the yacht, the bulliest shot I've ever seen. Come here, Mr. Drake; this is Georgie's father."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Drake?" eagerly asked the happy man. "Please say something – do let me do something for you."
Robert thought a moment, and then said: "Why, sir, I'm going to graduate in less than three weeks; won't you come to my graduation, sir? I'd be so glad if you would."
Mr. Thompson looked reproachfully at them both. "Well, all I can say is, you are all gentlemen, every one of you!" Tears stood in his eyes as he said this, and he couldn't have said anything that would have touched and pleased officers and midshipmen more deeply.
This affair redounded to the credit of the Naval Academy. The superintendent had acted quickly, Captain Brice had acted with judgment, and midshipmen could hit when they shot. This was the boiled-down newspaper comment.
"How did you feel, Bob, when you shot at the 'Robert Centre's' mast?" asked Stonewell later.
"Feel? Why, I didn't feel at all, beyond an intention to hit the mast."
"But wasn't there an idea in your mind that you might hurt somebody?"
"You see, Stone," said Robert, "at that moment Captain Brice's will dominated my action; I was a machine, an automaton. I was completely controlled by him. Now when we talk this over in cold blood it seems terrible, but I suppose that in a case like that a man loses all personal feeling – he is under a peculiar power. I imagine this is human nature and accounts for a lot of things. In our case it results no doubt from the military training we have received here these last four years. Now when we get an order from the commandant or officer-in-charge we just naturally obey it."
"I think you're right, Bob. Well, old chap, you are graduating with flying colors. I'd rather have aimed the shot that took down the 'Robert Centre's' mast than have done any other thing that has happened since I became a midshipman. You've won the flag, that was your great ambition; and you are graduating number five or six. But everybody here isn't as happy as you and I are, Bob. I'm quite concerned over Harry Blunt; he stands in some danger of bilging; not a great deal, but it is possible."
Robert stiffened immediately. "Since when have you taken up with that rascal, Stone?"
"Look here, you've no right to call him a rascal. You've Frenched yourself; so have I, so have Blair and Farnum."
"Since when have you taken up with him, Stone?" persisted Robert.
"I haven't taken up with him; I hardly ever have occasion to speak with him. But I think a lot of Helen and his father and mother. You do too; you don't want to see him bilge, do you?"
"For the sake of his father and mother and sister, no. Let's talk of something else. This is Friday; the annual examinations commence on Monday. They will soon be over and we graduate in two weeks. I'll hate to leave this place, Stone; I've had such a happy year."
"It has been fine, indeed. Well, Bob, we'll be back here as instructors some day. Perhaps one of us may be officer-in-charge. By the way, I'm going to say good-bye to you for a couple of days. I've leave to go to Washington. I'm going to take the five o'clock train to-night and I'll be back Sunday morning at about ten o'clock."
Robert looked at his roommate with unconcealed amazement.
"Well, Stone, you'll excuse my being astonished. But for an intimate chum you are the most remarkably secretive, non-communicative, open-hearted fellow that ever lived. Why, to go to Washington is an event for a midshipman. Were I going to Washington, everybody in my class would know of it. But it's just in line with your lonely trips out to Conduit Street. Now, Stone, I'm intensely interested, you know that; and I'm not going to ask any questions; but if you can tell me why you are going, what you are going to do, I do wish you would."
"Bob, I've had a family matter on my mind for some time and I just cannot talk about it. But I think everything is coming out all right. I expect to be back here with a free mind Sunday morning and I hope to talk openly with you then. Good-bye; I'm going to start now."
"I'll go to the train with you; there's plenty of time."
"Bob," said Stonewell, awkwardly, "I've got an errand to do before I go, and – and – "
"All right, Stone, I understand. Good-bye, old chap, and good luck. Conduit Street again," muttered Robert to himself, after Stonewell had left.
CHAPTER XXII
GRICE APPEARS AGAIN
Robert Drake's character was singularly generous and ingenuous. He had taken the greatest of interest in his various studies and drills. At no time did he ever have desire or ambition of standing first in his class. Without being brilliant he had a good, clear mind with excellent reasoning ability, and by hard work and diligent application he had finally taken high class rank, and now he was certain to be graduated. So much had come to him this last year in the way of friendship and honors that it had proved one of heartfelt satisfaction to him, and Robert realized that he would always look back upon this year as probably the happiest period of his life.
Stonewell had left on Friday, and the next night Robert went to a hop given at the Armory. These occur many times during the year, and serve to bring desired relaxation and pleasure into the crowded, hard-working life of the midshipman.
"Helen, is your gown all ready?" asked Robert with glad triumph in his face.
"Oh, Robert," exclaimed Helen with enthusiasm, "I knew you would win the flag. I'm so happy about it, and so is father and mother. You see we are really proud of our friend who has done so well. Really, Robert, I am truly glad to be distinguished among your friends by your asking me to present the flag. I wanted you to win it for yourself, not for the brief distinction that comes to me; and actually I don't present it to you; it's already yours. I've had these thoughts all day, Robert; I can only say I'm proud to be the one to present the flag to you, just because I'm proud of my friend."
"Don't analyze too much, Helen; take the day as it comes and enjoy the honey of the hour. You see, the friendship of you and your father and mother is something I will always remember, and little as the flag presentation may be, neither you nor yours will forget it."
"Little!" exclaimed Helen, the real girl coming out, her philosophizing over; "well! I guess it won't be little. I'm to be out in front of seven hundred midshipmen, all by myself, and there will be ten thousand other people looking at me. I will have on a new gown made at the Convent at Baltimore and a new hat and a gorgeous bouquet of American beauties. I imagine you won't think it's little when it happens, Robert Drake."
Robert laughed. "That's right, Helen; that's the way to feel. By the way, do you remember that Sunday long ago, when we took our first walk? It was soon after I first met you."
"Oh, yes. And you helped me jump over a mud-puddle."
"Do you remember the invitation I gave you then to our class graduation german and ball?"
"Yes, Robert, I remember all that and you have spoken of it since. Indeed I shall be glad to go with you."
"I was just thinking how pleasant our friendship has been, Helen, and how all of these things have come to pass. I was so blue and unhappy the day I first went to your father's house – you see there weren't many people who had a friendly word for me then. Your father has always been a true friend of mine."
"Indeed he is. He is here to-night; hunt him up later; he always speaks of you when he comes to Annapolis; he will talk to you of your father; he sees him every day now. But, Robert, I can't help but be surprised that though you are so friendly to father and mother and me, you are always so hostile to Harry. Harry wants to be friendly; he said only yesterday that he liked you, but that you cut him every time you met him."
"I wish your brother every good luck, Helen, and I hope he'll be worthy of his father. Some time – "
"Robert, there's that old colored man in the doorway again, old Grice – he is surely beckoning to you – I wonder if he has 'disregarded' with his wife again about religion. Go and see what he wants and come back and tell me about it."
It was now nearing eleven o'clock. In their talk Robert and Helen had walked several times around the room, so engrossed with each other that they paid but little attention to the beautiful music and none to the happy throng of young people gliding over the floor. Robert looked with annoyance at Grice. The latter was now gesticulating frantically at him through the open doorway.
"What do you want, Grice?" he asked almost roughly.
"Come 'long, Mistah Drake," the old colored man cried; "come 'long or yo'll be too late."
"Come along where?"
"To the department of mathmax. The two midshipmen gwine ter steal the zamnation at 'leven 'clock ter-night."
"How do you know?"
"They come las' night. I was there. I heared dem talk; they had keys an' opened the doors and desk where the zamnations are kept. I heared one say the zamnations were not there; he says, 'We'll come back 'leven Saturday night; the zamnations are sure to be here Saturday night.' And they wuz right. I knowed the zamnation wusn't there den, but dey is there now. So, come 'long, hurry up."
"Have you told anybody?"
"No, suh," and a look of cunning came over the face of the old darkey. "'Deed I haven't, Mistah Drake. Ef I tole anybody he would say ole Grice lied and I would be dismissed. No, suh, I haven't tole no one. Come 'long, Mistah Drake, or the zamnation will be stole."
"You idiot," exclaimed Robert, intensely angry. He looked about hoping to see some officer he could consult, but none were near him; he had a notion of getting some midshipman to go with him, but at this instant "Home Sweet Home" was started by the band, indicating the close of the dance, and now it would be impossible to get any advice or anybody to come with him. "Fletcher," he said to the midshipmen's head waiter, who was at the lemonade stand, "find Captain Blunt; tell him I'm unexpectedly called away; ask him to tell his daughter."
"Come 'long, Mistah Drake, or the zamnation will be stole, an' ef it is I'll tell the commandant ter-morrer that I tole yo' an' yo' wouldn't come. Come 'long, suh," urged the old man, his face glowing with an eager, frightened look.
Robert groaned in extreme disgust. The matter was unutterably distasteful to him, but he felt helpless. He wished that the examination had been stolen and he had known nothing about it. But there was no help for him; he knew he had to go, so with an impatient angry exclamation he quickly went to the hat room on his right, and a moment later joined Grice. Without further talk the two then ran across the grounds and soon were in the Academic building. Here all was dark, but Grice had keys with him and led the way.
"They'll be heah soon, suh," whispered Grice; "now ef you go behind that table, an' kneel down, you'll be near the zamnation papers; I'll go over heah, an' after they get to the desk I'll turn on the 'lectric light."
Robert took the old man's suggestion and crouched down by a long table. The moonlight streaming through the window threw weird, ghostlike shadows over the floor and gave Robert a creepy sensation. He felt intensely annoyed and irritated to be there, but realized it was a duty he could not avoid. At the other end of the room was old Grice; outside was heard the rumble of carriages coming from the Armory; the bell in the yard struck six, and was followed like an echo by the bells from the ships and tugs at anchor in the harbor. A marine sentinel not far away called out in tones long drawn out the words, "Post number three – and all's well."
And then came a slight noise. Some one was surely fumbling at the door. In the stillness Robert could hear his heart beat. It seemed as though seconds were prolonged into hours. Soon Robert was conscious that the door leading out into the hall was being slowly opened and softly closed. And then in the dim moonlight, he saw two dark figures like phantoms, making no sound, approach the desk where he knew the examination questions of the coming week were kept. With painful intensity of mind, and with a suffocating feeling, he saw them pause before the desk and heard a faint jingle, as of keys on a ring.
Then the room was suddenly flooded with light.
Robert never afterward liked to think, far less to speak, of the feelings he experienced in the next few seconds. They brought him more agony, more desolate grief, than he had ever felt before, or, it is hoped, will ever come again to him.
With startled, frightened glances the two jumped up. One was in civilian garb, a brown slouch hat was down over his forehead, a heavy dark moustache and beard covered his face; he wore a tightly buttoned up coat. The other was in midshipman uniform, and five golden stripes adorned each sleeve.
"Oh!" gasped Robert, in anguish; "oh, Stonewell." Robert himself, unseen under the table, was almost overcome with grief and dismay. The bearded man jumped as if he had been shot, and then his companion exclaimed in a low voice: "Run, Harry, we're caught."
As he said this both bolted from the room, and the last Robert saw of them was the electric light flashing on the golden stripes, which for a year had been Robert's joy, and the pride of every midshipman, but were now so dishonored and disgraced.
The shock was too unexpected, too sudden for Robert. So his beloved friend, his idol of manhood and honor, the ideal all-around midshipman of his time, had proved to be but a low, contemptible dastard —
Robert's head sank on his knees and unrestrained convulsive sobs burst from his lips. He was suddenly robbed of that which was dearest to him; and blank hopeless desolation took possession of him.
CHAPTER XXIII
ROBERT RESIGNS
"Didn't I tole yo' so, suh? That other man was Mistah Harry Blunt, suh; didn't yo' hear Mistah Stonewell call him Harry, suh? An' suppose dis ole niggah had done tole the commandan' that Mistah Stonewell, the fines' gemman in the 'Cademy, and Mistah Harry Blunt, the son of Capt'in Blunt, were stealin' zamnations, what would have happened ter ole Grice? He'd been 'cused of lyin', yo' knows dat, Mistah Drake. I known fer seberal months dat Mistah Harry Blunt been goin' about town in cibilians' close, but I ben feared to tole any one. Ain't I right, Mistah Drake? We done catched 'em, suh, an' yo' is evidence that ole Grice done tole de truf."
With horror in his heart, and almost unmanned by the situation which had so suddenly burst upon him, Robert was speechless. He was confused, entirely confounded. That one of these unprincipled midshipmen was Harry Blunt did not surprise Robert; he was quite ready to believe anything of that young man. But it brought him into an intensely disagreeable position. He knew he would be called upon for evidence, and to give testimony that would cover all of the Blunt family with ignominious disgrace – that family who had rescued his own father and mother from absolute want, which had put his father in a self-respecting, self-supporting position. "I had rather bilge than do it," thought our cadet lieutenant. Wild bitterness toward Harry Blunt filled his mind. And yet these feelings sank to small dimensions compared to those concerning Stonewell. Faith in everything seemed to be lost with faith and trust lost in this old friend. And combined with this was a feeling of inexpressible amazement, amazement made up of many different things.
Robert was astonished that any reason could have existed which would have induced Stonewell to join Harry Blunt in such an enterprise. In a helpless, uncertain way, Robert imagined that Blunt had some hold over Stonewell, and even this was hard to believe. "But how else can I account for it?" he asked himself. "I never would have believed anybody, or any number of people had they told me they had seen Stone do this – but it was Stone – in his uniform with his five stripes on his sleeve."
Had Robert known of a conversation between the two intruders after they had dashed out of the building, he would have been still more amazed. "It's too bad, Stonewell," said the one; "you did it all for me – no man ever did so much for me as you have. But I'm afraid you were recognized; I wish you hadn't had on that uniform and had some disguise. I'm awfully sorry I got you into this."
"Don't feel that way, Harry; I suggested it," replied the other. "I hope I was not recognized. But if I were, I will have to stand for it. Did you see anybody in the room?"
"No," answered Harry; "my one hope is that whoever it was didn't see you; nobody would have known me. Good-night; I'll be around to Conduit Street to-morrow afternoon and will tell you of any talk I may hear."
Now that old Grice's mind was easy in regard to himself he was much concerned about Robert.
"Doan yo' feel bad, Mistah Drake. The commerdan' will think yo' is a smart young gemman when yo' report this; he won' think yo' had nuffin' to do with it yo'self. I'ze gwine ter tell him I couldn't hev detected the gemmen ef it hadn't been fer yo', an' he'll give yo' Mistah Stonewell's five stripes, suah as yo' is bawn, he will, suh."
Grice rolled his eyes in ecstasy. He imagined he too would receive praise and reward for what he had done, and now he was quite happy.
"Shut up," cried Robert, annoyed beyond endurance at his rambling. And without another word, or so much as a glance at Grice, he slowly walked away and returned to his room. He feared yet hoped he might find Stonewell there. "If I could only see Stone," he thought, "I'd surely learn some excuse for him. But why did he do this? Why did he pretend to go to Washington? Why should he engage in such an affair with Harry Blunt?" Countless other questions crowded themselves into Robert's mind, but to not one could he find a suitable answer.
He found his room empty, nor was there any evidence that Stonewell had been there. Robert paced restlessly up and down the room in troubled thought, and as the minutes dragged on he grew more and more hopeless.
"Well, I'm done for, as well as Stone and Harry Blunt. I suppose Grice will report this matter, and I'll be called up; I'll have to give my evidence against Stone and Blunt or else be bilged myself. Well, I'll bilge. I can't help what Stone has done; I could never be happy if my evidence were to dismiss him. As for that Blunt, who got him into this – well, he's the son of Captain Blunt, and Helen's brother. I never could convince them I was not an ungrateful cur. No, Stone and I will both bilge together; but I wonder if Stone isn't now in Blunt's room – " and Robert stopped short.
It was now after midnight, and all the midshipmen were back from having escorted their partners to their homes. Robert looked out in the corridor and saw that the midshipman in charge of the floor had left his desk.
"The men on duty are turned in; I'll go to Blunt's room and see if Stone is there."
Robert darted through the corridor. Turning a corner near where Harry Blunt's room was he saw that young man just entering it. Robert jumped in after him.
"Where is Stonewell?" he savagely demanded.
When Blunt saw who his midnight visitor was he was visibly startled.
"Why – why – how should I know?" he stammered.
"You hound, you – " cried Robert. "Tell me where Stonewell is! Do you hear me? Tell me where Stonewell is!" And Robert seized him by both arms.
"I – I don't know – I haven't seen him for some time," faltered Harry Blunt, with a white face, in which fear was but too plainly depicted.
From the overhead transom light from a corridor lamp streamed in, and on the table in the room were three burning candles.
Robert looked suspiciously at Harry. In the latter's arms was a bundle of clothing. Robert suddenly grabbed this and opened it up. It was composed of a dark sack coat, out of which two articles fell to the floor. Robert picked them up and instantly recognized them. One was a brown slouch hat and the other a false beard. In an agony of bitterness and hate Robert completely lost control of himself. He grabbed Harry and shook him violently and then dashed him against the wall.
"You contemptible cur," he cried. "For the last time, will you tell me where Stonewell is?"
"I don't know," sullenly replied Harry.
"Do you expect to see him again to-night?"