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 grat.i.tude. "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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s.

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 cla.s.s 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 a.n.a.lyze 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 cla.s.s 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 pa.s.s. 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.