One may go through the list man for man, and find as many backward in their studies as those who have carved high niches for themselves in the Academy records.

No proposition could cover the situation in a general way, for, after all, the men we have heard from were perhaps only lucky,--lucky in being chosen as the instruments of the result. There are hundreds--thousands--of officers in the service, some brilliant, some wise, some brave, some strong, as good as they, who have lacked only opportunity. The singling out of any names for special mention seems an injustice to them,--"the heroes of the heart."

TAYLOR AND EVANS AS SCHOOL-MATES

Forty years ago Harry Taylor and Bob Evans were boys together in Washington. They were school-mates and chums, fighting each other's battles and longing for the day when they would be old enough to go to the Naval Academy and fight for their country. They were both lively, active lads, Taylor perhaps the quieter of the two.

As their characters developed, Taylor became more of a student than Evans, and that became the distinguishing feature of their entire careers.

While Captain Taylor has been the student of books, Captain Evans is known throughout the navy as a student of men and a "man's man" in the best sense of the term. The friendship of youth continued without break throughout their young manhood and prime. The bond was strengthened when Evans, at the close of the Civil War, married his chum's sister.

They were both in the famous three-year cla.s.s which was admitted to the Naval Academy in 1860. They had hardly entered on their careers long enough to get the smell of the brine into their nostrils when the Civil War broke out. Here was the very chance they were longing for. But they ruefully saw two upper cla.s.ses go out, and they knew that fighting of the larger sort was not yet for them.

For two years they were kept at their books, when finally the welcome news came that they would be graduated in three years instead of four, if they could pa.s.s the examinations. In spite of their many disappointments, there was a wild whoop of joy up and down the corridors, and they set about their work in earnest, studying with a concentration which no diversion could dissipate.

Taylor and Evans both left the Academy before having been graduated, and were ordered to duty with the blockading squadrons along the Gulf and Southern coasts. They went to their ships gleefully, bearing the proud t.i.tles of "acting ensigns," but in reality merely midshipmen of three years' standing,--destined, however, to do the duties and have the responsibilities of men many years their seniors in theoretical and practical service.

HOW CAPTAIN EVANS SAVED HIS LEG

Evans was in both attacks on Fort Fisher, and in the second fight he was shot twice. The wounds were severe, and he was sent into hospital. His leg was shattered badly, and after examining it carefully the doctors told the young sufferer bluntly that they would be obliged to amputate it.

When they went out Evans made a resolution that his leg was not to be cut off. He came to the conclusion that he would rather quit right there than to go through life one-legged. It was his own leg anyhow, and n.o.body had a better right to decide the question than himself.

By some means he got hold of one of the big navy revolvers, and had it secreted under his pillow when the surgeons, with a blood-curdling array of knives and saws, made their appearance on the scene and began preparations to carry their threat into execution. But when the chief surgeon turned to the bed to examine the wounds he found himself looking into the black barrel of young Evans's navy revolver.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY DID NOT TOUCH HIM AND HIS LEG WAS SAVED]

"Now, see here," said Evans, as the doctor retired in some alarm; "I want that leg to stay on. I need it. I will get well with that where it is, or not at all, and that's the end of it. That leg does not come off. Do you understand what I mean?"

The doctor was dismayed. But he understood perfectly, and Evans carried the day. The wounds were dressed and healed rapidly. In several months he was out again. But he limped then, and will as long as he lives.

SIGSBEE AS A PRACTICAL JOKER

Charles D. Sigsbee, writer, artist, hydrographic expert, mathematician, inventor, and incidentally the central figure, composed and dignified, in the greatest marine tragedy of modern times, is the kind of a man most people--men, women, and children,--like to see and know. His brow can be stern, and no one knows that better than the people who have sailed under him; but he loves peace better than war, and the twinkle behind his gla.s.ses never quite dies out.

As a midshipman he was always the prime mover in any affair which could contribute to the gayety of existence; was a better judge of people than he was of test-tubes, and a practical joker of ability, which is saying much. The fascination which the ocean holds for all boys of sound mind gained an early sway over young Sigsbee. He received his appointment to the Naval Academy just before the Civil War, in 1859.

He liked the practical work, but could never settle down to the desperate grind of the academic course. He found himself more often making caricatures of "Dom Roget," the teacher of Spanish (a language he has since mastered), than in poring over the verbs and adverbs in the text-book. They were good caricatures, too, and when the other youngsters in the section saw them there was merriment which poor Dom Roget could not understand. But the professor solved the matter satisfactorily by marking all the delinquents on a low scale of credit, and, to be certain of the right culprit, Sigsbee lowest of all.

The young artist used to make pictures of everything and everybody he saw, and write pieces about them,--sprightly literature which went from one end of the Academy to the other. And so when the end of the year came round he found that, instead of being enrolled on the academic scroll of fame, he was relegated to the lower half of the cla.s.s, which they called the "wooden" half.

He went back into the next cla.s.s,--which entered in 1860,--and with the advantage of a year of experience he obtained a position in the new cla.s.s which he held until graduation time. He never quite got over his propensities for making fun.

He began as a joke, and afterwards kept it up, an anonymous correspondence with a member of his cla.s.s. Sigsbee disguised his hand, and in the guise of "Lily Gaines," a very fascinating young woman of susceptible tendencies, wrote to Midshipman Mullan in such endearing terms that for three months that young gentleman was kept in a state of alternate suspense and rapture. At last, in a burst of confidence some one told Mullan of the deception, and the correspondence suddenly ceased.

But in spite of all this Midshipman Sigsbee went out into the world to practise his profession in stirring times, and ever acquitted himself as a valiant officer and accomplished gentleman. As the months rolled into years the naval service could boast of no officer who studied harder or who brought more steadfast qualities into his work.

THE BRAVE COMMANDER OF THE "WINSLOW"

Lieutenant John B. Bernadou was the commander of the "Winslow" in the fight at Cardenas, at which Ensign Worth Bagley, his second in command, was killed. The story of the fight these young officers made, until Bagley was killed, Bernadou was wounded, and the "Hudson" came and towed them out of danger, has been told again and again, and the tale of it will go down into the history of the Spanish-American War as one of the pluckiest of which there is record. Bagley, being the only naval officer killed during the war, was heard of from one end of the country to the other, but little was told of Bernadou, his commander.

Bernadou's early career showed in several instances the fearlessness of his disposition and the st.u.r.diness of his character. The boy's first idea was to go to West Point. Failing in this, he secured an appointment to the Naval Academy, where he entered with a fine standing, which he maintained until he was graduated. He was always a brilliant worker, and in gunnery and foreign languages showed a most remarkable apt.i.tude. To-day he speaks eight languages, and is one of the foremost men in the navy as an authority on smokeless powder.

THE MAN WHO NEVER KNEW FEAR

Bernadou's cla.s.smates say that he fears nothing on earth or water. His fearlessness overcomes any consciousness of self.

One afternoon in October, 1881, the United States steamer "Kearsarge,"

Captain G. B. White, lay at anchor in Hampton Roads. The weather had been stormy for a day or two, and the wind had kicked up a heavy sea. There was a strong tide running, and the vessel swung out on a long cable. A seaman by the name of Christoverson, who was boat-tender in one of the cutters swinging at the lower booms, went out and down the Jacob's ladder.

In stepping to the thwart his foot slipped, and those on deck saw him disappear under the gray water.

There was a hoa.r.s.e cry of "man overboard." Seaman Robert Sweeny, who saw the accident, running out along the boom, plunged in without delay, just as the man came up the second time. Bernadou, then a cadet-midshipman, heard the cry, and rushing to the gangway, saw the terrible struggle of Sweeny with the drowning man as the tide swept them out towards the sea. Bernadou tossed off his coat, and was overboard in an instant.

Christoverson, in his fierce struggle, carried Sweeny down with him, the latter only breaking away to be carried down again.

Bernadou by this time was within reach, and catching the drowning man from behind, managed to relieve Sweeny until a line was thrown to them, and they were finally hauled aboard in an exhausted condition. For this act both Bernadou and the sailor received the recommendations of their captain and the thanks of William H. Hunt, then the secretary of the navy.

ONLY NAVAL OFFICER KILLED IN THE WAR

Worth Bagley's career at the Naval Academy was a triumph of the heart rather than of the mind. While he loved the service and hoped some day to fill a useful place in it, he found more to attract him in football and athletics than in calculus and least squares. But no man who ever entered was more beloved than he, and no man had better friends in the service and out of it. He was turned back twice, but entered, in 1891, the cla.s.s of '95, in which year he was graduated. He was a member of the "Five B's,"

composed of Bennett, Barnes, Bagley, Breckinridge, and Baldwin, men who were close friends while they were at the Academy.

But football was Bagley's ruling pa.s.sion. During this time, too, the great series of games between West Point and Annapolis, between the army and navy, over which the entire United Service went mad, were played, and Bagley was on the victorious team of '93, and was named for the "All-America" team.

Bagley roomed during the four years' course with his chum Breckinridge, who was washed off another torpedo-boat, the "Cushing," and drowned, as he was trying to get into Havana a few days before the blowing up of the "Maine."

"Worthless" Bagley (as his intimates called him) and Breckinridge were never left much to themselves in their quarters, for their room was always crowded during recreation-hours with cadets skylarking or asking advice or a.s.sistance. There was another intimate and cla.s.smate of Bagley, D.

R. Merritt, who was killed in the "Maine" disaster a few days after the drowning of Breckinridge.

ROOSEVELT SAVED BAGLEY FOR THE NAVY

When Bagley came up for graduation at the end of the four-years' course the doctors thought they discovered an irregular movement of the heart, and recommended that he be dropped. Bagley took his case to Theodore Roosevelt, then a.s.sistant secretary of the navy.

Roosevelt, looking at him through his gla.s.ses with a quick, critical glance, said,--

"You are Bagley, the football player, are you not?"

Bagley said he was.

"Well, you are to stay in the navy while I am here. The service needs more men just like you."

Then Bagley went on his two-years' cruise, and when he came back he was pa.s.sed through without question.