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Dave Darrin's Fourth Year at Annapolis, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 23. Graduation Day---At Last |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. GRADUATION DAY---AT LAST Graduation Week! Now came the time when the Naval Academy was given over to the annual display of what could be accomplished in the training of midshipmen. There were drills and parades galore, with sham battles in which the sharp crack of rifle fire was punctured by the louder, steadier booms of field artillery. There were gun-pointing contests aboard the monitors and other practice craft. There were exhibitions of expert boat-handling, and less picturesque performances at the machine shops and in the engine and dynamo rooms. There were other drills and exhibitions---enough of them to weary the reader, as they doubtless did weary the venerable members of a Board of Visitors appointed by the President. On Wednesday night came the class german. Now our young first classmen were in for another thrill---the pleasure of wearing officers' uniforms for the first time. On graduation the midshipman is an officer of the Navy, though a very humble one. The graduated midshipman's uniform is a more imposing affair than the uniform of a midshipman who is still merely a member of the brigade at the Naval Academy. On this Wednesday evening the new uniforms were of white, the summer and tropical uniform of the Navy. These were donned by first classmen only in honor of the class german, which the members of the three lower classes do not attend. All the young Women attending were also attired wholly in white, save for simple jewelry or coquettish ribbons. Dave Darrin, of course, escorted Belle Meade with all the pride in the world. Most of the other midshipmen "dragged" young women on this great evening. Dan Dalzell did not. He attended merely for the purpose of looking on, save when he danced with Belle Meade. On the following evening, after another tiresome day spent in boring the Board of Visitors, came the evening promenade, a solemnly joyous and very dressy affair. Then came that memorable graduation morning, when so many dozens of young midshipmen, since famous in the Navy, received their diplomas. Early the young men turned out. "It seems queer to be turning out without arms, doesn't it?" grumbled Dan Dalzell. But it is the rule for the graduating class to turn out without arms on this one very grand morning. The band formed on the right of line. Next to them marched to place the graduating class, minus arms. Then the balance of the brigade under arms. When the word was given a drum or two sounded the step, and off the brigade marched, slowly and solemnly. A cornet signal, followed by a drum roll, and then the Naval Academy Band crashed into the joyous march, consecrated to this occasion, "Ain't I glad I'm out of the wilderness!" "Amen! Indeed I'm glad," Dave Darrin murmured devoutly under his breath. "There has been many a time in the last four years when I didn't expect to graduate. But now it's over. Nothing can stop Dan or myself!" Crowds surrounded the entrance to the handsome, classic chapel, though the more favored crowds had already passed inside and filled the seats that are set apart for spectators. Inside filed the midshipmen, going to their seats in front. The chaplain, in the hush that followed the seating, rose, came forward and in a voice husky with emotion urged: "Friends, let us pray for the honor, success, glory and steadfast manhood through life of the young men who are about to go forth with their diplomas." Every head was bowed while the chaplain's petition ascended. When the prayer was over the superintendent, in full dress uniform, stepped to the front of the rostrum and made a brief address. Sailors are seldom long-winded talkers. The superintendent's address, on this very formal occasion, lasted barely four minutes. But what he said was full of earnest manhood and honest patriotism. Then the superintendent dropped to his chair. There were not so very many dry eyes when the choir beautifully intoned: "God be with you till we meet again!" But now another figure appeared on the rostrum. Though few of the young men had ever seen this new-comer, they knew him by instinct. At a signal from an officer standing at the side of the chapel, the members of the brigade broke forth into thunderous hurrahs. For this man, now about to address them, was their direct chief. "Gentlemen and friends," announced the superintendent, "I take the greatest pleasure that may come to any of us in introducing our chief---the Secretary of the Navy." And now other officers appeared on the rostrum, bearing diplomas and arranging them in order. The name of the man to graduate first in his class was called. He went forward and received his diploma from the Secretary, who said: "Mr. Ennerly, it is, indeed, a high honor to take first place in such a class as yours!" Ennerly, flushed and proud, returned to his seat amid applause from his comrades. And so there was a pleasant word for each midshipman as he went forward. When the Secretary picked up the seventeenth diploma he called: "David Darrin!" Who was the most popular man in the brigade of midshipmen? The midshipmen themselves now endeavored to answer the question by the tremendous explosions of applause with which they embarrassed Dave as he went forward. "Mr. Darrin," smiled the Secretary, "there are no words of mine that can surpass the testimonial which you have just received from your comrades. But I will add that we expect tremendous things from you, sir, within the next few years. You have many fine deeds and achievements to your credit here, sir. Within the week you led in a truly gallant rescue human life down the bay. Mr. Darrin, in handing you your well-earned diploma, I take upon myself the liberty of congratulating your parents on their son!" As Dave returned to his seat with his precious sheepskin the elder Darrin, who was in the audience, took advantage of the renewed noises of applause to clear his throat huskily several times. Dave's mother honestly used her handkerchief to dry the tears of pride that were in her eyes. Another especial burst of applause started when Daniel Dalzell, twenty-first in his class, was called upon to go forward. "I didn't believe Danny Grin would ever get through," one first classman confided behind his hand to another. "I expected that the upper classmen would kill Danny Grin before he ever got over being a fourth classman." But here was Dan coming back amid more applause, his graduation number high enough to make it practically certain that he would be a rear admiral one of these days when he had passed the middle stage of life in the service. One by one the other diplomas were given out, each accompanied by some kindly message from the Secretary of the Navy, which, if remembered and observed, would be of great value to the graduate at some time in the future. The graduating exercises did not last long. To devote too much time to them would be to increase the tension. Later in the day the graduated midshipmen again appeared. They were wearing their new coats now, several inches longer in the tail, and denoting them as real officers in the Navy. A non-graduate midshipman must salute one of these graduates whenever they meet. In their room, to be occupied but one night more, Dave and Dan finished dressing in their new uniforms at the same moment. "Shake, Danny boy!" cried Dave Darrin, holding out his hand. "How does it seem, at last, to know that you're really an officer in the Navy?" "Great!" gulped Dalzell. "And I don't mind admitting that, during the last four years, I've had my doubts many a time that this great day would ever come for we. But get your cap's and let's hustle outside." "Why this unseemly rush, Danny?" "I want to round up a lot of under classmen and make them tire their arms out saluting me." "Your own arm will ache, too, then, Danny. You are obliged, as of course you know, to return every salute." "Hang it, yes! There's a pebble in every pickle dish, isn't there?" "You're going to the graduation ball tonight, of course?" "Oh, surely," nodded Dalzell. "After working as I've worked for four years for the privilege, I'd be a fool to miss it. But I'll sneak away early, after I've done a friend's duty by you and Belle. No girls for me until I'm a captain in the Navy!" The ball room was a scene of glory that night. Bright eyes shone unwontedly, and many a heart fluttered. For Belle Meade was not the only girl there who was betrothed to a midshipman. Any graduate who chose might marry as soon as he pleased, but nearly all the men of the class preferred to wait until they had put in their two years at sea and had won their commissions as ensigns. "This must be a night of unalloyed pleasure to you," murmured Belle, as she and her young officer sweetheart sat out one dance. "You can look back over a grand four years of life here." "I don't know that I'd have the nerve to go through it all again," Darrin answered her honestly. "You don't have to," Belle laughed happily. "You put in your later boyhood here, and now your whole life of manhood is open before you." "I'll make the best use of that manhood that is possible for me," Dave replied solemnly. "You must have formed some wonderful friendships here." "I have." "And, I suppose," hesitated Belle, "a few unavoidable enmities." "I don't know about that," Dave replied promptly and with energy. "I can't think of a fellow here that I wouldn't be ready and glad to shake hands with. I hope---I trust---that all of the fellows in the brigade feel the same way about me." _ |
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