BATTLE ROYAL.
BATTLE ROYAL.
Winter came to Montpelier, and with it frost, snow, and a new school year.
The first snowfall was in the night, and by noon of the next day it was soft enough to pack, presenting an opportunity for fun such as American boys never forego. Big or little, studious or indolent, every one of those whose acquaintance we have made in the preceding pages, together with many of their schoolmates whom we have not named, took up handfuls of the cold, white substance, fashioned them into balls, and tried his skill at throwing. It is the Yankee form of carnival, and woe to him who fails to take the pelting good-naturedly.
That day the fun was thickest at the orchard near the schoolhouse. Half a dozen boys, partly sheltered by the low stone wall, were considered to be in a fort which a dozen others were attacking. At first it was every man for himself, "load and fire at will," but as the contest grew hotter (if that term will do for a snow battle) it was necessary to organize the work a little. So the smaller boys were directed to give their attention entirely to the making of balls, which the larger ones threw with more accuracy and force. One boy, having a notion to vary the game with an experiment, rolled up a ball twice as large as his head, managed to creep up to the wall with it, and then threw it up into the air so that it came down inside the fort. When it came down it landed on the head and shoulders of Teddy Hawkins, broke into a beautiful shower, and for a moment almost buried him out of sight. This feat of military skill received its appropriate applause, but the author of it had to pay the cost. Before he could get back to his own lines he was a target for every marksman in the fort, and at least half a dozen balls hit him, at all of which he laughed—with the exception of the one that broke on his neck and dropped its fragments inside his collar.
When there was a lull in the contest a boy looked over the wall and hailed the besiegers with:
"Boys, see who's coming up the road!"
A tall man who carried a book under his arm and apparently was in deep thought was approaching. This was Pangborn, the schoolmaster, fresh from college, still a hard student, and assumed by the boys to be their natural enemy from the simple fact that he had come there to be their teacher.
When he appeared at this interesting moment there was no need of any formal proclamation of truce between the contending forces. The instinct of the country schoolboy suggested the same thought probably to every one, whether besieger or besieged. The word passed along, "Make a lot of them, quick! and make them hard."
The little fellows whose hands were red and stinging with cold worked with double energy, and the larger ones ceased throwing at one another, stepped back to places where they were not so likely to be seen from the road, and by common consent formed an ambush for the unsuspecting teacher.
When he came within range a ball thrown by George Dewey, which knocked off his cap, was the signal for a general attack, and the next minute he thought himself in the center of a hailstorm, the hailstones being as large as country newspapers ever represent them. After the first sensation of bewilderment, he realized the situation, and being a man of quick wit, with some experience of boys, he saw what was the one proper thing to do.
Coolly laying down his book on his cap where it rested on the snow, and paying little attention to the balls that were still whizzing round him, he proceeded to make five or six, as round and solid as could be desired. Then, looking for the leader of the attack, and recognizing him in Dewey, he charged upon that youngster and delivered every ball with unerring aim. It was so good an exhibition of marksmanship that all the other combatants stood still and looked on, their appreciation of all good throwing balancing their repugnance to all teachers.
When he had delivered his last ball, which Master Dewey received courageously and good-naturedly in the breast, Mr. Pangborn picked up his book and his hat and resumed his walk, the small boys now coming to the front and sending their feeble shots after him.
"I'm afraid he's game," said Tom Kennedy.
"I'm not afraid of it, I'm glad of it," said Sim Nelson. "I want him to be game. Of course we must try to lick him, before the term's over, but I hope we won't succeed. I want the school to go on, and want to learn something. This may be my last winter, for I've got to go to a trade pretty soon. I was just getting a good start last winter. I was nearly through fractions when we licked old Higgins and he gave up the school."
"Then why do we lick the teacher at all?" said Sammy Atkinson.
"I suppose it wouldn't answer not to," said Sim. "What would the boys over in the Myers district say if we didn't give him a tug?"
"The boys in the Myers district tried it with their teacher last week, and got licked unmercifully," said Bill Ammon.
"At any rate," said Sim, "it appears to be an old and settled fashion. Father had a visit last night from a schoolmate, and they were talking over old times, and I heard them give a lively description of a fight with a teacher. After they had driven out three men in three winters, the trustees engaged a woman teacher. She was tall and strong, and not afraid of anything. Of course they couldn't fight her, because she was a woman; but all the same she laced those boys with a rawhide whenever they broke the rules. But father said she hadn't much education; she never took them beyond simple fractions, because she didn't understand arithmetic beyond that point herself. When they got there she would say, 'I think now we ought to take some review lessons; I believe in thoroughness.' And in the reading class she taught them to say So'-crates and Her'-cules, instead of Soc'-ra-tes and Her'-cu-les. Father said the boys learned lots of obedience that winter, but nothing else."
"Well, of course," said Teddy Hawkins—and his words were slow, because he was trying at the same time to bite off the end of a big stick of Spanish licorice—"if it was the custom of our forefathers—we must keep it up. But we want a good boy—to lead the fight and manage it. If we do it—in a helter-skelter way—we'll—get—licked."
"Certainly!" said Sim. "And that may be the result of it any way. Dewey's the fellow to lead the crowd and take charge of it. What do you say—will you do it, George?"
"If he does anything that we ought to lick him for, I will," said George. "But if you're going to be the ones to pick the quarrel, you may count me out."
The next day the teacher brought a mysterious parcel and laid it in his desk without undoing it. He had had charge of the school only a week, and by overlooking many occurrences that might have been taken as a deliberate challenge, he had hoped to make the boys see for themselves that he bore them no ill-will. His forbearance had been taken for timidity, and many of his pupils saw in the tall young graduate only another victim who was destined very soon to follow the vanquished teacher of the preceding winter.
Contrary to their expectations, Mr. Pangborn opened the school as usual, and made no allusion to the snowballing affair.
The first class was ordered to take position before his desk. As they filed past, one of the boys, extending his foot, tripped another. The boy that was tripped made a great fuss about it, fell unnecessarily over a bench, and professed to be hurt both in mind and in body.
Mr. Pangborn called the aggressor before him and said:
"I was willing to pass over what occurred yesterday at the orchard, and I had no intention of informing your parents about it. I recognize the fact that you are boys, and I know that boys like fun and must have it. If you sometimes misplace your fun and overdo it, and act like highwaymen instead of good, healthy, civilized boys, if it is outside the schoolhouse and school hours I have no more to say about it than any other citizen. But when you're here you've got to behave yourselves. I will say no more about what has just occurred, but at the least sign of any further riot or misbehavior I'll put a stop to it in a way that you'll remember, and this will help me."
With that he opened the parcel and displayed a large new rawhide.
For a few seconds there was a dead silence in the room. Then a boy in one of the back seats—it was George Dewey—stood up and said:
"Mr. Pangborn, I want to tell you what I think about that, and I guess most of the boys think as I do. If they don't, I hope you'll let them say what they do think. You've been giving us sums in proportion, and my father tells me I must try to apply everything I learn. If I do anything wrong I'm willing to be licked according; but I don't want to take a big thrashing for a little thing. I don't believe any boy in this school will do anything bad enough to deserve that rawhide; you can't give any but the biggest thrashings with it. And so if you attempt to use it at all we'll all turn in and lick you."
"You've made quite a good show of argument, George," said the teacher, "and I like to have a boy exercise his reasoning powers—that's one thing I'm here to teach you. But there is a serious fault or two in your statement of the case. In the first place, no boy is obliged to do any wrong, little or great; he is at perfect liberty to obey all the rules and behave like a gentleman, and if he does so he'll not be touched by this rawhide or anything else. If he chooses to break the rules he knows beforehand what it will cost him, and he has no right to complain. In the second place, the trustees have not put you here to govern the school or judge how it ought to be governed. They have employed me for that; and I intend to do what I have agreed to do and am paid for doing. I have come here to teach the school, but I can't teach without order and obedience on the part of the pupils; and order and obedience I will have—pleasantly if I can, forcibly if I must. If you had stopped, George, at the end of your argument, I should stop here with my answer, and should praise you for having reasoned out the case as well as you could, though you did not arrive at the right conclusion. Nothing will please me better than for the boys to cultivate a habit of doing their own thinking and learn to think correctly. You will always find me ready to listen to reason. But you did not stop at the end of your argument; you added a threat to attack me with the whole school to help you and overcome me. Whatever you may say of big and little faults, you have now committed one of the greatest. If I passed over such a breach of discipline, my usefulness here would be at an end. Unless I am master there can be no school. If you see the justice of this and are manly enough to acknowledge it, you may simply stand up and apologize for your threat, and then we'll go on with the lessons as if nothing had happened. If not, of course you must take the consequences."
"I don't know how to apologize," said George, "and I'm not going to."
"Then step out here," said the teacher, as he took up the rawhide.
The boy went forward at once, with his fists clenched and his eyes blazing.
Mr. Pangborn saw there was good stuff in him, if only it were properly cultivated, and could not repress a feeling of admiration for his courage.
"Now let's see you strike me," said George.
The next instant the rawhide came down across his shoulders, and with a cry of rage the boy threw himself upon his teacher, fighting like a terrier.
Then five or six of the larger boys came to George's aid; most of the smaller ones followed them; those who were not anxious to fight did their part by yelling, overthrowing desks, and spilling ink; and the whole place was in a hideous uproar. They charged upon the teacher from all sides, but he held fast to Dewey's collar with one hand while he plied the rawhide with the other. The largest boy, who had received a stinging cut across the face, got a stick from the wood-box and let it fly at the master's head, which it narrowly missed. Feeling that his life might be in danger, Mr. Pangborn picked up the stick and waded into the crowd, using it as a policeman uses his club. The boy who had thrown it was toppled over with a blow on the head, and in three minutes all the others were driven out of the schoolhouse, some of them feeling a little lame about the shoulders and sides—all except Dewey, on whom the teacher had not relaxed his grip. He now resumed the rawhide and gave the boy as much more as he thought he deserved.
A little later they left the house together and walked up the street to Dr. Dewey's office, where the boy was turned over to his father, with a brief statement of the circumstances. Dr. Dewey thanked the teacher for what he had done, and the lesson to George was complete.
The next morning George was in his seat at the tap of the bell, and throughout the day he was as orderly and studious as could be desired. When the session was over and the teacher was leaving the house, he found the boy waiting for him at the door. George extended his hand and said:
"Father and I talked that matter all over, and we both came to the conclusion that you did exactly right. I thank you for it."
From that time Zenas K. Pangborn and George Dewey were fast friends.
EDUCATION AT NORWICH.
EDUCATION AT NORWICH.
A year later George Dewey left the school and went to the Morrisville Academy, and there also Mr. Pangborn's teachings stood him in good stead. His aptitude in sports always made Dewey a favorite with his companions. He was one of the fastest runners and the best skaters, and he had the knack of doing everything he did quickly and neatly, in the way that shows the properly balanced relations between mind and eye and body. He acted as he thought—quickly and surely—and he was certain to resent any insult or infringement of what he considered his rights.
Dr. Dewey had been thinking over his son's future, and had decided upon sending George to West Point, although even at this time the boy's inclinations turned more strongly to the other branch of the service. Yet he did not strenuously object, and so after a year at Morrisville he was sent to Norwich University at Northfield, Vermont.
Norwich University stands on a plateau above the town of Northfield. It is a fine old place, with a wide parade-ground extending before the buildings, and back of it are the brick barracks that contain the cadets' quarters and the armory and recitation rooms. Everything was managed in military fashion, and there was no better school in which to fit a boy for the life and habits of a soldier. It was in the year 1851 that George Dewey became a pupil there, and from the day of his coming he manifested the powers of leadership that afterward distinguished him.
Four or five young fellows in uniform were seated in one of the rooms in the South Barrack. They belonged to the second-year men, and the second year at any institution of learning is perhaps the crucial one. If a boy gets into any mischief that is serious, it is generally in his second year. The doings of the sophomore have cost many a dollar out of the college treasury, to pay for stolen gates and burned fences, smashed lamp-posts and injured constables. And it was so with the second year's men at Norwich.
"Where's Doc. Dewey?" asked one of the boys. "We must get him into the scheme, or the whole thing will fall through."
"If any of you fellows want to see Doc. Dewey, all you've got to do is to come to the window," said a boy who was gazing out on the parade ground.
At the farther end a solitary figure was patrolling up and down, turning at the end of his beat about a large elm that stood in the corner of the campus. The punishments at Norwich were of a military character, and extra sentry duty was the reward for any breach of discipline.
"I ought to be the one doing all that marching," said one of the boys, "for George only tried to get me out of the scrape, but he wouldn't let me tell."
"Well, he'll be off in half an hour," said another, "and we'll meet in his rooms. What do you say?"
"So say we all of us," was the return. "We can hatch up the scheme there better than anywhere else."
In a few minutes the party broke up, to meet later in a room down the hallway.
Across the Connecticut River, which skirts the town of Northfield, is the town of Hanover, the seat of old Dartmouth College. From time immemorial the greatest rivalry had existed between the two institutions, and in the years that preceded the civil war this feeling had almost grown into a feud, and for a member of either institution to cross the river was to enter the enemy's country, with all the attendant risk. Only three or four evenings previously Dewey and one of the other cadets had boldly crossed the bridge and appeared in the Hanover streets in broad daylight. It had not taken long for the news to reach the ears of a few of the Dartmouth sophomores, who were spoiling for a row, and soon Dewey and his companions had found out that they were followed. But it was not until they had reached the entrance to the bridge that there was any sign of trouble. There, sure enough, they saw four of the Dartmouth belligerents waiting for them. An old farmer, crossing the bridge from Hanover to Northfield, was driving a pair of rather skittish horses that were prancing as they heard the rattling of the boards beneath their feet. It was almost time for the evening assembly, and if the boys were to be prompt they must not be stopped, although such, it was plain, was the intention of the Dartmouth boys who were awaiting them. They asked the farmer if he would give them a ride, and he declined; but they had jumped into the wagon, and, when near the spot where their four enemies had lined across the causeway, one of the cadets leaned forward and, picking up the whip, struck the two horses across their backs. This was all they needed; the Dartmouth boys had barely time to jump aside when the team went tearing by. But it was easier to get the young horses going than to stop them. The rattling of the bridge frightened them more and more, and the people on the streets of Northfield were surprised to see a runaway come roaring into town with an old man and two hatless cadets hauling at the reins without result. It was fortunate that no harm was done, and the horses were stopped halfway up the hill that leads to the University; but the president had seen and recognized the two uniformed figures, and that was one reason why Doc. Dewey was walking about the old elm on this fine spring day.
The evening before, one of the cadets had returned from a nocturnal excursion across the river with his coat torn and a story of being badly treated. Revenge was being planned, and the plotters had chosen Dewey as their leader for the coming expedition that was meant to teach the Dartmouth fellows a lesson. This expedition resulted in a lively encounter, in which, though outnumbered, the Norwich boys are said to have been victorious. In the traditions of the school it is known as the Battle of the Torn Coats.
In Dewey's last year at Norwich the faculty procured two fine six-pounder howitzers, with limbers, to replace the old iron guns at which the cadets had been exercised. When they arrived, the cadets took down the old guns and brought up the new ones from the railway station. As boys naturally would, they divided into two parties and made a frolic of the occasion. It was tedious work getting the guns out of the car, but as soon as they were out and limbered up the fun began. One of the cadets has told the story very prettily in his diary.
"Ainsworth and Munson chose squads to draw them to the parade. I chanced to be in Ainsworth's squad. Ainsworth's squad wanted to lead, but as Munson's squad had the road ahead and we were at the side and in sandy gutters, it was doubtful how we were to do it. They started off with a fine spurt, getting a big lead. Going up the hill where the road was broader we steadily gained until only the length of the trail in the rear; then we gathered and started on a run, passing and keeping the lead, with cheers and great glee. Climbing the hill, we proceeded more slowly, Munson quietly in the rear, on our way round the North Barracks and then through the usual gateway to position. As we entered the village near the southeast corner of the parade, we noticed Munson's squad, apparently under the lead of Dewey, making for a short cut across the grounds, first breaking down the fence for passage. Now our efforts were redoubled, and the boys of the other squad declare that they never saw fellows run as we ran, or expect to see a gun jump as that six-pounder bounded along the main street and around the corner. But we led; round the North Barracks at double quick went gun and gun squad, entered the barrack yard and placed the gun in position before the west front of the South Barracks, giving three cheers for No. 1 to the chagrin of No. 2, just approaching position. It was a great race and pleased the faculty exceedingly."
This was only one of many episodes that prevented life at Norwich from being dull for the boys, and sweetened their memories in after time, though not assisting directly in any useful branch of education.
LIFE AT ANNAPOLIS.
LIFE AT ANNAPOLIS.
When Dr. Dewey had consented to his son's wishes for a naval education, the next step was to secure his appointment to a cadetship at the Academy at Annapolis. Each member of Congress has the privilege of appointing a candidate when there is no cadet from his district in the Academy; and the President has ten appointments at large, besides one for the District of Columbia. The giving of these appointments after a competitive examination was not so common forty years ago as it is now. They were almost invariably bestowed arbitrarily, according to the Congressman's personal relations with those who sought them or his idea of his own political interests. But it was of little use to appoint a boy who could not pass the mental and physical entrance examinations. George Dewey obtained an appointment, but only as alternate. The first place was given to a schoolmate two years older than he, George B. Spalding. For some reason Spalding, though a bright boy, failed to pass, while the alternate answered the requirements and was admitted to the Academy. Mr. Spalding was graduated two years later at the University of Vermont, studied theology at Andover, and has had a creditable career as a clergyman and legislator. It is said that only about forty per cent of the appointees are able to pass the entrance examinations, and of those who are admitted, only about half finish the course.
Dewey entered the Academy September 23, 1854, being then in his seventeenth year. He was born December 26, 1837. The number of cadets was then one hundred and sixty, the curriculum had been recently remodeled for a four-years' course, and the first class under the new regulation was graduated that year. Captain Louis M. Goldsborough (afterward rear admiral) was the superintendent.
The classes are designated by numbers, the lowest (corresponding to freshmen in a college) being called the fourth. The cadets (or midshipmen, as they were then called; that term is no longer in use) were under the immediate charge of an officer called the Commandant of Midshipmen. He ranked next to the superintendent, and was the executive officer of the institution and the instructor in seamanship, gunnery, and naval tactics. He had three assistants. There were eight professorships—Mathematics; Astronomy, Navigation and Surveying; Natural and Experimental Philosophy; Field Artillery and Infantry Tactics; Ethics and English Studies; French; Spanish; and Drawing.
The examinations of all the classes were held in February and June. A very strict record was kept of the conduct of every student; and after the June examination those in the second class who had not received more than a hundred and fifty demerit marks during the year were furloughed till October, while the others were at once embarked for the annual practice cruise. This appears like a great number of demerit marks for even the worst student to receive, but some offenses were punished with more than one mark. Thus, for neglect of orders or overstaying leave of absence the penalty was ten marks; for having a light in one's room after taps, eight; for absence from parade or roll call, six; for slovenly dress, four, etc. Any cadet who received more than two hundred demerits in a year was dropped from the rolls; and it was optional with the superintendent to dismiss a cadet from the service for being intoxicated or having liquor in his possession; for going beyond the limits of the institution without permission; for giving, carrying, or accepting a challenge; for playing at cards or any game of chance in the Academy; for offering violence or insult to a person on public duty; for publishing anything relating to the Academy; or for any conduct unbecoming a gentleman.
The daily routine of the Academy is of interest as showing to what discipline the cadets were subjected, and what habits of promptness, regularity, and accuracy were cultivated. Marshall's History of the Academy shows us what it was at that time, and it is still practically the same.
The morning gun-fire and reveille with the beating of the drum was at 6.15A.M., or at 6.30, according to the season. Then came the police of quarters and inspection of rooms. The roll call was at 6.45 or at 7.15, according to the season. From December 1st to March 1st the later hour was the one observed. Chapel service followed, and afterward breakfast at 7 or at 7.30. The sick call was thirty minutes after breakfast. Then the cadets had recreation till 8 o'clock, when the study and recitation hours began.
Section formations took place in the front hall of the third floor, under the supervision of the officer of the day, who, as well as the section leaders, was responsible for preservation of silence and order. When the signal was given by the bugle, the sections were marched to their recitation rooms. They marched in close order, in silence, and with strict observance of military decorum. Whenever a section left its recitation room it was marched by its leader to the third floor, and there dismissed.
Study alternated or intervened with recitations until one o'clock, when the signal for dinner was given. The cadets were again formed in order by the captains of crews, and marched into the mess hall. The organization was into ten guns' crews, for instruction in seamanship and gunnery, and for discipline. The captains of crews, when at the mess table, repressed promptly all disorderly conduct, unbecoming language, and unnecessary noise. They enforced perfect silence among their guns' crews until the order "Seats!" had been given. Then conversation was permitted. Silence was enforced again after the order "Rise!" until the crews reached the main hall. At all times, in mustering their crews, the captains were required to call the names in the lowest tone that would secure attention. They were required to report any irregularity in uniform or untidiness which they perceived at any formation, as well as any infraction of regulations, disregard of orders, or other impropriety.
The Professor of Field Artillery and Infantry Tactics was inspector of the mess hall, and presided at the mess table. He had charge of the police and order of the mess hall, in which duty he was assisted by the officer of the day and the captains of crews. Each student had a seat assigned to him at table, which he could not change without the sanction of the inspector of the mess hall; and no student must appear at meals negligently dressed.
Thirty minutes were allowed for breakfast, and the same time for supper. Forty minutes were allowed for dinner.
After dinner the young gentlemen had recreation again until two o'clock, when the afternoon study and recitation hours began. These continued until four o'clock, followed by instruction in the art of defense, infantry or artillery drill, and recreation until parade and roll call at sunset. Supper followed immediately; then recreation and call to evening studies at 6.25 or 6.55, according to the season. Study hours continued until tattoo at half past nine, which was a signal for extinguishing lights and inspection of rooms. After "taps" at ten o'clock no lights were allowed in any part of the students' quarters, except by authority of the superintendent.
On the school-ship attached to the Academy there was another set of rules and regulations, concerning duty, conduct, and etiquette, so minute and exacting that one would think it was a liberal education merely to learn them all, to say nothing of obeying them daily and hourly. Here are the greater part of them:
At reveille the midshipmen will immediately turn out, arrange their bedding, and taking the lashing from the head clews of their hammocks, where it was neatly coiled the night before, will lash up their hammocks, taking seven taut turns at equal distances, and tucking in their clews neatly. They will then place their hammocks under their right arms, and first captains will give the order, "Stand by your hammocks, No. — forward, march!" at which order they will proceed in line, by their allotted ladders, to their allotted places in their respective nettings; when there, they will in order deliver their hammocks to those appointed to receive them. Each first captain delivering his hammock and falling back, will face the line of his gun's crew, and see that proper order is maintained; each midshipman, after delivering his hammock, will fall back, facing outboard, forming line from first captain aft. When all are stowed, the first captains, each at the head of his crew, will face them in the direction of their ladder, and march them to the wash room—odd-numbered crews on starboard, even numbers on port side of the wash room. Towels will be marked and kept in their places, over each respective basin. No one will leave the wash room until marched out; three guns' crews will wash at the same time, and each week the numbers will be changed. When ready, the first captains will march their crews to their places on the berth deck, where they will dismiss them.
Guns' crews Nos. 1 and 2 stow hammocks in forward netting—No. 2 on port, and No. 1 on starboard side; Nos. 3, 5, and 7 in starboard, and Nos. 4, 6, and 8 in port quarter-deck nettings, lowest numbers of each crew stowing forward.
Nos. 1 and 2 guns' crews leave berth deck by fore-hatch ladders, Nos. 3 and 4 by main-hatch ladders, Nos. 5 and 6 by after-hatch ladders, and Nos. 7 and 8 by steerage ladders, each on their respective sides, and each march to their allotted places on spar deck.
Twelve minutes from the close of reveille (which will be shown by three taps on the drum) are allowed for lashing hammocks and to leave the berth deck.
The guns' crews will form in two ranks, at their respective places on gun deck: Nos. 1, 3, 5, and 7 on port side, and Nos. 2, 4, 6, and 8 on starboard side; first and second captains on the right of their crews, officer in charge, and adjutant forward of mainmast. Officer of the day and superintendents forward of main hatch, fronting officer in charge; when formed they will be faced to the front, and dressed by first captains by the orders, "Front; right dress." The adjutant then gives the order, "Muster your crews!" when each first captain, taking one step to the front, faces the line of his crew, second captain stepping forward into his interval; first captain then calls the roll from memory, noting absentees; when finished, faces toward his place, second captain takes backward step to his former position, and first captain faces about to his place in the front rank; the adjutant then gives the order, "First captains front and center!" First captains take one full step to the front, and face the adjutant's position, second captains filling intervals as before; the adjutant then gives the order, "March!" at which captains march in direction of the adjutant, forming in line abreast of him. The adjutant then gives the order, "Front! report!" The captains report all present, thus: "All present, No. 1!" or, if any are absent, thus: "—— absent, No. 1!" First captain of No. 1 will begin in a short, sharp, and intelligible tone, making the salute when he has finished, which will be the signal for first captain of No. 2 to report, and so on to the last. The adjutant then gives the order, "Posts! march!" the first captains facing, at the order "posts!" in the direction of their crews, advance at the word "march!" to their places in the ranks. The adjutant then reports to the officer in charge, and receives his instructions; if there be any orders he publishes them; he then gives the order, "Two files from the right, two paces to the front, march!" when the two files from the right of each rank step two paces to the front, and the adjutant gives the order, "Battalion right dress!" The battalion dresses on the two files, and the adjutant gives the order, "Battalion to the rear, open order, march!" when the rear rank will take two steps to the rear, halt, and be dressed by the second captain.
The officer in charge, with the adjutant, will proceed to inspect the battalion. The adjutant will then give the order, "Rear rank, close order, march!" when the rear rank will take two steps forward. The adjutant then gives the order, "Officer of the day and superintendents, relieve!" at which the officer of the day and superintendents of the day previous will face about, and pass the orders to their reliefs, the officer of the day delivering his side arms; they will then take position in their respective crews.
When the officer of the day and superintendents of the day previous have taken their places in their crews, the adjutant gives the order, "March to breakfast!" the first captains will direct their crews by their respective ladders to their respective mess tables. On arriving at the mess tables, each first captain will take position in rear of his camp stool, at the after end of the table, second captain taking the forward end, and the crew taking position corresponding to their places in the ranks; all will remain standing in rear of their respective camp stools until the officer in charge gives the order, "Seats!" at which word the midshipmen will place their caps under their camp stools, and quietly take their seats. As the midshipmen at each table shall have finished the meal, the first captain will rise and look at the adjutant, who will acknowledge the report by raising his right hand; the first captain will then resume his seat; when all shall have reported, the adjutant will make it known to the officer in charge, who, rising from his seat, will tap on the table and give the order, "Rise!" at which order each midshipman will rise, put on his cap, step to the rear of his camp stool, putting it in place, and facing aft; at the order "March!" from the adjutant, first captains will advance, followed by their crews in their proper order, and proceed to their parade stations on the gun deck, where they will form and dress their command, and bring them to parade rest in order for prayers. All will take off their caps at the opening of prayers, and put them on at the order "Attention!" at the close of prayers, from the adjutant, who gives the order "Battalion, attention! right face, break ranks, march!"
The hours for recitation and study were the same on board the training ship as in quarters—from about eight o'clock in the morning to one o'clock, and from about two o'clock in the afternoon to four o'clock. The guns' crews were then assembled for exercise at the great guns for an hour or more, or perhaps in infantry drill, or in practical seamanship, including exercises with boats, the lead, log, etc. Evening parade intervened, and after supper the fourth class were called to their studies again. At tattoo, half past nine in the evening, the midshipmen were required to arrange their books and papers neatly, place their chairs under their desks, and at gun-fire form by crews, when the officer in charge inspected the study tables. At "taps" all must turn in, and all noise must cease at four bells.
The rules of etiquette were very minute. Here are some of them:
The midshipmen will not use the steerage ladders, the after ladder from the gun deck, the starboard poop ladder, the starboard side of the poop, quarter-deck, or gangway abaft No. 2 recitation room; they are particularly enjoined to keep the starboard gangway clear. The etiquette of the quarter-deck will be strictly observed. Officers on coming up the quarter-deck ladders will make the salute. No running, skylarking, boisterous conduct, or loud talking will be permitted on the quarter-deck or poop. The midshipmen will never appear on the gun deck or quarter-deck without their caps, jackets, and cravats. They will, in ascending and descending the ladders, avoid the heavy step upon them which is made by shore people; when absent in boats they will yield implicit and prompt obedience to their captains, or those placed in charge. It is particularly forbidden to get out of or into the ship through the ports, or to sit on the rail of the ship. No one is permitted to go out on the head-booms during study hours, or to go aloft, without authorized permission. No one is permitted to go or come from the berth deck during study hours by any other than the main-hatch ladders. The midshipmen are forbidden to sit upon the study tables.
A young man who could go through with four years of such discipline as this, and at the same time keep up such proficiency in his studies as to pass the examinations, might well be supposed to be thoroughly fitted for the duties of life. George Dewey went through with it, and on graduation, in 1858, stood fifth in a class of fourteen. His classmate, Captain Henry L. Howison, says of him: "In his studies Dewey was exceedingly bright. At graduation he was No. 5 in our class and I was No. 4, but after the rearrangement at the end of our final cruise he was No. 4 and I was No. 5. He was a born fighter. He was just as much of a fighter in a small way when he was a boy as he has been in a large way as a man. His days at the Naval Academy proved this. He is quick at the trigger and has a strong temper, but he has excellent control over it. When a cadet he would always fight, and fight hard if necessary, but he was never known to be in a brawl. I do not want to convey the idea that he ever wanted to get into a row, because he didn't. He would go a long way to get out of fighting if the affair was none of his business. He was sure to be on the right side of every fight, but the fight had to come to him. He did not seek it. If he saw a quarrel on the street and he thought it the part of a gentleman to help one or the other of the contestants, he would not hesitate a moment about pitching in. He would go miles to help a friend who was in trouble. He was fond of animals, and especially fond of horses. Ever since I have known him he has gone horseback riding whenever he had a chance, and has owned several fine animals. At the Academy he would ride whenever he could get anything to ride. He had a fine horse when we lived in Washington. I recall that Dewey as a lad was very fond of music, and, indeed, quite a musician himself. He had a really good baritone voice, nearly a tenor, and he used it well and frequently, too. He also played the guitar well. He was no soloist, but could play accompaniments all right."
When Dewey was in the Academy there was a special source of misunderstanding, ill feeling, and quarrels in the heated condition of politics and sectional jealousy; and then, as ever, it was customary for the boys to settle their differences with their natural means of offense and defense. Dewey did not escape the peculiar peril of those days. There is a story to the effect that the leader of the Southern party among the cadets made an occasion to give George an unmistakable statement of his opinion of Yankees in general and George in particular, whereupon he presently found himself provided with a black eye. Then came a challenge to mortal combat, which George promptly accepted. Seconds were chosen, and a meeting would undoubtedly have taken place had not some of the students informed the faculty, who put a stop to the scheme and made the boys give their word of honor to keep the peace.
George participated in the annual practice cruises with his classmates, and after graduation they were sent on a two-years' cruise in European waters in the steam frigate Wabash, commanded by Captain Samuel Barron. The ship attracted a great deal of attention in every port she visited. Steam had been only recently adopted for naval vessels, and the Americans had constructed a type of steam frigate that was superior to anything in the other navies of the world. While the Wabash lay at Malta a fine steam yacht came in from the sea and anchored near her. It was said that she was the property of a distinguished nobleman, and was one of the few first-class steam yachts then in existence. She excited a great deal of curiosity among the officers of the Wabash. A few days later Captain Barron gave out a general invitation, and many visitors from the garrison and from British men-of-war in the harbor came to inspect the new war ship from the West. Dewey and the other midshipmen were on hand to assist in doing the honors, and when a kindly-looking gentleman with a small party came up the gangway and saluted the quarter-deck with a nautical air, George returned the salute and asked if he could be of any service. The gentleman said he would like to see whatever was to be seen, and the self-possessed young midshipman proceeded to show him and his party over the vessel. When they had nearly completed the rounds, Dewey ventured to offer his card by way of introduction. The gentleman took out his own card and gave it in return, and Dewey, as he glanced at it, read one of the highest names in the British peerage. "Yes," said the gentleman, "that is my little teakettle anchored under your quarter. I fear she'll seem rather cramped after we go aboard of her from this." Dewey's conscience now began to trouble him, and he insisted on taking the party to his commanding officer, though, as he anticipated, from that moment his own existence was ignored.
While nothing strictly historical took place in connection with this cruise, there were many pleasant incidents and some that made strong impressions on the young midshipmen in regard to duty and discipline. Several Italian ports were visited, princes and ambassadors were received on board, and courtesies were exchanged with the war vessels of several nations. The Fourth of July and Washington's Birthday were duly observed, and on the former occasion one of the officers read the Declaration of Independence to the ship's company assembled on deck. At Leghorn the Wabash ran aground, and a British merchant steamer assisted in getting her off. At Genoa some of the petty officers and seamen got into a street fight, in which a man was killed; and the captain sent them all ashore next day for the civil authorities to identify the participants. At Spezia, Dewey records in his journal, "five hundred and fifty gallons of beans were surveyed, condemned, and thrown overboard," furnished probably by contract. This is in striking contrast with what afterward he was able to say concerning the supplies of the fleet at Manila. On November 13, 1859, they sailed for home, and on December 16th arrived at the port of New York. A little later Midshipman Dewey was examined at Annapolis for a commission, and he not only passed the examination, but was advanced in his relative standing. He then received leave of absence to visit his home. He was commissioned lieutenant April 19, 1861, and was ordered to the steam sloop Mississippi.
THE BEGINNING OF WAR.
THE BEGINNING OF WAR.