In times like those we have but recently passed through, when the theories and studies of thirty years are being put to tests of fire and the sword, it is interesting to turn for a moment to our naval school at Annapolis, where the officers who planned our campaigns, directed our battles and our blockades, and commanded our ships were first trained to the serious business of war. Though the years which have passed since 1861 have made changes in the personnel system and appearance of the Naval Academy, the city of Annapolis itself is the same sleepy, careless, happy-go-lucky town of earlier days.
Once a year, and only once, it rouses itself from its lethargy and assumes an air of gayety and importance which it may not even have shown when it earned for itself the title of “The Gayest Colonial Capital.” During the latter part of May and the first of June each train that pulls into the ramshackle station bears a load of pretty young women,—sisters, cousins, sweethearts,—who come for the two-weeks’ exercises, when the naval cadets are[232] graduated, and for the June ball. It has been so since the founding of the Naval Academy, and will be so as long as youngsters in brass buttons are brought up to be professional heroes.
In the old colonial days Annapolis was rich. There was an English governor, and grouped about him were some of the oldest English families. In the middle of the eighteenth century Annapolis had become refined, gay, elegant, and even dissipated.
Not only was Annapolis in these old days the most lucrative place in the colonies for the practice of law, but it was the birthplace of such lawyers as Daniel Dulaney, William Pinckney, Charles Carroll, and Reverdy Johnson. In those days, too, after the Revolution, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the richest man in America, was one of the citizens. To-day, while the descendants of some of these families are still in possession of the homes of their forefathers, the seat of power and money of Maryland has changed to the commercial capital, Baltimore. The centre of social gayety, therefore, is to be found in the Naval Academy.
The social feature of the life of the cadet must not be underestimated. The youngsters who present themselves as candidates for admission,[233] appointed politically, come from all parts of the country, and represent every shade of opinion and training in the United States. They are a smaller image of the large mass of our people. The problem of bringing these different natures into accord with the conditions which they must face is no easy one; and the weeding-out process, which immediately begins, is conducted by the superintendent—usually a captain in the navy—and the officers under his command, under rules which have been adopted after sixty years of previous administrations.
There is an indefinable something in the organization of the place that makes an indelible impression upon the mind of the candidate, and as he enters upon his duties it does not take long to discover whether he is mentally and personally fitted for the long task before him. It was said in the old days that a seaman was born and not made. But modern warfare has so changed the conditions that, while the officers of the navy must always command men and have the instincts of the sailor, high mental attainments are also the requisite, and those instincts can be formed by experience and association.
The course, then, in brief, is the training of the mind and the body, the school of the soldier[234] and sailor, and the school of the gentleman. Here, then, is where the social influences of the Naval Academy are felt. Politics, like misfortune, makes strange bedfellows, and the scion of your Eastern banker may soon find himself detailed as the room-mate of the most impecunious and unpretentious of Uncle Sam’s younger sons. It is the democracy of military training, in which every man’s standing is governed alone by his professional qualifications. Money or position can in no way affect his life. His rise or fall depends entirely upon his own worth.
To the young man fortunate enough to secure an early appointment from his representative in Congress, his new home, in the month of May, presents every attraction. From the moment he passes the gate, passes the marine guards, his eye meets the beautifully kept lawns of the campus and drill-ground, sweeping gradually down to the sea-wall on the north and east sides, where the Severn River flows, stretching out to the blue waters of Chesapeake Bay, only three miles from old Fort Severn. To the left, as he enters, are the New Quarters and hospital. To the right, the sacred precincts of “Lovers’ Lane,” into which he cannot go, under pain of displeasure of his upper classmen, until he has passed[235] through the first, or “plebe,” year, and this rule is stringent.
To pass the examinations successfully the candidate must be physically sound, and must have a knowledge of arithmetic, geography, United States history, reading, writing, spelling, English grammar, and the first principles of algebra. The number of appointees is limited by law to one naval cadet for every member or delegate of the House of Representatives, one for the District of Columbia, and ten at-large; the District of Columbia and the at-large appointments being made by the President. The course of the naval cadets is six years,—four years at the Naval Academy and two years at sea,—at the expiration of which time the cadet returns for the final graduation.
The fourth-class man who enters in May has a certain advantage over the September appointee, for he has the advantage of four months of practical instruction, which hardens his muscles and gets his mind into excellent shape for the harder work of the year. Having passed his examinations, the youngster goes to the office of the superintendent, where he takes the oath of allegiance which binds him to serve in the United States navy eight years, including his time of probation at the Naval Academy, unless sooner discharged. He deposits a sum[236] of money for his books, and such other amount as may be necessary for his outfit, and is put to no further expense.
His pay is five hundred dollars a year while at the Naval Academy, but, while he acknowledges its receipt to the paymaster by signing the pay-roll, he is furnished with only sufficient pocket-money to get along on. This sum of money is microscopic, and is usually spent as soon as received. Having procured his outfit from the storekeeper, he reports on board the “Santee.” The “Santee” is one of the old sailing-frigates in the navy, and has for years been anchored at the naval dock as quarters for cadets during the summer time and for practical instruction in the drill of the old Dahlgrens. Here, too, is where the fractious cadets are placed in durance.
Until within a very few years the new fourth-class men were sent upon the summer cruise of cadets, first on the “Dale,” then on the “Constellation” and the “Monongahela.” But by a change in the curriculum the May appointees in the fourth class do not take the summer cruise. The “Monongahela,” one summer, carried the line division of the first class, the second class, and the third class. Before this change the life of the “plebe” on the summer cruise was not a bed of roses.[237] The cadets of the third class, until recently “plebes” themselves, were prepared to wreak upon their juniors all of the pent-up exuberance of the previous year.
Hazing, in the old sense, has died away, and even the “running” of ten years ago has been reduced to a minimum through the efforts of Captains Ramsey, Sampson, and Phythian; but the “plebe” was made to step around in a very lively manner, and to do most of the hauling on the heavy gear, while the third-class men did the complaining. On the “Monongahela” the first, second, and third classes are now, as in the old days, considered as sailors, although a number of the blue-jackets are retained on the vessel. The cadets do their share of the work, and perform all the duties of men-of-war’s-men except scrubbing, holy-stoning, and cleaning brass-work. The lower-class men are divided into watches with the regular blue-jackets, side by side with whom they assist in performing all the evolutions in working the ship.
The cruise which follows is usually a pleasant one. There is a lot of hard work to do, and in a short while the hands and muscles get hard, the white suits conveniently tarry, and the skins of the youngsters as brown as leather. But the life has its compensations, for at Fortress[238] Monroe they get into their uniforms again and go ashore to the dances given there at the time of their arrival and departure.
Meanwhile the engineer division of the first class is off on a cruise to visit the various navy-yards and docks of the Atlantic coast. Their course of instruction differs from that of the cadets on the “Monongahela,” and they are shown the practical side of engineering work on sea-going ships. Away down below the water-line of their vessel, in the stoke-hole, engine-room, or boiler-room, covered with grease or coal-dust, they do all the work of oilers, engineers, stokers, and mechanics, so as to be able to know accurately all the duties of those men, and to be able to command them in the years to come.
In October the study-term begins, and the cadets are then given their quarters for winter. Most of them are in the building known as the New Quarters, while the others, cadet officers of the first class, are placed in the Old Quarters. The subtle distinction in the titles of these two sets of buildings is hardly appreciated at the Naval Academy, since they have both been built for thirty or forty years, and are in a frightful state of dilapidation. Two cadets of the same class are quartered in each room, and the discipline of household, as well[239] as of person, begins immediately. Each room is plainly furnished, and contains two beds, two wardrobes, two looking-glasses, two iron wash-stands, a common table, and a broom. The charge of the room is taken by each cadet every other week, and this cadet is responsible for its general order and cleanliness. If the officer in charge should happen to inspect the quarters in his absence, and find anything contrary to regulations, the cadet in charge is the one who is reported at the next morning’s formation, although his room-mate may have been the delinquent.
Throughout the year............