It was by no means a common occurrence for the best of the scholars to win a hundred credit marks in a week, for in order to do it, it was necessary that they should be perfect in everything. If their standing and deportment as students were all they desired them to be, they ran the risk of falling behind in their record as soldiers. If they handled their muskets a little too quickly or too slowly while their company was going through the manual of arms, if they forgot that the guide was left when marching in platoon front, and allowed themselves to fall half an inch out of line, or if they turned their heads on dress-parade to watch the band while it “rounded off,” they were sure to be reported and to lose some of their hard-earned credit marks. Don Gordon worked early and late, and his average for the first three weeks was ninety—Bert[131] following close behind with eighty-eight. Jones and Enoch Williams did not do as well, and Lester was out of the race almost before it was begun. Enoch made a gallant struggle, and would have succeeded in winning the required number of marks if Jones had only let him alone; but at the end of the third week the latter gave up trying.
“It’s no use, Williams,” said he. “I’ve made a bad showing, thanks to the partiality of the instructors, who don’t intend to let a fellow win on his merits. I have made just a hundred and forty altogether, and if I could make a clean score during the next two weeks, my average would be sixty-eight—seven points too low. Now what are you going to do?”
“You can’t possibly make seventy-five, can you?” said Enoch, after he had performed a little problem in mental arithmetic. “Well, if you’ve got to stay behind, I’ll stay too. How about that picnic? Lester hasn’t been near me in a long time. He and his crowd seem to hang together pretty well, and I shouldn’t wonder if they had got their plans all laid.”
“Let’s hunt him up and have a talk with him,” said Jones. “We have made him mad, and perhaps[132] we shall have hard work to get him good-natured again.”
“I don’t care if he never gets good-natured again,” answered Enoch. “I have long been of the opinion that we ought to throw that fellow overboard. We shall certainly see trouble through him if we do not.”
“We’ll see trouble if we do,” said Jones, earnestly. “I have studied him pretty closely, and I have found out that there is no honor in him. We’ve gone too far to drop him now. If we should attempt it, he’d blow on us as sure as the world.”
Jones struck pretty close to the mark when he said this, for Lester had already set his wits to work to conjure up some plan to keep the boys who would not side with him at the academy while he and the rest were off on their cruise. He had decided that when the proper time came he would make an effort to induce Enoch to go with him, and if he refused, he (Lester) would take care to see that he didn’t go at all. He would contrive some way to let the superintendent know what he and Jones and their crowd intended to do.
[133]
“Brigham is no sailor, and there’s where the trouble is coming in,” said Enoch.
“I confess that I have often had my fears on that point,” replied Jones; “but we mustn’t think of leaving him behind. Let him act as leader, if he can, until we are fairly afloat, and then, if we find he doesn’t know what he is about, we can easily depose him and put you in his place.”
“I don’t care to be captain,” said Enoch. “I’d just as soon go before the mast, provided there is somebody on the quarter-deck who understands his business. These racing boats are cranky things, and sometimes they turn bottom side up without any provocation at all. There’s Brigham now.”
Lester was delighted to learn that his two old cronies were ready to side with him, but he did not show it. He appeared to be quite indifferent.
“I listened with all my ears when the last week’s standing was announced, and I know very well what it was that brought you over to me,” said he, addressing himself to Jones. “You’re going to fall below seventy-five in spite of all you can do, and Enoch doesn’t want to go to Hamilton[134] without you. I’ll have to talk to the boys about it. Perhaps they will say they don’t want you, because you went back on us once.”
“I say we didn’t go back on you or anybody else,” said Enoch, looking savagely at Lester. “We are ready to stand by our agreement, and you are not.”
Jones and Williams, believing that Lester was not very favorably disposed toward them, thought it would be a good plan to talk to the boys about it themselves. They found that some were glad to welcome them back, but that those who wanted to go to Hamilton and who were working hard, and with a fair prospect of success, to win the required number of marks, met their advances rather coldly.
“Let the celebration go and come with us,” urged Jones. “I’ll warrant you’ll see more fun on the bay than you will in marching about the dusty streets of Hamilton while the mercury is away up in the nineties.”
“Sour grapes!” exclaimed one of the boys. “Look here, Jones. A little while ago this parade was the grandest thing that ever was thought of, and you wouldn’t miss it for any amount of[135] money. You tried your best to win a place in the ranks of your company, but you failed, and now you want us to fail, too. I can’t see the beauty of that.”
There was more than one who couldn’t see it—boys who spent all their time with their books and watched themselves closely, in the hope of attaining to the required standing. Some succeeded and others did not. Those who failed fell back into the ranks of Lester’s crowd, angry and discouraged, and ready for anything that would close the doors of that school against them forever. The fortunate ones, turning a deaf ear to the pleadings of their companions, but promising to keep a still tongue in their heads regarding the proposed picnic, went to the city with their company, and we must hasten on to tell what happened to them while on the way, and what they did after they got there.
While these things were going on inside of the academy, some stirring events, in which a few of the students finally became personally interested, were occurring outside of it. The daily papers, to which many of the boys were subscribers, began to speak of railroad strikes, and in every issue there was a column or more of telegrams relating[136] to “labor troubles.” The boys read them, simply because they wanted to keep themselves posted, as far as they could, in all that was going on in the world; but they paid no particular attention to them. The news came from distant points and did not affect them in any way, because they were independent of the railroads and would be until September. If the hands on the Bordentown branch, the road that ran from Oxford through Bridgeport to Hamilton, wanted to strike for higher wages, they could do it and welcome. There was no law to prevent them. In fact, the students hoped they would do it, for then they could shoulder their muskets and march to the city, as the majority of them wanted to do.
Time passed and things began to assume a more serious aspect. The strike became general and trouble was feared. The strikers would not work themselves nor would they allow others to work; and when men came to take their places they won them over to their side, or assaulted them with clubs and stones and drove them away. The lawless element of the country, the “dangerous classes,”—the thieves, loafers, tramps and socialists, who had everything to make and nothing to[137] lose, joined with the strikers; and although the latter repudiated and denounced them in strong language, they did not send them away. The police could do nothing, and finally the National Guard was called out; but its presence did not seem to have any effect. The most of the guard were working men, and the strikers did not believe they would use their weapons even if ordered to do so. At Buffalo the mob threw aside the bayonets that were crossed in front of the door of a machine shop, and went in and compelled the men to stop work. Not satisfied with that they attacked the company that was guarding the shop and put it to flight. A Chicago paper announced, with much trepidation, that there were twenty thousand well-armed socialists in that city, who were threatening to do all sorts of terrible things; a Baltimore mob stoned and scattered the soldiers who had been sent there to preserve order; New York was like a seething cauldron, almost ready to boil over; the strikers and their allies had got beyond control at Pittsburg, and were destroying the property of the railroad companies; and thus were ushered in “those dark days in July, 1877, when the whole land was threatened with anarchy.”
[138]
“I tell you, boys, this is becoming interesting,” said Egan, as he and his particular friends met one morning on the parade ground, each with a paper in his hand. “Just listen to this despatch from Pittsburg: ‘A large force of strikers has captured a train, and is running about the country, picking up arms and ammunition wherever they can be found. A regiment is expected from Philadelphia this evening.’”
(This regiment didn’t do any good after it arrived. It was whipped at once, driven out of the city, and every effort was made by the strikers and their friends to have its commanding officer indicted for murder, because he defended himself when he was attacked.)
“That’s the worst news I have heard yet,” said Curtis, anxiously. “We’ve got about four hundred stand of arms and two thousand ball cartridges in the armory.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed the boys, in concert.
“And if the men who are employed on this railroad should take it into their heads to come here and get them—eh?” continued Curtis. “It would be worse than the fight with the Mount Pleasant Indians, wouldn’t it?”
[139]
“I should say so,” cried Hopkins, growing alarmed. “But these Bordentown fellows are all right yet.”
“They’ve struck,” said Don. “My paper says that Hamilton is in an uproar, that business is virtually suspended, that the mob is growing bolder every hour, and that the 61st has been ordered to hold itself in readiness to march at a moment’s notice.”
“I know that,” said Hopkins. “The strikers have stopped all the freights, but they haven’t yet interfered with the mail trains, nor have they attempted any violence.”
“If they would only stick to that, they would have a good deal of sympathy,” said Curtis. “But when they defy the law and trample upon the rights of other people, they ought to be put down with an iron hand, and I hope they will be.”
“You may have a chance to assist at it,” said Egan.
“I shouldn’t wonder if he did,” exclaimed Don, when the other boys smiled incredulously. “Mark my words: There’s going to be trouble in Hamilton. There are a good many car-shops and founderies there, and one regiment, which numbers[140] only four hundred and fifty men, can’t be everywhere.
“And of those four hundred and fifty men how many do you suppose there are who do not sympathize with the strikers?” asked Egan.
“There are at least two companies—the Hamilton Tigers and the Sanford Guards,” replied Hopkins. “You can depend on them every time.”
“And if the others show a disposition to get up on their ears, there will be visiting troops enough to handle them without gloves,” observed Curtis.
“I am afraid not,” answered Don. “Rumor says that the most, if not all, the regiments that were expected to be there, have been ordered, by the adjutant-generals of their respective States, to stay at home.”
“And some of the firemen have given notice that they will not turn out,” added Hopkins.
“That knocks the parade higher than a kite,” exclaimed Egan. “Well, there’s no loss without some gain. The prospect of marching with the 61st, had a good effect on me. It made me study hard and behave myself. Hallo! what’s the matter with you? Any startling news?”
[141]
This question was addressed to Sergeants Gordon and Elmer, who just then hurried up, bringing with them pale and anxious faces.
“Oh, fellows!” stammered Bert. “We’re going to have trouble right here at the academy.”
“No!” exclaimed all the boys at once.
“But I say we are,” said Bert; who then went on to tell what had happened to Elmer and himself just a few minutes before. They had been sent to the village on business, and in going and coming they were obliged to pass the railroad depot. They noticed that there were a good many men gathered on the platform and standing around in little groups, all talking in low and earnest tones, but no one paid any attention to them until they came back, and then one of the truck hands, who was dressed in his Sunday clothes, stepped out and confronted them.
“Arrah, me foine gentlemen,” said he, nodding with his head and winking his eyes vigorously, “it’s a swate little rod we have in pickle fur yees, intirely; do yees moind that?”
The boys made no reply. They turned out and tried to go by the man, but he spread out his arms and stopped them both.
[142]
“We’ll have thim foine soldier clothes aff the back of yees the day,” said he, with a leer.
“Be good enough to let us pass,” said Bert. “We have no desire to talk to you.”
“Haven’t yees now? Well, I’ll spake to yees. Yer foine lookin’ little b’ys to be takin’ the brid from the mouth of the wurrukin’ mon an’ his childer, so ye are. I’ve a moind to knock the hids aff yees.”
“Move on there, Mickey,” commanded a policeman.
“Shure I will; but moind this, the hul of yees: We have min enough, an’ there’s more comin’ from Hamilton, to take all the arrums yees have up there to the school-house beyant, and there’ll not be a soldier nor a polace lift the night. We’ll trample them into the ground like the dirt under our feet; an’ so we will do with all the big min who want to grind down the wurrukin’ mon; ain’t that so, me brave b’ys?”
The “brave boys” who were standing around did not confirm these words, and neither did they deny them. They looked sullen and savage, and the two sergeants were glad to hurry on and leave them out of sight.
[143]
“He said they were going to clean us out to-night, did he,” exclaimed Don, when Bert had finished his story. “Well, they will have a good time of it. Some of the boys are pretty fair shots.”
“Oh, I hope it won’t come to that,” said Sergeant Elmer.
“So do I,” said Don. “But there’s only one way to reason with a mob, and that is to thrash them soundly.”
“I don’t see why that man should pitch into us,” observed Bert. “If he would go to work, he would get bread enough for himself and his children. If the working man is ‘ground down’ we had no hand in it.”
“Of course not,” said Egan. “But you wear a uniform and are supposed to be strongly in favor of law and order.”
“And we are, too,” said Bert, emphatically.
“Well, that man knew it, and that was the reason he talked to you in the way he did,” continued Egan. “He and his kind hate a soldier as cordially as they hate the police, because the soldier is always ready to step in and help the policeman when the mob gets too strong for him; and[144] when the boys in blue take a hand in the muss, the rioters generally hear something drop. Now, Bert, you and Elmer had better go and report to the superintendent.”
All that day the excitement at the academy was intense, and it was no wonder that the lessons were bad, that such faithful fellows as Mack, Egan, Curtis and Bert Gordon came in for the sternest reprimands, or that the teachers looked worried and anxious—all except Professor Odenheimer. He was in his element, for he scented the battle from afar. His lectures were full of fight, and never had his classes listened to them with so much interest. When night came the excitement increased. It was plain that the superintendent had received information which led him to believe that it was best to be prepared for any emergency, for the guards were doubled, mattresses were issued to the members of the first company who bunked in the armory, and the boys who went on post were supplied with ball cartridges.
Another thing that increased the excitement and added to the general disquiet and alarm, was the rumor that all idea of a parade had been abandoned, and that the brigade commander had asked[145] the superintendent what he could do for him, if help were needed at Hamilton. There was a mob there, and it was having things all its own way. It was growing stronger and bolder all the while, the police were afraid of it, the majority of the soldiers sympathized with it, and the only company that had done anything was the Hamilton Tigers, which had cleared the depot at the point of the bayonet.
“Didn’t I say there would be trouble in the city before this thing was settled?” asked Don Gordon of some of his friends whom he met in the armory when dress parade was over.
“And didn’t I say that the Tigers would do their duty every time?” answered Hopkins. “But do you suppose the superintendent will order any of us down there?”
“Why shouldn’t he?” inquired Curtis in his quiet way.
“Because we don’t belong to the National Guard, and there is no precedent for any such proceeding,” answered Hopkins.
“There’s where you are mistaken,” said Egan. “The students at the Champaign Agricultural College in Illinois didn’t belong to the National[146] Guard, but when Chicago was burned some of them were ordered up there to protect property, and I never heard it said that they didn’t do their duty as well as men could have done it. It will be no boy’s play, but I shall hold myself in readiness to volunteer with the company that is ordered down there.”
“Well, I won’t,” said a voice.
The boys looked around and saw Williams, Jones, Lester Brigham and several of that crowd standing close by. The faces of the most of them were very pale, and Lester was trembling visibly. Under ordinary circumstances they would have been ordered away at once; but class etiquette was forgotten now. The young soldiers had something else to think about.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” continued Enoch Williams, “and I won’t do it, either.”
“How are you going to help yourself?” asked Curtis. “Will you skip over to Canada? That’s what some of the Hamilton boys have done.”
“No; but I’ll refuse to do duty, and stay here under arrest,” replied Enoch.
“And be court-martialed for cowardice and disgracefully dismissed the academy when the trouble[147] is over,” said Egan. “Don’t let the people down in Maryland hear of it, Enoch. They’ll cut you, sure.”
“I don’t care if they do,” was the defiant response. “I have no desire to be knocked in the head with a coupling-pin.”
The other boys didn’t want to be treated that way either, but they had no intention of shirking their duty. They didn’t care to talk with Enoch and his friends, and so they turned away and left them alone.
There was little sleeping done in the academy that night, and those who did slumber kept one eye and both ears open, and were ready to jump at the very first note of alarm. It came shortly after midnight. All on a sudden the clear blast of a bugle rang through the silent building, being followed an instant later by the “long roll.” There was a moment’s hush, and then hasty footsteps sounded in the different halls, and heavy blows were showered upon the dormitory doors, mingled with loud cries of, “Fall in! Fall in!”
“The mob has come! Now we’ll know how it seems to engage in a real battle,” were the words with which each boy encouraged his room-mate,[148] as he sprang out of bed and pulled on his clothes. “The rioters at Hamilton number ten thousand men; and if they have all come up here, what can three hundred boys do with them?”
There were some pale faces among the young soldiers who jerked open their doors and ran at the top of their speed towards the armory, but not one of them was seen to falter. Some of them did falter, however, but we shall see that they did not escape detection.
In a great deal less than the six minutes that were usually allotted for falling in in the morning, the majority of the boys were in line and ready for business. And that there was business to be done they did not doubt, for no sooner had the companies been formed than they were marched down the stairs in double time and out of the building, which in a few seconds more was surrounded by a wall of bayonets; but they could neither see nor hear anything of the mob.
“I say, Hop,” whispered Don to his fat friend who stood next to him in the ranks, “this is another put-up job. There are no cartridges in my box.”
“That’s so,” said Hopkins, after he had satisfied[149] himself that his own box was empty. “The teachers only wanted to test our pluck.”
Just then the big bell in the cupola was struck once—half-past twelve—and a few seconds later the voice of a sentry rang out on the quiet air.
“No. 1. All’s well!” shouted the guard; and this assurance removed a heavy burden of anxiety from the mind of more than one boy in the ranks.
The whole thing was out now, and as there was nothing to be gained by standing there in the dark, the companies were marched back to the armory and the roll was called. The ranks of the first and second companies were full, Jones and a few like him were missing from Don’s, and Bert found, to his great mortification, that fully a dozen of his men had failed to respond to their names. The reports were made through the usual channels, and when the result was announced to the superintendent, he ordered details from the third and fourth companies to hunt up the delinquents. The rest of the battalion were brought to “parade rest” and kept there, until the missing boys were brought in. Some of them had been taken ill as soon as they heard the order to fall in; others had sought safety and concealment in the attic; and[150] a few had been found in the cellar and pulled out of the coal-bins. They looked very crestfallen and ashamed when they found themselves drawn up in line in full view of their companions, and expected to receive the sternest kind of a reprimand; but the superintendent did not once look toward them.
“Young gentlemen,” said he, addressing himself to the boys who stood in the ranks, “I am much pleased with the result of my experiment. I did not expect so prompt a response from so many of you. The honors belong to the third company. It was the first to fall in, and Captain Mack was the first to report himself and his men ready for duty. I shall bear that company in mind. You can now return to your respective dormitories and go to sleep with the full assurance that there is no mob here and none coming. All is quiet in the city. The 61st is under arms, but no trouble is apprehended. Break ranks!”
“Attention, company! Carry arms! Right face! Arms port! Break ranks, march!” shouted the several captains; and the boys scattered and deposited their muskets in their proper places, each one congratulating himself and his[151] neighbor on the indefinite postponement of the fight with the mob, which the most of them believed would be sure to take place sooner or later. The members of Don’s company had reason to be proud of themselves, but there were some among them who shook their heads dubiously whenever they recalled the superintendent’s words: “I shall bear that company in mind.” What did he mean by that?