And then from over a hundred throats came a well-known Naval Academy shout, as follows:
"N N N N
A A A A
V V V V
Y Y Y Y
Navy—
Bligh, Bligh, Bligh."
It was in this way, and with this shout tingling in his ears, that Bligh left Annapolis. His eyes glistened. A mist swam before them. A moment later he turned to his companion and said: "Frank, I've heard that same call before—but I'd given up all hope of ever hearing it again—I can't tell you what it means to me—but it seems as if those good chaps have forgotten scores of mean things and have remembered the one decent thing I did at Annapolis."
Three years later a recent Princeton graduate was speaking at Annapolis with Cadet Lieutenant Sexton.
"Tell me about Bligh," inquired Sexton. "I've heard you chaps at Princeton liked him there. He was here for a while, in fact was my roommate—he had a hard time at first, but everybody here liked him when he left."
"Liked him!" exclaimed the Princeton man. "I guess we did; we more than liked him. Harry Bligh was one of the squarest fellows that ever lived, and one of the kindest and best besides. We were proud of his football record, of course—he was probably the best half-back in the country last season. But he was lots more than that. He was a helpful friend to all of us. I remember he once pulled me out of a deep hole; and I wasn't the only one. Just let a fellow get into trouble and before long you'd find Bligh helping him out. Bligh could never be turned against any one. I remember one of our fellows did something off color; he offended our class feeling; well, we were going to do something—I don't know what—but Bligh sort of took charge of affairs and said: 'Let's not condemn that fellow; we may only succeed in shoving him deeper into the pit he is in; let's see if we can't find some good in him, or point him right, anyway.' Well, we did, and we were mighty glad of it afterward. He was always helping a fellow that needed a friend. I once said to him, 'Harry, what is your ambition?' He seemed to think quite a while and then said: 'I want to be square, and I want people to believe I am square.' And you just bet, Sexton, that a bullier, squarer chap than Harry Bligh never lived."
CHAPTER XXIX
THE END OF A LONG DAY