“By the way, Esdaile, I believe you are the son of one of the best friends I have in the world—Private Grubb, of the marines. I nearly killed him once, when I was a kid, and after that we came to be tremendously fond of one another.”
Esdaile’s face turned crimson.
“I’d—I’d rather you wouldn’t mention about my father,” answered Esdaile. “You know my mother’s people, the Esdailes, were altogether different from my father’s. My grandfather Esdaile was an ambitious man—the Esdailes are a good family—and left me some money on condition I changed my name, and it would be awkward for me when I’m an officer to have it known that my father is a private of marines.”
“Very awkward for Grubb,” said Brydell coolly; “I should think your father would be awfully ashamed of you. Grubb, you know, is a fine man; every officer he ever served under thinks highly of him; and you are evidently a cad of the most pronounced description. No, I won’t mention the relationship, for Grubb’s sake.”
Now this was highly insubordinate talk from a plebe to a third-class man. Esdaile straightened himself up.
“Do you know that you are speaking to your superior, sir?”
“Oh, come off!” answered Brydell carelessly. “This isn’t any class question; it’s a mere private matter between us two. I say your father, if he is an uneducated man, is twice as much of a gentleman at heart as you are, for all your education and your money and your fine name, because Grubb respects himself, and that’s the first thing about a gentleman, so I’ve been told.”
Esdaile walked off in silent fury. He did not care to undertake to discipline Brydell on such a matter, as it would only be proclaiming what he earnestly desired to conceal, so he swallowed his chagrin and determined to get even with Brydell some other way.
Although hazing is strictly prohibited by act of Congress, the milder form of it, known as “running,” is not wholly unpractised, and Brydell had his experience of singing the clothes list to the tune of “Hail Columbia,” chewing soap, standing on his head, for the amusement of the Third Class, and various other of the boyish tricks that seem to afford such intense satisfaction to the third-class men. Brydell, being a very good-tempered fellow, took it all in good part.
Esdaile had no share in it, but avoided Brydell as much as possible. Brydell soon found out that Esdaile’s reputation for straightforwardness was none of the best. The code of truth-telling is absolutely rigid at the Naval Academy, and a fellow caught in a lie would undoubtedly be forced to leave, whether the wrongdoing came to the ear of the authorities or not.