Now, Esdaile had not actually been caught in a falsehood by any of his classmates, but there was a general sinister impression that he would just as soon lie as tell the truth, provided he was not caught. His recitations had been admirable, and he had very few demerits and stood well with the instructors, but he did not stand so well with his own class. Apparently no one knew of his relationship to the marine, and Brydell was quite above the meanness of telling it.
Early in June the graduating exercises were held, and Lieutenant Brydell’s ship having got to San Francisco a few weeks before, Brydell was delighted one day to get a dispatch from his father, saying he would be at Annapolis before the cadets sailed on their summer cruise.
Oh, the happiness that Brydell felt one June day when he once more hugged his “dear old dad”! Brydell himself had grown and improved so much, and the brief “setting up” process he had gone through with had made him look so much more mature, that he and his father looked more like two brothers than ever.
The lieutenant felt perfectly happy in his boy. He had all along been conscious of the weak points in the boy’s training, and when young Brydell had of his own accord cast aside all indulgence and worked manfully in the face of heart-breaking disappointments, his father’s joy in him knew no bounds. Brydell showed his hands, which were rough and sunburned, to his father, with pride.
“Just look at ’em, dad!” he cried with a natural boyish conceit; “got that by holding the plow and tossing hay and feeding the cattle and chopping wood. You ought to have heard the admiral laugh when he saw me trying to drive the ox-team through the gate. I’m not exactly a first-class farm hand,—I wasn’t worth more than ten dollars a month,—but I didn’t shirk, I can tell you. And you don’t know how much better it was working in the fresh air, with a plenty of wholesome country food to eat, than drudging in an office; and the horses and cows were excellent company. I pity the poor fellows that have to work in city offices. Give me the country every time.”
The lieutenant gazed at him while a mist gathered in his eyes. He could only say: “My brave boy! My brave boy!”
Brydell told his father that he must go out to see the Laurisons, and the lieutenant, nothing loth, went and spent the day. He came home delighted with the kind people, for whom he felt sincere gratitude, and he brought back a large nosegay from little Minna and a childish letter written in a big, round hand to young Brydell.
Before the Constellation sailed, Brydell sent her a cap ribbon with “U. S. S. Constellation” on it in gold letters and a set of cadet buttons for her jacket. Of course every cadet had his “best girl” and perhaps half a dozen other “girls,” generally young ladies older than themselves. But Brydell maintained a mysterious silence about his “best girl,” only admitting that her name was Minna and she had long light hair.
One lovely morning in June the Constellation, that had been lying at anchor in Annapolis Roads for several days, set her white sails and with a fair wind took her majestic way to the open sea. She has never had steam in her, and, except for being frequently repaired and even rebuilt, she is very much the same as in the times when she was one of the crack frigates of the nation and when she made her glorious record as a fighting ship. From the days when she had come off victorious in two fights against ships that were her superiors, and had remained uncaptured, although blockaded by a great fleet for years, in 1812-15, she had been always classed as a lucky ship, and lucky she proved.
To Brydell every moment at sea was happiness. He took to seamanship and navigation as a duck takes to water, much to Admiral Beaumont’s delight, who was not wholly reconciled to the new-fashioned ships, where, as he disgustedly declared, “The chief engineer is captain, and the ship is no better than an iron kettle with an engine inside of her.”