The Hero of Manila: Dewey on the Mississippi and the Pacific

by Rossiter Johnson

Norwich University stands on a plateau above the town of Northfield. It is a fine old place, with a wide parade-ground extending before the buildings, and back of it are the brick barracks that contain the cadets' quarters and the armory and recitation rooms. Everything was managed in military fashion, and there was no better school in which to fit a boy for the life and habits of a soldier. It was in the year 1851 that George Dewey became a pupil there, and from the day of his coming he manifested the powers of leadership that afterward distinguished him.

Four or five young fellows in uniform were seated in one of the rooms in the South Barrack. They belonged to the second-year men, and the second year at any institution of learning is perhaps the crucial one. If a boy gets into any mischief that is serious, it is generally in his second year. The doings of the sophomore have cost many a dollar out of the college treasury, to pay for stolen gates and burned fences, smashed lamp-posts and injured constables. And it was so with the second year's men at Norwich.

"Where's Doc. Dewey?" asked one of the boys. "We must get him into the scheme, or the whole thing will fall through."

"If any of you fellows want to see Doc. Dewey, all you've got to do is to come to the window," said a boy who was gazing out on the parade ground.

At the farther end a solitary figure was patrolling up and down, turning at the end of his beat about a large elm that stood in the corner of the campus. The punishments at Norwich were of a military character, and extra sentry duty was the reward for any breach of discipline.

"I ought to be the one doing all that marching," said one of the boys, "for George only tried to get me out of the scrape, but he wouldn't let me tell."

"Well, he'll be off in half an hour," said another, "and we'll meet in his rooms. What do you say?"

"So say we all of us," was the return. "We can hatch up the scheme there better than anywhere else."

In a few minutes the party broke up, to meet later in a room down the hallway.

Across the Connecticut River, which skirts the town of Northfield, is the town of Hanover, the seat of old Dartmouth College. From time immemorial the greatest rivalry had existed between the two institutions, and in the years that preceded the civil war this feeling had almost grown into a feud, and for a member of either institution to cross the river was to enter the enemy's country, with all the attendant risk. Only three or four evenings previously Dewey and one of the other cadets had boldly crossed the bridge and appeared in the Hanover streets in broad daylight. It had not taken long for the news to reach the ears of a few of the Dartmouth sophomores, who were spoiling for a row, and soon Dewey and his companions had found out that they were followed. But it was not until they had reached the entrance to the bridge that there was any sign of trouble. There, sure enough, they saw four of the Dartmouth belligerents waiting for them. An old farmer, crossing the bridge from Hanover to Northfield, was driving a pair of rather skittish horses that were prancing as they heard the rattling of the boards beneath their feet. It was almost time for the evening assembly, and if the boys were to be prompt they must not be stopped, although such, it was plain, was the intention of the Dartmouth boys who were awaiting them. They asked the farmer if he would give them a ride, and he declined; but they had jumped into the wagon, and, when near the spot where their four enemies had lined across the causeway, one of the cadets leaned forward and, picking up the whip, struck the two horses across their backs. This was all they needed; the Dartmouth boys had barely time to jump aside when the team went tearing by. But it was easier to get the young horses going than to stop them. The rattling of the bridge frightened them more and more, and the people on the streets of Northfield were surprised to see a runaway come roaring into town with an old man and two hatless cadets hauling at the reins without result. It was fortunate that no harm was done, and the horses were stopped halfway up the hill that leads to the University; but the president had seen and recognized the two uniformed figures, and that was one reason why Doc. Dewey was walking about the old elm on this fine spring day.