by Homer Greene
CHAPTER VIII.
A GENERAL AMNESTY.
The two combatants, clasped tightly in each other's arms, plunged intoa party of teachers and cadets who were hastening upward in response toBrightly's cry of "Fire!" In another moment Brede was secured; and whenthe fire, which had been confined to Brightly's room, was extinguished,he was taken back to the guard-house, from which he had escaped byreason of a defective lock.
When they came to assist Brightly to his feet they found that he hadfainted. They carried him to Mrs. Silsbee's rooms, and after a littletime he returned to consciousness. He was badly bruised, and his wristand shoulder were sprained. Beyond that, he had sustained no bodilyinjury; but the shock to his nerves, already weak and disordered, hadcompletely prostrated him. That night a fever came on, and the nextday he was delirious.
When the boys marched into the schoolroom on the following evening,they all wore very sober faces. The events of the past twenty-fourhours had been so dramatic, so tragic, that the impressions left bythem on these young minds were little less than terrible. The lads werefrightened, humbled, submissive; the rebellious spirit was utterlybroken.
Colonel Silsbee saw this in their faces that night as he looked down onthem from the desk; his sympathy grew strong for them, and he laid downhis book and spoke to them.
"I had not thought," he said, "to speak to you of the occurrencesof the past few days until some later period, when the excitementattending them should have died out, and we could talk of them calmlyand without prejudice; but the developments of the last twenty-fourhours seem to make it fitting that something should be said to youto-night. I trust that the climax of the evil has been reached andpassed. Indeed, I know on looking into your faces, that this is so. Icannot doubt that you realize that the painful events of the past threedays have been the result of the folly of your own conduct. I speak tothose of you who have been engaged in rebellion."
He paused a moment and then proceeded:
"You thought you knew better than we did what was best for you. Incarrying out that idea you took a fatiguing journey down the river;you narrowly escaped drowning in crossing the Hudson; and had it notbeen for the kindness of a stranger to all of you save one, you wouldhave been shelterless and hungry in the storm and night. Your returnhome was a journey, of the sufferings of which I need not speak to you.Its accomplishment was made possible only by the energetic effort andforceful conduct of one of your own number.
"That was your holiday. Now what are the results? Broken studies,physical ailments, nervous exhaustion, ruined clothing, officersreduced to ranks, half of the school on perpetual delinquency. Theseare some of them, but not the most serious.
"In a family-room, in another part of this building, one of yourcomrades is raving in delirium.
"In the guard-house, in still another part of the building, your formerranking cadet-commander is confined on prison-fare, having disgracedhimself and having brought reproach on you and us. To the samebuilding, which represents my earthly possessions and answers for yourhome, the torch has been applied, and only a timely discovery has savedus all from homelessness and ruin."
His voice was trembling, but not with anger, and his face was verypale. After a moment's pause, he continued,--
"You do not need reproof nor admonition now; I can see that veryplainly. I recall these results only because I want you never to forgetthat the causes which have led to them were produced by you. Suchthings will not occur in this school again in my lifetime. This lessonwill pass down through many generations of students here, and helpthem to firmer loyalty and higher manhood. But from to-night we shallfear no ill. From to-night we shall have the old fair feeling betweenus, and the old confidence and sympathy."
At the last his voice had broken, and it was some minutes before hefelt that he could control it sufficiently to go on with the eveninglesson and prayer; but when the short service was concluded, there wasnot a boy in the room whose better nature had not been deeply touchedand strengthened, and whose heart was not fixed steadfastly for theright.
The next night, when the ranks were formed at tattoo, the cadets weretold that taps would not sound as usual; that they were to go to theirrooms, and might lie down if they chose, but that they were to holdthemselves in readiness to "fall in" at any moment.
At first no one knew what the order meant; but it was soon whisperedaround that Brede's father was coming that night to take his son away,and that the battalion was to be formed at his departure. Of course,under these circumstances, sleep was out of the question, and Brede'sfate was the topic of conversation in every room.
It was not until eleven o'clock that those on the east side of thebuilding heard a carriage drive up to the front entrance. Then it wasknown that General Brede had come, and was alone with Colonel Silsbeein the office. A half-hour later orders were communicated to the cadetsto form in the drill-hall.
The formation of ranks was accomplished almost noiselessly. The orderlysergeants called their rolls in tones scarcely above a whisper; allcommands were given with hushed voices. It was as if they were fearfulof rousing some one from sleep, or as if death was present in the house.
The command to "Rest!" was given. This left the boys free to move intheir places and to talk; but there were few who moved and there werenone who talked. The stillness was impressive. Only two lamps wereburning in the drill-hall, and the corners of the room were in deepshadow.
Outside, by the door, a carriage waited, and there was heard at timesthe impatient pawing of horses.
After a few minutes Colonel Silsbee and General Brede entered from thedining-room. The battalion was called to attention, and a squad of fourwas detailed, in charge of a sergeant, to proceed to the guard-house,relieve the sentinels on duty there, and escort Cadet Brede to thedrill-hall.
They passed out and up the stairs, and all was again quiet.
Colonel Silsbee stood near the stairway entrance. General Brede hadtaken up a position at the farther end of the hall by the outside door.Dressed in military hat and cloak, magnificent in figure, stern ofcountenance, he stood with folded arms, like the immovable statue of asoldier.
Once the horses moved outside; once a sudden shifting of the windcaused the rain to dash noisily against the windows. Save for thesesounds the stillness was unbroken.
After a little the regular tramp of feet was heard descending thestaircase, and out from the darkness the squad marched, with Bredein the midst, straight to Colonel Silsbee. The salute was given andreturned, and the soldiers retired to their places in the ranks. With aslight motion of his hand, the colonel directed Brede to go with him.Then they went together down the length of the hall, down the front ofthe battalion.
The disgraced cadet started on the trying journey with all of hisold-time swagger. He looked boldly into the faces of his companions,and forced the hard smile again into his face, and the old cruel curlinto his lips.
But there was no answering smile from the motionless ranks. Everylip was like marble; every face was like adamant. It was a terriblefarewell. The light went out from Brede's countenance as he walked;the curl left his lips; his face grew pale as death, and took on anexpression of agony and fear. Step by step his swagger left him;step by step his head fell, his shoulders bowed, his body shrank intoitself. It was as if he were passing to his execution.
At three paces from the general they halted, and Colonel Silsbee gavethe military salute. General Brede answered it, and motioned to the boyto pass out with him at the opened door. No word was spoken.
On the threshold Brede turned, and looked back for an instant into theroom on the rigid ranks, the stony faces of his old companions. Thenhis pride, his bravado, his whole heart, gave way; he put his hands tohis face, and cried out in agony.
The father and son passed out into the darkness; the carriage-door wasclosed, and the sound of receding wheels was drowned in the roaring ofthe storm.
No one who saw that white and frightened face against the background ofthe night or heard tha
t cry has ever forgotten it. It was sad, it wasjust, it was terrible! It was a lesson that burned itself indelibly onthe heart of every boy who witnessed it.
They sent for Brightly's mother, and she came; but the prompt medicalattention and the unremitting care of good Mrs. Silsbee had brought ona favorable change, and on her arrival she found her boy already on theroad to recovery.
She stayed with him for a time. One day during his early convalescence,Brightly had been talking to his mother of the troubles at the school,and of his own faults and mistakes and recent resolutions.
It was then that she told him the secret of the appointments. ColonelSilsbee had intimated to her at the beginning of the year that heintended to make her son his ranking cadet-commander; but after shehad thought upon the matter, she requested him not to do so. Shewanted Brightly to have still another year at Riverpark, and had madethe request in the belief that the hope of future honors and theopportunity to win higher rank would be an incentive to his ambition,and that their attainment would add zest and variety to his last yearat school.
Colonel Silsbee, in compliance with her request, had appointed to thetwo ranking offices cadets who would certainly leave at the end of theyear, and had given to Brightly the third position. When the lad heardthis he turned his face away and was silent; but the expression of hiscountenance told the story of regret and humility better than wordscould have told it.
* * * * *
Time passed at Riverpark. May melted softly into June, and June's days,too, were now almost at an end. One by one she had counted them out,tinted with emerald, glowing with sunshine, jewelled with raindrops.Indeed, there were scarcely ten more of them left in her rose-claspedgirdle.
But to forty soldiers of the Riverpark battalion the solaces of summerfell exclusively within the grounds of the academy. For them there wereno long walks in the country, no boating on the river, no pilgrimagesto the city. Yet they acknowledged the justness of their punishment,and bore it bravely.
Brightly was with them again, quite recovered from his illness. Hestudied hard; his deportment was beyond question; he was a modelsoldier. He went about among the delinquents with cheerful face andhearty manner, and inaugurated for them such mild pleasures as couldbe enjoyed in delinquency. By counsel and example he reconciled theunfortunates to their fate, and by the very strength of his presencediffused among them a feeling of hope, of confidence, of good-will,which inspired them to higher effort, to better work, to nobler manhood.
The last week of the school-year came. It was to be, according tocustom, a week of camp-life. Already the white tents were dotting theeastern slope of the lawn; already the schoolroom was deserted and therecitation-rooms were empty; the sentinels were pacing their beatsthrough shade and sunshine, and the grounds of Riverpark were alivewith bodies of moving troops.
It was the afternoon of the first day in camp, and the hour fordress-parade. Many people had come up from the city to witness theevolutions of the troops, and the east porch was bright with the summercostumes of the ladies who had gathered there.
Brightly, marching in the ranks, felt a sudden, sharp pang of regret.If he were only adjutant to-day! if he could only feel the weight ofhis plume, see his sword flashing in the sunshine, hear his voice inwords of command! It was such a splendid place,--that post of adjutant;the ceremonial set down for him was so knightly, so dignified, sogrand! The folly of disobedience and revolt impressed itself upon himeven more at that moment than it had done during the hard weeks of hispunishment.
Another thing worried and perplexed him. Something was going on amongthe boys that they were keeping hid from him. There were secretconferences that he had unwittingly disturbed, whispered words thatwere not meant for his ears; once a paper was whisked suddenly out ofhis sight to which some one had been just in the act of affixing hissignature.
He hoped that there was no new mischief brewing; he could not quitebring himself to believe that, under the calmness and good disciplineof the time, rebellion was again struggling for an outbreak.
But the dress-parade was on. The boys had never drilled better. Theirwhite-gloved hands moved in perfect unison, and the points of theirbayonets flashed into line through the sunlight as quickly and sharplyas a lightning-stroke. Every one admired and praised the movements.
At that point in the military ceremonial where the adjutant facesto the commanding officer and gives him the result of the orderlysergeant's reports, something unusual occurred.
Finkelton was acting as adjutant. The point of his sword was still allbut touching the ground, and the words of the report were scarcely outof his mouth, when Major Drumlist, who was in command, said,--
"Publish your Orders, sir."
Finkelton faced to the battalion again, sheathed his sword, drew apaper from his belt, unfolded it, gave the command: "Attention toorders!" and began to read.
HEADQUARTERS, RIVERPARK ACADEMY.
_June 20, 186-._
SPECIAL ORDER, NO. 21.
In consideration of the excellent order and high standing which have recently been maintained by the cadets of Riverpark, a general amnesty is hereby proclaimed in favor of all offenders. All delinquencies are cancelled to this date, and all delinquents are hereby absolved from further punishment or restriction on account of past offences.
By order of the Principal,
Col. JONAS SILSBEE.
J. R. FINKELTON,
_Acting First Lieut. and Adjt._
It was a full half-minute before the boys in the ranks realized thegreat good fortune that had fallen on them. Then they all seemed todiscover it at once. A shout went up as from a single throat. Caps weretossed wildly into the air. There was cheering, hand-shaking, excitedlaughter, enthusiasm beyond control. To those forty delinquents it wasthe same as giving sudden freedom to a caged wild bird.
Plumpy, whose irrepressible spirits had made it necessary, since thevery beginning of the year, that he should dwell in seclusion atRiverpark, was almost convulsed with delight. He leaped and wavedhis cap and shouted, until the boys nearest to him in the ranks feltobliged to resort to their customary method of laying him down on hisback and sitting on him to repress his wild enthusiasm.
When order had been partially restored in the ranks, the major turnedand saluted Colonel Silsbee, who had been standing near him, withfolded arms, enjoying the scene quietly, but intensely. The colonelreturned the salute, and advanced to address the troops.
"Soldiers of the Riverpark battalion," he said, "I have to-dayreceived a petition signed by every cadet in the school save one. Ihave read it with great pleasure; for it shows me that you appreciatesoldierly efforts to regain the standing lost through an unhappy error.So do I appreciate them; and it will not detract one whit from thestrength and virtue of your petition to tell you that I had alreadydecided, before receiving it, to do that which you request. I do itvery cheerfully; I am glad to confer honor upon one whom you yourselveshave designated as the first soldier and gentleman among you."
Colonel Silsbee saluted the major, and the major saluted the actingadjutant, and said,--
"Publish your Order, sir."
Clear and resonant came Finkelton's voice:
HEADQUARTERS, RIVERPARK ACADEMY.
_June 20, 186-._
SPECIAL ORDER, NO. 22.
Cadet Horace E. Brightly is hereby restored to the rank of First Lieutenant and Adjutant of the Riverpark Battalion, his commission to date from to-day. He will proceed immediately to the exercise of the duties of said office, and will be respected and obeyed accordingly.
By order of the Principal,
Col. JONAS SILSBEE.
J. R. FINKELTON,
_Acting First Lieut. and Adjt._
What a shout went up then! No one ever heard anything like it before.They cheered till they were hoarse. Those who were near enoughto Brightly hugged him frantically, and those who were not nea
renough reached out their muskets to touch bayonets with him. Theylaughed--why, some of them laughed till they cried.
Brightly himself was completely overcome by joy at his restoration,and pride in the applause of his comrades. Colonel Silsbee's face wasso radiant with pleasure that no one noticed the big teardrops thatglistened on his cheeks.
How they ever got the battalion to attention again no one knew. Butthey did get the boys to observe order at last, and the dress paradeclosed with all its military pomp and display. The jubilant rankswere broken, the bright-faced ladies walked slowly away, and the sweetsunshine of June rested upon the earth in radiant splendor. But oh thesweeter sunshine of happiness in fourscore boyish hearts!
Transcriber's Notes:
--Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
--Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
--Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
--Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved, except as noted below.
--The author's em-dash style has been retained.
--The Chapter VI title in the Contents was adjusted to match the title in the text (HAY-MOW -> HAYMOW).
