CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Final Days at Yale

The students gave their last recitation on the first of July, and term exams began that afternoon.  Over the next few days one might have thought the entire student body and, indeed, the town itself were celebrating their final few days at Yale.  They weren’t, of course; the firecrackers popping everywhere were in expectation of the upcoming Glorious Fourth.  Among the favorite targets of these minor explosions were the glass lamp posts.  Hearing the telltale crack as he came out of his Latin exam, Adam groaned.  “I hope it’s not the one on High Street, back of the Library, again.   Some of our gym mates use it for target practice so often that it hardly keeps its glass more than twenty-four hours at a time.”

Lucas, who shared his subdivision for exams, grinned impishly, and Adam surmised that what he had long suspected was true: his friend was responsible for much of the missing glass from that particular lamppost.  “You scalawag.”  Adam’s chiding lost all its force when it ended in a throaty chuckle.

“Why, Adam, my dear chum, how can I possibly be the guilty party when I’m walking right at your side?”  Adopting a sober countenance, Lucas suggested, “Perhaps our young friend Edwards has taken a break from his studies to celebrate the Fourth in this unspeakable manner.”

Adam laughed outright.  “Here now.  I’ll tolerate no such defamation of a good man’s character.”  Since Jamie was in a separate subdivision, his exams were scheduled at different times than theirs, and neither of the boys really doubted that their earnest friend was anywhere but in his room or the library, diligently studying material he already knew stone cold.

“He is a good man,” Lucas admitted, “especially to take time to coach me in languages, and I appreciate your help with mathematics, Adam.”

“Happy to help,” Adam said simply.  “So, do you wish to repair to the library, sir, and dig more deeply into that worthy subject?”

Lucas’s lips pouted as if he were a boy of three.  “Can’t we take the afternoon off?  The shells are going to race, to make up for the rain canceling them before.”

“Oh, I suppose we’ve earned a rest from pounding axioms into our brains,” Adam chuckled.  A large drop of water plopped on his nose, and he immediately opened his umbrella, scowling at the heavens as he did.  “If they don’t cancel it again,” he added gloomily.

“They wouldn’t dare!” Lucas declared.

Apparently, the powers in charge didn’t dare, for despite weather almost as inclement as that which had cancelled the original race, the Yale Navy sailed, and the crowd on shore gave vivid proof that Adam and Lucas were not the only students feeling the need for a break from their preparations for exams.

* * * * *

The next morning the Vultures were abuzz with discussion of the President’s latest call for 300,000 volunteers.  At first the speculation concerned whether their senior members might join up after Commencement.  Then the question was put to the juniors, both of whom said they were considering enlistment, but hated to interrupt their education so near its conclusion.  None of the sophomores or freshmen expressed intentions of joining the army, but Jamie noticed that Adam had been particularly quiet during the entire mealtime conversation.  “You’re not thinking of joining, are you?” he asked anxiously as they walked back toward their George Street lodgings.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” Adam admitted.  He smiled ruefully.  “Or, rather, I seem to vacillate between two points of the compass—often with about a two-second space between opposing opinions.”

“Oh, Adam, you can’t,” Jamie pleaded.  “You’ve barely begun your education.”

Adam shrugged.  “All the more reason, perhaps, for someone like me to fight, instead of Raines or Goodman, for instance.”

“But if you give three years of your life to the army,” Jamie argued, “how do you know you’d ever finish here at Yale?”

Adam turned his head sharply to face his friend.  “I’d finish,” he said stiffly.  “I always finish what I start.”  Then he sighed.  “Three years is a long time, though.  It would make continuing harder.”

“Much harder,” Jamie insisted.  “Besides, what was it your father wrote about the nation needing builders after the war?  Isn’t that what you should be focusing on, especially with the opportunity to work in an architect’s office this summer?”

Adam nodded.  “I’ve committed to that, so I suppose it is ridiculous to even consider enlisting until I’ve fulfilled my time with Mr. Bracebridge.  It’s just . . . well, I do believe in the cause, and when I see other men doing their duty, I wonder whether I’m really doing mine.”

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, and then Jamie said softly, “You’ve seen the casualty lists.  I-I can’t bear the thought of reading your name on one of them.”

Adam took his friend’s arm.  “Can’t say as I’d like to see it appear there, either,” he said with an attempt at a joke, “but, then, I don’t suppose I’d be able to see much of anything from beneath the sod.”

Jamie, of course, didn’t see the humor.  “Column after column of dead and wounded,” he murmured.  “I don’t even know how to comprehend such numbers.”

“No,” Adam agreed, for those long lists in the newspaper had struck him the same way.  There were more casualties listed each day that had fought in the entire Paiute War back home!  Had anyone come out of those battles unscathed?  It was hard to believe there were even that many men fighting, much less injured or killed.  He clapped Jamie on the back.  “Don’t worry so, chum.  Nothing’s decided, and we have enough to worry about this week, just with exams.”

Jamie forced a laugh.  “True enough.”  He sobered quickly.  “Adam, you will write your father again, won’t you, before you decide anything?”

Adam snorted.  “What would be the point?  Surely, you saw that article about the mail problems in Utah.”  According to reports, bands of Cheyenne, Snake and Sioux Indians had raided several stage stations, running off the stock, and making the mail east of Salt Lake City highly unreliable.

“That’s an excuse,” Jamie chided.  “You don’t know that it wouldn’t get through.  But if you’re genuinely concerned about that, then write my father.  He gives sound advice, and there are no Indians between here and Springfield.”

Adam laughed.  “No point.  I already know what he’d say.  Pa, too, for that matter.  No, chum, there’s absolutely nothing to be gained by contacting either of our fathers with this question.”

“Besides which,” Jamie playfully pointed out, “you’d rather spend your time sparking Elizabeth than writing to anyone!”

“Guilty as charged!”  Since he’d soon be leaving for New York City and wouldn’t see Elizabeth for endless weeks, he begrudged every minute he could not spend with her.  He flung open the door to their lodging house.  “Drag me up to my duty, sir,” he suggested, “or I shall trot off to see her right now.”

Taking the appointed task quite literally, Jamie grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him inside and up the stairs.

* * * * *

Despite Adam’s misgivings, one letter did make it through from home during those final days of the term, full of the sort of homey news that provided a welcome break from studying.  He and Jamie laughed out loud at Ben’s humorous description of a recent trip to Washoe City, where their team had been stampeded by the sight and smell of a corral full of camels.  It had been a wild ride that Ben and Hoss had found terrifying and Little Joe, predictably, exhilarating.  The youngster had included a drawing of a camel with a hump so huge it would have broken the back of any living creature.  There was more serious news, too, about the murder of the renegade Paiute Wahe.  “Pa went with Governor Nye to discuss the situation with Winnemucca,” Adam told Jamie, explaining that the two chiefs were brothers.  “He gives all the praise to the Governor for averting an uprising.”

“He’s probably being overly modest,” Jamie suggested.  “There’s obviously a reason the Governor invites your father to participate in such serious talks.”

Adam nodded.  “Exactly.  Evidently, they were able to negotiate a new peace treaty.”  He grinned.  “And now for Hoss’s letter.”

Though not as hilarious as Ben’s account of the confrontation with the camels, both exhausted students found themselves refreshed by Hoss’s open and honest delight in working the roundup—while leaving Little Joe at home to help Hop Sing with the garden.

* * * * *

Lucas collapsed under the Elm of Assembly, threw his arms wide and emitted an eloquent sigh.  “Finally,” he declared as he fell against the sturdy trunk in expressive exhaustion.

Adam laughed as he settled on the grass next to his friend.  “What are you complaining about?  I had one more term exam than you, remember?”  Though Louis Bail hadn’t required him to take the official exam, which covered more than just architectural drawing, he had insisted that Adam meet with him for a final assessment of his progress in that subject.  Even though the teacher had allowed him to work that question-and-answer session into his other testing schedule at his convenience, making time for it had proven a challenge.

Lucas shrugged off that, in his opinion, inconsequential point.  “Regardless, I’m glad it’s finished.”

Adam smiled.  “I am, too.”  He glanced up and waved to their other two friends.  “Hey, what are you two doing in the yard?”  He knew that both Jamie and Marcus had already finished their exams, since he and Lucas had been slated in the last available slot.

“We came to meet you,” Marcus said.

“And offer our congratulations on a job well done,” Jamie added with a confident grin.

“In that case,” Adam chuckled, “sit down and join us in our celebration of a year well ended.”

As Jamie and Marcus dropped onto the grass, Lucas sat up.  “Speaking of celebrations,” he began, “you are joining the rest of the class for our excursion this afternoon, right?”

“I am,” Marcus said at once and then turned hopeful eyes toward Jamie.

Jamie shook his head.  “We didn’t contribute to expenses.”

“Yes, you did,” Lucas said with a significant smirk.

“You didn’t,” Adam said reproachfully.  “Tell me you didn’t pay for us.”  It was traditional for the sophomore class to make a short excursion after their biennial exams, but Lucas had been among the freshmen who insisted that they should beat the upperclassmen to the punch and stage their own while the sophomores were still drudging away in preparation for that culmination of two years’ study.  Adam had no objection to thumbing his nose at the sophomores, but he and Jamie had both balked at the amount being collected for the festivities.

Lucas dramatically pressed his chest with an open palm.  “Would you have me lie in front of St. James?”

“You shouldn’t have,” Jamie chided.

“I need a sympathetic audience for my presentation,” Lucas insisted.

“Ah, yes,” Adam intoned solemnly.  “The epic history of the first division of the Class of ’66, a speech that will no doubt go down in the annals of Yale College as the most fallacious exaggeration ever compiled.”

“If you think I’ll be a sympathetic audience for that,” Jamie teased, “you are sadly mistaken, sir.”

“That’s right,” Adam concurred.  “You did say you didn’t want to lie in front of him.”

“All the more reason for you both to come—to keep my words straight and true.”  Lucas looked from one to the other.  “Besides, I’m already out the money, so you might as well join in the fun.”

Jamie looked questioningly at Adam.

“I was thinking about attending the meeting at Music Hall tonight,” Adam said tentatively.

Jamie inhaled sharply.  The purpose of that meeting was to encourage young men to respond to the President’s call for volunteers, and given Adam’s wavering attitude on that subject, Jamie immediately said, “You know, I do think we owe it to Lucas to attend the celebration—since he’s already paid the fee.”

“Here, here,” Lucas cheered, with Marcus chiming in his agreement.

“Oh, all right,” Adam said.  He knew exactly why Jamie had conceded so suddenly, but while he’d been interested to hear what the statesmen had to say, he hadn’t expected to enlist tonight anyway.  After all, he was set to travel to New York City the next morning, and once away from dear New Haven, Luke’s rib-tickling history of the division would probably hold a fonder place in his thoughts than anything a politician might say.

* * * * *

At two o’clock the former freshman class, almost in its entirety, met at their newly designated section of the fence, and marched down Chapel Street to the railroad station, singing their way through the streets of town.  Tickets purchased, the students boarded the train for the short, four-mile ride to West Haven, where they loaded into horse-drawn omnibuses for the remaining mile to Savin Rock.  The serenading, accompanied by the guitar that Lucas had insisted Adam bring, had continued throughout the journey, and it didn’t end once they reached their destination.  Lucas deposited his friend on the beach with instructions to keep everyone entertained while he and the other committee members made the final arrangements for the feast and festivities to come.  When they’d run through their repertoire for the second time, however, everyone seemed content to just lounge back in the sand and reminisce about the scholastic year just ended.

“Here now, that’s my job,” Lucas laughed when he walked up and caught the gist of the conversation.

“Then be quicker about it,” Adam jibed.

“Ready to start now,” his friend retorted, “if this rowdy crowd will give the respectful attention our noted historians deserve, we will commence.  To the tables, gentlemen!”

Loud hoots met this remark, but the young men clambered up and moved toward the table set up for them by the staff of the Rock House hotel.  As representative of the first division, Lucas mounted the makeshift rostrum and began to describe the in-school and out-of-school antics of his set of classmates to sustained rounds of laughter.

Adam leaned over to Jamie.  “Trust Luke to remember every ridiculous blunder and bungled translation ever voiced in class.”

“If only he remembered the right answers that well!” Jamie snickered back.

Seeing the whispered conversation and guessing himself to be the target of it, Lucas cried out, “And now I call for a few edifying words from two men who never made such errors in their recitations.  I give you, gentlemen, the Scholars of the House, the pride of the first division, Messers Cartwright and Edwards!”

“No, oh no,” Jamie protested.

“No, you say?”  Lucas aped an appalled expression.  “You would deprive us of your noted wisdom, Sir Hurlbut?  Shall we permit that, my friends and fellow ne’er-do-wells?”

“No!” came the roar from crowd.

Adam laughed and pulled a still protesting Jamie to his feet.  “You might as well give it up, Sir Hurlbut; they won’t take no for an answer.”

“I think you should speak for both of us, Sir Woolsey,” Jamie suggested timorously.

Adam only laughed and shook his head as he pushed his friend forward.  Poor Jamie, who had trouble enough speaking in public when prepared, floundered through a few words that evoked laughter only because they were so obviously out of character with his usual performance in class.

“Makes you wonder how he ever earned that prize, doesn’t it?” Lucas quipped as he gave Jamie’s honey-haired head a patronizing pat and released him from his torment.  “Can you possibly offer us better instruction, Sir Woolsey?” he asked, adopting the name he’d overheard Jamie use.

“No instruction of mine could ever eclipse that of the worthy Sir Hurlbut,” Adam declared with a bow in Jamie’s direction.  “However, I might make a few suggestions.  First, when crossing the Pons Asinorum, it is not necessary to bray like the said ass.”

The audience howled at the pun.  Lucas somehow managed to keep a straight face and asked if the worthy knight had any further advice for them.  Adam was no more prepared to speak than Jamie, of course, but he had had a few more moments to think of something.  Though he wasn’t the natural comedian that Lucas was, he managed to make a few humorous remarks before he was mercifully allowed to take his seat.

Seeing that the hotel staff was bringing out the food, Lucas suggested that they hear the histories of the other divisions over dinner, and the idea was warmly received by the hungry crowd, most of whom had either skipped the noon meal altogether or eaten only lightly in their hurry to prepare for their homeward journeys the next day.  For the next hour they dined and laughed and shared happy memories, for even moments that had been uncomfortable when happening were bathed with amusement in retrospect.

Following the meal, formal ceremonies were dismissed in favor of frolicking in the sand.  Those who had bathing garments changed into them and enjoyed the water.  A few for whom money was never a question rented a boat and sailed the Sound, while others merely lounged on the beach, enjoying the fellowship they were soon to lose.  Neither Adam nor Jamie owned bathing apparel, of course.  Adam had come in his ranch clothes and Jamie in his oldest shirt and trousers, so all they did was remove their shoes, roll up their pants’ legs and walk along the shore, Marcus and Lucas joining them as they each discussed their plans for the summer and how much they would miss the camaraderie they had shared for three terms.

As twilight approached, the Yalensians all took pails and shovels and began to dig for clams, the New England boys tutoring the westerners for once.  Then while the bivalves baked beneath the sand, Adam was once again called upon to play his guitar while his comrades filled the evening air with melody.  When the clams were ready, they feasted on the succulent flesh, each declaring it the finest meal they had ever shared.  Although Adam suspected that those feelings of fellowship were enhanced by the claret some had mixed with their lemonade, no one was really tipsy enough to become sloppily sentimental, and each man made it back to the omnibus under his own steam.  Back in New Haven, they made their way to the fence and perched on it for a final song or two before separating with promises of “See you in September” and seeking their beds about midnight.

* * * * *

Adam gazed dreamily across the restaurant table as Elizabeth dabbed daintily at her lips.  “Would you care for another roll?” he asked.  He was secretly glad when she said no, for his finances were still tight.  That would soon be a thing of the past, he told himself.  His summer job would give him pocket money, and the scholarship next year would cover most of his school expenses.  Until he got that first paycheck from Bracebridge, Harwood and Associates, though, he needed to watch his pennies, so he’d ordered only coffee when he and Jamie stopped here earlier for breakfast, just so he could afford to treat his girl one last time.  “More coffee, then?” he suggested.  Refills were free, so this time he was hoping she’d say yes.

“If you have time,” Elizabeth replied.

“Plenty of time,” Adam assured her.  While his friends had taken early trains out of New Haven and he’d gone to see them off, he had delayed his own departure precisely so he could spend time with Elizabeth.  After all, the journey to New York City would take only a few hours by rail, and all he had to do today was get there and check into the hotel, have a good night’s sleep and be ready to go to work in the morning.

“Oh, Adam,” the girl sighed.  “I wish you didn’t have to go.  I’ll miss you so.”

“No more than I’ll miss you,” Adam said.

“Ten whole weeks!” Elizabeth mourned.  “It’s an eternity, Adam.”

He reached across the table to take her hand.  “To me, too, Elizabeth, but I can’t afford to pass up this opportunity.”

For a moment a pout puckered her lips; then she smiled wanly.  “Yes, I know.  I must be brave, like Mama sending Papa off to war.”

Adam drew back, uncomfortable with the comparison.  “Scarcely that serious, but if it helps you to draw inspiration from her bravery—”

“Oh, it does,” Elizabeth assured him quickly.  She brightened.  “Yes, I shall just think of you as my brave soldier, off to do battle against bad architecture.”  She touched a finger to the corner of her mouth and said drolly, “Now, if they only gave out uniforms for that.”

Adam laughed.  “Attracted to men in uniform, are you?”

Elizabeth tittered.  “Perhaps.  I certainly think you’d look handsome in one.”

“Perhaps,” Adam responded vaguely.  He’d considered putting on a uniform, although certainly not because he thought he’d look handsome in one.  He didn’t want to think about that now, though.  He wanted only to think about the beautiful creature across the table from him . . . and then, once she was out of sight, about the future he would be building . . . a future that might well include her.

They finished their final cups of coffee, and Adam reluctantly admitted that it was time for him to get to the depot.  “See me off?” he requested.

“Of course!” Elizabeth declared.  “I must fill my eyes with you if I’m to be deprived of the sight for ten whole weeks.”

Adam circled her shoulders as he guided her toward the door.  “Keep busy, and the time will fly,” he said, wondering if he could follow his own advice.  Certainly, he’d have plenty of new sights and activities to keep him busy, but probably lots of empty hours in a meagerly furnished room with nothing to do but long for the sight of a certain beautiful face.  As they exited, he stole a quick kiss and was rewarded with a blushing smile that belied the rebuke in her eye.

With time to spare, they strolled slowly to the railroad depot, where Adam retrieved the carpetbag and guitar he’d left there when he purchased his ticket earlier that morning.  Anything he would not need in New York had been sent to Springfield with Jamie, with instructions to use them as if they were his own, so Adam was traveling light.

As Elizabeth sat next to him on a bench in the waiting room, she said, “Now, you will write, won’t you, Adam?”

“Of course,” Adam promised.  “I’ll send you my new address as soon as I can, so I can receive your sweet epistles in return.”

She pursed her lips primly.  “I seem to remember similar promises before your last vacation, and you, sir”—she tapped his chest with a rebuking finger—“did not fulfill your word.”

“I’ll do better this summer,” he promised, taking her finger and kissing its tip.  “I only hope I don’t bore you with my talk of work, as I may not have much else to report.”

“Well, no talk of lines and angles, if you please, but I’m sure I’ll be interested in your progress as an architect.”

Adam laughed.  “I doubt I’ll make much progress as an architect this summer.  I’ll probably be more of a glorified errand boy, but I do hope to learn what the profession is like and to impress Mr. Bracebridge well enough that he’ll want me back again next summer.”

“Oh, I’m certain of that,” she declared loyally.

A clerk walked through the room, calling, “All aboard for Stratford, Stamford and New York City, with all points in between.”

Adam stood.  “Well, that’s me.”  Knowing her feelings about public displays, he didn’t try to kiss her again, though he could feel his lips prickling with desire.  Instead, he took her arm and walked with her out to the platform.  “Thanks for staying to see me off,” he said.

“I’ll be looking forward to welcoming you home in September,” she said.  As he climbed onto the end of his railcar, she called, “Remember to write!”

He grinned and nodded and then hurried inside, so that he could secure a window seat on the correct side of the car.  As the train pulled away, he leaned out, waving and watching as she did the same until they could no longer see each other.  Then, with a sigh, he sat down and stared dreamily out the window, barely seeing the scenery as it rolled past.  When he finally did stop thinking about the girl he’d left behind, his mind pondered, instead, the new challenges that would await him, beginning the next morning.