20
The Wireless Operator
In the anchorages below the Statue of Liberty great tramp ships rode idly at anchor, awaiting cargoes. And on the opposite side of the bay, below Governor’s Island, stately sailing ships rolled gently in their moorings. Motor-boats, yachts, sailboats, even an occasional rowboat, moved this way and that. The surface of the water was crossed and recrossed with lines of yeasty foam, churned up by the passing craft, while the air was vibrant with the ceaseless tooting of ships’ whistles.
And there was Governor’s Island, with its antiquated round fort, and the ancient cannons atop of it. And farther along was the newly-made part of the island, filled in with thousands of loads of material brought by barges. On this made land now stood row upon row of government sheds and warehouses erected during the war. And Henry recalled the still more stirring scenes during those days of struggle, when every possible anchorage was occupied, and the boats of the Coast Guard went rushing about with their peremptory orders to incoming steamers, like traffic police of the harbor, as indeed they were. And as his boat drew near the ferry-house at St. George, Henry saw a Coast Guard cutter herself lying at anchor close to the Staten Island shore. How trim and beautiful she looked, in her shining white paint, with her flags