Before they reached their journey's end they were fast friends.
"Jersey City!"
It was the brakeman's cry, and an instant later the train rolled into the vast and gloomy depot, and every one was scrambling up and making for the door.
In a moment they were upon the platform, amid a surging, pushing mass of people.
"Which way?" asked Richard, somewhat confused by the unusual bustle.
"This way," replied the sailor. "Just follow me."
"West Shore this side! Checks for baggage! Brooklyn Annex to the right!" and several similar calls filled the boy's ears.
He kept close to the tar, who led the way to the slip where a Cortlandt Street boat was in waiting, and, dodging several trucks and express wagons, they hurried down the bridge and went on board.
The gentlemen's cabin was so full of tobacco smoke that it nearly stifled Richard, and he was not sorry when Doc Linyard led the way straight through to the forward deck.
It was a pleasant day, and the lowering sun cast long shadows over the water, and lit up the spires and stone piles of the great metropolis that lay beyond, tipped with gold, typical of Richard's high hopes.