Valise in hand he stood on the platform of the first car when the long train rolled in. And while the brakes were yet crunching against the wheels he leapt down, to the imminent peril of a colored porter whom he nearly bowled over in his mad haste to reach Forty-second Street. Down the long concourse and through the waiting-room he hurried until he finally gained the sidewalk. There he hailed the first taxicab in sight. Pausing only a moment to give the driver hasty instructions, Jack plunged inside and immediately was being whisked through New York at top speed.
But with all this hustle and bustle he came very near to missing the boat. Indeed he was among the last aboard. All but one gang-plank had been hauled in and the few remaining visitors were being hastened ashore by the stewards when he finally gained the deck and paused to catch his breath. She was a long low white-hulled steamer that sailed under the name of the Yucatan and her seaworthiness was apparent even to Jack, who had never before set foot on a ship’s deck.
The first thing that the boy from Drueryville Academy did after locating his stateroom was to see that the wallet with its precious contents was secure in its proper place. His mind at ease on this point, he immediately returned to the deck, for he was eager to see the sights of New York harbor. The Yucatan was slipping past the lower end of Governor’s Island and the entire skyline of Manhattan was spread out before his admiring gaze. But presently, as the ship passed Tompkinsville, his attention was diverted to three huge gray vessels with queer basket-like masts that were anchored just off the Staten Island shore. He recalled that a United States Navy coaling station was located in that vicinity and concluded that this was the reason for the presence there of three of the largest of Uncle Sam’s battleships.
And as these vessels faded in the distance a new delight was revealed to him. The Yucatan was steaming down the Narrows toward the lower bay and on either bank Jack beheld the many innocent looking grass-grown terraces of Fort Wadsworth and Fort Hamilton behind which the deadly disappearing guns of the harbor defense are concealed. The mere sight of these embankments with the Stars and Stripes whipping in the breeze above them made the young Vermonter thrill with patriotism, and for the first time in his life he realized fully how glad he was that Yankee blood coursed through his veins. And as he stood there almost spell-bound by this picture of silent power, some one at his elbow spoke to him.
“They look almost impregnable,” said the stranger, whereat Jack turned to find himself addressed by a tall, good looking man whose face was tanned to a ruddy brown, and whose eyes sparkled with as much enthusiasm as his own.
“Indeed they do, and I am proud of them,” our young friend replied with feeling.
“So am I, son; so am I,” said the other with equal fervor. “And every day I feel more grateful to Providence for making an American of me. You’ll appreciate it too after you have traveled in foreign lands a little while.”
Jack instinctively liked this man. He was so heartily enthusiastic about America and everything American that the boy could not help but admire him. Indeed he found him decidedly interesting as a companion and they chatted away about everything in general until the Yucatan reached Sandy Hook. Here the stranger brought forth a pair of binoculars and scrutinized the beach and the Atlantic Highlands beyond until he located the object of his search. Then he passed the glasses to Jack, saying as he did so: