When Roy had tired of watching the toiling stevedores, he strolled up the pier and out to the street.
CHAPTER III
ROY’S FIRST FIRE
So engrossed in the life about him was Roy that for the moment he forgot all about his troubles. On the street he encountered again the multitudinous traffic that had so depressed him upon his arrival in the city. But here it seemed to go at a slower pace. There were more heavily laden drays and fewer rushing motor-cars. Somehow the atmosphere of the “farm,” with its hard toiling drivers and signs of honest industry seemed different from the cold and callous air of Seventh Avenue and of Broadway. At any rate, Roy felt different.
Probably that was because he had made the plunge. Even if his captain was not what Roy had hoped and expected, the ordeal of meeting him was over. Furthermore, Roy was now on his mettle. Unconsciously he was reacting from the captain’s contemptuous attitude. Like any lad of spirit, his pride was hurt and his sense of justice outraged. His captain had condemned him without trial. Roy was determined to prove that he merited his commander’s fullest confidence rather than his contempt.
So now he walked along, holding himself proudly erect in his new uniform, his head up, his heart singing. In fact it could not have been otherwise; for, trouble or no trouble, he had at last reached the place every boy of spirits longs for: he had a job. He had made a start in real life.
The pier of the Confederated Steamship Lines was not far from the foot of Manhattan Island. Instinctively Roy turned his footsteps southward toward the Battery, that little strip of green that fronts the upper bay and that tips the end of the island like the cap on a shoe. Often during the search for the secret wireless, Roy had passed through this tiny park on his way to the Staten Island ferry, just to one side. But he had never really had time to look about. He decided that now he would explore a bit. Like any other wide-awake lad, Roy wanted to see and know all that he possibly could.
“I’ll look about the lower end of the island,” said Roy to himself. “Maybe I’ll find something of interest.”
Roy was right, but he had small notion of how much he would find that was interesting. The park was not unlike a half moon in shape. Paved walks, lined with benches, led hither and thither between the stretches of greensward, and trees and bushes beautified and shaded the grounds. A lively breeze was coming off the water, and this was grateful, for the day was a hot one in late June.