Always it fired Willie’s imagination to see this stirring life along the water-front. And a powerful imagination was one of Willie’s most precious gifts. It was this imagination that had given him the power Roy ascribed to him of being able to interpret things correctly, for Willie did possess that ability in an astonishing degree. Constantly his imagination was at play, working upon anything that caught his eye; just as now, in the things that most of those passing near him saw only as boxes or bundles, he was seeing camel trains crossing the desert, and other sights equally delightful.
No wonder Willie loved this wonderful waterfront, with its argosies from the seven seas; and no wonder that now, after gazing for a time at the flow of traffic before him, he darted across the street and turned south toward the Battery. Powerful memories drew him that way. He must see once more the Staten Island ferry, by which he had so often journeyed to Staten Island during that never-to-be-forgotten spy hunt. And the Aquarium, with its unbelievably odd and curious fish life; the fire-boat, lying ready to dash off to a blaze at a second’s notice; the harbor police-station, with its trim little police boat; and in the distance that grand old memorial of the thing he and all his fellow Americans had so desperately fought for—Liberty—all these things and a hundred others drew him along the water-front as irresistibly as a magnet draws a needle.
Slowly he made his way along, passing from pier to pier, reveling in everything he saw, yet always eager to go a bit farther and see a bit more. So he made his way along the Hudson, through old Battery Park, past the ferry landing and on to the East River front. How he delighted in the East River front! Here were assembled the old and the odd and the curious water-craft. In place of the majestic ocean liners, Willie here found public docks full of canal-boats. And here were sailing vessels, with their masts towering aloft. And, of course, there were innumerable steamships, too, though the East River was too cramped to accommodate the largest. But it was the sailing ships and the canal-boats that most attracted Willie.
Presently he came to an open pier that fairly gripped him. No moving-picture show, no storybook, no tale of mouth, ever was more fascinating than the scene on this pier. Canal-boats lay in the dock, dozens and dozens of them. And sailing ships were moored near by, to add picturesqueness to the view. River-craft of all sorts were plowing the East River. Up-stream a little way ferry-boats were shuttling back and forth to Brooklyn. Occasionally a big steamer passed by. Long strings of canal-boats, towed by tugs, forged slowly along. Innumerable lighters, convoyed by other puffing tugs, buffeted the waves. Floats, bearing laden freight-cars, went clumsily past. Occasional motor-boats scooted noisily by, and even a lone oarsman in a rowboat was visible, working his way against the current.
Out on the pier went Willie. Fascinated, he gazed about him. How the stirring life before him stimulated and thrilled him. Indeed, he hardly felt like the little country lad who had just come to New York to take a steamship voyage as the guest of an old chum. His spirit was like the eagle’s. He soared over vast distances, and saw strange lands. He was a globe-trotter, a world traveler. And in truth, Willie actually saw more of the world, standing on that East River pier than some folks do who circle it; for there be many who, having eyes, see not. Indeed, Willie not only saw, but also heard and even smelled and tasted; for the wind was bringing to him the delicious aroma from the near-by coffee-roasting establishments, and the ravishing odor of freshly made cocoa, and the scent of perfumes, and other odd and curious smells so tropical of this part of old New York. Willie had read of the perfumes of the Orient, but he doubted if they were any more pleasing than some of the odors that now assailed his nostrils.
Presently Willie became conscious of the fact that he was tired. He had been on his feet a long time, for he had stood on the pier for two or three hours before the Lycoming docked. The paving-stones and the wooden planks of the pier suddenly felt very hard to his feet. He sought for a place to rest. At one side of the pier some lumber was piled. Willie made his way to it. At the river end there was a sort of little recess in the pile, where some short lengths of board had been put in the centre of the lumber. A projecting plank or two made a comfortable seat. Willie sank down in this snug nook with a sigh of relief and comfort. His feet were really very tired. He found the wind was shut off by the lumber, too, and that was welcome, for the day was far along and it was growing cool. In perfect comfort Willie now sat in his little retreat, watching the river life before him. Without realizing it, Willie had chosen an observation post where he could hardly be observed himself, so well was he snuggled down among the projecting lengths of lumber.
As the afternoon waned, the activities on the pier almost ceased. In fact, the place was practically deserted. Out toward the end of the pier Willie had casually noticed an old fellow who was aimlessly walking about. He appeared to be a tramp. Willie would never have given him a second thought had the man not suddenly disappeared. Willie was not watching him, and in fact was not directly conscious of the man’s presence on the pier; yet suddenly Willie’s subconsciousness told him that something was missing from the picture before him. That startled Willie into conscious mental effort. What was that something and why had it disappeared?
Now Willie brought into play that mental gift he had used to such good effect in the hunt for the German dynamiters at Elk City. His comrades of the Wireless Patrol always said that Willie had a mental photograph in his head of anything he had ever looked at. He did, too. Perhaps everybody has. But Willie was able to visualize a scene as few people are able. He could see not only the broad outlines of a remembered picture, but also the minute details. And that ability, originally native, had been developed to a wonderful degree by practice. Lacking size, Willie had taken the only possible means of putting himself on a par with his fellows. He had developed his wits.
So now, startled through his subconsciousness, he sat bolt upright and began to concentrate on the problem before him. Something had suddenly disappeared from the picture. What was it? He drove his memory over the back track, and presently he saw the old tramp wandering about. And he was able to remember even the very spot where he had last seen the tramp. Willie gave a sigh of relief when he made this discovery, for he was troubled lest the old fellow might have tumbled overboard. He was certain he had last seen the man just beside a big pile of boxes near the centre of the pier.
For a moment Willie dismissed the matter from his mind. Then into his head popped the question: “Why did that tramp disappear so suddenly?”