We branched off the main street of St. Pauli and went up a side street. It was pitch dark, and the streets were not well lighted. At the end of this street we came to some steps at the bottom of which was a foot-bridge that led to the water's edge. In the distance on the other side of the water was what looked like a great city of lights. We both held our breath when we saw this place—it looked like New York when you cross on the ferry. And ferry-boats were shooting all over the water. Great iron beams with regular rows of lights on their sides made them look like sky scrapers.
"It's New York! It's home!" cried my excited companion.
Great crowds of workmen—hundreds, thousands of them—were coming up the foot-bridge. They had come over on the ferry. I had my geography all mixed up and I said, "That is Altona over there. Let's go down and take a ride on the ferry and pretend that we are landing in New York."
The Sailors' School for the Merchant Marine.
We hurried down the narrow foot-bridge. The men that were hurrying up bumped into us. At the foot of the bridge was a ticket place. An elderly man in a blue uniform was standing beside it. We rushed over to him and asked, "Are we allowed to go over to Altona on the ferry."
Vegetable Market.
He looked at us and then laughed and answered us in English: "That is not Altona. That is the great Hamburg docks. Where do you want to go?"
We told him that we did not know where we wanted to go, but that it looked so much like New York that we wanted to ride over.