"Gentlemen," said the skipper, giving us the toast, "you owe your lives to the Banks; and, please God, I'll see you all in New York before three days."
And he kept his word; for we sighted Sandy Hook, and harm had come to no man that fought the unequal fight.
CHAPTER XII.
THE DRINKING HOLE IN THE BOWERY.
The beauty of the entrance to the bay of New York, the amazing medley of shipping activity and glorious scenery, have often been described. Even to one who comes upon the capital of the New World, having seen many cities and many men, there is a charm in the sweeping woods and the distant heights, in the group of islets, and the massive buildings, that is hardly rivalled by the fascinations of any other harbour, that of San Francisco and the Golden Gates alone excepted. If you grant that the mere material of man's making is all very new, its power and dignity is no less impressive. Nor in any other city of the world that I know does the grandeur of the natural environment force itself so close to the very gates, as in this bay which Hudson claimed, and a Dutch colony took possession of so long ago as 1614.
It was about six o'clock in the evening when we brought the Celsis through the Narrows between Staten and Long Islands, and passed Forts Wandsworth and Hamilton. Then the greater harbour before the city itself rolled out upon our view; and as we steamed slowly into it the Customs took possession of us, and made their search. It was a short business, for we satisfied them that Paolo suffered from no malignant disease, although one small and singularly objectionable fellow seemed suspicious of everything aboard us. I do not wonder that he made the men angry, or that Dan had a word with him.
"Look here, sir," he whispered, making pretence to great honesty; "I won't go for to deceive you—p'r'aps that dog's stuffed wi' di'monds."
"Do you reckon I'm a fool?" asked the man.
"Well," said old Dan, "I never was good at calcerlations; but you search that dog, and p'r'aps you'll find somethin'."