“Ah, well,” said the other, smiling, “these fashions are strange contrivances. Not ten years since a man would have been drummed out of New York had he appeared in such finery as this, and now, by heaven, it is we old fellows who are like to be shown the door for dressing as our fathers taught us.”
“Not so bad as that, surely,” said Walton. “Full dress commands the old style yet at evening. This is but daylight custom. But how about the Bowling Green; is no one to play there this morning?”
“Not when two ships like the Silver Spray and the Laughing Mary are like to show their noses at any moment,” observed Cruger stoutly. “I have fifty barrels of good India ale on the Silver Spray. Astor, here, has most of the hold of the Laughing Mary filled with his dress goods. No bowling when stocks must be unpacked quickly.”
“It is a weary watch, this, for these dogged vessels,” added Astor reflectively. “There is no good counting wind or wave. The Spaniard, too, is not dead yet, worse luck to him.”
“I saw that about the Polly,” said young Walton interestedly. “Perhaps the government will wake up now to our situation. The Spaniard can wipe our vessels off the seas and hide behind the piracy idea. We need more war vessels and that quickly, I think.”
“And I, too,” said Astor. “But we are like to have them now. Only to-day Congress voted to buy more land across the East River there,” and he waved his spy-glass in the direction of the green outlines of Long Island.
“And that reminds me,” said Walton, pulling out his timepiece by the fob attached to it; “I but now met Goelet, who says there is to be a boat tried at the Collect which goes without sail. It is to be run by steam.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Cruger, “I have no time for such nonsense.”
“I heard of it,” remarked Astor. “Possibly there is something to it. There could be no harm in going to see.
“I am going” said Walton, “and by-the-bye, it is high time I was on my way.”