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.