The Statue of Liberty was just ahead, and already
the great search-light in her torch was winking across the water.
Craft innumerable crossed and re-crossed, their lights reflected in
the waves, and far ahead, a little to the left, I could see the white
glow against the sky which marked the position of Coney Island.
Godfrey joined me presently, and we stood for some time looking at
this scene in silence.
"It's a great sight, isn't it?" he said, at last. "Hello! look at
that boat!" he added, as a yacht, coming down the bay, drew abreast
of us and then slowly forged ahead. "She can go some, can't she? This
boat of ours is no slouch, you know; but just look how that one walks
away from us. I wonder who she is? What boat is that, captain?" he
called to the man on the bridge.
"Don't know, sir," answered the captain, after a look through his
glasses. "Private yacht--can't make out her name--there's a flag or
something hanging over the stern. She's flying the French flag. There
come the other press boats behind us, sir," he added. "And there's
the _Savoie_ just slowing down at quarantine."
Far ahead we could see the great hull of the liner, dark against the
horizon, and crowned with row upon row of glowing lights.
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